5th of August

Thank God it’s Saturday, I think that is the most accurate variation of the saying, really.

The thought is tormenting me but I feel like if given the chance to go to work, I might end up parking my car and dwindling down those same streets, and this time intentionally scouring for that same coffee shop. Might even forget my wallet in my car while I’m at it.  It’s crazy, and I feel like a lunatic for even thinking of returning there, but honestly, I’m just glad I don’t have anywhere to be.

I don’t fully trust myself now, Chanyeol, I feel inclined towards everything I put strict bordering around. Like some external disease has then seeped in through my skin and stolen a couple of my firmly held reigns.

This morning, I’ve even taken the extra measure to Google search ‘Kris’ and ‘formal man interested in arts and cafes and all that is uncharacteristic of him’, searching to see if any of them contained anything I should be wary of. However, apparently not all the websites in the world around have been approached by something of the like.

How very lucky of me to be the first. When this is all over, which I admittedly hope it will be soon, I will break the record and publish something about the category of human beings.

Of course, saving your character for someone of more prestige and linguistic ability to write.

I felt restless then after cooking myself a light meal of ramen and after I sought to one of my favorite past-times: surveying the landscape from the small nook in the end of the hallway. My mind never feels relaxed and at peace now without you. It's like my body knows out of nature that it's pair is gone yet is still frantically ringing with this need, this desire to find it. As if it needs it to be able to function.

And this, Kris, is what I meant that day when I replied with that vague answer. He'll never know, Yeol, I'd rather him think of me in the way of a withering, unstable druggie. At least that makes sense to all the indifferent people who have never suffered through what we've been put through.
Sometimes, I'm glad you're at rest up there, safe from everything. 
I just hope that I can join you soon ,yet time isn't being merciful. 

 Slurping on my noodles, I begun to realize that my insatiable need to do might be after-effects of not catching a blink of sleep the other day, my body is imbued with this alternative, capricious energy that causes me to teeter and shake. So I give up on eating and rest all I can of my body against the cool glass, allowing the light that shines through it to consume me whole. 

I remember when you first began to leave me, my body almost gave out before yours did, I convinced myself I didn't deserve life if you didn't either. I sat in the same position, pressed against the glass and willed the glass to shatter, asked the unfinished structure to just tumble and lose its hold, so that I wouldn't have to deal with everything without you. 

It didn't seem like something wrong, or erse at the time. I just wanted out; the monster of pain drove me to asking nature for forgiveness, to take me too. 
But when I confessed this desire to one of the doctors as they called me in for another long meeting, they frowned and pointed fingers, whispering to one another behind the back of their palms. That's when I realized that it was bad. 
It was wrong to ask for your life to be taken away, it was unacceptable to have such longings. 

"Bad," - "Wrong," -"Don't," -  "Sick," - "Stop." 

Those were the words that were said when I last confessed my true feelings to someone else. 

I learned to never make that mistake again. 
People will always be disgusted by who I am, by how I think. 

Crap, I'm crying now. I promised myself I wouldn't and now-- well. 

It's not because of what they think, to hell with that, it's because of how I picture you when you read this. 

Will you be disgusted, too? 

I wouldn't blame you if you were,  you know right from wrong, you know me to be able to judge.
But I cannot promise I would be able to look at myself anymore if you were.

I am very tempted to cross out that part, or just tear out this whole entry just so I can stay on that safe side.
The whole book, too, I don't want you to look at me like that to that extent. My hand is too shaky, I can't get that firm of a grip to do that. So I guess it will stay.
The ugly side of me, keep it safe with you, Chanyeol. 

I don't trust anyone else acknowledging it.

Before the time of your departure, I had made myself up the ladder to become the secretary and valued employee of Ahn Youngsoo, a very well-off boss of an extremely well-off company and work place, cherished almost as I helped bring the company back into working shape with my dilligent work and efficiency. 

But of course, you already know that, you were ecstatic when I first told you. I remember that day, you insisted that we have an impromptu celebratory date and we headed out to find a restaurant, reservation-less and everything. The fact that we found one after our third try proves the skill you had with persuasion and people and we dined the evening away in some V.I.P lounge with you grinning within every moment. 
And even with all the frustration I had in the beginning of being dragged from one busy place to another, I couldn't have meant it more as you leaned over the table to kiss me and remind me you loved me and I repeated the same words back to you.

"My star secretary," you said with that smile of yours, and it was the most cliche thing ever, yet I couldn't hold back pulling you close for another kiss.

You couldn't have known, but when you started growing weak and needed me the most however, it was obvious that I needed to spend the most of my time alongside you instead of being Mr. Star Secretary. So that's how I went about it, I didn't ditch my work completely as I came everyday. Yet with each day something changed, I stopped bringing his black coffee at breaks, I didn't organize my paperwork before it was sent in, I made miscalculations in the graphs for his presentations. To be frank, everything was a miss; I was still doing my job, just a notch, or three lower than before. 

The boss noticed however and stepped in to check on me one day, holding up a paper in which I mistakenly worded something, or the other, sentences and words brought to attention by the vibrant red ink. Walking in just as I was scrambling to stuff my papers for tomorrow into my briefcase, ready to leave for the day. 

"Where do you think you are going?" He asked, his voice as stoic as usual. 

I whipped my head around and then back to my papers, "I have to go." 

"That doesn't answer my question," he said. I hate how people always have that normal tone to them, masking their irritation and whatever else.

"Home," I answer, albeit not in the way one talks to their boss, stuffing my phone in my pocket, setting out to leave. 

His authoritive voice cut me short however as I heard paper being pressed onto my desk, "I notice when my employees are being distracted, Baekhyun." 

"Not distracted so much as occupied, someone close needs me to be around," I say as I turned back to face him, speaking without any trace of asperity.

The man almost seemed convinced as he raised a brow and nodded his head, "Everyone has their weary days," he paused and I turned yet again to leave before he spoke again, "But not everyone has such mistakes, not everyone lets them drag them down. Why do you have the right to?"

I mentally exhaled and turned to face him, "It's been tough for me, my--"

"Tough?" he asked, straightening up his posture, "There are so many begging to be in your position, don't expect that to be your only excuse." 

I part my lips to speak again and he holds up a finger, interrupting me again, "You are slacking off." 

Swallowing, I stood there, ready to explain, I wasn't going to blow off my hard work for nothing, "I have to take care of a loved one at home, I had to finish off that and write it in the waiting room--" 

He must have acted interested and I bought it stupidly and told him how I had to tend to you -mention as 'some one' or 'loved one' , only one slipping up and using the male pronoun- after work and that I need to be spending less time at work, mentioning briefly of my own episodes of instability , voice cracking obviously in some portions of the tale. 

"-- I am not slacking off, sir. I just have to go," I concluded, knuckles white from grip they had on the bag in my hand. 

As neatly and precisely as everything in his life seemed to be, he simply picked up my submissions from the desk and said, "Go then." 

I didn't realize till the next day as I rode up to my usual floor and made my way to my usual desk, tardy and a bit disheveled, that I acknowledged that he really meant for me to leave and leave permanently. A crisp, new name sat on the folded placard on my usual work desk in front of his office. And only till the replacement exited the boss's room did I comprehend by the look she gave me and as she explained that I was not fired but moved down to a place 'more suitable for me'. 

"It's hard to rely on someone that cannot rely on himself," were her exact words. 

Yet I knew why I was really moved away from the desk outside the boss's office and it had to do with the one time I accidentally mentioned a 'he' in my story of you.

And as I maneuvered my way to my new desk, back into the maze of desks of the combined work place, as I found an 'apology note' written by another hand writing yet signed by Mr. Ahn, stating that I was incapable and how sorry he was that my daft mistakes lead me from being so helpful to naught. He even had the wit to add that I should know where my priorities lie, that I need to get things straight before returning. 
And I never did return, because I'm guessing that he meant straight in other magnitudes as well.

I will never know perhaps, and as a matter of fact, I think I might just favor settling in where no one can bark orders at me in that totally calm and composed voice. 

Remarkable how I'm built just to be affected by you, your words and your actions, had you even looked at me with disappointment compared with what my boss had to say, I'd be broken just by one look of yours.

You've never sent me that look, but as I read through what I've said to you today, I can just imagine those perfect brows of yours furrowing and your eyes reflecting a nauseated expression by those feelings of mine that are apparently distasteful. 

That's more painful than thinking of how repungant I must be in the boss's mind, for having a loved one that was a man. 

Even after such a foul thing, only your actions would matter. 

A small interference of another source stating that maybe there is a slight breach to that only as of lately, and I push it aside violently, shaking my head 'till I almost get dizzy.

Only you, Park Chanyeol.

Great. After I've finally composed myself, I'm crying again. It takes so much effort now to wade through positive things to make me stop, it's hard to get me started and impossible to get my act together afterwards.

I wish you could show me that you felt otherwise, that you will understand my past urges to join wherever you are. I don't feel like that anymore, at least I hope I don't, at least I do not pray to fall from up here in this small enclosed nook down into the streets below. 

I'm different, so don't be disappointed with me, alright? 

Maybe when I join you, you can tell me what you think. Yet that still seems millions of miles away.

My noodles are cold now, but I eat them anyway, finishing up every bite to be able to set it aside and then continue sitting idly in front of the window. 

It's nice up on this floor, no one can bother me as I compose myself for the umpteenth time and push away all those thoughts to substitute them with warmer memories of you to some avail. 

No one intrudes this time around, I miss this feeling honestly, and I can think about you till the moon takes its shift, watching as the city grows to life, eyes tagging along however on every light colored blur of a car as I slowly lull myself into sleep.