Wednesday, February 13, 2008
She felt defeated. She surrendered all her opinions away to the great unknown--beyond the suburban houses and to the setting sun as she let herself listen to the voice on the other line. The memory of Desiderata abruptly appeared in her mind along with the authority-like voice of Mr. Lazaro reading it as if she was put in a trial of life. "...listen to the ignorant because they too, have something to say" repeatedly echoed in her mind. She was not about to loose all control over her senses so she moved forward and recollected herself back to earth as she truly let her bestfriend's words sinked in to her like a veil.
Darkness had over-ruled daytime for 15 minutes then, yet the cold, misty wind and the sad reality of street crimes infamous in the area did not intimidate her to "go home" and accept the fact that the once good space she had for meditation and creativity is a polluted room she can barely unwind into. She, however, made herself comfortable in the pavement near the LA bridge; she curled threefolds while tapestry of thoughts loomed above her like overwhelming curtains in a very tiny stretch. Her soul and heart agreed: she did not do any heartache provoking yet issues still obstructed her persona. Thus, a war between her right and the anonymous, surprising wrongs that she had cause, according to the person on the other line, abided greatly as it remained long enough for considerable casualties like the 100-year war.
As impersonal as the phone can be and distressing perhaps to talk about such deep issues over it--in between airwaves and distant miles--she thought a great deal of some "what ifs" in her mind. Like: What if she die tonight and everything is unresolved above her coffin? What if the people she had issues with will spend their lifetime holding pain, misery, irrevocably, grudges, against her? The teardrops in her wake, the dripping sound full of tingling hatred but in the end happiness as, she is alas, dead? So, she insisted that they both will spend their night resolving the issues and tackling down the cemented wall between them; for her, under the star-studded sky and the sighs of passerbys...for him in the other end of spectrum, the rush of automobiles. People put off what they can do today for tomorrow in hopes that time will be in their side but she realized that evening that nothing and no one will remain here forever. If its stress and long bickerings with her bestfriend can resolve the problems then she thought, let stress over-rule and arguements exist.
The past couple of weeks, she spent making a mile-list of the things she needed to work on, in her life. Life had been nothing but favorable. Problems blended in perfectly with the changing ways of the weather. Smiles were given now and then but the cycle of life continued to bombard her with the never-ending arrays of confusement and deep thoughts that could have poisoned her whole body. However, she continued to live day-by-day trying to connect with the people she supposedly "missed" on since she 'had spend all her time with a growing, unknowingly promising, relationship. If only they knew...
She lives for them; she constantly yearns for the love her home life fails to provide!
And there she was seated out cold, coughing and almost throwing up because her gut feeling reminded that without her bestfriend, she would not have many things to live for, besides materialistic contingencies. There were many rights to what her bestfriend was telling her although she secretly took offense for him from disregarding the fact that she has been a good friend and one that would not do anything to ruin any kind of friendships.
In the end "We're going to be fine..." was said with awkward sighs and she truly hoped that they're "going to be" so.
Labels: FICTION, friendship, unfictioned
My mind's unweaving/ 2:57 AM
Warning: This personal blog can be fatal to your health; read responsibly. Fasten seatbelt when doing so.
Tis written unlike no other in my attempt for creativity. Here, you'll find *fragmented fictional and real stories that are relevant to my life in some ways. I don't enumerate things that happens to me everyday nor do i purposely rant about lame, stupid "teenage" cliches. My entries are from memory, past experiences, reviews (food, book, movie) and my opinions on current issues--and no, no politics whatsoever. Grammatically incorrect to a degree but nothing that can make you squirm (or so I hope not).
P.S. Put in mind that I'm a scrumptious-looking cupcake and you know you can never, EVER, resist me...so no hating or you'll never get to eat "us" again! lol
YOU, CHATTERBOX, YOU.
designer : kathleen
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