Battling

It’s a mess. Papers shredded. Messages deleted. Faces ignored. She’s kept it to herself.

 

‘Talk to me’

Begging used to get her going back. Well, it’s been said dwelling to the past does nothing but fueling the anger. No, she’s not angry. Not anymore, not as much as the first time it happened.

 

Everything is scattered. She’s clueless to where she should begin. Touching them is the last thing she wants to do these days, but hating it wouldn’t make her forget either.

 

‘It’s just a day’

Just. Just and what seem to be logical reasons put her to weighting the cause of her reaction to those words, and forgiving was always it.

 

Throw away? Never had thought this day would come. Changes. Shifts. Delays. She isn’t afraid of any. Doesn’t like it but she’s tried to embrace it. Maybe it’s a good thing. Changing the flowers and cleaning the vase shall be the first things she does.

 

‘It’s not like that’

No, it’s not and she had always believed it, but all she wanted, ever needed, was to be a part, to be heard of what she had to say.

 

Going out of the house. She has to get out. Staying inside is making it all appeared too important to her. She couldn’t get rid of it. It’s not going to happen today. Maybe she should give up but she doesn’t want to be the one who still feels it anymore.

 

‘One last time’

Every time is a last time since she’s started listening. One last time is said ‘cause it was always forgotten that it’s already been said before.

 

It’s spinning her ability to decide out of the wheel. She must take it now before she steps out. Loosening up, getting her nerves chilled, filling up the glass like how she’s dreamt to be done. She drinks a few to crack her fears of accepting it was never about her. It was never once about her.

 

‘But I still love you.’

She does too but it’d make her a fool to wish it was true.

 

She puts a new bouquet on her table, sniffs like it could dissolve and walks over to the fridge for more of Jack Daniel’s. ‘Forgetting is my to-do today’ Talking to the liquid in her hand reminds how lunatic she has been. But well, if she weren’t, she wouldn’t have been breathing and at least she gets to lead the conversation this time.

Jidapachu,

© Jidapa Chang-in

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s