First petal…second petal…third…

It was a purple dahlia she’d plucked from her mother’s vase. How ironic. It was meant for a happy and everlasting marriage but now it’s losing its petals over a he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not game to her. Who the hell makes these games, she asked not directing the question to anybody. Not that she was hoping for it to be real. It was because that conversation they had kept ringing in her head and plucking the petals was a real nice distraction while she kept blinking back the tears.

“After ten years. After ten long years, man.” He said, happiness visible in his voice.

She was trying to keep her cool. “Wow, man. You did it.” She smiled.

“I love her so much. And now that we’re finally together, I couldn’t stand not to tell you about it. You’re my best buddy, remember? Thank you for listening.”

“No, man. Thanks for telling me. I’m so happy for you guys.” Lies.

He smiled, and she stared at him, her lips curving into a sad smirk. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, but it was the way he looked at the other ‘her’ that made it sting. “So this is what it feels like…” she thought, still unsure whether to say it out loud or just keep it to herself like what she’s been doing for a long time now. “…to be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back and look at them the same way they look at another person. With complete adoration and amazement.”

There was only light from the tv. She didn’t really care about the man who was talking about oil price hike and the presidential election because she wasn’t even paying attention. She was just staring blankly into space, her eyes wet. Was it sweat or tear? She can’t really tell. Her mind on some place she didn’t know. She was alone and it was quiet but the demons inside her head were screaming. It was raining outside but she couldn’t hear it. It was just the cold that she felt. It felt so cold that the tears could freeze just before they hit her cheeks. It felt so cold, so cold she couldn’t shiver anymore. She was tired of crying. She was tired of smiling. She was tired of faking it. She was tired of showing everyone that she was happy because none of it was true. She was tired of telling everyone that she was fine.  She was tired of it all.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.” Lies.

Nobody really saw what she was going through. She convinced herself that it was okay to cry but another part of her said “Why the would I cry over this?” but that part never wins. Best friends really are the worst tenants. They stay in your heart, they pay no rent. And if they ever leave, they leave the place broken. They say follow your heart but they didn’t say which part. If it’s already broken into pieces, which part? Why did she have to face the pain alone? Why is everyone else fine? Why wouldn’t anyone answer her?

She laid down and closed her eyes. Good thing pillows are always there when tears never stop flowing. They’re the only ones who know and understand that nights are lonely and that it’s okay to cry. She sobbed but she managed to stop it. Tonight will be over and tomorrow will be different. The rain will stop and I will no longer feel pathetic. Tomorrow will be alright. Everything will be alright. But who is she kidding? She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a while. How can biology explain this? When you want to be with someone so bad but you can’t, your chest physically hurts.

She was in so much pain but nobody ever saw that. She could almost say falling in love with him, or just falling in love in general, was like swimming. How she dove head first into the water, going deeper and deeper. But soon she realized how deep she can only go. She felt her head hurt and her ears rung. She struggled so hard to go back up and finally get hold of the wall. She coughed out water and breathed in oxygen, somehow a little proud of herself for saving her own soul, her own heart. And she wondered how all these people never realized how much she was drowning. So the next time she went and saw water, she was too scared to dive again. She didn’t even come near it. She now watched other people swim and smile as if it were easy. She didn’t even bring her bathing suit this time. She was certain it wasn’t worth the risk anymore.

Fourth petal…

She needed to get over him but she didn’t even know if that’s what she wanted. Maybe someone else was meant for her, she’d like to think. Because you know, these things could give her strength and maybe she’d believe in them. Someone else who sees every single flaw in her but looks at them as if they were the best things about her. Someone else who sees the girl as she is without her having to fake a smile. Someone whose face she’d wake up to in the morning and spend ten minutes staring at his sharp nose and brown eyes like the color of the autumn leaves, and his thin lips which she’d love to kiss even though they’d both just eaten garlic bread. Maybe someone who would make her pancakes at eleven in the morning on Sundays even though they’re a little bit salty and dance for her in his pajamas despite being rhythm deaf. And then she would laugh, she’d take his hand and dance with him too. Then she would smile a bittersweet smile looking back at how she was miserable right now.

But that’s too far away…maybe too impossible, even.

Fifth petal…sixth petal…

And then she remembered clearly how the wind blew in her face that night of February when he took her on a ride in his Rouser to tell her about how he loved that girl. It was cold and the city lights at eleven o’clock were beautiful but sad. She remembered feeling how safe, how secured she felt while sitting at the back seat with him as if forgetting the fact that he had someone else in his heart. As if everything was made up and how solipsistic it seemed. She felt so certain that time would stop and the lights would blur as they made their way to forever, but that doesn’t exist. Forever is a lie. And happy ever after is a lie. Whoever made these things up should take responsibility for breaking too many hearts, including hers.

Seventh petal…

“We’ll remain friends. He’s my best buddy.” She’d told her girl friends with a smile while they walked in the quiet hallway. It wasn’t quiet, actually. In fact there were other students, other people who walked towards them and past them. But to her it was. Quiet because she could only hear his voice in her head again and again telling her with much awe and amazement how in love he was. Quiet because she could only hear the sound of the wind that night when they drove together. Quiet because she could only hear that organ that pumps blood into our body, breaking.

Eighth, ninth petal…

She directed her gaze at the open window. The rain was now gone. It was dawn and the sun haven’t shone yet but it was bright enough to see the sky and notice how beautiful it was. The wind was still cold but it was gentle and it made the plain white curtain dance gently as if it was happy and carefree. The cold wind touched her bare shoulders and she felt a pang in her heart. A tear rolled down her eye and she plucked the last petal but she knew, no, she’ve always known that he loved her…not.