Collision of Time

Collision of Time by Sharrissa Bianca Garcia

To the love of my life, who supported me to write this angst piece, this is for you and for the whippersnappers.

                                                                                    Chapter 1

                                                                                         Grief

It was behind time again in the evening, I caught myself staring at the ceiling upward down the opposite to where I lie down to sleep. It was 2 in the morning and still reminiscing with the memories that creates sceneries in my head. Even the glacial presence carried by the wind blowing outside my window, small drops of rain, pitter pattering in my roof then a few droplets of rain fall across the pavements of the rough road creating a whiff of petrichor which a soothing scent of nature across my nasal cavity. For time, I often do this for how many months, should I say, I have insomnia? Or I got a hard time to sleep early? It doesn't matter, and I do not even give a damn when I have a lack of sleep then be apathetic for the next day, because I felt nothing and just a mere gal who thinks life would be envious to her mere existence. I closed my eyes, and slept peacefully as it should be, no noise, just tranquil in a cold, dusty room. I woke up once again, and maybe, for being so apathetic, I was ungrateful for being alive. Sunlight just landed into my soft cheeks, which creates a slightly painful glary light that almost lowkey making me blind and distracted from a little light. I rubbed my face with my palms, while though I have a bedhead look, I still wanted to return to my sleep, but the smell of breakfast from downstairs urges me to go down and start the day ahead, perhaps. As I walked down the stairs, there, my mother, slicing tomatoes and brewing some coffee, for pouring two cups with brewed coffee, for the two of us. Breakfast seemed to never be the same without my dad, now I'm spilling my grief, for my beloved father. I was standing still, while staring at my mother, with her favourite peachy apron and wearing a daisy designed dress, humming a sweet sound with her mellifluous tone and caring voice. I used to remember, how my father has been wonderstruck by my mother's voice whom expressing an endearment. While humming the song, with a smile on her face, even her freckles would make the most of her divine beauty, what an angel, but still I have this hatred that weighs in my chest every time I see her, but she's my mother. My dad died, because of her hussy act, she dared to date young lads even though she is married with my father. A massive quarrel every time they both see each other here in the house. My father became depressed, he was an actual drunkard than before, and after that, he decided to end his life, he was driving the car with no control and let himself got into an accident. He didn't make it. I used to remember how my father told me about love. Pain is such a demanding stratagem, it takes full force when you consider someone as your biggest downfall, even for someone you love. 

"My dear, when you grow up to be a young gal, your emotions can change. As you grow, you know how life works between people and their emotions. Now, I want you to fall in love with someone, I cannot forbid you because when you become enamored with someone, they will stay with you, until both of your death comes on the deadline. Maybe in another life, your time will collide once again".

  I never knew what that meant, but I know for sure, love is not what I believe. Not even what my father had felt, not even when my mother cheated on him. Expectedly, I would just act neutral in front of her and then I seated with her on the table, handing me the cup with brewed coffee, just how I liked it. Still, the window panes have a few droplets of rain from last night formed with the condensation of air and water, and still I have the urge to eat breakfast with her, even I don't want it heartily.

"So how was your sleep?" 

"Even how many times I wake up in the morning, I still feel weary, but glad thing I loved brewed coffee"