Wednesdays

Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.

My heart leaps.

It's dear Wednesday again.

The leaves shine a little brighter, my heart beats a little faster and my mind turns a little hazier.

I wipe the sweat from my palms. I straighten my skirt. I check if I still have some lipstick on.

It's Wednesday, after all

A moment when I allow myself to be a little selfish than usual - a day when I am allowed to hear your voice and memorize its every rise and fall. Minutes when I can stare back at you unashamed and speak to you with all honesty - except that I can't say how much I like you. Seconds when I hold on to the sound of your laughter and etch your smile in the canvas of my brain.

And after all, it's all I long to do when it's not Wednesday again.

Thursday - I see you in the crowd.
Friday - I hear your favorite song in the radio.
Saturday -  The late sunset is your favorite color.
Sunday - Writing about you in my journal.
Monday - I dreamed of you again.
Tuesday -  I remember your wish.

Then, I saw you on your white shirt walking towards me, one Friday night. My voice quivers from my throat. My world quakes a little every time I hear my name from your lips. I did my best to hide how clumsy I am in front of you.

Your eyes lit up from the lights of the stars I gave you, one Saturday night.  I don't know if you notice how I was shaking all the way through as I bravely stepped in your front door. I don't know if you saw how I leaped above my fears so that you won't be alone on the last eve of your 20's.

But it's not a Wednesday. I am stripped of my entitlement. I am out of my league.

I wanted more. Not just a Wednesday. I want to quietly sip my coffee with you on a Monday. I want to sit by you as we pass the roads overflowing with lights on a Tuesday. I want to hear all about your old adventures on a Thursday. I want to be there for you when you think you have no one to hold you on a Friday. I want to lay down under the stars with you and hear you hum my favorite song on a Saturday. I want to curl in front of the TV and say nothing at all with you on a Sunday too.

But that's not the case.

We live in a separate world when it's not a Wednesday. You made that clear for sure. I closed my eyes when you slammed the door. I shut my ears when I heard the silence. I covered my mouth when you said nothing but my quiet prayers.

After all, it's not a Wednesday.

I am doing my best to digest it. I am convincing my heart to ingest it. I am telling myself to swallow it.

But It's not a Wednesday.

When it is not, you are too far away for me to reach and too dangerous for me to touch. We revert back to strangers, shadows, a distant dream. Our worlds turn black and white, far apart, unrecognizable.

After all, it's not my dear Wednesday.

Cigarette

He took me out of his pocket,

Playing me between his fingers

before placing me

in his milktea-stained lips.

He filled his lungs

with the already nicotined and polluted air of his worries,

blowing me a gentle exhale that made me shiver.


"It's not gonna light itself."


The touch of the flame was pain and honey sweet.

I didn't mind.


I didn't mind at all.


He took his sweet first puff

and let it linger inside his mouth,

his eyes glimmering,

hands shaking.


We went on.


He inhaled.

I hurt.


I didn't mind at all.


My ashes drifted in the hazy air,

like fallen feathers from a dying angel.


I knew.

But I didn't mind at all.


Until,

he had come to the end of me,

consumed all of me

and

I am nothing

but a twisted burnout cigarette

on a dusty sidewalk.

The Fixer

She saw the cracks lacing on his skin, from his eyes down right to his toes. He smiled but she dared not smile back. It was in that moment that she knew this person is her 'masterpiece'.

It was months of blissful moments. He never told anyone the things he told her, she knew. He never treated someone how he treated her, she knew. He never said the things that her heart was screaming every time he looked at her..she will never know.

It was also months of fixing, breaking and fixing and breaking. His voice would quake on the telephone at 3:45 in the morning, breathing words after words of emptiness and torment, and she will be there, holding the other end, pretending as if those very words did not haunt her. His touch would linger for a second, he would lean a little too close, but his hands nor his lips did not dare taste the sweetness of her skin. Their eyes would meet, their shoulders would touch, but he was always the first to pull away.

'Vulnerability is appealing', she thought, 'such an atomic, destructive and insatiable fire'. If she could somehow go under his skin, if she could somehow learn how to stitch his broken heart, if she could somehow glue the pieces of him back together with her love, then there will be nothing else in this world she could ever wish for.   

She was consumed with this 'masterpiece' of hers. She would begin and end her every prayers with his name before she would crawl to sleep. His brokenness pulled her. The blood trickling down his jaw mesmerized her. The way he would fall apart in front her made her stay a little longer.

One, two, three, four...

Breathe...

Five, six, seven, eight...

He will come...yes...he will

Nine, ten, eleven....twelve...

She was breaking apart...piece by piece, dissolving into her tears.

He was nowhere to be found. She's bleeding and crumbling and he was nowhere to be found.

Yes, that's right. She knew it from the very start. It kills, this fantasy she's in. It breaks bones. It crushes hearts. It tears people apart. 

She was consumed with the foolishness that her 'masterpiece' would fix her brokenness too. She expected him to be in her front door when she's about to call him. She hoped to fall in his arms when she was burning inside. She thought she would make him her Arthur after she's done fixing him. She hoped and waited in the dark for him, watching for his shadow, listening to his footsteps.

But she was wrong.

All she heard was an echo...a far away distant silence. 

She was too caught up, too drunk, and too weak to follow. 

All she have in her hands were the pieces left of her and half of which, she used to fix her 'masterpiece' who was nowhere to be found.

At the edge of 29

To my fellow 1986 born babies who has not yet reached that daunting chapter of their 30's,

Is it just me or do you also have this indescribable fear inside your chest as your birthday approaches closer each day?

It feels like standing at the edge of a cliff and you have no idea what's waiting down below for you. Will it be an avalanche of new responsibilities? Will the questions "when you will get married?" or "when you will have kids?" or "do you plan to even get married?" grow even louder? Will your road be smoother or will it be rougher and tougher and will it push you down to your knees? Will you one day wake up and have a number 30 written on your forehead? Will kids start calling you 'tita', 'obasan　おばさん', 'ahjumma' or worst 'old'?

The list only grows longer as my worries and anxiety pounds louder on every corner of my head.

Maybe I worry too much since I only know one person here who has the same age as me and we have different opinions about it.

One day, I asked him, 'aren't you scared of turning 30?' He only shrugged his shoulders and said 'I don't mind. I'm actually looking forward to it.' How I wish I could have that same courage.

So, what is it that really scares me? Is it the pressure of the society to settle down and have everything figured out at this age? Is it leaving behind my precious twenties and start acting like a REAL adult? or is it the fear of actually planning and acting upon those plans for the near future? Because you know, time runs like a reindeer on Christmas Eve when all kids are asleep as Santa Claus soar the skies and drop them gifts.

The answer is YES to all of above.

I'm standing between the line of having the responsibility to grow up and the line of staying carefree and happy like a child. Honestly, I'm frightened to leave the latter.

Have I stepped out of my comfort zone far enough these past few months? Am I ready to face this new chapter? Will I need to leave behind my heart full of wonder, curiosity and swallow the fact that unicorns does not really exist?

The truth is I'm just fanning the flames to my already mountain of worries. Why can't I just live the remaining days of being 29 as happily as I could? When I reach that day, it's not as if my world would shape shift and transform everyone in it. The only one who is doing the changing is none other than...me.If I am to transform, can I please get eyebrows as perfect as Audrey Hepburn's, please?

And I'll be taking my childish heart with me if that's not too much to ask. Besides, I have a lot more to write, to do, to learn and to explore and I need that naivety to make it all the more colorful and magical.

I don't think my dreams of being chased by a man with a blank empty face would stop until I reach 30. Eventually, he will catch up to me and I have no choice but to embrace him, not without a snot and a bagful of matcha chocolate, ice cream and a river of tears. I can't just go down without being a Drama Queen.

As I am counting the very last few days of my lovely 29th chapter, let me plug on my playlist of the 90's greatest hits and reminisce my days of cassette tapes, VHS tapes, Playstation 1 games, throwback Anime and awesome board games.

I guess I need to start looking forward to that new adventure called 'The Dawn of 30' from now on and just be happy about it.

Until then,

Your ever faithful and curious,
Daphne

Those days when kissing this fish was my only real goal.

  

Dear Stranger

The moment I first delve into those almond hazel eyes, I knew I found a rare and precious map.

Whimsical, magical, mysterious, anything that spells something out of the ordinary - that's you.

Yours is a different world, one without a key or a window. A world where things I've never seen, heard or felt exists.

Angels walk barefoot on the grass. Fairies soaring the azure skies. Fire sings the song of Ice, Ice dances to the rhythm of fire.

You speak a language different from mine but you laugh at the same things as I do. You walk a different path but you crossed mine. You look at things differently but you look at the same direction as I do.

The constellations in your eyes are not the same ones I look at from my window every night.

I can't help but wonder about you because you are a world so different, rare, beautiful and...that scares me. One that I am gathering all my courage to explore.

Maybe I should stop here. Maybe I should stop before I go any further. And maybe, I should stop looking forward to unveiling pages and pages of you on the day we meet again.

The letter I will never send to you

It's been a while.

How have you been? I can see in your posts that you are doing quite well, going to places I've only dreamed of going with you.

Do you still remember? Those  words that came tumbling out of your lips? I held on to them. I provided shelter inside my heart for them. In the end, they were as empty as the other promises we've made to each other.

You were never mine but I was always yours.

The times I had with you are the best and worst parts of my life melded together in one giant canvas.

It was a beautiful and haunting masterpiece. So beautiful and haunting that I never had the courage to lock it away.

What happened to us? Why did we end up this way? Why can't we say the words? Why can't we look into each other's eyes and see the stars behind it?

I spent nights trying to figure out this puzzle which means I've spent my nights with you running around my head.

Until one day, I found the answer while furiously sipping on my Matcha Latte.

Matcha? I've never been fond of it when I was there since I was obsessed with something else. That something else I've left you with - a trace of me I know that you will never forget.

I don't remember the day I first met you but I remember clearly the last time I did. I remember the days spent watching you from afar. I remember the days dreaming about the future with you. I remember the days walking so close to you but our hands never did dare touch.  I remember the days crying myself to sleep and waking up the next morning whispering your name. I remember the days convincing myself that if I love you hard enough, you will one day love me as much too.

It never did come true.

From the very first time my heart skipped a bit on the sight of you, I knew that you will never be mine.

My greatest fear then was hurting you. I was so afraid of losing you. So afraid that I let you treat me less than what I deserved.

I never did tell you how I really felt. I never told you how you are tearing me apart with your bare hands. I stood silently and prayed that maybe one day you will see how much I can bear all of it just for you.

I became your shelter. You became my storm. I became your knight in shining armor. You became the enemy that slayed me while my back was turned. I became your strength. You became my weakness.

I knew your angels and demons like the beat of my favorite song but you never knew a thing about me.

It was after all, all about you. It was never about me. During the times that I tried to make it about us, you retaliate and called me names - fool, bipolar, crazy and things I never would want to hear.

You've shattered me. You belittled me like no else in my life ever did. I tried to run into your arms but you cut me down with your words.

It was a train wreck, the ground beneath us were breaking. You became a monster. You slipped out of my reach. My voice turned to mere murmurs. Your cries were all that I can hear. I was destroying myself as you were doing the same to yourself.

And yet, I still loved you.

From the moment I last heard your voice until I stopped hearing it echo in my dreams, I loved you.

Now, at this very moment, as my heart are typing this words, I still do love you.

No matter which lifetime, no matter what happens to us in the future I will always do.

But I will never go back to you. I am smart enough now to keep myself from getting torn to pieces again but I am still foolish enough to care for you from afar.

I guess I'm okay with seeing that you are doing good. It is more than enough to me to have felt and to know how much I am capable of and how much my heart can take.

I am lucky enough to love someone with my entire being and not get a single drop in return.

I guess I'm okay with that - it's more than enough.

If fate is kind enough to grant me this wish - I hope to never see you again.

After all, that's the best for both of us.