Malnourished. Memory. Transparent. (3/3)

She checked herself in the mirror one last time to make sure she was ready.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths she reminded herself, trying to ignore all the ladies scurrying around her. The white dress fit her rather perfectly, giving her a look she'd lusted after for ages.
"Ow!"
She turned around to see one of her bridesmaids had dropped a small porcelain bowl on her foot.
It's all-right she told herself. It was a big day, people were allowed to be nervous.

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He cursed as he woke up to the sound of children playing outside.
Fuck. He swore to himself that he'd find that damned football and puncture it. He got up too quickly and had to sit back down as a sharp pain blossomed in his head. Bloody alcohol.
She was still sleeping of course. Lazy bitch.
He shouted at her to get out of bed as he fumbled around the bedroom floor on his hands and knees to find his pants.
He stumbled into the bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He needed a bloody shave.
He cupped his hands, and threw water on his face.

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The water was slightly cold, but he paid no mind to this as he stepped in, his white robe progressively getting heavier as it soaked in the water around him. He looked up, into the encouraging eyes of his pastor, and took another step forwards. He knew that the world around him was paying attention, his family and friends, his fellow church members, but he forced himself to push them to the back of his mind and focus on God. He took another few steps forwards, and listened as the pastor gave his blessings.
A hand came up, he felt a soft pressure as he was bent back and immersed into the water.
A breath, closed eyes, and the water. Then light, opened eyes, a smile.
And i different kind of light.

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The water was slightly cold, but he paid no mind to this as the butt of the gun pressed harder into his head and pushed him forward, one hesitant step at a time. He looked up at his countryside, ravaged and war-torn, as the sun set slowly, bathing the landscape in its blood. This was all that he was fighting for, this destroyed land. He stopped moving, looking bleakly on at what he had contributed to.
The gun pushed harder, but he did not move.
He fell to his knees, looked blankly on at the pointlessness of his actions, and waited for the bullet.

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His roommates were still asleep and the lights off as he woke from his reverie.
He had dreamt of her. He had dreamt of her for the first time. Tottering on the brink of sleep and excitement, he reached out from his bed to the laptop which lay there on the floor besides it.
He recreated the dream in his mind trying to remember every vivid detail, every second he saw her face... And he turned on the computer, careful to muffle the speakers with his hands in order not to wake his roommates.
The computer turned on. Password input. Opened a text editor.
With the screen dimmed and the room silent, he closed his eyes and started typing down everything he remembered, regardless of any grammatical mistakes he may be making.
10 minutes later, he opened his eyes and looked at his text.
She may not care for him, but if things worked out in the end, this would make one hell of a memory.

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He felt inspired.
After a recent trip to the museum, thoughts were constantly swimming across his head, and he wanted to put his inspiration to work.
He paused and thought of his artistic strengths. Not much in the way of design, but he was able to write fairly well... that would be his medium.
He opened up facebook and started typing a note.
Click. Click. Clicked one more time and it was time to insert the subject.
He needed to stop and consider this. What would he undertake, how to most efficiently channel his current creative high... How, he wondered? Maybe they would know, maybe the world would help him find out.
Pausing temporarily and he struggled to find the right words, he started typing: "Restless..."

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He felt lost.
He wouldn't- couldn't stop thinking about ... no, had to stay away from that.
Clear his mind.
He opened up facebook and started typing a note.
Click. Click. Clicked one more time and it was time to insert the subject.
He needed to stop thinking about it. It confused him and made him lose his mental equilibrium. He needed to... images, colors... a person. How, he wondered? Maybe they would know, maybe the world would help him find out.
Pausing temporarily, he started typing: "Restless..."

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He opened the door and took a step inside the shop.
Shit, he had expected less of a crowd than this.

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He took a while to think about how he'd lost her. He still didn't really understand.
He took out his diary, and wrote.

Jan 16th 2008 5:30 - 6:30 pm

"Why am i waiting here today?
It's been an hour.
Am i waiting for the farewell that you're not going to give me?
Distance.
What happened between us?
Does the fact that i like you make you hate me?
Does love kill friendship?
Does passion destroy good memories?

For everything i wrote in facebook.
For all the telling myself that i could move on.
i saw you today.
rationale, reason, all i told myself...
Forgotten.
Replaced by you. YOU.
Not the image, not the idea that i can discuss about at night with muyself. Not the one i can convince myself not to love.

There's too much to lose, too much loneliness, too much death.
But...
Thank you for the smile.

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June 8 2008 00:32 am
Location Hostel - unknown

It's been three months since my last entry. I found this little book, took it out, and re-read all my previous memories.
Time does make things better, as i'm no longer hurt over you, but the regrets remain: i wish i could go back and be a better friend.
We had a friendship once, a strong friendship.
i would like to rebuild this bridge between us whether it takes weeks, months, or the full 3 years i have left here.
From the depths of my heart: これから、よろしくね？

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November 10 2008
Can dreams come true before you make wishes of them?
Let's pretend that you actually get what you wish for on your birthday.
Can i be an exception? Can i bend the laws of time and make my wish now?

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