Lying on her back against a blanket of soft grass, slowly but steadily, she stretches out both thin arms toward the orange sky. Gently taps her long fingers on each group of clouds, one by one, from the biggest to the smallest, like she’s testing notes on a new piano.
Squinting her dark blue eyes, dodging her sight away from a sharp ray of sunlight, she hears each cloud whispering a secret to her.
‘Trust me,’ she replied in her head. It won’t be long till it all disappears. These melodies we’ve composed will be gone through colors fading, blocked by majestic mountains, and eventually hidden by a cast of moonlight. Like mistakes and ugly thoughts, one might never be able to make amends, but one can hide it. In a place where nobody could see.
As the sky turns grey, she closes one eye, back and forth, from right to left. ‘Similar, but not the same.’ Reminding herself to the two worlds she lives in.
Each group of clouds slowly breaks apart, slips away, and eventually disappears, along with the sound of memories. And suddenly she feels hollow in her chest, yet freely comfortable to breathe for the first time in a long while.
Dissolving her conscience into the darkness, she imagines and hopes that she could slip away, and vanish into nothing like those clouds.
Maybe if she had decided to leave both worlds, her mistake wouldn’t have been a mistake. Nothing, it shall become. And she wouldn’t have to reject herself as often as she does now. And maybe there wouldn’t be any secret to keep at all.
Though, deep down, she knows it’d better be kept as her imaginations. It’d better be just thoughts that must be put away. It’d better be.. better be kept as her little secrets, and no one…
No one has to know.
© Jidapa Chang-in