i owe you a fall #4

15 Mei 2012

Say, why don't we go to a place
where nobody knows us?
We can pretend like we are together;
like I'm your mrs and you're my mr.
We can wear fake rings
and call each other darling.
And I will never let go off your hand
as if the world is going to end.

the leaky boat

9 Mei 2012

Strangely, I had a good sleep last night. I dremt of a garden under the moonlight and us gazing at the starry sky. It was cold but your hands holding mine were warm. It felt real, as if you were there next to me. As if we were like we used to be.

However, I don't know why I woke up early and ended that sweet dream so soon. I went into the bathroom at five to six and enjoyed the warm water far too much. It was almost seven when I came out of the shower. Staying under the warm shower was a big mistake because the AC in this hotel room made me frozen right away.

I had driven for a hundred miles to come to this town, but somehow I'm not tired. Maybe after all these years my nerves, my heart, have finally lost their sense of this kind of pain. Or maybe I've just learnt to love and enjoy it. Years have passed since that moment when you drew a heart with a red sharpie on my palm. Years have passed since the first time we told each other those three words; the first of many times. And years, too, have I tried to understand my position. When you love someone, you've got to be ready for all the risks. And by loving you, I've got to be ready that someday I have to let you go. And that day, honey, has finally came.

I put on my make up, putting more attention to my eyes because I know you like it. I put on eyeliner. I curl my eyelashes and add some mascara. I put on light brown eye shadow that matches my brown kebaya. I stylised my veil and put a golden brooch on my chest. I smile at the mirror and I look good. Even though I know that no matter how hard I try to look pretty, I will never be prettier than your bride. This is her day and she will be queen today. She's getting married to a good man.

I spray my perfume all over my head and body. Now I'm good to go.

There's only one more thing, however. One more crucial thing that I have to be sure of. I need to know if I'm really okay; if it's okay for me to see you getting married to her. You know me; I can break down at any time. It will not be a good sight for your guests. I'm not ashamed of crying in front of strangers, but it's your day. I can't ruin your day, like I've ruined your life these past years.

Why would you even invite me? Why would I even be willing to come? Inhibitions aren't really our thing and we're already used to being straightforward to each other. You know very well that it may break my heart to see you in your big day and I know very well that I may ruin everything. But you still invite me and here I am in a hotel room right above the big hall where you're going to marry her, ready to attend that event. Where's the sense in that?

And so I decide this is how our story will end (not that there is such thing as our story): not by me running down the aisle to interrupt the vow, but by me walking away from this place, out to the parking lot, taking all my stuffs, and driving a hundred miles back to where the city lights can distract me from thinking of you.

And here's for you: remember when I told you about my boat? Well, it still keeps sinking. I'm still sinking but it's okay. I can swim.