What Belongs to Me [COMPLETE]

Chapter 1 "Letting Go" (Fast Forward to 2009)

For some minutes as I sat in silence on my old drafting stool at the shabby corner of my bedroom. I stared at the white blank ceiling with growing cobwebs in it and around the only one pin light at the center creating silhouette of interconnected fine thread on the flat surface. Moving my eyes downward around the clean white bare walls with just the quote that I imperfectly calligraphed on it when I was still a freshmen, saying “Everything Happens for a Reason” and a hanging calendar that is full of marks and notes all over it. Fixing my gaze on the exposed stainless steel rod under the hanging cabinet for my clothes and anything that can be hang on it. And now, to the unpainted empty bunkbed left with just the vandalism of letters, numbers, undeciphered codes about random things maybe about love and few abstract drawings that was doodled and scribbled on it; what a memories, I thought.

I began to ponder that now everything will be different. At least for me, for what fantasies I dreamt for so long. Now I’m going to leave this place emptying all its storages and these weird hanging cabinets painted with chocolate brown that I can barely reach to put something in it. And by everything, I mean all of it! All the memories! the bittersweet memories.

I’ll be gone with all my things and leaving nothing except for these vandalisms. That I’m sure, the next occupant will be so curious about the personality of the person who uses to live here. He will definitely wonder about what happened inside this barely ten square meters bedroom with less than three meters ceiling height. About its weird window connected to the living room. About the things that happened inside this room, about why is there a hole on one side of the bed sole, about the big crack on the wooden flush door and every weird traces inside this windowless bedroom.

Finally, I’m going out in this huge main French door type and for the last time going down this staircase made of sleek metal railing painted in black, in some ornament that I couldn’t recognize; shame on me as a graduate with an interior design degree in this most prestigious university in our city; Pena-Blanca city. No one will see me as I vacate this place for I don’t have plenty of friends in this apartment and I already bid my goodbye to the room that has clouded my memories for five years.

At one point I went to the living room to the kitchen and everywhere trying to think what kept me so long in this building. I can see nothing special in particular. I forced myself to admire the feature of the place, if there’s something that has a touch of interior design, but I find nothing at all. But when I tried to not think about aesthetics, there! I saw something! I saw that every corner of this place is laden with stories, our stories. Every piece inside was then given a meaning to each.

When the sun begins to set, I thought. I will no longer delay leaving this place. I will no longer seat here at the terrace and I will no longer wait for him. I will no longer wait for the coming of the night while watching the sunset changing to its magnificent colors. Yes I will go away far away from here. I will set myself free, be free again, and shall leave anything behind and be part of the world again.

At last, as I desert this place I hope that my memory will be washed out just like this ivory white walls of this place and the stagnant silence of my before room will consume everything that I wanted to forget from the time I saw him going down the staircase and passing beside me as I was sitting on my wing chair reading Paulo Coelho’s “the Alchemist” at the terrace, his charming wide smile, his irresistible smirk every time he has a favor, his very strong scent that once had polluted my room, just everything about this goddamn man, oh Cizar Cizar Cizar oh Ceasare Borgia.