A Bit of Tomorrow

Fortieth

Ellis

I clicked the play button on the cassette player and sat down on my chair as I stared outside my window. The Carpenters started playing on loop into the air. Every melody I ought to take by heart. Every string being tugged, so did my heart.

I sigh as my eyes follow the path of the leaves outside swaying. My thoughts start circling around and I only feel my heart shallow. I've never felt my heart beat an unusual tune since—though it was never at ease. Although my head was filled with a tangible amount of notions, my heart never felt more abandoned.

It's like you live everyday without thinking ahead, nothing to look forward to in the least. Sometimes, you catch yourself being stuck but a grave sigh manages to burst your bubble. You feel yourself walking under different seasons but all of them almost felt the same—void and cold.

They say, first love always left a mark. Perhaps, it did but the person next to it could've been too. Loving unconditionally never had a sequence. Loving meant trying, experiencing but most of all jumping into a whole different perspective that justifies a new meaning to being in love.

In my case, she wasn't my first. She was my greatest. Time would tell a wounded heart when it's best to heal—it did and it didn't tell me sooner or I just never paid attention to it.

Moving on and going on, they were different. Moving on meant practically trying to forget everything and leave it in the past, buried. Moving on meant finding someone who would eventually try to mend you and glue all those broken pieces back together. Moving on meant looking back with a stable heart.

Whilst with going on, it meant having to deal with the consequences—either you were forced or willingly faced them. Going on, you had to pass by every station that eventually led you back to where it started but even though, you still have to walk forward. Perhaps, being on a train that took you to the next destination but you end up riding the same train.

I was neither on both—moving on nor going on. I was in between.

I would ride different trains with new people but end up going back. I tried mending myself but I always have an uneasy heart even with just looking back. Moments when I felt like I was finally taking a step forward, I realized that the world was running backwards. Was like running on a treadmill.

No matter how hard I tried to see things on a different perspective, it always brought me back to where I first messed up.

I mean, things would go on pretty well. There were times where I would forget my own thoughts, let loose. But those times I find myself inside a bar—drunk and the next day ending up remembering why I came in in the first place.

You can't really help but dwell on things. I always thought that it was art of the process. That sooner or later I'd be able to let my heart live with no trembles. That whenever I look around, I would be able to see different faces but it was a slow process. Slow enough to make me see her in every little thing that I come across.

A soft knock resounded from the door and snapped me out from my everyday trance.

"Come in." I said and fixed my blazer.

"Mr. Clarke? Your mother is here to see you." Alice, my secretary peeked from the doorway.

"Yeah, sure. Let her in." I smile at her slightly. She nodded and accompanied mom into my office.

I stood up upon seeing mom to hug her. Alice stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

"Mom. What brings you here??" I asked after detaching from the hug.