(Note: This was originally posted on my old blog www.randomblabbermouth.wordpress.com, which I have just recently retrieved. Ironically, my posts in that blog seem to have been drawn deeply, considering I was a lot younger when I wrote them [That was in 2008-2009]. I will be posting some of my other entries from my old blog here in my new blog in the coming days so that all my entries can all be read in one place. Enjoy reading!)
That day was gloomier than most of the other days, although there were no dark clouds at all. The sun shone strongly; the skies were bright as ever; birds flew and chirped happily. Still, it was a dim day for her.
She gave him the present she made for him in secret and in haste, trying hard not to show any emotions that hinted a feeling of sadness. Tomorrow, he’s leaving, and there’s no assurance that they would see each other again. Today, all she wanted to do was to get over the whole process of saying goodbye and start to move on. All the time they were together, she treated him like she did to everyone else she knew. He treated her more nicely — no, specially — than he treated others. She took him for granted — pretended to take him for granted. She actually felt something not so ordinary for him, too, but she’s never the type who would nurture a feeling like that or admit having a feeling like that.
Break time. He sat in front of her, announcing that he felt sad about leaving. She didn’t say a word. He said he’s not good at saying goodbye. She just nodded. She wanted to do something more than just a nod, but couldn’t. She wanted to say that she, too, was sad about his departure, that she, too, was poor at saying goodbye, but she didn’t. She managed not to. Suddenly, she was proud to prove to herself that she did have near- perfect self-control, but she was dying. Slowly dying.
He stood up and said his last words. She responded with a wave. In reality, she didn’t get what he said. Her mind was just clouded with something dark, her senses deactivated. Maybe she mumbled something but couldn’t remember. All she knew was that she didn’t feel good — about having near-perfect self-control or being able to pretend — at all. He started to walk away. She wanted to call him back, but no words came out. She just watched him go; telling herself to just accept what was bound to happen.
As the sun emitted hotter rays, she could feel sweat dripping all over her face, but she saw only darkness. Surely, there were people around her, but all she could see were figures… shadows. Soon, rain fell, not around her but inside her. She felt cold. In fact, she shivered. She wanted to withdraw from the real world then and there, but that wasn’t possible. She knew she just had to contain everything inside; she just had to be composed.
Hours passed and they saw again. She thought that, maybe, she could now say what she wanted. She was wrong. In fact, the last words that he heard from her were far from what she really wanted to say. They were words that aimed to drive him away instead of drawing him close. But she wanted that. She planned that. She walked away, knowing that this would be their last encounter. She pretended not to care… She didn’t want to care. But she did care… and always would. She realized that, even with her tactical mind, she wasn’t able to prepare for this. She could fool everyone but not herself. Yes, the sun would shine all around, but it would continue to pour inside.
And the worst part is that no one would know it but her and her alone.