Quiet Serenade

Guitar strings strummed gently. I remember the way your hands moved. Swaying motions like grass blades in a breeze. Rough calloused fingers of a guitarist. These were the hands of a lover. Firm and reliable. 

Eyes occasionally glanced at me. You always focused on playing the right chords. But I didn’t mind. Because you always smiled when you held that guitar. Lips tugged slightly. Smiling. During those moments, you never spoke. There was no need for words. It would only ripple the quiet serenade. 

In his room

Note: I just can't stay away from writing!! Even though this was supposed to be only one part, I'm now making it into a mini series.
Also note: The posting for this series is not in chronological order

- - - - -

I walk into his room with walls covered every inch with guitars. My fingers sweep across the glossy edge of a Gibson and I let out the breath I’m holding, ‘It’s beautiful.’ In the back corner where there are no guitars is a ceiling tall mahogany shelf of nothing but Cd's. My back faces him while I scan CD covers with my eyes, searching for anything recognisable to my limited musical knowledge. I feel a warm chuckle tingle my right ear and realises that he leaning into me. Reaching to grab an album to my interest. My head turns a little to see him better and our lips almost brush. Heart pounding, I pull back for some distance with an awkward apology rushing out of my mouth.

All of a sudden, I’m pushed against the shelf, my head knocking on the wooden panels. Before I could utter an ‘Ouch’ his lips are upon my own. His soft honey lips forceful and non-stopping; pressing me further into the shelf with CD covers digging into my spine. I haven’t felt such ferociousness in a long time. I’m not ready. His butterscotch scent that usually calms me were smothering and choking me.  The insides of my throat clench and I gasp as his tongue dance kisses down my neck and onto the soft of my breasts. This feeling is too strong. It’s too familiar for all the wrong reasons. I’m scared. And he stops as salty tears linger on his taste buds. Finally, Adrian looks up at me. His eyes no longer clouded and he seems to be slightly horror struck. He straightens up, his large hand combing his hair restlessly, ‘Shit. Shit.’ He picks up my whimpering self and curls me into his lap. He strokes my head as he whispers apologies, ‘I’m sorry Little One.’

And he simply lets me rest on his knees. While he ties little plaits into my hair, I watch as the sun dances dust in our growing shadows. I let the repetition of his fingers and the soft murmuring of his voice lure me into the safe haven of sleep. In my dream, there was nothing but clouds of pixie dust and promises of No Entry signs. Where girls are not meat to eat or dance floors to tread upon.

I open my eyes to find myself in the warmth of thick blankets and the smell of butterscotch dripping onto my tongue. His whole bed lingers with his scent. I sit up and see Adrian playing on that aging guitar of his. Lover. That’s what he called it. He smiles as he sees me, ‘I called your room-mate before to tell her that you’ll be staying over. I hope that’s alright?’ He sits on the edge of the bed as I search his eyes, deciding whether or not to tell him. Should I or should I not? He kisses the crown of my head and asks what he should cook for dinner. I don’t reply. He stands up and settled on making me lasagna to warm up my insides. But before he could walk away, my small hand trembles as it clutches the hem of his shirt.

‘Adrian, wait. I have something to tell you.’

I got Him

 Part 1

I got Him

Behind the wood beaten door, I could feel the pounding of his fists. My finger twirl circles onto the tiles that send shivers up my spine. Cold. I fold up my knees and count the seconds that the clock tick away into the hours. Still, like an invisible connection, I know that he is on the other side of that door. It won’t open. I won’t unlock that door and walk into his arms. His arms that don’t belong to me. They never did and never will.

I hear a slight thump as he slides down onto the ground in defeat, ‘Emma, please open the door.’ I shake my head as though he could see me, ‘Never’. If I open the door, it would mean that we would continue on playing this game of pretend. I no longer want to play. We’re no longer children. Adults. And as adults, we should acknowledge that this game of chasies has gone for too long. Grow up. I wish he would grow up and decide whether to keep me or leave me. I’m not some pathetic puppy that he would return to after a date or a holiday. I’m a woman with a mind and heart. A heart that has been bashed about then mended only to be abandoned on the road repeatedly. I tire of this game of his, ‘Go home. Just go home.’ 

I press my left ear against the door and listen as he let out a defeated sigh and stand up, walking away with heavy footsteps. He’s gone. I scamper to open the door and run onto the hallway, crashing into walls and out onto the balcony. I watch as he drives away in his commodore. He’s gone. That was too easy. I can’t believe that he listened to me so willingly. In the end, it’s always her. I cannot win against her. Jessica. The girl that was everything to him. The girl that made him the man that he is now. The man that has come to be an important person in my life. I cannot intrude into that relationship. There is someone else for me. There is someone already waiting for me.

I pull out my mobile and press the familiar buttons for his number. A deep voice appears and I smile as I start to calm down. ‘Adrian, are you free? Can I see you?’ He mumbles a reply in his sleep laden state. I flick a glance at my watch: 6.30pm. I must have woken him up from his afternoon nap after hours of strumming on that guitar of his or belting away the life of his drums. His passion for music never ceases to amaze me. I laugh as a memory of one of our earliest conversations comes to mind: Since the age of ten, the guitar has been my lover. I return my mobile to the back pocket of my jeans as he groans, ‘I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’

And he was there fifteen minutes on the dot. He pulls his lancer into our drive way and leans on the side of the car, waiting for me to slip into my heels. I giggle as he opens the door for me like a gentleman. He leans in for a kiss as I buckle my belt. I hesitate, what if Adrian smells his cologne lingering on my skin? Adrian lets out a long sigh and lays his head onto the steering wheel, he faces me with his eyes hurt, ‘You saw him today.’ It wasn’t a question but a statement. He knew. He always knows. How? As though he could read my mind, he answers, ‘Whenever he kisses you, I can’t. You hesitate or flinch away from me like I’m the plaque. I can smell his scent, it smothers your body and I hate that. I hate knowing that another man has touched you beside me.’

Guilty tears clench up my throat as I run my hand through his hair, ‘Adrian, I’m so sorry.’ I kiss his forehead and press my head against his, ‘It’s not going to happen again. It’s over.’ He sits up surprised and maybe a little something else. Relief. Tears run down my cheeks as my fingers clasp his shirt, ‘Adrian, its over. He’s gone. Game over.’ And he holds me tightly as he lets me cry over another man. He kisses my hair and buries me into his warmth, ‘Hush Emma, it’s going to be alright. You have me. I won’t walk away. I promise.’ I look up at him with my mascara stained eyes and smile into his kiss that tastes like chocolate, ‘I love you, you know that?’ He smiles proudly and motions me to get out of the car. From the boot of his car, he pulls out the guitar that was his “Lover”. His lips brush the tip of the guitar and he places it in my hand, ‘She now belongs to you because I don’t need two lovers. I only want you.’

Someone once told me that they wanted me to run from the man that hurt me. It took a long time but I finally did. Where will you go now? She asked later. I already knew the answer. Into the arms of someone who deserved me. Someone who will make me happy and smile every day. Because I promised myself that I won’t wait for anyone. And I didn’t. Adrian found me.

On that day that was almost like yesterday, he found me in the throng of so many others. He approached me with his quirky conversations and attention given to no one else. Smiling, he asked for my name while I forgot his in a matter of minutes. But left with a memory that will never be forgotten. Because he had me at “Hello”.

What do words mean?

"I'm sorry but you did something that was just not worth it"

What if you had a dream where someone said that to you?
What if that someone was a boy. Your current love interest.
What if he was holding you so tightly that you're worried that he could hear
your heart pounding crazily.
What do those words mean?
What do words mean in general?

Those were his last words before I woke up with his heat still lingering on my chest. I was always a strong believer of words spoken in dreams. They could either hold an important message or be complete rubbish.
And I'm so scared that he actually meant, "It's not worth falling for me."

I really have bad luck with guitarists. I should stick to fictional characters instead. At least they are less confusing.

3 years' Unknowing: Scar (Final part)

Writing this made me feel so many emotions. I was happy and then I was sad enough to cry. I hope that with this, I can finally move on. I'm sorry if its too long but many things happened last year.
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 3 years Unknowing

Part 1: The Beginning
Part 2: Digging Deeper

            Part 3: Scar

We file out of the cinema with the murmur of people around us. I turn to him asking: Where to now? He opens his mouth to answer but instead what I hear is the sound of stomach rumbling. He chuckles softly: Food it is. We walk pass stores with shining glass that are almost like mirrors; mirrors reflecting my fleeting dream. I glance at the image of us through the windows and see an almost happy couple. Almost, because we're not lovers. We enter the Food Court and I order a Roller from KFC while he buys a Big Mac from McDonald's. I sit across from him and stare at passing strangers behind him. Couples, walking hand-in-hand. I envy them. But right now, I am with Victor and that's all that matters. For a little while, I can pretend.



I gazed out the window of my new bedroom. In the end, we moved back to this neighborhood. If it was early last year, I would be overjoyed that once again, I'm living in the same town as Victor but now, everything seemed for nothing. Outside the window, my street seemed so peaceful and happy that I couldn't help but longed for the rain. If only it could rain inside my house. I wished that the rain hid the fact that I was being pathetic. I wished the rain drowned my tears.


Days turned into weeks and mashed into the last month until I welcomed the New Year with a pained heart. Every night, I would talk to Victor like how I usually would but soon the conversations were filled with her. Reading his words on the screen, I could picture his smile. I knew that smile too well, the same dreamy smile I always had when I thought of him. Instead, he always thought of her. I watched as he slowly made progress with her. Always, encouraging him. Why is it that he always came back to me, with updates and smiling so happily? Because, I was his good friend. That was merely it. And I was left watching him walk away, step by step.


Every day, I wrote him love letters. Every day, I said that I would send them to him but every day, the letters were tucked away. The contents were always different but they all held the same message: I love you. Underneath my bed, the letters piled up slowly like my feelings with nowhere to go. I was scared of the already knowing answer: No. But I wanted him to recognise those feelings that was so precious to me because if it was Victor, he would understand. Or so I thought.


Somehow, with my last high school year progressing deeper, Victor and I spoke less and less. Sometimes, I sent him my short stories but mostly he never replied. Soon, I stopped sending them . I already knew that they were left unopened in his inbox. There was no point. One day, we stopped talking all together. Even though, I saw him every Sunday. It was like we were strangers with no connection to each other at all. It was as though nothing ever happened. He no longer wanted me. He no longer needed me.

The only thing that kept me together were his songs. The sweet twinkling melodies of his guitar that laced around my heart, delicately holding it into place. If only he would sing, then I could always hear his voice. What happened to the voice that once said that I was cute? If only he would say those words one more time. He was the only one that made "cute" special. One day unexpectedly, I received an offline message from him. It was my gleaming beacon of hope. But inside, merely had two sentences: I finally got her email address. We're close friends now.

What about me? Why? Why would he go through all that trouble just to leave such a message. He stopped talking to me for weeks but out of nowhere, he said that. I felt like such a fool. He didn't understand at all. All my days with him were like dust, whisked away into oblivion. They were meaningless to him. Just like my piled letters of love. I ran upstairs and dug out the letters. They were my only evidence of such a pitiful one-sided love. I wanted them gone. I wanted no more of the pain that throbbed all over my body. I wanted to no longer love. One by one, painful rip by painful rip, I hacked away at the letters until they were shredded like my heart. That night, the sky was littered with snowflakes and rain.




The next week, Valentine's Day came with dread. My school held a Valentine's stand so that secret admirers and lovers could express their feelings. I was not looking forward to seeing roses and hearts fly around the school. It was as though, everyone was mocking me. Tormenting me. Then, I was given a rose and a intricately scribbled card. That day was the first day in a while that I smiled so freely. It was a reminder from my friend who shared my same name:
    "Dear ****
      It sucks not being able to be with the person you like,
      but there will always be people who love you. 
      Remember that.
      Love,
      Your bestest friends who love you"    

It was as though I just opened my eyes. It was the first time I noticed my surroundings. It was the first time that I noticed that my brother had been inviting boys from our street into our house. He had already made new friends. My brother had always been quick to move on. I found that I disliked his new friends incredibly. Especially the one by the name of Justin who was around my age. He was always laughing too loudly and always teasing me. I could never tell if he was joking or being serious. I caught him reading my diary a few times. He promised that he wouldn't ever read it again. Sometimes, he was nice and bought me lollies and sometimes he was an annoying fool. He invaded my personal space. I loathed him. He always knew what I was thinking. He could voice my thoughts before my lips even parted. He crawled under my skin and got inside me. But. . .he made me forget. He was a shoulder to cry on. He hid me from the scar.


A month later, Justin's confession tumbled and collided into my life. It was short, sweet and innocent. He asked if I liked him too and I could only reply with 'Yes'. Because, in truth I did. I thought I was happy with him. I thought I was content. Simply, because I was loved. A few nights later, as I walked him to the front door, he bid me good night: Sweet dreams. I love you. I returned his words with a hesitant smile. The words, they felt dry on my tongue. They felt so unnatural and strange that I wondered for a second, if they were actually mine. In a few days, 'like' had turned into 'love'. I didn't quite understand. But because, it was my first relationship I thought that maybe it was normal.


I came to realise quite soon that Justin was someone that needed a lot of attention. We were always together. Almost, every minute he was beside me. Even when I studied or when I woke up from my afternoon naps. He was always there, watching and waiting for me. Thats what I came to love about him. I was never alone. Later, Justin's friends became my friends. His cousin Kevin also befriended me. All my days were filled with smiles and laughter. Pages of my diary became full of sunshine. However, I was not entirely opened with sharing everything with Justin. I was never someone that voiced my emotions. And he demanded to know everything about me. 'Don't you trust me?' He would ask. I felt like I was put into spotlight but I was guilty for making him think that way: I trust you but I don't feel the need for you to know everything about me. I am my own person. Please don't force me into telling you everything. In the end, he always won. I always became the one at fault . I hated seeing him upset. I didn't want him to hate me. I always apologised first.


Sometimes, I talked to Justin's cousin Kevin. Somehow, he was different to how I first thought. He was indifferent to Justin. Kevin didn't care about him at all. Justin, I discovered got jealous easily. He didn't want me to be too close to his cousin. Justin said that his cousin was trying to take me away. I didn't understand. But soon after that, Kevin plagued me with flirtations and offers to be his girlfriend instead. I didn't understand why he even liked me. We never met. All our conversations were via Justin's msn. One day, I woke up to my Facebook status telling lies: I love Kevin Ly. I couldn't comprehend what happened. How did it come to that? All I knew was that I was left with one heartbroken Justin and myself on the brink of murder: FUCK OFF KEVIN LY. LEAVE US ALONE was my new Facebook status. A few days later, Kevin had the nerve to talk to me on msn again. It seemed like he was always at Justin's house. My brother Jimmy said that something was wrong. Jimmy was a born detective. He told me to continue talking to Kevin. So while I continued the conversation, my brother along with his bestfriend, snuck to Justin's window. Inside, they saw something unexpected. Justin was on the only computer in his house. What if, the person that was trying to break us apart was Justin all along?


My mind had turned tipsy turvy. Things didn't make sense. Why would he do that? Nothing made sense. I couldn't put my finger around what happened. My heart was rescued out of the rubbish bin but only to have my scar ripped open and bled endlessly. I believed him. I trusted him. Was it a test? Didn't he see how much pain I had gone through? I thought he understood me. But I didn't understand him so I did the only thing I could think of. I confronted Justin. He told me that he never pretended to be his cousin before. That day was the only one. I knew that it was unlikely for that to be true. But, I couldn't leave him. I didn't want to return to that state of nothingness. I didn't want to be alone.


Being in a relationship had many ups but almost more downs. I had known Jimmy's best friend Alex for nearly 10 years. Jimmy, Alex and I were always together. We were even going to start a band together with Jimmy on drums, Alex lead guitar and I as the singer. We all got along well dispite the age difference. But then, Justin came to me with his sad eyes: You like Alex don't you? I was speechless. . .How could he have thought that? Alex was a kid (no offence Alex). He was practically another brother to me. Justin wouldn't let the subject drop. He always bombarded me with his doubts. It was unfair, I couldn't be close with my other male friends without Justin doubting me. Most of my friends were boys. Justin, always dug up my scar. It was though, he enjoyed seeing me bleed. Every now and then, Justin would mention Victor. I was forced to listen to my boyfriend badmouth my first love. There was nothing I could do. Whenever I defended Victor, it was like a double edged sword. Justin would question my loyalty. It was unfair.


Because of Justin, I stopped listening to Victor's songs. It pained me because they were my tranquilizer. But Justin said that I only needed him. I should only depend on Justin to lift my spirits. And he did. He like always, listened to me and encouraged me but sometimes it wasn't enough. Year 12 was pulling my hair out. My Art teacher was always disappointed with my artworks. She always changed her mind about what I should have done. She complained endlessly that my sculpture was not up to her standards and that I should do what I was told. She was the only one that didn't like my sculpture. I wanted so badly to rebel against my teacher. I wanted to scream and shout: No. But I was too weak. I cared far too much of how people perceived me. I spent almost every lunch break and afternoon locked inside the art studio. There were always students or teachers walking passed. They all loved my sculpture. But my teacher hated my sculpture and I came to no longer love it. Art was no longer my release. Art became work.


Mother and I argued many times in my final year of high school. Mainly about my career choice. I wanted to be a psychologist. To be able to do something to help others because people always helped me. My career choices changed every year but inside my heart was one constancy: Writer. But writing was merely my own pleasure. I wanted to be more active in people's happiness. I wanted to be a psychologist. However, I was uncertain of my own abilities. I was not confident. It didn't help that my own mother discouraged my decision. She wanted me to be a teacher. I didn't have the will to fight her every day. I gave up.


Halloween came with excitement as it provided a break from my constant studying for the final exams. It was my first Halloween away from my old home. I gathered up a group with Justin and my brothers. It was supposed to be my last Halloween as a teenager. Next month, I would be an adult. Everything was going so well. We collected bags upon bags of sweets and were headed back to my neighbour's house to end the night with horror movies. But then, Justin started being angry with me. He even swore at me. I didn't understand what I did wrong to be treated in such a way. God, I don't understand boys. I don't understand Justin. And that hurt.


He ignored me for days. For the first time in ages, I was all alone. I found myself crying silently during my last exam. All my tears, blurring answers to the questions on the paper and in life. His friend told me that Justin was angry because I teased him on the night of Halloween. I couldn't even remember the words I said but did that make it worse? Was I that much of a cruel girlfriend that I couldn't tell when I hurt his feelings? I hated being alone. I apologised so many times but I was scared of Justin. He walked around my house with a face of a troll. It hurt. It hurt so much that he was ignoring me. It tore up my old wounds. I didn't want to be alone. I was sorry so why didn't he come back? Why wasn't he beside me when I cried myself to sleep?  He lied. He said he would always be there for me.

There was no one to soothe my scar. It slowly became undone until I was left naked. I needed something, anything to hold me alive. I resorted to my last hope: Victor's songs. All I needed to do was close my eyes and allow the gentle strumming to sew up my scar. I fell asleep and woke up to see Victor playing the guitar on my computer. Within that second, something struck my heart. The feeling was familiar, it reminded me of the first time I fell in love with Victor. I loved him because of the way only he could make my heart feel. But it was too late. I now had Justin. I wished Justin would quickly return so my confused feelings would go away.

Something uncomfortable was happening. It was annoying because Justin and I made up. This was all because he left me alone. I was thinking about Victor again. I couldn't believe what was happening. I didn't want this. It was hideous and ugly. Being with Justin didn't make the confusion go away. He made it worse. He constantly insisted me to return to Victor. He made no attempt to keep me. I was desperately trying not to fall in love with Victor again. He was happy without me. I wanted to be happy with Justin. I wanted Justin to make it all go away. To make me love only Justin. But he didn't. He only served to amplify my confusion.
I didn't want this.

The day before my birthday, I came to an epiphany. Justin and I were different. Maybe, I had already known this. But I thought opposites attract. I fell for Justin because he saw through me. But the relationship, somehow it felt lacking. My heart no longer had any room left for Justin. He had left my heart inside out with no feelings. Only a numb sensation. I still cared about Justin. I didn't like seeing him sad or hurt. I especially didn't want to be the cause. But I didn't know what to do.

After my birthday, we took a break. During that time, I confessed to Victor in hope of moving on. I was so afraid that he would hate me but I was washed with a great sense of relief when I read his reply. But I realised from his words that he had always known that I liked him. I wished that he had stopped me before I fell far too deep. But then again, even if he had said anything, my feelings would had still continued to grow.

I wondered. . .All those years together Victor, as friends had he ever thought, 'Ah I could come to like her' or 'I really like her'. Had he ever liked me? Even for just a fraction of a second; I wanted to know that my feelings reached his heart. Even for just a moment. It hurts. It really hurt when I thought like that. Victor was the first one that I loved with all my heart. He was the frist one I wanted to know completely. But I didn't think he ever liked me. We were only friends. Why did I still think like that? Why? Why must I love someone that didn't do anything? That no longer cared? But there was a time he used to care a lot. There was a time when we were extremely close. What happened?

On December 3rd, I sat Justin down and said: Sorry. You're not who I'm looking for. I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't say that I loved him anymore. It was Victor. It was always Victor all along. Mother thought I was stupid to break up because of a one-sided love. But I didn't think so. Those feelings may had been one-sided but they were still my precious feelings that warmed my heart for all those years.  

Being with Justin made me happy. I could be myself. He made me laugh and saw through me. But sometimes, I wondered if he was real. If the things he said held any truth. Sometimes, I felt emptiness. A void. I just wanted to be happy. I wanted to find my happiness. My very own happiness. But I didn't know where it was. I was still quietly searching.






We walk to the bus stop and I face him just as the bus parked beside us: Thank you for today. I will remember this always as I will always remember you. I'm glad I met you. I can't imagine ever not meeting you. I brush my lips against his ear and whisper my last words: But from today onwards, I will no longer wait for you. Farewell my Unknowing.

I let myself be whisked away with the bus like flying dandelions floating away from its home. I hope to find a new happiness. I hope to bask in the new light of a new sky. There will be a more loving field somewhere. Somewhere, anywhere. I know that somewhere, my fate is tied to theirs. I allow myself one glance back at Victor because I hope that I have left inside his heart a mark like how he left inside my heart a scar. However, there will never be a full stop to this story because sometimes, scars don't fade and sometimes I want this scar as a reminder of something I hold dear. This scar is a reminder that one day, someone else will steal my heart.
One day, I wish to flutter away on floating tutus of dandelions. One day, someone will touch my scar and love me completely

 

Thank you for the patience and the time to read this. I means a lot to me. I hope that one day everyone will find their happiness.

3 Years' Unknowing: Digging Deeper

3 Years' Unknowing

Part 1: the Beginning

Part 2:  Digging Deeper

I watch the screen as the actors moved about. A film. We're watching a film but am I suppose to concentrate on their dialogue or their actions? How can I focus when he is merely centimeters away from me? I can feel his heat under my skin and wonder how much of his warmth I could consume. From the corner of my eye, I see him flick his growing fringe from his face. I wonder, how soft is his hair? He leans into me and whisper warm breaths into my ear: So why are we watching Dear John again? I try not to laugh too loudly and took my turn to lean into his warmth: We're not watching Alice in Wonderland because you lost to me in scissors-paper-rock. I wait for any objections but none came so I steal a glance at him. He catches my eyes and smiles: You haven't changed at all.

Eleventh grade was the start of my senior years: intense studying and preparations for exams. Somehow, I had still managed to squeeze time for him. He was my companion during the late nights of dim lights and owl eyes glued to the computer screen. He was my sweet lullaby, the image I conjured the second before my eyes closed. In my dreams, all I heard was the sound of his guitar.

Every time I was depressed or anxious there was always something that could calm me. For other people, its shopping or spending hours in front of the television playing COD but for me, it was merely closing my eyes and listening to his song. The sweet melody that tingles my toes and clenches my heart, it was always only him.

February for the Chinese/Vietnamese community meant the Lunar New Year. For traditional adults that meant weeks of slaving in the kitchen to prepare offerings to the Gods or forcing children to do a whole house clean so that during the Lunar New Year week, families can relax without caring for any chores or other forms of work. For me, Lunar New Year meant fireworks, lion dancing and martial arts. That particular year, my plans also included him. That year, while the night blew sweet kisses, I watched fixated as Victor participated in the dragon dance.

 I was always with Victor, every Sunday now that I was in his Vietnamese class but sadly that also meant that I was in the same room as Anthony. I sat in the second row with my friend Sandy who under low breath, discussed popular music. I tried to pay attention to both my studies and Sandy but I felt uncomfortable. Someone was staring at me. Who? The people who sat behind me were May Anne and her friends and behind them in the last row were Anthony and Victor. I decided that the first person to approach me when lunch started would be the culprit. I was right. It was Anthony. He approached me just as the bell rang saying: Hey, I like your clothes today. Great, I just felt like I was being stripped with his eyes.

The warm seasons came and past then soon were the bitter-sweet rain of Winter. I longed for Winter the most. When it rained, visions blur and people become lost in their environment. Rain, it surrounded me and hid my feelings of him. Though I loved Winter, Winter did not love me. It usually left me shivering uncontrollably. Once, while standing out in the cold with Anthony, he grabbed me and pulled me towards him saying: I'll warm you up. I pushed him away and wished that Victor was not absent that day. Wished that Victor was there when I needed him. Wished that who I want was there instead of Anthony.


One day, I received a email from Anthony. It was a confession.I knew it was coming sooner or later. I just hoped much later or never. The day after which happened to be a Sunday, I was found pacing between stepping stones. How do you decline nicely? He was never someone I wanted to be with. His confession, should have been in person but it was not. Wasn't it more sincere if done in person? I wanted to at least be the better person and give my reply to him directly but I was much too scared. I sat depressed upon the garden rock but was saved by Victor who said I should just merely return his email confession with another email. It was quite expected that Anthony was disappointed but unlike how I hoped, he still sat too close and still shadowed me like lingering phantom.

My favourite Anime, for a while was Millennium Actress. It told a story of a love that was discovered in the shortest moment but had a connection that would last forever. But then Victor showed me 5 Centimeters Per Second and I fell in love with the film that depicted such realistic emotions, they were almost like my own. Everything that I was became undone when I met Victor. With each and every new day, I was becoming someone else, someone new. Someone who could become closer to him. Or so I thought.

Because of our shared passion for  5 Centimeters Per Second, we began to discuss our first childhood crushes. I discovered that at some point in our early years, we lived in the same town and attended the same primary school. If only I hadn't moved houses. Somehow, our topic of childhood crushes changed into current love interests. Even though I was so confident that there was no one else closer to him than me, inside my heart it began pulling the blinds to the window. My heart didn't want to know. I didn't want to know that he might like someone else. But the clock had already turned its hands. There was no going back.

I would always remember that day. The day that he spoke these words: I love someone in my class. Her name's Thanida. Who do you like? 
How could I have replied to that? I stared him in the eyes and told the hardest lie: I love someone you don't know.

As the screen fade into darkness, I blink away my tears. He sat beside me laughing: You haven't changed at all. Always crying in films. I don't look at him when he peered into my eyes, laughing. I gently push him away, merely saying: I cried because its a happy ending.

To be Continued. . .

3 years' Unknowing- The Beginning

Someone once told me that I should make my life into a story. Apparently, it would be interesting
or heart-throbbing. I still wonder about the enthusiasm people would have about my life so I opted instead to write about my love life since after all I specialise  in romantic literature. There is something else too that is precious about this story: it contains the past three years with and without my unknowing guitarist. This account is my last farewell to him in which I finally reveal his name.
This post will be quite long so I am dividing it into 3 inidividual posts. Sorry for the inconvience.

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    3 year's Unknowing

The Beginning

I lean against the tiles which send shivers down my bare back. The dress, is it too revealing? I wonder if I should have worn something simpler? I wonder if I should have chosen a different meeting place. What if someone recognises us? Maybe, he won't come in the first place. This after all, is merely my own outrageous request. I caress the digital camera in my handbag and question the possibility of a photo. A selfish keepsake for when years later, I no longer will be able to visualise the twinkle of his eyes. Even so, I will remember always the three years I had with and without him.


I glanced down at the blue ballpoint pen I held in my hand with shock. Had I just gone with the flow and told a complete stranger my email address? I analysed the gleaming pen lid in my other hand and confirmed that stationery supplies don't drag themselves from my shoulder-bag and squeeze themselves into my palm. I slumped down from my standing position and gave out a long sigh: Why must I always be such an easy person? I should learn to say no. Why can't people let me finish Vietnamese school without any difficulties or allow me to wait for my brother in the opposite classroom in peace? Is it so much to ask for?

Every Sunday, I am dragged out of bed and to Vietnamese school thanks to my beloved mother. The following Sunday after the suprising incident, two boys showed up at my classroom during lunchbreak. My good friend Duy Li happened to know them by the names of Anthony and Victor. Anthony, was the name of my 'complete stanger' and it came to be a name I would fear for a long time.

To say the most, I began to dread every lunch-time for lunch brought Anthony. He was a peculiar young man. Peculiar being an understatement. He was always sitting too close or asked uncomfortable questions. I being such a pushover didn't know how to respond. But with Anthony, there was always Victor. And he was my little sparkle of light amongst the darkness.

Victor and I turned out to be very compatible. We were both book lovers but of very different genres. He:Historical fiction and I: Romance. In Victor, I found my writing companion who understood the difficulties of writer's block and the constant scrapping of stories that not even my bestfriends understood. Soon, my every thought began with Victor and ended with him. But, all I could do was keep it bottled inside. When I saw myself in the mirror, I was someone not worthy of him. I was always cruely reminded by people around me that I was short for my age. Everywhere I went, whispering giggles trailed my back or random girls would collide into me screaming: OMG she's so CUTE. SO TINY. SO ADORABLE. And they would disappear like it was normal to hug strangers forgetting the issue of personal space. Because of years being insulted in such a way, I began to loathe the word "Cute" whenever it was associated with me. Never, ever I want to be called 'cute'.

Victor and I continued to grow closer with thanks to the internet. Soon it became a routine for me to talk to him for at least more than 2 hours or until we both struggled to keep our eyes open. We shared family stories and when came a time for me to test my loyalty to my Step-Dad, Victor was there through the nights I was bawling my eyes. My biological father whom I haven't spoken to for more than 10yrs invited me to the wedding of my older sister to which I never knew I had. He helped with the decision that I shouldn't abandon my past and that my current father would understand. And I with that decision, I attended the most awkward wedding of my life.

Around the middle of the year, Anthony began to regualrly ask me out on dates to various places: The Arts Museum, cinema, dinasaur museum, amusement parks and so on. To which I politely declined. During one lunchtime, it was announced quite loudly by a classmate that Anthony liked me. I looked at her with an expression which could only be described as shock and turned to Victor for help. He merely shrugged: What can I do?

Near late November was my year 10 Graduation in which I completed my school certificate and became eligible to continue to grade 11 and 12. For the ceremony, I decided to change my curly hairstyle to become permanently straight. The next Sunday, I skipped along the pond that was adored by my Vietnamese school and arrived infront of Victor with my new long hair floating after me. I smiled at him questioningly: So What do you think? He glanced up at me from his book and gave me his twinkling eyes: Cute. My heart stopped. That day, I walked away with his gentle and sincere voice still lingering in my ears. Cute. Inside my heart, something bloomed.


'Am I late?'
I blink away the memories and beam at him: No, strangely you're not.
He let out a chuckle and we entered the cinema. Maybe, this wasn't a mistake after all.

(To be continued)

Lovesick fool

Every morning, I used to look forward to the new day because its a new day with you. But now. . .
I don't know what to say; to make it work; to make it sound right. But everyday, that I am without you, I feel as though I am more tired than usual and there is nothing to look forward to.

We used to share stories and banter about who is superior. You made me proud of my writing and come to love my skill because its a another way to connect with you but now I am plagued with months upon months of writer's block. My novel that I was going to suprise you with is neglected.

There is so much I want to tell you. All the months without you, I want you to stay updated with my life. I want to stay updated in your life.

I want to know, if there was ever a time you cared for me and was not justt being nice. If there was ever a time, sitting beside me, you felt restless by my warmth. If there was a day, where all your thoughts were filled with images of me. I want to know, if you really meant it back then when you called me "cute".

Like a fool, I still ask these questions; even though you no longer talk to me.
Like a fool, I still stare at your photo
Like a fool, I am still mesmorised by the sound of your guitar.

Like a fool. . .
I am still in love with you.

Dear Unknowing

Dear My Unknowing Guitarist,

You do not know this and never will come to know that when I listen to your guitar, I can sleep peacefully and all my nerves are relaxed. Many nights when I can't hear the sweet lullaby , I am plagued with torture and I curl in my bed with darkness as a blanket. But sometimes, if I am not too scared  to close my eyes, I will imagine that you are sitting beside me quietly strumming.

    In reality, you only play for her now.

Sometimes, on the rare occasions that we were together, we used to talk happily for hours on end about every topic possible and about sweet nothings. When you smile, I am like an idiot and can't help but smile along even though I didn't find the joke to be that humorous. And that I love the sound of your laughter so much that I tried to make you laugh as much as possible.

Dear my favourite guitarist, you may not know this or maybe you had a hunch that I indeed started learning the guitar because of you. When I watch your long fingers with its intricate movements, I can't help but feel that something beautiful is being created and long for the one day I can create beautiful songs with you.

   Unfortunately, there will never be a duet.

Also, you do not know this but  when I'm with you, I take pleasure in your presence and remember each and everything you have said. Delicately, I store them safely deep inside my heart and draw them out when I'm lonely. Did you know, that whenever you are not with me, my world is dull and painted in black and white. And that the flowers weep morning dew along with my silent cries.

Finally, you do not know and forever will not come to know that you are the only one that I tolerated attaching the word "cute" with my name when I despise that word more than anything. And that you are my first.

   Dear My Unknowing Guitarist, I am still waiting for you.