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North America

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Dear Dreary
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A test of faith, trust, love, and one’s sanity, that is North America.

 

I grow up in three short months. I see people with my heart; I judge them with my open eyes. I learn to become a selfish person because the world is huge and not always nice. Yes, I just learnt that. I’ve lived 18 years in a shell that is my hometown, among the same bunch of human with the same bunch of stereotypical minds. North America woke me up.

 

Moving on is easy when there’s already distance. But when the heart longed for home, there he comes again.

 

Guitar strums.

 

“We shouldn’t have been anything in the first place.” Nod. A single gesture that translates to agreement, generally. Agreed I did, agreed to disagree. Why the hassle, why the fights, why the effort for things that shouldn’t have been? What a waste of time and emotion.

 

“I beg to differ.” I said, harsh and emotionless.

 

“This is no situation to be stubborn.” And he lifted up my chin, shot arrows in my eyes that screams goodbye with piercing volumes. I cried. “Don’t be stupid. Leave. You need to find some other things in life.”

 

Left I did.

 

But he stayed where he was in my heart. His memories keep me going, like adrenaline through my vein. He wasn’t a particularly significant person in my life, but I found myself defending my actions based on the things I did with him. I find myself having his favorite meals, sleeping in nocturnal pattern like he did. I find myself dressing up in shirts much like his, liking his music and having kept his guitar, staring at it for too long at times. Maybe it was too late before I realized that I’ve been losing myself to him in the short while we were together. I was a blank white page everyday, he is my story. He is the axis upon which I rotate.

 

It was bad, really bad. He stole all of me. And I didn’t even give myself to him. I began to think that he is vital for my survival. All the skills I acquire when I was with him, I put to use here in North America. I became fierce; I became a tigress of some sort. I push myself to make way through the crowd of tall, beautiful people; I forced myself to let my short self be known to people, bit by bit. I learnt to brave myself to make this name matter to people, that I’m not a bystander, that I am, in essence, important. I pushed myself harder than I ever thought I could.

 

All of this, I did when I was with him. Because I rarely mattered to him, I barely existed in his eyes, when he is most basic to my days. That was how I managed with him, and that was how I managed my early days in North America.

 

Intro began. Muse. Resistance.

 

Time passes by and I became tired, just as I became tired with winning his short-lived attention for me. I began to accept things, I began to feel comfortable in my new nest. I began to cook home meals, I began to – live.

 

After that beginning, then only the rest falls through. The growing up, the noticing people around me, it all flows in so smoothly. I opened up more than just my eyes, opened up to criticism, opened up my heart to people, let people care for me, let myself care for people. It was then reversed. He wasn’t vital for me anymore. The people around are. In a land so far away from home, I cling to the love I received from people around me.

 

“You need to find some other things in life.”

 

Indeed. And I’ve found it, some, if not all, by now.

 

I had it all concluded like a simple calculus: He’s done. I’m done with him. He eased my transition, give me strength I didn’t know I had, and now I’m left with all the good memories, at the same time making new ones. True, when the heart longed for home, there he comes again. No, not him, but his cowardly manners that gave me resistance. The resistance that I needed to wait another 129 days before I could go home.

 

Now, now I’m awake.

 

They say everyone that crosses your path in life came for a reason. I found the reason for him.

 

_______

 

North America is very, very far. Adjusting is very, very hard. And it doesn’t help that it gets very, very cold. It may freeze your heart when there’s no sun, but love can be the sun, I figured. And love is pure, it came in the form of friendship, in the form of couples holding hands, in the form of letting yourself have some sleep after some ridiculous integration. I could get really hard, but never impossible. Misisng hearts at home is one thing, missing full belly is another. Adapt. Change. Embrace. And live.

 

xx.

 

Previous short story:
Dear Dreary
Next short story:
Barish
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