Flying Away

Since I had too much time to hold, I was listening to music from top to down from a music list in this airplane. Initially, I thought it had good music channels, but they don't fit my feelings, I'm getting tired of them already.

Ten more hours to be passed.

There's no way to kill time, other than reading.

I think I was never wrong to choose a novel by Sagan, however, every single character in the story is exhausted of love relationships, which has annoyed me.

As frustrations and malaise surround me deeply, I take Madame Bovary instead to change the air, thinking I have won him by having started reading this classic novel that's also in his reading list.

Do you laugh at me when I say I'm falling in love with the clever-looking forehead of his?

I'm feeling a little drunk because of remembering the kiss on his forehead. My heart is just chocked, because of the feelings that I had and now they have happened to vanish. 

Want to see him? —it's not such a simple question. I would love someone to prove that he was in my life. That is making me alive for now.

He was the most beautiful person ever when he asked me to kiss his forehead. I kissed him amassing all of my love emotions, but I don't know if it reached him or not; my lips are just objects.

I kissed there three times, wishing my love could touch him. Three is a magical number, I've heard someone say. I cannot get it out of my mind. So I chose three that time as well. 

My lips, my beautiful objects, I hope they're going to melt, flow to his mouth like delicious ice cream, and make him feel glad.

I called my friend to try to talk about him. I'd like to let them know that he is a miracle that flew into my life. My lovely angel, who saved my feelings. He is worth being known, because he is just such a nice boy, compared to boys around me and my friends. Well, I failed to make a good conversation with my friends. Feeling coffee losing its weight in my throat, I only could talk with lavish words.

The kisses he gave me, the movies we watched, the topics we talked about— since everything was as gorgeous as magic, I cannot fathom its worth. My lips were slowly being closed. 

Please, don't ask my mouth to talk, even it couldn't do the job in a wanted style. Then I changed the subject by myself. 

Hey, are you going to visit Canada, aren't you? Do you like to find some good guide books? Since we are in a fancy bookshop, it sounds a good idea, doesn't it?

If I were Raymond Clever or Truman Capote, I would have known the way to express this magic, this miracle, that he was surely in my life. 

They would write about him simply, realistically, but sometimes illusionary. They please listeners, too, but well, I am not like them. That disappoints me cruelly.

I have decided to be a novelist to talk about him, maybe, to keep this love a beautiful phenomenon.

This encounter of him and I leads me to think like that. How do you think?

That's why I'm looking for words. And a way to speak of it.

I find my favourite band listed on the screen on a plane. Finally.

I listen to them carefully, thinking that this band is the reason for me to cross the borders this time.

I wish he were here.

I like to tell him that my favourite band is working so hard that they are on the music list on a plane.

Their delightful rock' n' roll enters in a gap in my heart like a knife cutting meat, making me feel like crying.

Orange juice pops on my tongue which salivates for the stimulus of its taste— how dare you drink too much sugar at midnight! —Orange juice: weak, too sweet, shuts my emotions like I cannot feel anymore, and wakes me up during the night on a plane.

I nod tightening my jaw, thinking yes, that's right. Make me feel nothing, please.

Feeling nothing is what I need now, which is a way to get him out of my head. Not from my mind, though.

A sad rock' n' roll song transfers rain on my eyelash. As I thought, their music suits you. 

Be melancholic with me for a moment.

I was thinking that music couldn't save me. Maybe I could be wrong. I am listening to songs from a solo artist who belonged to a boy band once and whom I liked before. 

I (and you all, the passengers here) cannot fly back. We are automatically moving. I'm not here to run away from my country and my university, that both feature in a huge number of my memories......that is not an official statement, but I'm doing it right now, anyway.

It is a success or a failure to say goodbye to the memories? 

It depends on the definition of the word and all, but okay, fine.I admit it. I failed a long time ago. Still now, I'm thinking of him. I won't be able to keep a distance from him. 

Stunning music, darkness, and him, himself bother me. I do not care what's going to happen in the future because memories just show up in front of my eyes.

I wish he were here.

He could have come to me if he didn't have his classes. I do not like his halfhearted attitude.

I am about to cover my eyes with my hands. I am completely defenceless from violence from the alluring memories. They are all too beautiful to be in sync with reality. I didn't know that my days are tiring without you. I'm a fool for being offended by my love feelings. You don't like this, do you?

I know. It's not like I prefer being tortured remembering him.

This distance makes me think of him.

Beautiful memories make me reminisce upon them all the time.

Oh dear, I cannot get out of this situation before creating new memories.