If you do not know me well enough, let me do a bit of a flashback. At the start of my fourth year of high school, I never thought I would need the list of courses for I was quite definite I would pick out journalism. Yes, I loved writing most especially when I was in high school(almost 5years of math and purely technical writing made me rusty). I have a notebook full of short stories, fictional characters, random phrases, words I like, vivid descriptions of feelings, rants and almost everything that pops to my mind. For many who does not understand, it was a silly thing to have but for me, it was me, my world.
Last weekend, at home (home-home), without even thinking, I rummaged through the dusty pile of stuff crammed in the corner of my small room. I came across a paper, torned from THE notebook and in that paper, with my messy handwriting is this:
I was deeply annoyed. The fact that I did not speak need not mean I don't care. I walked the long alley leading to the track field, kicking all the stones I can reach. "I will not cry. I will not cry," I chanted. "You're crazy." A deep familiar voice broke my song. I looked back and sighed. It was the devil. Oh God, I hate his eyes. I was cornered. I sat down for surrender. He sat beside me and said once again, this time in a mocking tone, "You're crazy." I was to strangle him in my imagination but in reality I babbling-babooned him. without looking at him, I repeated, "You're crazy," same as his mocking tone. He knew my strategy too well so he went straight to the point. "Mea, she didn't mean it." Out of annoyance, I continued to babble, "Mea, she didn't mean it." "STOP REPEATING," he said, "NOT FUNNY." I smiled. I won. In a proud voice I said, "Stop repeating. Not funny." He paused. I was resisting my triumphant laugh. He was looking at me, I felt it. Then he said, "I love you." I froze. That was a low blow. I hated him... more than ever. I forced myself to look at him, our eyes met and he was dead serious. Out of cowardness, I immediately raced through the alley away from him. I was running so fast I couldn't feel my legs. "IT WAS JUST A JOKE. HEY! COME BACK HERE!" He shouted in loud, clear baritone. I did not stop but for a moment, I was decelerating, catching my breath and wishing I never heard that last bit.
I miss Mea. She was the main character for most of my stories. She's playful but suicidal... not me, I daresay.
*Something happened which led to that moment of epiphany and for the last minute, I wrote some engineering courses.. If you ask me, NO. No regrets.
**The last thing I remember about THE notebook, I don't remember why but I was writing, then out of nowhere, I threw it away.
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