Name : Nadya Alifiani FaatihahNPM: 180410160041
The wind blew so hard and the palm of my hands turned cold, it was dark and quiet, the moon is shy, yet her never-ending-comical-talks kept us awake while nobody seemed to want to care whatever we are doing except to be warm in their bed and resting to start the next day. It was quiet, weird how cliché, universe let us bond that night, started as an innocent idea to at least get comfortable with each other. However, I lost my balance because of her rocky ship, yet she said it was my stormy seas.
The first time I saw her,
“What is it? What’s behind that fakeness of warmth she tried so hard to radiate?” a first impression, I rarely had one.
Then one night on that dusty and hot September, my lips tasted salty, from the tears that keeps falling down, weird how easy it was for a guy like me letting myself be that vulnerable, there she is, saw me in my mess, reached out her hand, comforted me−it felt warm, but it is human basic instinct, don’t you think? That’s the proper reaction. Strange, it unveiled the fact that both of us, in our worst craziest state of minds, victims of catastrophe, I might say. That was start of our good time playing puzzles in our minds, also something poisoning−obsession to heal each other, without realizing that we are too defeated to even lift one another. Involve ourselves into curiosity, doubts, feelings, lust, and confusing twists.
“I will always be in your side, even it might hurting me, tell me, what do you want from us?!” I asked, but she stayed still unbothered, that hug silence me, again.
But that night, when the July weather is hot during the day, the skies cloudless, and the moon surrounded by the fog during the night, when people are busy with their families, some with their friends, some with their lovers, in my room, we scrutinized each other’s faces and bodies, committing it to memory from the first time I dared to be vulnerable around her, until we somehow become one but I am the third person−yet we long to reach for each other arms, neither of us said yes or no, we also searched for proof of intention or meaning, or maybe promises we never talked out loud, that later on wouldn’t be fulfilled. I become someone who haunts her to ditch her morality, less interested in conversational exchange, and she still has a boyfriend. But here I am, bravely kissing her and all; stupidly, desire leads to curiosity, pathetically ended up in ambiguity.
Unaware how awful what we put ourselves into, maybe it is my uncertainty and dishonesty. Maybe it is her nihilist self−that turn her into such a cowardly manipulative self. Even though we already poured each other feelings. Still, not enough for our purpose that shredded in mystery. We just love adventures, deep talks, and broken pieces. We’re both insecure and scarred, exhausted of each indecision. Ironically, I was drunk by my feelings, everyday she’s seen with someone else, the truth is simple, she’s just toying me around, she fancy all the dramas. The test is out, what did I expect from a sociopath? I am done, she’s gone; she’s never here after all.
#Scribere2018 #Class B #FlashFiction