I. My mom told me to cover my ears and I did. I didn’t hear anything. My mom told me not to talk and I did. I didn’t say anything. My mom told me to stop moving and I did. I didn’t do anything. My mom told me to stop. But this time, I didn’t. How could I stop my heart from beating?
II. Love, I had it yesterday, I lost it now.
III. Once upon a time, when there was still no time, we used to play hide and seek under the shades of the sun. For hours, I searched for you until hours become days and days become months and months turned into years. But I never give up because there is still no time.
IV. I knew someone who has an Alzheimer. “Hi”, I said and he just smiled. And on the next day, I greeted him again and he just smiled. They say the mind will forget but the heart will remember. But I realized, maybe he didn’t recognize me anymore because his heart already recognizes someone.
V. My mom used to sing a lullaby and there was a particular line that seems I cannot forget, “I’m fine”, “I’m fine”, then suddenly warm droplets started to fall from your eyes, I thought it was rain but later, I learned it was tears. Eventually, it grows louder and louder until I no longer heard it, I felt it. And then I sang too and said “I’m fine".
VI. “Mom, I did it”, you smiled “Mom, I did it", you just smiled again “Mom, I finally did it”, again, you smiled as I saw your smiling face, I know it was already too late because they were all the same.
VII. To her, you were her best-selling book who occupies her empty shelves. Her prologue, her leading man, her epilogue. Every night, behind her open windows, she waits for a sequel but end up closing the book and decided to leave it forever in her history section. But for years, he was still her cliffhanger that until now, she’s still hanging to the possibilities of impossibility.
VIII. Anna went to the library. She saw pile of books with different titles. Each title tells different story. And each story leaves different emotions. But Anna didn’t buy at least one of them because to her, they might be all product of different imaginations.
IX. There was this particular moment that I wanted to feel all over again. It was the sadness of losing the person you love. It was so good to feel it like hundreds of times because that’s the only the moment that reminds me that I was still alive.
X. According to this one particular poet, she learned to write poems when she learned how to lift a pen and she started to lift a pen when she runs out of paper. But as time passes by, she can’t write anymore. Is it good or bad? Why does she feel like she’s losing something important? Why does she feel like she’s missing something a part of her life? Is it because she can’t write anymore? Or is it because she runs out of ink on her pen? Or maybe both?
XI. I tried to experience what they called different kinds of loneliness. One is when I’m with the crowd. Two, when I saw my grade report card. Three, when I stare at my dim light room and four, when I’m with you. But the fourth was not loneliness; it was beyond loneliness that I prefer to call pain. X. How ironic it is when we say hi to each other after years of separation? You said hi like nothing happened and I say Hi like you happened.
XII. “Why? Don’t you trust me?” My friend asked “I trust you”, I simply answered “ What about him? You don’t trust him?” She asked again “I trust him too" “Then why?” I stare at her. “I don’t trust myself enough to trust you.” With that, I walked away.
XIII. I asked myself the same question everyday, “How did I lose myself?”
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