MODERN MANUSCRIPTS

Short story: Last Message

A/N: Please be advised that the following story contains sensitive topics such as self-harm, sexual violence, and self-destruction. These topics may be disturbing and triggering for some readers, and therefore, I recommend that if you are experiencing any emotional disturbance, you should not continue reading. Your discretion is strongly advised.

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Heaven is that moment when I look into your eyes,

But I never know, yours was hell.

I was still in college when I met a young girl who gave me a favorable memory of my young love way back then. Now that I've become a fully grown man, I still remember her and, of course, miss her. Her life's tale was both tragic and lovely, and it remains one of my lasting regrets.

I know that I am a typical boy growing up in a chaotic society, where my curiosity and desire for excitement often lead me to seek love for all the wrong reasons. Perhaps it's natural for someone my age, influenced by the adults around me and my peers. To navigate the uncertain waters of love, I often find myself drawn to young girls seeking thrills like mine. Despite this, I struggle to put a name to the complex emotions that I experience as I navigate through adolescence.

During my second year of college, I had the pleasure of meeting Yulie in one of my classes. She was a simple yet cheerful girl, full of life. I will never forget how her hair flowed down her shoulders and the sweet smile that graced her face whenever someone called her name. For the first time in my life, I finally understood the overwhelming emotions that I felt towards her. It wasn't just a simple attraction, it was a deep admiration and devotion.

I sometimes wonder how she manages to be both beautiful, mature, and wise all at once. It's a rare combination to find in a woman. From what I understand, even though women tend to mature faster than men, they still need to go through a phase of womanhood before they can truly embody femininity. Yulie is not just any woman; she's a queen. Every man desires a queen, not a slave.

Her beauty and intelligence surpass those of any woman I know, and she is incomparable. The more I see her, the more I fall in love with her. Sometimes, I even question if she could ever be interested in someone like me, as I am notorious for my conniving tongue and deceitful expression toward romanticism.

I cannot help but admire her from afar. They say that if you hide your feelings, they can grow into love. We love to nurture love from within, keeping it as if it were a treasure and holding it like a borrowed possession. We paint the picture in our minds, while the heart provides its own colors.

I don't know if she ever notices the adoration in my eyes whenever I stare at her. Once, I caught her looking back at me and she reciprocated my gaze with a smile. It was then that I saw something behind her eyes, but it took me a few minutes to fully understand what it was. Behind her shining black globes were signs of sorrow, agony, and despair. It was as if she was silently asking for help.

I couldn't handle it any longer, so I took the initiative. My initial curiosity had turned into a sense of duty. I felt responsible for helping someone in distress and saving them from further agony. Initially, it was confusing, but I realized that this is one of the elucidations of love: to serve, to be a devout, and to contribute to the greater good.

I had the opportunity to speak with her during a free hour of my day. It was after class when our professor left earlier than usual. Our conversation was small, but it was enjoyable. She had a way of brightening up the entire room, which caused my classmates to tease us inappropriately. It felt like they had exposed the fading shade of my facade that I was trying to erase. However, to her, it was just a playful joke.