Fireflies

12

I came home sniffling, reasoning out with my Mom that it was because of the chilly air and not my downcast mood. She would knock outside my room at a few-hour interval asking if I'm well and breathing.

Sometimes, she would catch me staring off into the window, zoning out and looking as blank as an empty paper. Oftentimes, I would be shooting lasers at the blue memento I always took wherever with me. It rested on my hands and the covers now seemed so familiar against the touch of my palm.

Now that breakfast finished, I headed to the wisteria tree bringing a cloth with me. I would read the couple pages there hoping some kind of miracle would bring me back to him or bring him to me. It surprised me to find myself including him in my prayers, yearning to hear him speak my name again. At least once, I wanted to hear it again.

My off-white dress hung low over my knees and so I cautiously looked out for thorns when I strode my way to the spot that gave me comfort. My hair disheveled and loose, I tuck the ones covering my face behind my ear and walked rhythmically.

I hummed while the trees danced, birds flew freely, and the clouds moving at their own pace. Everything in this countryside reminded me of peace from time to time. Mom's decision to reside here was not that bad after all.

By the time I arrived, I carefully placed the blanket on the old bench stained with spray paint from bygone wanderers and vandals. I wanted to clean this place out and pluck out the excessive weeds and tall looming grasses but I promised my Mom that I wouldn't hold or see anything sharp.

In the future, when my triggers do not keep me up at night and my Mom won't find me shaking when seeing remnants that made me recall the horrible woman, maybe then I'd be able to live like before—without ropes holding my feet and neck from reaching beyond the bubble of my defensive mechanism.

Strengthening the grip made while holding the freshly picked bundle of flowers, I shook the thought of Marina away from me. She didn't deserve to be remembered, that much I now know.

Her spiteful words, awful hard blows, and devious face created terror in my head.

Sometimes, I would ask my therapist if it was me because I was unable to toughen up in her environment, the reason now I've become a wreck.

The moment I woke up, all pale and dreary in the hospital, I remembered crawling into a ball. Confusion, fear, hopelessness, and shame overpowered me to the point that I had to consume pills, visit a rehabilitation center, and then when I had the chance to be able to come home, I had to grab it.

It has been exactly four months after I escaped that hell hole and it has been an entire month when I found the memento. Two weeks passed without Mark visiting my dreams and I am bound to give it up. I'm hanging on a very thin thread.

Resting my head on the trunk of the wisteria tree, I flipped open the memento and read another piece of his.

Confessions of an Ordinary Fish

I swam with sharks who knew the ocean too well

And so I glided my fins into the waters, not stopping until I fell.

Who would have ever known I sought to be the one to tell?

We're all lost but some are lucky enough—

—to find a companion in this place they see as hell.

I glimpsed back into the striking heat of the sun and scratched my head, I became dizzy. Mark and his metaphors seriously get the best of me. Sometimes, my head would just not keep up.

Sharks and fishes all swim along the wide sea but why did a fish have to feel so ordinary when he could be extraordinary in his own way?

He did not have to be a shark to get to know a place of warmth, of familiarity. But maybe, he just wanted to have someone who would make the vast ocean not as lonely.

Why was the ocean seen as hell? The water was cool and scary so maybe there are parts of it that delves into the unknown.

Was he ever lonely?

__ __ __

*Flashback*

"Why do you not believe me that you write poems?" I complained.

"It just doesn't make sense. I never really imagined I would be a person who thinks deeply."

"Of course you are, why else would I land myself out here? If it weren't for those very words that got me curious, I wouldn't be here bickering with you."

Mark shook his head, unconvinced. "Those words you told me don't make me recall anything."

My eyes softened. He was as confused as I was. We were making the best out of the situation but often I find myself wondering what it would be like to share with him the troubles I had with my day without worrying that he'd disappear the next day.

"You know what? Someday, if ever we stop talking and I won't meet you again, I think I would break the promise I made with you," I told him with a teasing glare.

From deep within, I was serious. But when he looked back at me, his eyes serious and full of mystery, I felt goosebumps all over.

"You see, a part of me wishes to go beyond the Mark whom you found in those pages. But then the other half is afraid to know why I ended up like this. I wouldn't want you to find out that I had led such a pathetic life."

I scowled at him. "And what does a pathetic life mean? There are no such criteria for that because a person will live to be pathetic if he thinks he is one."

"Some people are cowards like me."

"You're not a coward, you're just lost right now. But you don't have to burden yourself too much. I am too."

"I'm sorry that I'm not letting you," he groaned and ruffled his head. "But you'll keep your promise, right?"

__ __ __

Back then, I agreed. Maybe I shouldn't have.

The easiest way out was to just forget about him but I find myself emptier than before.

He must have grown on me. I'm so doomed.

My mom brought me here so I could slowly heal and forget and now I guess I found something else to worry about aside from recovering. If avid readers of tropes were to see me becoming miserable for another reason instead of my past trauma, they would somehow be proud. Am I making sense?

I closed the book and followed it by doing the same for my lids. I breathed in the fresh and crisp air and savored the calming sound of the leaves colliding.

If the desire to seek him pushes me to break my promise, I hope that if it happens, it wouldn't be a choice I would regret.

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