Memory (tBc)

There are just two possibilities on where he is now. Either he is sitting in his room facing his laptop, or he is lost on his own bizarre, exciting world of his imagination. But he always thinks that he is the only one that calls it exciting.

There were just too many thoughts that occupies on the vast mind of the man he had become. A kaleidoscope of vivid, haunting, happy, and dreamy memories that seems to float over every single thing.

It is on the bottle of water that stood at the table in which he is sitting. It jumps on the mattress of the bed where he sleeps at night. It prances with the dust along the ray of sunlight which filtered through the window. It's swirling and playing with the wind and dances when it hit the fan. It shakes at the branches of the trees outside his window whenever a bird hops on it. It is overwhelming, just sitting there watching it all. But of course, it wasn't real. It was only in the mind of an 18 year-old man who doesn't know whether to carry on or to just drop it all off.


He turns his head to the left then to the right. His eyes sweeping through every corners of the room which he has been living for the past year. Yes, it was nice. cozy enough to sleep at night, to sleep away the day that had happen and the things that don't even matter. But it was a cycle, and even he can't do anything about it but to go on with the life that he has.

Click, click click. There goes the sound of the keyboard that just seems to be continuously hit by something bigger, something important. It was freedom of course, just free the mind of everything else and write it all off. But it is also dumb and cowardly, what to do anyway when that's what he ever he felt he is? Oh, memories. It's all that he has and all that he is. People would say that let go of the past, but what if it was a perfect past? a beautiful history that makes everyone sigh in envy? Would it be easy to just let it fly?

But of course, his past was not perfect, it never was. But there was something about it that was beautiful, something that makes him forget everything that is present while reminiscing the uplifting story of what he once had. He never shares any of it though, he just keeps it for himself. Not that it was not worth it, but it was just nice remembering the actual event that remembering the last time you told it to anybody else.

There was a rumbling sound inside him, and realized it was already 3 in the afternoon. Three hours past lunch time.