I drew him in my world;
I write him in my lines,
I want to be his girl,
he was never meant as mine.
I drew him in my world;
He is always on my mind;
I draw his every line.
It hurts when he's unkind.
I drew him in my world;
I draw him all the time,
but I don't know where to draw the line.
-Lang Leav, Lullabies
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The lacerating December wind had stripped the remaining leaves from the trees, leaving them naked and soulless under the flashing wink of the stars. My boots glued to the powdered snow as I took a long, shuddering breath, watching the snow dancing and prancing in the arctic air, eventually tickling my face. I squinted my eyes and let the bitter cold seep through my skin.
Why am I here again?
I should have been at City Square now, meeting my parents as I had promised. I should have been enjoying the Christmas parade whilst the luminous lanterns cast the shadow behind the road. And maybe had a bite on the Welsh cake or had a milkshake at one of the stalls.
I should have been anywhere but here.
So why am I here?
I still wondered why I kept asking myself the the question I couldn't even understand. It was as if my feet just walked themselves to this park, which was unsurprisingly silent and quiet with its wideness and vegetation. This place hadn't lost its serenity even when those colorful flowers and grass had turned white, groaning with the weight of the crisp and wintry snow.
I stared into the canopy of glittering stars that aligned together among the sea of darkness. They looked so distant, yet glimmering so bright that it felt like they were laughing and mocking my solitude. Jeering at me for carrying so much darkness compared to their everlasting light. And as I admired the view above me, I found myself lost in the realm of that disturbing question.
Why am I here?
Maybe it was because of the wide hole in my chest, the hole that had been opened for too long that I couldn't distinguish between what was right or wrong, between what was darkness and light.
It was funny. It was funny how one boy had such effect on me. Even when he wasn't a part of me now. Even when he was probably miles away from me.
It had been one year, one year without seeing his face. But I still remembered. My head still reminisced the small, minuscule details on his face. He did have the kind of face that stopped me instantly in tracks, and made my heart stop beating for a moment, and everything just stayed frozen, immobile.
And when I closed my eyes, all I saw was a pair of mesmerizing deep ocean blue eyes, with flecks of silvery light that glow with depth of utter honesty. And I was willing to lose anything, everything just to see his eyes, his hair, the freckles on his nose, his hands, every inch of him. Everything that could make my life whole again.
The thing about love--which I only had experienced that one time with him, was that love was so blind. I was so blinded, so blinded by the perfectness of the fact that we were about to get engaged, me and him, forever. I was so caught up by that happy ending that I was never aware of the fact, the fact that if I had looked closely, I must have noticed. But I didn't. Because I refused to think otherwise. I refused to see the reality.
I still remembered crystal clearly about the day when my life crumbled down, it was Christmas Eve--last year, to be exact. It was so ironic that my nightmare came along with my favorite time of the year.
