If You Understand What Life Means

A Short Story

My life was always full of loneliness. Since morning, my parents worked in a place that I myself didn't know about. My sister always locked her room, was never to be seen. Only their silhouettes that I could imagine in a room called emptiness where I stood still. From A.M. till P.M., I served myself with many edible snacks--mainly chips and chocolates--, imagined how other people lived a life that would be called mine.

Finished being a couch potato, having more snacks, and imagining, I went outside. Stalked the second floor hallway of this huge mansion. Behind a white door made of birch wood, lies a room that made anyone can shout, without a voice.... Was it because the room was so boring to the point no one would make a sound? Wasting the energy?

In the evening, I went into that room. Art room, a spotless white room. Neon lights with the exact colour became the illumination in that room. Cans of primary colours were put near the entrance. I walked and took the cans: red, yellow, blue. I mixed red and yellow, creating orange. I splashed the paint to the wall with my own bare hands. And then red and blue, purple. More colours into the wall. Yellow and blue, creating green. Then, I made the room colourful. There was no white left. The art room was filled with abstract painting, self-expression.

With clothes full of formless kind of art, I went outside, to the bathroom. Every plumbing in that bathroom was made of transparent, clear blue glass. Sometimes it became a little disturbing if you looked that way, but what I did there was only bathing and cleansing. My slim body was coated with paints. I always made sure that I wash my body as cleanly as possible. Then I dried myself before going out to the backyard.

When the sun set and the moon took its place, I swam at my backyard's pool. The crystal clear pool where lights reflected the blue body and bottom ceramics. I swam below the moonlight, with a red boxer I wore since afternoon--which fortunately wasn't splash by paints when I was painting.

Time flied by real quickly. The coldness of autumn evening began its crawl into my body.

My servant, Irene, brought a towel and pajamas after I finished swimming. Her height was about 150 centimetres and that slim body of hers was accompanied with a brown ponytail. Irene dried my body, and left into the granite-coated mansion.

Dried up, I changed into my pajamas, right next to the pool. I wasn't afraid of any person accidentaly seeing me naked, because that would be impossible. The high, ivy-coated walls were too high for anyone to see inside.

When I entered my house, there was no one to be seen. My father, my mother, my sister; they all went somewhere. Irene was the only one who accompanied me.

White, thorny roses inside a sky blue-coloured vase decorated the dining table. There was only a plate, mine, on the table. A Renaissance-decorated teak chair and a cushioning with Victorian motif waited for me.

Dinner had been served: cooked rice with very clear water. So clear that I could see the reflection of my face on it.

Sometimes the rice tasted sweet, sometimes bitter, salty, and sour. What made my tongue become normal again was the water accompanying it. Oddly, with little portion, I always felt satiated.

After I finished eating, Irene came again to take my plate and glass. Her lips, which was covered in thick lipstick, was so adorable. Her curve of smile made me feel there was no dialog required between us. The silent night felt truly calm and peaceful.

I went to the second floor by stairs. Caressed the marble stairs' handle. Stepped on an oak-wooded and pomegranate red carpet-coated rung. Held on the cold, sleek staircase's handle.

There were three main bedroom on the second floor: my parents', sister's, and mine. Each of them has its own kind of wood. Old oak, oak in its prime condition, and a young oak. Two of the doors were locked, leaving my door which was the one I could open freely. The doorknob was as cold as the stair's handle, although it was made of different kind of material. Was it the cold wind have already made its way into the house? Or was it just me?

The wooden door squeaked slowly once I opened it. The cracking sound of the great red fire on the fireplace came to greet me. I looked at my bedroom, moonlight recital reflected on the balcony's glass door. Nothing had ever changed there. Two table lamp still clamped on the side of my king-sized bed. Table and cupboard-- which was always messed up by me and Irene tirelessly cleaned it up until they was tidy as they always have.

I approached the fireplace. Somehow, there was neither warmth nor heat that I could feel to caress my skin.

Brown eyes of mine stucked at frames of photos on top of the fireplace. I looked deeply into my family portrait. Made eye contact with three of them. Unconsciously, I lifted my index finger, stroked the wooden frame and the surface. I took a deep breath, only to feel the pain inside. I heaved heavily, and my chest was teeming with air.

If it was not for the photo, I might had forgotten how they looked like at the moment. My heart sank, longing for them. Missed their aromas, voices, smiles, warmth, and our togetherness.

My eyes blinked rapidly, holding down droplets of tear which were contained in the narrow cover of them. Putting down my finger, I stepped outside, to the balcony.

A sigh accompanied my movements--pivoting my underarms on the balcony side. I swept the beautiful-coloured flowers with a glance, and then I changed my sight into what I couldn't bring myself to grasp, a bright-silver moon. I looked at it so long, as if my soul was becoming one with that perfect circular ball through my own eyes.

Then again, emptiness came to me.

This emptiness phase always came when I consolidated with myself. The trigger could be everything. It could be the full moon I saw, a vase, painting, or even a slight dust on the edge of the balcony. However, I always managed to pull myself out of it, into the reality I knew.

But, for what exactly did I pull myself?

With that kind of thinking, I let the emptiness possessed me. Crawled its way into the core. Flew into every inches of me, through my veins, like a blood cell transporting nutrient. Empty thoughts begun their climbing into my consciousness. But, what could I do to fend them off? May be, was it the time for me to accept it?

I closed my eyes slowly but surely. Enjoying the darkness for a few moments.

When I opened them, I was floating in the center of the pool. I breathed like I always did and let go of my body's coordination. Letting emptiness filled my mind, heart, and soul, completely.

I gained a revelation. All of this had already been done by me since five years ago. Repetitious life under my very own consciousness.

When I awoke from this life, I had already left the mansion I lived in.