I want to call him, talk to him-just the two of us and ask him about the things he told me and what I meant to him. Lately, he's been telling me words that a stupid friend wouldn't tell you. I don't want to feel awkward with him and I don't want him to. I just want to clear out things that's been living in my mind for hours now.
I never been in love. I mean.. with real people. I only cry over boys who are fictional. I never waste my tears crying over a boy who doesn't think enough about his future-and it's a big turn off. I don't really have an ideal guy, as long as you're hardworking, honest, and most especially- a dreamer.
A dreamer who shares his dreams with me. A dreamer that isn't afraid to take risks. The one who would accept me and my 20 other personalities. Too much, maybe he's not existing.
But I already had a crush,but I don't consider it as 'love' because it was just...I JUST DON'T. My childhood crush-and I don't even know his name, just his seven-year old figure-not his face too, he always wear a Spider-Man mask.
I always see him playing in our street, he would wore his red cape and would run like he's been chased by a dog. At that time, I was in the garden, reading The Little Prince. He was too noisy and it makes my concentration gone.
My temper was quite low, so I shouted at him.
“Hey-you!” I yelled making him stop and glanced at me.
“Can you just be quiet? Can you see that I'm reading here?”
“Probably...no.”
“And now you know, so you better be quiet, okay? Or else I will call 911.”
“They would just hang up your call. It's nonsense.”
He never stopped his afternoon habit and he always annoy the six-year old me with his sound effects he added with his own voice, it sounds like a cheap dying car.
Until one day, we became friends. I don't know how that happened. I never saw his face, just hear his voice. I was crying that time by the reason Mom wouldn't let me ride my bike without training wheels. I was sitting next to the tree that time and then he sat with me.
“Why are you crying, weird kid?” he ask and I ignored him. “ You shouldn't cry about stuffs that doesn't deserve your tears. Don't worry, you'll get better soon.”
Then after that, we started talking about different types of nonsense. We would talk about Jake and The Neverland Pirates, the untold story of abandoned places, and stuffs about him and me. I once ask him if he could take off his mask, but he always tell me he can't do it. And the only name I gave him is 'spiderboy'. And he called me 'weird kid'.
Until one afternoon, I never saw Spiderboy again. I can't find him in the village anymore. I would ask my Mom, “Have you seen Spiderboy?” they would just laugh at me.
I really don't consider it as 'fall-in-love'. I didn't cry because of him or his departure. And I hope one day we'll meet again-but that would be impossible since I got no idea what his name is or how he looks like.
Today's our last day of trip. We gathered a lot of memories and experience first times. I woke up without Miss Mia beside me. I saw a note on the side table saying, "Darling, we borrowed your camera, I didn't wake you up, you're sleeping well, we will be back at seven."
It was already quarter past seven when Miss Mia entered the room with Grandpa and Tim- holding a small pouch. Then Tim opened it and films scattered in the bed sheet. I was left in an awe when I saw our faces. All of the pictures we took are now developed. I scanned each and I can't say any word.
“I'm planning to paste it on the walls in the stall.” Grandpa stated.
Tim was smiling while looking at the picture, I stared at him and then he stared back. He then show me the picture he's looking. It was him, the photo Grandpa took before we ride the Ferris wheel.
“Handsome,right?”
“No.” Grandpa interrupted and then mess Tim's hair.
Tim's eyes squinted and act upset. “The cashier told me my brown eyes are perfect.”
“Just eyes. Not face.” I said making him look at me in surprise leaving Grandpa do his dance and Miss Mia laughing. He put his hands on his chest acting he's hurt.
“Anyways...” We all look to Grandpa's direction. “We will be leaving tomorrow morning... Early in the morning, then we will be back to work the next day.”
“Yeps.”
“We need to change the music track and the books, too.”
Then silence covered the room and then an idea struck in my mind.
“How about... we write our own book?”
Tim stopped scanning the pictures then Miss Mia's lips opened in surprise and her eyes went round. Then they all gave a look that says, what-are-you-talking-about-?
“That's crazy.” Miss Mia replied with a wobbly voice.
“Why not give it a try?” Grandpa stated.
I stared at Grandpa and give him a wink.
“ Don't tell me we'll be writers this time?” Miss Mia questioned while putting his right hand in his forehead.
“Certainly.”
“Oh God.”
Flinn's Bucket List1. Make Tim cry.2. Witness more than 100 sunsets.3. Have a new introduction for the customers.4.Witness how the clouds changes from blue to black.5.Visit Melissa's grave with Kath.I read it again and again. I always get stucked with the last one. I want to visit her, soon.I glanced at Tim who's now writing his bucket list.“Why do you want to make me cry?” he asked while his focus is still on his paper.“Only me knows.” Grandpa replied.“ I'm done.” Miss Mia said and gave me her paper.We gathered together and sat by the lonely seashore. Since this will be the last day of our trip, we want to make it memorable.
I wore the bracelet Tim gave me. He said he haven't seen me wore it since the day he gave it to me. I explained that I care of things that was given to me and I don't want them to expose. That was a white lie 'cause I honestly forgot about it.Things have been clear to me, he's that kid who always wear a Spider-Man mask. They left the village that time when I couldn't find him anymore. And then when he turned into a teenager, they went back to the village. At first I couldn't believe it until he told me stuffs only the seven-year old him and the six-year old me know. And he haven't told me stupid stuffs like what he said these past few weeks. He's been acting normal and like an idiot which is I am used to.We got a lot of customers today-the music track is changed now and there's also new books. There are also faces that I already memorized as they
What if no one will read my book?But what if it will be the bestselling?What if they think I am illed?What if they think I am rare?“Ugh! I don't know Tim.”“Too obvious, Kath. Tim's not here.”I look up to Grandpa who's now frowning.“ I'm just talking with myself.”“It seems important.” He stated as he turned the sign in the door from 'open' to 'closed'.“I want to write a book..but I don't think people will read it.” I spoke the thought that kept on running in my head.He pulled the chair in front of me and sat down, looking at the wall. “ You should write for yourself, before others.”I gazed at him and took a deep breath.“ When you write, write b
“Mom-No-I won't go with you!” I screamed as I took her hands away from me, moving a step backward, trying to run, but my feet are frozen in the ground.“No, Zoe. You need to come with me. You can't stay in this-”“ I will stay!” I shouted emphasizing the last word, her face stayed calm and it's only the two of us, and her car.She came near to me and caressed my shoulder down my arms then to holding my hands making my spine shiver.“Honey, what I am doing is the best for you-”"No!" I shouted and then I felt my adrenaline rush, my cold sweats and then I saw the wall.A nightmare.Just a nightmare, Kathareen
“ God, I don't know what I am doing-Crap.” I uttered to myself as I stared at the ceiling questioning myself with my abilities.I just don't know what to write anymore. I just kept on hitting the backspace again and again. Then would read some books, writing and reading are the twins, but I just can't find the right words to say. I somehow feel writing isn't for me. This is crazy- I got the energy to write, but the page is still blank.I swallowed the lump in my throat as I can feel my eyes stinging. Then tears just fall down to my cotton shirt, making my chest feels heavy. I immediately wiped my tears as someone knocked in my door. I looked myself at the mirror and checked my eyes if it is too obvious. The mirror said I look fine. Then I took a deep breathe and walked to the entrance.I opene
I run quickly after I heard some screaming. It was loud and miserable-a scream that gave me goosebumps even though I am already used to it.“Here we go again.” Tim mumbled to himself as he washed the cups. He smirked at me and shrugged his shoulders.I opened the door and saw how the girl cried while holding a book. Her tears streaming down, and her feet- stomping on the floor. I glanced at Grandpa worriedly and talk to him by the eye asking him what happen. He shake his head no and other customers are glancing at the young lady, too.I took a deep breath and courageously took series of steps to the girl's direction. I cleared my throat first to take her attention but she seems fully concentrated while reading the book. “Uhm, can I talk to you for awhile?” I uttered with the
The room was perfect white when I opened my eyes. From the ceiling, to the walls, and to my hospital dress. The last thing I could remember was when I saw blood in the handkerchief and how the medical apparatus were being attached to me.The doctors examined my lungs, asked me a lot of questions- the ones you can't answer with a yes or a no. There was a thing called PET, MRI, CT scans and X-rays to see if there are abnormal mass. In my case, I know it's worst than what you'll expect since the tumor already spread in my spinal cord which is the cause of my back pains.I don't want to hear the truth.I'm trying to tell myself it was just overfatigue or anything caused by stress. I'm trying to act strong and unaffected- I am dying inside. Little by little, pieces by pieces. It's like my planets are getting attacked with giant asteroids without
The clock says 6:30 a.m.. Tim was sleeping in the sofa while Grandpa's on the folding bed. Miss Mia left yesternight to keep a track on her eldest daughter, and me-the sick kid who can't be part of the next decades.I felt guilt everytime I see them exchanging thoughts about where they would sleep or who would do this and that. And I can't do anything you about it. I don't want them to worry too much about me. I just want to hit rewind and stop time and stay at the moment where we are all celebrating life.I already told the doctor that I don't want to undergo any treatment. At first, he was trying to convince me that surgeries, chemotherapies are the best for me. Until I told him my side. I remembered how he took a deep sigh and spoke to me, ' Live your days. I'm happy to meet you in this lifetime.' And honestly, it hurts like hell. He is just