all the ways to describe min ✓

to say Min  was the brilliant one in the shed would be a slight exaggeration. there were mighter and brighter than her and, to say, she was perfectly fine with the way she was, would be just as false as the former. but now that i think about it,  no perfect adjective could be regarded to her except, perhaps, pretentious.

she was, in fact, pretentious. who in their right mind would go around pretending everything was fine and happy while making friends and dreaming about forever? who in their right mind sought nothingness?

‎
‎‎‎‎
‎

"nothing lasts forever," i always used to tell her but she would either dismiss my idea as trivial or just laugh it off.

or, sometimes, she would playfully swat my shoulders and say between her laughs, "that's the whole point, isn't it?"

‎
‎‎‎‎
‎

sometimes, i pitied her too. just how stupid could someone be? regardless of everything laid open in front of them, how could a person be so proud of their achievements; when their achievements were none and their ego inflated into infinite spirals for achieving . . . nothing?

it just confused me, at times. how could someone take pride in having done...nothing? how could someone reward themselves without any productivity all day? that simply does not sound sane. in fact, it sounds stupid and pretentious.

but, yes, that was Min for everyone; a vessel of sunshines and rainbows behind a picket fence of pride — pride about nothing.

i had thought about it a lot; spent a lot of time trying to figure out what exact kind of mystery this nothingness was. it cannot be just "nothing", right? sometimes, perhaps it was a code word of sorts? or, perhaps it was a kind of mischief kids pull out on?

but, Min was not a kid.

or, perhaps, she just tries to be a mystery, though, "tries" should be the wrong choice of verb.

perhaps, she just pretends to be a mystery.

perhaps, nothingness was nothing at all, and, perhaps, that's the whole point — perhaps, nothingness was, in fact, nothing at all. it was all a make-belief; a show to put up to the world.

sometimes, i would watch her laugh so much that she would start crying. her eyes would slowly crinkle like leaves on fire and lips widely spread showing all her teeth and she would laugh, chest vibrating with laughter, clutching her stomach with both of her hands whilst tears ascended down her cheeks at the same time.

‎
‎‎‎‎
‎

"You good?"

"Yeah," she would say, roughly wiping away her tears with her palms, messing her mascara lines miserably,  "something got into my eyes. it's nothing. don't worry."

then, she would let out a dry laugh which would sound more of a sigh than a laugh, fixing her already fixed hair and taking out a mirror in an attempt to, she said and i quote, "fix her face."

"it's nothing"

‎
‎‎‎‎
‎

i wonder how many exact times she would have used these words in her lifetime. i think quite a handful of times by the way she has it on the tip of her tongue. it's just pitiful.

and i would pity her because what else could i have done? barely anything.

i know, if she was still here, she would be too quick to say "nothing". nothing at all. but, i wouldn't be too quick to judge. i could have done a lot more than what i did. had it occurred to me that she was leaving.