[short chapter] a lost thank you note.

i hate to admit one thing : that sure enough, that time, i fell in love with you. a familiar stranger. a good friend. a rainbow-styled grayscale. an ANYTHING in BETWEEN.

i fell in love with how you oppose almost all of my thoughts. i fell in love with how you see possibilities in any negative talks. i fell in love with how you picture things in perspective. i fell in love with how you dealt with pessimism and frustration by a single smile. i fell in love with the way you didn't love me back.

and i still love the way you often came as a clear mirror to me. for any bitter facts you put into my midnight coffee, i owe you that indefinite future ahead. for nothing sweet you've presented to me, i genuinely thank you.


ps : i'm so sorry the thank you note got lost within my pride.

[short chapter] 11.00 pm.

you don't really give a damn about your own plan, do you?
all you think is how to get others' things done, perfectly, effectively.

but i don't care. i don't care of how good you did.

i only care whether you think enough of yourself, 
and give a proper space for your soul.

please, don't think so bad about me.

===========

A midnight conversation. Not the usual one. But, still, quite expected coming from him. I had no idea how to answer that, though.

What's currently on my mind, right here, right now - yes, you're right, in the middle of a serious talk with him - is how can I squeeze three meetings in a day, tomorrow. How should I arrange my route effectively. Where should I get breakfast, grab a quick cup of black coffee. How long should I prepare the presentation files, should thirty-slides okay.

A quick blinks on the clock on his dashboard : 10.00 pm. No can't do. Let's assume I got home at the latest at 11,00 pm, getting refreshed and so on, open my notebook at 00.00 am. Still need at least three hours of sleep, so I would only have one hour sharp. Eighteen slides it is.

That is a 11.00 pm at home scenario.

============

i know it. why don't you get back to your good old habit of making new year's resolution. and tell me again, why was it you stop making one? was it because none of them you could accomplish?

you're so simple-minded.

don't you think you just have to give yourself a more decent time to make it happen? you know. you're not that clever as anybody else think you are. you can't really do a strategic thinking yourself, or can you?

please, for once in a while, listen to me.

===========

That won't do. A presentation with no slides should be accepted.

dear i.,

you know. as an arian woman, i was born under the strong influence of fire. i might be reckless and most of times harsh with words. but i'm always trying hard. so hard it hurts me. to be good. to bring no harms to other. to not make things worse. to not deliberately hurting people. i failed many times, though. but i do learn each of the lessons. am never a good student, though.

i don't take sweet words, nor do i give. i do not praise unless somethings really impressed me. but when i do, it came from the depth of my heart. i don't do empty appreciation. but in another side, i do not bash either. unless you brought harm to my life. i always try to keep my complaints at the minimum level. i strongly hold to my own principles, but i do try hard to compromise and adapt.

i can handle all the unexpected. except two things : betrayal and slyness.

when i came to you and entrust my dreams to you, i really meant it. i seriously build a good intention to plan a future, by committing to you. and by committing, i did accept there wont be all honeymoon. i prepare myself for a future i always dream of alongside with its winding road. i though it would be exciting. i really do.

but then the path was just happened not meant for me. that's okay. not everything is for everyone anyway. i just thought that i lost the battle fair and square. or at the very least : clean and clear.

guess i am wrong.

and guess what. you don't want to mess with an april-born woman. not once in your dream. betrayal and slyness means only one thing : a revenge. a sweet and sharp of it, with a long stab and a quick pull. i'll be patiently dancing the heartbreak.

i won't hate you. that's quite a love, don't you think. but i'll remember you all my way to the castle of my dream. and i'll calmly learn my lesson well :

1. never plan a future with someones who do not have a plan for themselves.
2. never build the castle of my dreams over the shattered ruins of selfish little kingdoms.

i am so done with you.


sincerely,
a former pawn of your chessboard backyard.


ps : thank you for the adventures. i learnt my lesson very well :)

a love letter.

dear Azalea,

i'm sorry i'm lost on my way to get you. the path that supposedly take me to you suddenly vanished just like that. okay, to tell you the truth, my mind did wander. i did not take a good watch over our distance.

but you know Azalea, never once i put you into a box. you're always and forever will be in my mind. my heart, as well, won't let you be forgotten. because, one day, you'll be my everything that no dreams ever matter any longer. even those flashy ones.

hence, i don't want you to wait for me. i want you to grow instead. i'd love to see any possible version of you. your good, and your bad. when we finally met, i'd gave up any of my expectation on you. you may surprise me since i'd love your challenge. you deserve no less than unconditional love.

you know another thing, Azalea? one thing i'm preparing myself right now to give you someday is a trust. however, while secretly wishing that when the time comes, the world won't be too scary for you. or, rather, that you will be bold enough to befriend with it.

well, you'll find by any means that i was never good at sweet words, Azalea. finding love actually scratch more of bittersweet feels. you know, that feeling you had after unwrapping an empty box. but i am indeed selfish, Azalea. i won't really wish that you'll be immune of such bittersweetness.

your first love letter should be written out of one.


lots of love,

I.


.
ps : but, please don't shock your A too much. to him, you are forever his sweet little Lila.

(north-eastern)

...and the north-eastern wind tells you a story,
some paragraphs about trust,
and about time that does not actually heal. 

you know it does not, and will never...

.

Sunday evening might not be my most favorite times of what they called as weekend. Not even a random breeze on a one fine day with maximum heat could change my mind. However, I don't deny the message it carried. A message from a faraway land. Or a faraway heart, I must say.

The message is something about being upset upon seeing one's giving up. I laughed while reading the rest of the message. I read it calmly, word by word. I even interpreted every dots, or extended dots, a period and a coma, as if the message was written in some sort of secret codes. I smiled when reaching the part that indicated a slight disappointment.

And finally a closing, "a changing heart is just as unpredictable as a changing season with this global warming issue, isn't it? or it's just my false perception?"

Me, seven years behind, would definitely went all emotional. Texting with no second thought, with no considerations. Even his heart.

"you know what, global warming is not an issue."

But it's me, now. The version of which I prefer to have a long time thinking before answering. Not even gave a damn though the time to answer was up. Well, he demanded an answer. No indication of time was ever given. So I took my own amount of time. Leisurely. Pressure free.

.

It was Thursday. After ninty-eight of hours. And twenty-one missed-calls, And sixteen unreplied text messages. And one blank text message.

I decided to make it handwritten.

"a changing heart is not to be predicted. it's just changing. that's all. 
even the changing season, no matter that's unrelated to this, is not to be predicted.
you learn to read the signs, and later you learn to read the patterns. that's how the life of our intertwined hearts goes.
have you ever thought of this : maybe it's not the heart that's changing. maybe it's how we read things differently, now and then. maybe, just maybe, our heart intertwined in a way both of them resisted.

maybe it is your false perception. on trust."

.

And I wait for the South-Western wind to fly along with the love letter. Because I don't believe in time that heals. It is coming home.