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Misc


Rarity
September 24th, 2007 posted by tikgirl under Love Stories, Uncategorized

The sun is setting on the horizon. The lovely scenery attracts the warmth of the clouds from above, as if they want to see the scene themselves. Two anonymous persons lay idly in a big bed, their clothes on, and innocence flutters in their eyes. The room was spacious, but the door is narrow. There is a wide window on the northern side of the room, where they could see the beautiful sunset. There is a picture hanging on the wall, a kind of hazy, old photograph of another room. It is illuminated by two lamps on its side. The girl is looking on the photograph. The boy was staring at the girl. Out comes two puffs of cigarette from the girls lips.

“Sometimes I get afraid when I see that it’s coming,” she said.

“See what?”

“See that I am becoming sarcastic towards you,”

“You naughty girl.”

“Why, don’t you want to?”

“It depends. On how sarcastic you can be. If I can tolerate it, why not”

“I don’t want to”

“Why?”

“It just means that you are becoming a part of my consciousness.”

“Probable…”

“You take care when that happens.”

“And why so, my dear?”

“That’s my deepest, darkest secret.”

“Not a secret anymore.”

“Have you decoded what it means?”

“Slight. It is still blurred in my mind.”

“Sigh. It’s too dark for you to know..”

“Then what is the lighter you gave me for?”

“When you don’t have anything to do, just flick it and it will bring you to me, my dear.”

“Whoa.”

“When you want to get away from it all, when you want to live in dreams, when you are sick of reality, just come up to me. Just come and see me.”

“I’ll miss you so. I am missing you right now. Let’s play a game.”

They doodled around a piece of dirty white paper; the single pen they are using is almost dry of ink. In the middle of a game of Tic-Tac-Toe, she suddenly stopped doodling.

“There is something in me that you have to see before you get me,” she said.

“And what could that be?”

“Wake me up. Take out the overdosed sleeping pills inside my stomach. Breathe the life of being awake in me.”

“But the question is, how?”

“It’s for you to find out. And for you to discover how to take them out. A Greek God once said that.”

“Who could that be’”

“Just an anonymous Greek god who fell in love with a mortal. Well it’s cliché. The beautiful God fell in love with a beautiful maiden.”

Eros and Psyche?”

“Yeah. It’s melodramatic. I hate it.”

“Supposing you have to discover that God, how will you do it?”

“By my poetry. Definitely. I’ll ask him to sail away with me using my words, my rhyme, my undying poetry.”

“But isn’t that hard? You have to serenade a God with your poetry, not even a note of music?”

“Just plain poetry. And he will also realize that it is in the west where the real sun dawns.”

“And he’ll realize that the story doesn’t end at west.”

“Where will it end? North?”

“Haha.”

“Oh how sad. How beautiful my loneliness is.”

“Print screen, dear.”

“The memories are mine.”

“And your song is the lament of birds..?”

“Promise me that whatever happens, the memories and the pain are mine.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t deserve to get hurt.”

“I don’t know what to say, really.”

“You are vulnerable, my lovely…”

“You think I am? I don’t fall for just anyone who cares for me..”

“So? I think you are precious…”

“How come?”

“You are playing with chance. I don’t want to lose you. Or rather, you didn’t chose to play with chance. Chance opened the game for me. And asked you to be the bet.”

“Isn’t that everybody plays this game of chance?”

“Yes, my dear. But there are times when you know that it would be too painful to loose something so precious. Something so precious that you don’t want to lose the bet.

“I remembered a good friend of mine telling me…being defeated is often a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it permanent…”

“I am not making you give up. I am the one who is giving up. I am withdrawing you from the game. I don’t want to lose a precious gem, like you just because of triviality. Or the chance of love, whatsoever.”

“The game of love might be cliché, but Love itself is not cliché at all. Its just people who make it one.”

“Too bad my love for you isn’t for this world. The love I have is encrypted in my poems.”

“Don’t you want to share your love?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt…”

“A love not shared is enough for someone to be hurt…”

“That’s why, if it is already hurting you, if I am already hurting you, I have to pull it out. I don’t want to hurt anybody, especially you, because of love. I am not the Psyche that you have to fall in love with. I don’t deserve it.”

“I’m really clueless…I don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything…”

“Tell me…is their something higher than love?”

“There is. But we cannot attain it”

“Then what it is?”

“For others, its faith”

“Isn’t faith sprouted out from love?”

“But faith is higher. Love is just its subordinate. That’s for religion. For me its the rarity of finding someone who you have been dreaming of..

“I don’t know…where will you get your faith if you don’t know how to love?”

“For me, rarity is at the top of the hierarchy. Love and happiness are just the subordinates. If you know how to love, then will you be able to have faith…”

“But rarity on the other hand.”

“What about?”

“Isn’t that if you know that something is rare, you should know how to love it?”

“Yes. I know how to love it. I can love it. But it’s too precious to lose. I want to keep it the way I first saw it.”

“How will you know that you will lose it?”

“It’s already written. That’s the nature of love. It is elusive. Even if you do find it, it will with all its power to get out of your hand.”

“But do you know when it will go?”

“Once you indulged yourself on it. No specific time though. When you are roaring with happiness, a bigger part of it will end up in tragedy, in pathos. That’s why euphoria is a disorder.”

“But it’s up to you if you will let yourself drown into loneliness.”

“I wouldn’t drown…”

“Oh yeah, you will die of freefall.”

“But I am not as strong as Psyche… dear Greek god…”

“You don’t have to compare yourself to anyone. You are what you are. Comparing yourself only means that you are closing yourself to a lot of possibilities…thus you will not grow…”

“I know. Psyche is just an analogy of what I can do and what I cannot do. I would not look for someone who flew away from my grasp. That’s how harsh I am. I want you, yes. But I don’t want to lose you because of vague things.”

“I don’t know. Maybe time will tell…”

“Yeah. However, whatever you are feeling right now, stop it. The memories are mine, sweets.”

“For me, over and over, you are responsible for what you have tamed…”

“Of course you can still have me.”

“I hope.”

“I am your mistress, you are my Muse. We are somehow entwined.”

The sighing continues. Night enveloped the whole room. Darkness invaded the tired bodies of the two anonymous mortals. They slept, their hair entwined. The ink on the pen dried, the cool wind blew the dirty white paper they were doodling on.

Then morning came. The birds are singing. Lament, says one. Happiness, say the other.

“Sing. Then think of me. Everybody’s changing.”

“Are you going to change?”

“Reformat.”

“Will I still be there?”

“Everything’s going to be erased. Everybody’s going to be erased.”

“Sigh”

“I told you to watch your feelings! Don’t let me break your heart, you silly boy!”

“Call me silly, call me whatever you want.”

“Don’t let me be the first one to break your heart, you android.”

“Not anymore.”

“Violet is the color of loneliness…”

“It’s black and white.”

“No. That’s too monotonous.”

“That’s why it is lonely.”

“Loneliness has its own color, my dear. It is not monotonous, my cupid, my dear captain. Sigh. We could have perfectly fitted in an old movie, Casablanca maybe. We could have been the anonymous backdrop of the whole plot.”

“Thank you for the memories.”

“Will you ever forget things about me?”

“No.”

“I am jaded.”

“I am worried.”

“Don’t be, dear. Everything is going to be fine on your part of the world. You will always be the rarity that I have always dreamed of.”

“I am still worried.”

“Let’s walk incognito sometime, with no destination of our own.”

“We will.”

“I’ll see to that. My greatest sigh… My yesterday’s child… Sail away… Like a photograph..”

“I want to-“

“Hush. It’s about time. “

The wind blew several times. One moment and like a haze everything melted, the colors of the whole world, the songs of the bird, the whisper of the wind. It’s as if the world is trapped inside a dark cloud and there is nothing at the end but oblivion. One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. She then felt a sudden headache, like walking dizzy in a narrow road. Then there were tremors in her stomach. She could feel the pangs of fatigue in her body. She flipped open her eyes. He is gone. All she sees now is a plain blue ceiling with a dextrose swinging. Then a sudden rush to her side.

“Doctor, she is finally awake!”

A scamper here, a scamper there. She could hear all the click-clacks of the heels of the shoes around her. She suddenly thought about him. Who is he? She cannot remember anything about him anymore. One more minute.

She heard a faint voice inside her mind. Will I still be there?

Then the sun broke in her eyes and everything changed.



Tags: love, sadness

About the author: i am a wandering Jew

tikgirl has blogged 13 posts


Read the Comments

[ # 1176 ] Comment from erwinilao [September 26, 2007, 4:24 am]

Wow! If this is original then I must say that you have to write more. Something in the sadness of your train of thought just bugs me. Does death scare you? Or the loss of the one you love? I am hoping that this is fiction and not something that happened to you. Keep on writing girl.

[ # 1179 ] Comment from bondgirl4ever [September 26, 2007, 12:00 pm]

bruha ka talaga

[ # 1185 ] Comment from deity [September 26, 2007, 4:39 pm]

is this some kind of a draft for a book? very touching…

[ # 1188 ] Comment from tikgirl [September 27, 2007, 3:38 am]

thanks! its a draft for a short novella.. i’ll make it sadder, eeeh

[ # 1305 ] Comment from tikgirl [October 23, 2007, 6:57 pm]

“the saddest part of a broken heart isn’t the ending so much as the start. the tragedy starts from the very first spark, losing your mind for the sake of your heart.”- feist, let it die

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