"And I notice that when I'm awake I only see you, and that even in my dreams I keep on seeing you too."
-Fate, Allie Santos
I like chocolates. Warm baths on rainy days and cold ones when the sun decides to temporarily melt your body due to heat stroke. I like bittersweet romance, sometimes verging to tragic endings. I like the rain but I also like the sun when it starts to peak itself out of the horizon. I like reading books that are mainly of the future but I also like the conservative vibe of classics. I like sad songs and find comfort in lyrics and not the melody. I like sadness. I used to like sadness. That maybe because, before I met him, I am sad.
I don't know why I'm reminiscing, really, all the weird flashbacks I've kept in the back of my mind just keeps on resurfacing. I am not a fan of remembering. The things in the past are, and will still be, the things from the past.
I should be saying beautiful things right now since I'm a writer. I should easily put into words how I feel and put in delicate words the parts I do remember. But my mind can't seem to associate the good ones, I don't really know where the good memories end and where the bad memories starts to take place.
If I live for the past I could just dwell on the fact that the pen is gone and will never resurface and I don't know if I can have the same effect on Katie with the manuscript given that the pen is gone. I could use another pen but then, like today, the feeling might be a little different. Because I know, whatever I write, it can never bring him back.
If I also live for the past, I could just shrug and not mind what the monk just said. With Aiden gone, I've sought different ways to get him back leading my last resort to ask the monk.
"I know the story about the pen. I know it exists. The power of the pen is to give your heart's desires and you chose to be happy and you were."
"The pen is gone."
"In that case, memories from that pen will also disappear."
"Everything?"
"That's the curse."
"Where is Aiden?"
"He is where he is supposed to be."
"Will he forget too?"
"Aiden is someone who isn't allowed to feel or the least remember."
"How's that?"
"He is either fighting to live somewhere or he might be a soul trying to find a way to heaven."
If I live for the present I could just take the risk and finish everything I started and find a way to make him forget. The monk has said that to break the curse there should be love. A love that transcends time and space. But then Aiden is not supposed to feel anything.
There's this thin line separating me from the present, my left foot at the back of the line, afraid to move further. My right a little outside my boundary. My mom could've broken the curse, but back then it was a different kind of love. I was too young to know how to love back then.
Aiden is not only vanishing physically. He is vanishing away like he never existed. I should be happy because that only means not feeling pain. But seeing the blurred paper in front of me makes me ache in certain levels that I cannot even tell or describe exactly how I am feeling. There's a certain part in me that feels hollow. Forgotten. Empty.
And I don't want that. I take a step forward. A few more steps and I'm there standing by that glistening thing from underneath. I breathe deeply as my bare feet touch the cool water. My hands reached for the pen.
A part of me wanted to live a new life where pain is distant and forgotten. But then I thought of all things that I might lose. All the things I will forget. Imagine everything that made you believe about everything gone in an instant while someone is out there, somewhere, feeling the pain because he remembers.
I like the thought of hope, of fate. I like the thought that there might be someone out there for me. I like the thought of me writing again. I like stories that move mountains. I like sacrifices. I like sadness, not pure sadness that leads people to depression, but the sadness that pulls a slight smile on your face because for once in your life you fought for something even if you are bound to lose it in the end.
I'd rather feel pain than forget. I like pain more than forgetting.
YOU ARE READING
THE WRITER
FantasyPUBLISHED BY: VIVA PSICOM PUBLISHING CORP There was a pen. And then a story. And then a man. Once lost. Once found. Then lost again. And a girl trying to piece together a story that will break the thin walls separating fiction and reality. "All yo...
