February 14th is approaching again. I didn’t see it coming though since I never celebrated that day in my entire life. A thought popping out in my mind, what if I ever made it to the airport on the same day several years ago? Would everything be different by now? Would a little gesture and thought and determination change the whole series of my life?
I try to push away that thought as I resume my reading, trying to concentrate on sentences in the manuscript in front of me. Since the dateline is drawing nearer, half of 500 pages document is still unedited. Being an editor is not an easy job as I thought it would be. It took a lot of courage in terms of dealing with stubborn writers who undoubtedly put themselves on top of the world when their previous novels or books were sold out. Besides, weekends that are supposed to be well spent with dates or family are fully utilized for the dozen of manuscripts that I bring home every week. Works are piling up, and since my company publishes most of the so called best-sellers then we have to work extra hard, real extra hard.
The last flight out wafted in the air. I rest my tired and ached head on the table while hoping to fall asleep. However, every lyric of the song is dancing across before my soporific eyes. As I am trying to push the thought of him away, it gets bit by bit harder as the melody as if speaking to myself. He is not in my range of thinking for such a long time since we last met on a occasion which divided both of us geographically apart.
As if the memories of him were born yesterday, all of it is still fresh and crystal clear. We were both young at that time, talked about life, felt a tad scared of thinking how the future would bring, laughed to the dull jokes. He used to be defined my interpretation of teenage dream, because for all I know that exactly who he was; my teenage dream. I misread the navigation of our friendship as I wanted it to go further, beyond into “in-relationship” horizon meanwhile all he ever desired was to float on the channel in the name of friendship. I knew I saw it all wrong.
The night he boarded on the plane, I knew I was no longer able to catch his speeding pace to his dream. I plainly understood that I had no dreams to further on with, and even if I had found one later on I knew that it wasn’t the same path as his. The lacking of my will power of letting him go was equal to how much I put pressure on myself, holding me back from the path I should’ve taken. That was a foolish thing to do yet I did. Being trapped in the craphole for a while, taught me whole lot of priceless lessons which has not there in my college course to enroll. I painted my world with sadness for a span of time and while in the darkness I could only see two tunnels; the one that promised a bright light in the end or subdued dimness. I chose the former.
And for now, if I were to answer of some rustic doubts of what would happen if I decided to turn up on the day he was leaving, I don’t have response for that. Not that I purposely unwilling to answer in case I am in neediness of avoidance on that subject but simply because it’s something that shouldn’t be asked in the very first place.
As I flintily made my choice not to leave my room on the day he left on February 14th , which turned out to be a bless up until now, I shouldn’t question myself because I know for how many answers are there, I’m still unable to alter my history on that day and years after.
I stare out to the starry sky without limitation, I walk to the window; breathing in the cold night air. It feels frigid and sharp as the wind softly slaps both of my cheeks. I close my eyes for a little while, in the meantime my mind fluctuating between to call it a day or proceed with the open manuscript on my study table. I sneeze a few times before closing the window, afraid to get a cold as more manuscripts are in the pipeline for me to edit, just another headache to deal with.
Finally I make my way to my study table, take a couple sips of the cold coffee latte cautiously not wanting to spill it over. I am flipping through the pages when I yawn for the umpteenth time in 15 minutes, then doze off into a deep sleep.
No dreams.
