"Youths fall in love like a wasteland on a midsummer’s night; ceaseless, unhurt by flames and scythes. And so, with a caress of the breeze, the wild grass scrapes the sky."
My entire life had been but a prelude to three things – a summer shower, a glimpse of inky reeds, and a man. For that man’s earnest gaze to find me, for his hand to reach towards me, and for the wheels of destiny to fall into place.
"I said words of sincerity while you gave me words of ambiguity." It is true I’ve lied about many things to you, but within those lies exists some truths.
“I pray that you will not hate me when you think of me in the future.” As it had been every day in the past. “If you do think of me, that is.” And as it would every day in the foreseeable future. “Once we pass this door, you and I will owe each other nothing and have no more to do with each other.”
It’s a shame that even though this man’s heart won’t ache for me, all my tears as have been shed before his eyes.
After all, what I felt for him before was only love, something that could be kept hidden. But after meeting that person again, I realized that he was nothing short of a fire, a fire that could easily set everything ablaze with mere kindling, sending flames soaring up and scorching the highest skies. I felt the magma that had been lying dormant all this time, stirring awake and stretching its limbs towards the abyss within myself, ready to burst into a violent eruption given the time. It threatened to burn through my reservations, my dignity, my pride, and my self-respect. It threatened to burn everything I have into ashes, until I have nothing left for myself.
So I could merely say "que sera sera". Simply put, what will be, will be.
writer — hannah ballecer
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