When the area were almost devoid of life (nearly all were out having dinner), I approached The Drawer and carefully looked for The Pen. Yep, I wanted to take it back. Why not? I gave him a piece of my heart, a great deal of my thoughts, a big chunk of my time thinking of him (out of work hours of course). I wrote prose and poetry. If I only had The Voice, I would have dedicated my videoke songs to him. I forego previous opportunities. But 6 months and a fairly expensive pen seemed not enough for him to make the slightest of moves. What the f is the perfect time? When I’m no longer feeling it due to sheer exasperation? “No, I’m taking back that pen.” That must have been one reason. Another was that I didn’t want a physical reminder in his possession. Maybe it would be better. No reminder that I even stepped on that area.

But when I opened The Drawer, I couldn’t see it. No I couldn’t take it back. How utterly silly of me. As if doing that will return the lost feelings, thoughts, turn back time and whatever else that was lost or long gone. Silly stupid of me. Why would I assume?

I just have to accept that I was nothing more to him that a wisp of air. Nothing worth saving or fighting or standing up for.

I need to move on, then. I closed it. I hoped closing this particular chapter of my life was just as easy.

Oh God, I sincerely hope this will be it. I’m tired already of assuming. I hope time and space will heal this chunk from my heart. Another chunk gone. Another. It’ll take a while but it will, eventually.

Mi Ahn Hae Yah & The Last Song on the background.

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