Disclaimer: During an English lesson today, our teachers made us write a story on our first love. It seemed silly and ridiculous, but after one of the teachers saying that this is one way that we can get over it, I decided to give it a shot. Everything in this story is true at that point of time.
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Today is one of the days when I miss him - the lonely I-wonder-what-he-is-doing days. I do not have them often anymore, but once in a while I do, when I hear his favourite song or visit the places we used to go. I'm not sure why is it that I still miss him. It has been nearly seven months since we broke up for the second time.
Deep down in my heart, I believe that as the days go by and each time he begins to slowly dematerialize from my mind, I am one step closer to leading a better life without him. Yet it seems that I am taking forever to get him off my life and it is the toughest task to convince myself that he is no longer a part of my life.
The first time I met him I was completely infatuated with him. I just knew that I had to be with him and one month plus later, I was. For a while, I thought that my life was perfect. He was different from the previous guys I dated - he was someone who acted silly with me, someone whom I completely trusted, someone who truly understood me. I was always happy, I felt beautiful around him.
eventually, my immaturity began to surface. Three months into the relationship, I started to feel like my freedom was dwindling. I still care about him a lot, but I was feeling exhausted. I needed a break. He was not ready to let me go, but I was not going to let that stop me. tearfully, I chose to take the road of independence and broke his heart along the way.
I dated other guys, but he would creep into my mind a couple of times. None of the guys measured up to him; none if them gave me the special feeling that I longed for day after day.
I have made a grave mistake but I have never regretted being with him. I am aware that I reap what I sow. What I learned from him and the relationship was worth all the painful times we went through. There were many happy memories too.
Sometimes, I hate myself because I know that I am to blame. Maybe I will survive somehow though I have regrets, maybe I will learn to forget and just keep moving on. I know that when love is gone, I have to be strong. I know that once touched by pain, I will never be the same but time can heal my heart again. So I try to smile, but after a while, memories come back. And this time, I learned that love can burn. There is no right or wrong, I got to be strong.
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
Monday, 24 January 2011
Someone behaving suspiciously.
"Regine, time for dinner!" my mother hollered from the kitchen. "Coming," I replied as I put my hands into my drawer to search for my hair band. I touched something soft. Something fluffy. I took it out. My diary! A wave of nostalgia overwhelmed me. As I flipped through the pages, one particular entry caught my attention. It was dated 21 December and along with it attached a photograph. I looked at the photograph. Everyone looked so radiant, especially me. It was my 13th birthday. I was wearing an intricately designed pendant that my best friend, Steve, had given me. I had always cherished it, more so now. As I moved my fingers slowly across the photograph, memories of the past replayed in my mind.
The saccharine sunlight shone languorously on the vivid colours of the foliage. The sky was clear blue and the fluffy white clouds waltzed across the vast blue sky as a gentle breeze blew, caressing my cheeks and ruffling my hair. I took a deep breath. The fresh air filled my lungs. I felt rejuvenated. I was on my way to school when something caught my attention. An old woman wheezed as she walked across the street. Furtively, she glanced around before peeling off her wig and discarding her jacket, picking up a mysterious parcel afterwards. It was actually a man! As he turned around, I caught a glimpse on his face. His skin was leathery. His pockmarked and oily face was bony and long, that of a horse. There was an evil looking scar running down from his eyebrows to his cheeks. A million thoughts raced through my mind. Who was this man? Why was he dressed as a woman? I questioned myself repeatedly.
"No harm done. It's just a glance!" I persuaded myself. Curiosity gripped me as I followed him into a warehouse. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something moving. My heart skipped a beat. I stopped and listened intently as I cast furtive glances around me.
Nothing . Not a soul.
I heaved a sigh of relief and assured myself that it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. However, as I headed towards one of the rooms in the warehouse, I spotted a shadow behind a pillar. By the next second, it was out of sight. I peered at the pillar through my thick lenses. There was a shuffling sound behind me. I spun around and stared wide-eyed at the horrible sight. "Oh my gosh! Steve, what happened to you?"
Steve was my classmate and also one of my best friends who often kept to himself. Recently, his mother phoned the school and explained that Steve was down with flu, hence unable to attend school till further notice. His face was pale and his eyes bloodshot. There was a hint of terror in his eyes as he lifted his index finger to his lips before leading me out of the warehouse
"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?" A voice thundered across the rundown warehouse and we froze. I turned around. It was that man that I saw earlier on! his eyes and mine met for a fraction of a second. I tried to force myself not to scream but fear overcame me and I let out a scream. The man with greasy hair snarled as he brandished a mean-looking blade. Steveleant forward and sank his teeth into his course thick palm. The man screamed and shook his hands free, flinging the knife into the darkness.
"You're tired of living!" he hissed as he struck Steve on his head, raining blow after blow, punctuating his sentences with profanities. By the time he stopped, my best friend was lying stiffly on the ground with his limbs in contorted position. A tingling sensation ran down my spine. "Help! somebody help me!" I was near hysteria. Driven by fear, I raced blindly ahead for the door. I ran... and ran... and ran... till my face turned red and my feet went numb. When I finally mustered enough courage to stop and turn around, he was not there anymore.
I called for the police and the ambulance to send Steve to the hospital. I followed, all the way praying that the injury was not fatal even though I know in my heart that the chances were slim. I was sitting outside the operating theater when Steve's and my mother arrived. My mother put her hands around me and gave me a knowing nod. It was one of the waits of my life. Seconds plodded by, eachseparating from the rest by eternity. The air became heavy, damp, almost solid. I was breathing bricks. Finally, the doctor came out of the operating room.
"I'm sorry. We've tried out best." I did not hear the rest of the doctor's words. I broke out into loud, uncontrollable sobs which escalated into wails. No words could describe my sadness. I was in a state of shock and terror.
"Regine! How many times must I call you before you'll come for dinner?" My mother jolted me from my thoughts. I wiped away the tears that had slid down my cheeks. I learnt after that that Steve was kidnapped by afugitive on the run and due to financial difficulties, his mother was unable to pay the ransom . Steve was going to run away that day. If only I did not follow the man that day, Steve might have been able to make it out safely. If only the man attacked me instead of Steve. If only things could change. If only... If only...
The saccharine sunlight shone languorously on the vivid colours of the foliage. The sky was clear blue and the fluffy white clouds waltzed across the vast blue sky as a gentle breeze blew, caressing my cheeks and ruffling my hair. I took a deep breath. The fresh air filled my lungs. I felt rejuvenated. I was on my way to school when something caught my attention. An old woman wheezed as she walked across the street. Furtively, she glanced around before peeling off her wig and discarding her jacket, picking up a mysterious parcel afterwards. It was actually a man! As he turned around, I caught a glimpse on his face. His skin was leathery. His pockmarked and oily face was bony and long, that of a horse. There was an evil looking scar running down from his eyebrows to his cheeks. A million thoughts raced through my mind. Who was this man? Why was he dressed as a woman? I questioned myself repeatedly.
"No harm done. It's just a glance!" I persuaded myself. Curiosity gripped me as I followed him into a warehouse. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something moving. My heart skipped a beat. I stopped and listened intently as I cast furtive glances around me.
Nothing . Not a soul.
I heaved a sigh of relief and assured myself that it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. However, as I headed towards one of the rooms in the warehouse, I spotted a shadow behind a pillar. By the next second, it was out of sight. I peered at the pillar through my thick lenses. There was a shuffling sound behind me. I spun around and stared wide-eyed at the horrible sight. "Oh my gosh! Steve, what happened to you?"
Steve was my classmate and also one of my best friends who often kept to himself. Recently, his mother phoned the school and explained that Steve was down with flu, hence unable to attend school till further notice. His face was pale and his eyes bloodshot. There was a hint of terror in his eyes as he lifted his index finger to his lips before leading me out of the warehouse
"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?" A voice thundered across the rundown warehouse and we froze. I turned around. It was that man that I saw earlier on! his eyes and mine met for a fraction of a second. I tried to force myself not to scream but fear overcame me and I let out a scream. The man with greasy hair snarled as he brandished a mean-looking blade. Steveleant forward and sank his teeth into his course thick palm. The man screamed and shook his hands free, flinging the knife into the darkness.
"You're tired of living!" he hissed as he struck Steve on his head, raining blow after blow, punctuating his sentences with profanities. By the time he stopped, my best friend was lying stiffly on the ground with his limbs in contorted position. A tingling sensation ran down my spine. "Help! somebody help me!" I was near hysteria. Driven by fear, I raced blindly ahead for the door. I ran... and ran... and ran... till my face turned red and my feet went numb. When I finally mustered enough courage to stop and turn around, he was not there anymore.
I called for the police and the ambulance to send Steve to the hospital. I followed, all the way praying that the injury was not fatal even though I know in my heart that the chances were slim. I was sitting outside the operating theater when Steve's and my mother arrived. My mother put her hands around me and gave me a knowing nod. It was one of the waits of my life. Seconds plodded by, eachseparating from the rest by eternity. The air became heavy, damp, almost solid. I was breathing bricks. Finally, the doctor came out of the operating room.
"I'm sorry. We've tried out best." I did not hear the rest of the doctor's words. I broke out into loud, uncontrollable sobs which escalated into wails. No words could describe my sadness. I was in a state of shock and terror.
"Regine! How many times must I call you before you'll come for dinner?" My mother jolted me from my thoughts. I wiped away the tears that had slid down my cheeks. I learnt after that that Steve was kidnapped by afugitive on the run and due to financial difficulties, his mother was unable to pay the ransom . Steve was going to run away that day. If only I did not follow the man that day, Steve might have been able to make it out safely. If only the man attacked me instead of Steve. If only things could change. If only... If only...
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