One last cry
It's been five years since I left home. Five years of living alone in this cold, dark room. I'm currently facing my computer, trying to book a flight to San Francisco. Up until now, I still didn't realize that leaving home was a mistake—huge mistake.
I saw a vacant seat which is beside the window of the plane, I immediately reserve it for me. I don't want to seat at the aisle, that will only make me sick. I let out a heavy sigh and rest my back in my swivel chair.
Am I happy now? I've been asking that to myself for like hundred times already and I can't still find my answer. I can't still answer that question. I have everything I wanted, but not what I needed. I tried my best but then I guess I didn't succeed. Not literally. I'm stuck in reverse. I've got everything I wanted. Money, expensive vintage cars, unit, name it. But, I'm still not happy nor contented. I didn't get what I needed and that is love and care.
I got up from my seat and walk through the kitchen. I need a break from all of this and the only way that can help me get away from this is Food. Funny but its true.
I open my fridge and saw that I only got milk and cookies for midnight snack. I took a glance at my watch and it says its already 2'o clock in the morning. I still got 7 hours before my flight back to San Francisco. I get myself some milk and cookies. I walk back to my room and decided to sleep after this.
I sat at the end of my bed.
It's been five years since I last saw my parents. I'm there only daughter—princess. I regret leaving them. I regret accepting my job here in London. I should've known from the start that this decision of mine is stupid, worthless.
My tears stream down my face as I smile weakly. I look stupid right now. Starting tomorrow and onwards, I promise I won't cry again. Ever again. Tomorrow will be the last day that I will cry.
I placed my glass at my study table and crawl at the bed. I'll try to be strong. I'll try.
I slowly close my eyes—getting ready to welcome the oblivion that will invade me.
I saw a little girl running and the guy chasing her—with a gun. I was standing at the other side as I watched the girl run.
I tried to take a look at the guys face but all I saw was his mask. He was wearing a Black mask, black shirt, black pants, even his scarf is black. Everything he wore was black.
I look again at the girl and I saw her crying, shouting for help. I started to run towards her but the guy suddenly pulled the trigger and shoot the girl. I was left there standing, gasping for air.
I saw my parents hugging the little girl. And that's when I realize that, that little girl is me. The little girl is me. I was left dumbfounded. I can't even moved my feet. I can't feel my legs at that moment.
The guy pulled the trigger again and shoot my parents—twice. And I saw myself gone hysterical. Shouting, crying for help.
I woke up with tears. That's the worst dream I've ever had.
I sat back and lean at my headboard. I stare blankly at the wall for minutes now. Remembering what happened six years ago.
I reach my phone and turn it on. It's already 7'o clock in the morning and its my call time at the airport. I jump out of my bed and immediately change my clothes.
I put my aviators on and I'm ready to go. I'll only bring my wallet, phone, passport, and ticket with me and oh! Also myself.
I get my keys beside my bed and run down through the parking lot. I immediately saw my BMW-M1 car and turn it on. I turn the wheel and I'm off to airport.
I guess I'm ready to face my parents now. I guess I'm ready to face everything I left behind. I let out a heavy sigh.
Minutes has passed and I'm finally here at the airport waiting for my flight to call. I'm nervous. I can almost hear my heart beat so fast. I can hear my pulse in my hands. I dump my hand at my skirt and that's the time I heard my flight.
I grab my jacket with me and my small bag. I walk through the entrance and I'm ready to go.
AS I WALK through out the airport, caffeine, fresh air, and voices of the people is all I can hear and smell. I'm back Mom, Dad.
I jump at the cab in front of me. I don't care about my Jet lag right now. All I care about is my parents. I told the driver to bring me at the Mission Dolores Cemetery.
My heart is aching again and my eyes are starting to get wet. I glance at the window and I saw teenagers walking happily and laughing their hearts out. I saw other people with their suit and phones with them. I saw some people, walking alone in the road. People really have different kind of attitude and I'm one of them.
Minutes has passed and I'm already here at the entrance of the cemetery. I put my aviators on and exhale. I'm good to go. I started to walk to my parents' grave and my tears started to stream down my face.
My parents' grave was located at the middle. I saw my parents' grave and I started to count my steps. 1, 2, 3, 4, and I stop. I let out a heavy sigh again and put my aviators in my bag. I don't care if people might get scared because of my looks right now. I look up the sky and wipe my tears.
And 5. I'm in front of my parents' grave now. My tears started to stream down my face again. I didn't hold myself back. I kneel down and started crying, saying sorry to my parents, and cry again.
After bursting—letting myself out, I stare blankly at my parents' grave and I silently pray for them. Asking for forgiveness and for guidance. I place my jacket in front of my parents' grave and stood up.
I turn my back from them and I promise to myself that this will be my one last cry.
