The day is beautiful. I have wasted enough opportunities in my life, and I am not going to miss this one. I grab my journal and favourite black pen, and make my way out of the house. I try to be as careful as possible with the door; it creaks, and mother mustn't hear me sneak out. Or I will spend the entire day engaged in a melange of chores, and that would just ruin a potentially-perfect day. I don't want that.
I succeed. To celebrate my victory, I stick my nose in the air and indulge my nostrils in the wonderful every-day-summer-because-it's-the-tropics scents. The swing chair invites me over for a pat on the back. My joy is short-lived though, because I must get down to business. The not-so-pleasant business.
I suck in a deep long breath because who doesn't need strength to pursue difficulty? My mind sets the ball rolling, and I travel along with her down memory lane. The soles of my shoes are light, and so I can feel everything on the road. The pictures are in bright colours, and even though I try to avert my gaze, they scream out to me from the corners of my eyes. They demand to be seen, so I grant their wish.
First colour I see is red, and all my senses commit themselves to remembering that February 14. My tongue goes first, and all of a sudden I can taste them again. Those red bonbons. I was sure my taste buds would never forget them, but of course I didn't tell him that. Not even a thank you. He just stood staring expectantly at me, and watching me enjoy his generosity. And he got nothing. It was cute how he went the extra mile, bathing the artificial roses in Colour Me. I didn't tell him that either. My skin tingles as I remember his touch from when he held my hand hoping to keep me from going, as I turned to walk away. My ears replay his words 'Give me a chance. Please.' and my eyes recall the pain they registered in his as my hurtful words hit their mark.
The intensity of the pain clawing at my chest, effortlessly snaps me out of my reverie. The other colours are still screaming for my attention, but I can't heed them this time. Maybe on another beautiful day I will. But not today. Definitely not today. I need to attend to the pain. I still can't understand why I let pride get in the way. Or was it pride? I've never been certain. But whatever it is got in the way. Of US. Because he wasn't the only one who had caught feelings. Maybe if I'd been vocal about mine, then we could have had a future. I would have given him a chance. Given us a chance.
It's too late now though. Tomorrow he gets married, and I will be at the wedding. Trying to be excited with everyone else. Watching him pledge a lifetime of love to someone else. A love that could have been ours. If I'd given him a chance. If I'd given us a chance. I finally acknowledge that I'm smitten. I have been utterly smitten for a while.
Originally posted on my older blog (http://amoafoa.blogspot.com/)
I succeed. To celebrate my victory, I stick my nose in the air and indulge my nostrils in the wonderful every-day-summer-because-it's-the-tropics scents. The swing chair invites me over for a pat on the back. My joy is short-lived though, because I must get down to business. The not-so-pleasant business.
I suck in a deep long breath because who doesn't need strength to pursue difficulty? My mind sets the ball rolling, and I travel along with her down memory lane. The soles of my shoes are light, and so I can feel everything on the road. The pictures are in bright colours, and even though I try to avert my gaze, they scream out to me from the corners of my eyes. They demand to be seen, so I grant their wish.
First colour I see is red, and all my senses commit themselves to remembering that February 14. My tongue goes first, and all of a sudden I can taste them again. Those red bonbons. I was sure my taste buds would never forget them, but of course I didn't tell him that. Not even a thank you. He just stood staring expectantly at me, and watching me enjoy his generosity. And he got nothing. It was cute how he went the extra mile, bathing the artificial roses in Colour Me. I didn't tell him that either. My skin tingles as I remember his touch from when he held my hand hoping to keep me from going, as I turned to walk away. My ears replay his words 'Give me a chance. Please.' and my eyes recall the pain they registered in his as my hurtful words hit their mark.
The intensity of the pain clawing at my chest, effortlessly snaps me out of my reverie. The other colours are still screaming for my attention, but I can't heed them this time. Maybe on another beautiful day I will. But not today. Definitely not today. I need to attend to the pain. I still can't understand why I let pride get in the way. Or was it pride? I've never been certain. But whatever it is got in the way. Of US. Because he wasn't the only one who had caught feelings. Maybe if I'd been vocal about mine, then we could have had a future. I would have given him a chance. Given us a chance.
It's too late now though. Tomorrow he gets married, and I will be at the wedding. Trying to be excited with everyone else. Watching him pledge a lifetime of love to someone else. A love that could have been ours. If I'd given him a chance. If I'd given us a chance. I finally acknowledge that I'm smitten. I have been utterly smitten for a while.
Originally posted on my older blog (http://amoafoa.blogspot.com/)
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