I Promise

Sitting at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf for the 30th time this month, I still have yet to come to terms with the fact. The fact, was that this friend of mine, died. I'm not even sure if we're friends actually, we never talked in real life. We texted on a daily basis though, or more like, I texted her on a daily basis. Nevertheless, she was a perfect girl truly. She had everything a teenage girl would ask for. She had good grades, she was fit, she was a leader with a great personality, and she had exemplary character. Well, at least that's what I saw her to be. And I'm quite sure others do too. When I found out that she wasn't comfortable in her own body, it upset me, because she was too wonderful to feel like that. In fact, I don't think anyone deserved to feel uncomfortable with themselves. But long story short, she's the perfect teenage girl and I think that's all I need to establish for now.

I take another sip of the drink sat in front of me. Malibu Dream, or in simpler ingredient terms, banana and strawberry. I remember when she first introduced me to it over the phone. I was repulsed actually, I hated strawberry drinks. But I loved the strawberry fruit though. Yes, I hated strawberry drinks. I was disgusted. It was her favourite drink she said, and she'd only had it twice. Out of certain curiosity, I went to buy it the next day. And I trusted her that much to get a regular than a small. It turned out... Not that bad after all. Yet, I could not properly describe how I felt about it. I think I fell in love with the drink, but the part of me that said strawberry drinks were disgusting held me back. It confused me actually. It still confuses me as of now. After trying it once, I went back to my usual - a caramel macchiato.

I did not drink it again, until it happened. I'm not sure how it happened, but I've had this banana strawberry drink for the 30th time already. Everyday I'd head down to CBTL, and I'd order Malibu Dream. I think the girl at the cashier recognises me already. She must think I'm obsessed with the drink. It's okay though, I don't think she'd understand even if I told her. And the guy who calls out my name for me to collect my drink, I think he recognises me too. It must be a habit now, to call for me. He must have noticed the emptiness in my eyes because on Day 20 since I've started coming here everyday, he asked if I was okay when I went up to collect my drink. I was stunned. But I gave him a weak, forced smile, before nodding my head. I saw a flash of guilt in his eyes though, when I turned away. It's like he felt that he shouldn't have asked. I felt a tinge of guilt, maybe I should have answered him properly, like "I'm good thanks" or "yes I'm okay". But I wouldn't want to lie would I? Since then, he never asked me anything again. 

I've been spending the past 30 days sitting here, at this same spot, drinking and looking at my Malibu Dream drink. I sighed really. It's been 30 days, one month, one twelfth of a year. The more I scale it down it seemed like less time had passed. I wonder how long it'll take for me to come to terms with the fact that she's dead. It's a pity, truly. She deserved a very very long life. She had big dreams - she wanted to become a doctor and save lives in the less developed countries. I was sure she would succeed in life. She would've made it big. The world had lost a potential lives-changer. In fact, the world lost a lives-changer. I'm not even going to say that she has the potential, because I'm actually 101% sure she was going to change lives when she grew up. It saddens me to think that she has left the world. 

I wish I spoke to her more in real life. I wish I had the courage to. Now, even if I have the courage, it's not of use anymore. She's gone. I'll never hear her voice again. Now, she lies six feet under the stars 37 miles up North. I'd miss sending her messages. Well, I still can, but just that I'll never get a reply. Hopefully her phone line hasn't been terminated yet. Then again, I didn't usually get replies back then anyway. Oh, the difference though, is significant. Then, I'd at least get replies sometimes; Now, I'll never get replies. Never. 

~

It's been a year since you left this world. I hope you're in a better place. I woke up early today, at 4:30am. You must be really proud of me, since I've always been one who would sleep in and reluctantly crawl out only sometime near noon. I managed to get out of the house only at 5:15am though, I wanted to look nice. I mean, it's the first time I'm seeing you since your funeral. I hope you're not mad at me for not visiting. I think I would have bawled my eyes out if I ever went to see you. I couldn't accept that you were gone.