Watermelon Kiss

I need to get this out of my system. Right. Now.

jaded-journal — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 01:16:06 +0700

You’re touchy-feely lately. Don’t even think I didn’t notice. You touched my shoulder and back—lightly, casually, mussed my hair, squeezed my arms, enthusiastically greeting me…

oh fuck I’m near crying now and it must be because of the sleepiness, exhaustion, melancholic music, haunting report to be done, and you.

I just. I don’t know, okay? I do feel happy. I do. It’s just I don’t know what it means to you and I’m scared that the whole thing turns out to be nothing after all.

Happy valentine, by the way. Hope you get whoever it is you’re eyeing right now.

ingenuousme: midnightmoodswings: auliasyahrani: leilockheart: ...

ingenuousme — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 10:49:48 +0700

ingenuousme:

midnightmoodswings:

auliasyahrani:

leilockheart:

**You have the rights not to agree with everything that is written above

Right… I think it’s applied to a certain person for every girl. :)

Looking at this now, I understand why I was so heartbroken.

The only

ingenuousme — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 03:05:00 +0700

Hope that

I have now, is that

Someday, in the future,

Someone who is meant

To be the one for me will come. And

I will

Love him,

Love him more than I ever

Felt for this man that I can never

Ever have. And he will be mine, for I will be his; and

Every day that I spend with him will be filled with

Love, and we will

Share our laughs and tears together, while praying

That our love shall never end.

One day,

Once upon my life, I will find. The

Prince that then will be the king of

All my love.

I will

Now let go of this memories

Filled with love. And I will keep hoping and loving,

Until I meet him, the one I will always

Love.

To be his

Only woman; to

Bear his children.

Every day I will whisper to him,

Aishiteru yo—which means “I Love You”—and grow old, while

Recalling our sweet days together.

—

but for now,

this still feels too painful to bear.

So, it is done.

ingenuousme — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 02:48:00 +0700

I told everything to him.

How I loved him,

how I was ready to commit myself to be his.

He said nothing is going to change.

That I will only still be his supposed younger sister,

not more,

but maybe less.

So there it goes, my dreams.

My fleeting dreams.

Now I have to let go.

And a part of me died,

drowned in my silent tears.

It's only a fleeting dream.

ingenuousme — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 04:05:46 +0700

To laugh away with you without any care in the world.

To share my tears with you.

To know you will be there to comfort me.

To take a walk with you, with my hand in yours.

To be the only one to know how you hold the woman you love.

To walk towards you on the aisle.

To vow to you my love, until death do us part.

To bear your children, and raise them together with you.

To be with them when they graduate, and when they eventually marry the one they love.

To grow old with you.

To be yours…

It’s only my fleeting dream,

and that is why it hurts so much.

Dear God,

ingenuousme — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 00:58:15 +0700

If he’s really not for me…

Please stop giving me hope whenever I try to let go.

Please…

It hurts, so much.

I don’t want to lie to myself by wishing him best of luck with another woman.

No, I don’t want to lie anymore…

Putting on this mask is becoming more and more difficult for me.

I keep hoping he’s just bluffing, but he has no reason to.

For if he really has the same feelings as mine, he knows how I feel towards him, and he would be holding me in his arms before I know it.

But he isn’t doing that.

And maybe never will…

So please, God…

If he’s not mine…

Please, take away this hope from me.

Please…

—Your heartbroken daughter.

To the people who tell me to Be A Better Person (by YOUR definition):

ingenuousme — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 00:53:03 +0700

Screw it.

I am NOT going to pretend that I am The Ideal Housewife or The Really Womanly Woman just to get him to love me.

I want him to love me as I am. And if he can’t because I’m not his type OR WHATEVER, that’s it. I am okay with it.

I want to be a better person, I really do. But NOT this way! It’s the same as erasing my true self off the face of the planet!

Is that that damn hard for you to understand?!

The cat

ingenuousme — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 00:42:45 +0700

is dead.

And meanwhile, I am desperately trying to hold back from adding a sliver of hope by saying,

“Presumably.”

(See? I did it again. I do that every damn time I get even the smallest sliver of hope, and all I get is pain. And more pain. When will I stop, I wonder?)

I miss you.

ingenuousme — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 17:32:00 +0700

I miss your warmth.

I miss the rare two moments when you could put your arm around my shoulders nonchalantly—in public—and then pulled my body next to yours, with a smile on your face and surprise in my eyes.

But then, maybe you could do it because we were still really young, because we were only kids.

Now that you realize I’m on the way of becoming a woman, you distance yourself from me. Avoiding my touch, and sometimes, my presence.

Why?

When did it start to become like this?

Is it because of my confession?

Do you know that sometimes, I just want to sit next to you, quietly, enjoying your presence beside me?

But no, you don’t even give that precious chance to me, even with the fact that we can rarely see each other physically anymore.

Do you know how my heart aches every time it happens, and how I cried my loneliness out to my pillow every time I got home from a meeting where you were present?

Don’t you want that moments to be here again, the moments where we could just laugh and love each other like siblings—or maybe more?

Don’t you want that, too?

I had to wonder.

jaded-journal — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 01:02:22 +0700

When you leaned towards me and your head touched my shoulder for the briefest of moment, I had to wonder if it was intentional.

So, I finally talked to you, after avoiding any contacts for months.

ingenuousme — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 06:12:05 +0700

Goodness, did you know how happy I was when I saw that you were online when I awoke because of annoying mosquito bites?

“Need enlightenment,” your status message said. So I pretended to bring along a flashlight and said hi, casually.

I found out that you’re nearly there; just a few months and you’ll be a Bachelor of Economy. I was happy to know that you can fulfill your target of finishing your thesis by this February, your twenty-first birth month; I even typed “I want to give you a handshake or a hug or whatever—but we’re in different cities, so sadly, I cannot do that.” I suggested some silly ideas at you and you just shrugged them off—I can imagine you smiling while doing that—like usual. I felt a fuzzly warm feeling bubbling inside me.

And then you said you have a target of marrying at 23 or 24 years old. I smiled—sadly, knowing that the lucky woman might not be me—and told you to look for a wife-to-be already. You didn’t respond to my half-joking, half-hoping outburst.

Some idle chatters later, you asked me if I’m 19. I stalled, “… Really?” and then, “Oh, I am. I feel old!” because, you know, today is my birthday. Apparently you didn’t remember (yet?), because the next thing you said had no connection to a birthday greeting whatsoever.

“Marry by 21? Hahahaha.”

“Not sure,” I said, “I personally don’t have any target of that kind.”

“I see,” you said, without any emoticons and punctuation marks. And then you diverted—no, that is an understatement—changed the topic, and went offline three minutes later.

Meanwhile, my brain worked its gears by the time you went offline.

Point one: You said you want to marry by 23 or 24; that’s two years from now.

Point two: You asked me if I want to marry by 21 years old; that’s also two years from now. … Wait. After I think about it, you were asking me if I intend to marry two years from now, that is, when I’m 21 years old. (If it was the first, you won’t ask about my current age before half-asking, half-stating I’m marrying at 21.)

Point three: You didn’t make any remarks, least of all smart remarks when I told you to go find a wife-to-be. Means, you don’t have anything to say to me about that. (For now.)

Point four: You showed (some kind of) disappointment (if I didn’t misinterpret) when I said I had no target age of marrying whatsoever, and diverted the topic into “I don’t believe you accidentally woke up”—which strayed too damn much from the previous topic.

With all of the data on your personality and traits that I have on me, my brain processed all of the points above and I reached a temporary conclusion, but a conclusion nonetheless:

“What, you want to marry me? Two years from now?”

Two. Damn. Years.

Oh, God.

That means you’re going to make a move on the lucky woman soon.

And… I was left hoping I didn’t over-analyze that.

… Damn you, Schrödinger’s Cat.

It has been a while since I truly begged for something in a prayer.

ingenuousme — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 02:35:00 +0700

Tonight, when I found myself unable to sleep because of some really annoyingly itchy mosquito bites and a passing motorcycle’s noisy modified exhaust pipe, thoughts began rushing into my mind, like an inside dialogue.

—

“What if I don’t manage to get a decent job after I graduate? I don’t want to be unable to support my family.”

Well, at least you can look for a hardworking man who will already have a decent job by the time you graduate.

“What if I won’t be married at all?”

No, God knows best that you are not the kind of woman who can stand not having a lover. You are a lover yourself, after all.

“I know that. … Now, what if my sister gets married before I do?”

Stupid older sister pride. He would have put the ring on your ring finger by the time she’s just engaged. I hope, that is. *laughs*

“She’s had a head start, probably will be years earlier than me. And she’s just two years younger than me. That doesn’t make a lot of difference if I’m getting a lover in my late twenties.”

Judging from the information you’ve got all these years, he’ll make a fast move soon after he realize what’s inside his heart. I can only hope the time is near.

“Yeah, okay. By the way, he had a plan of getting a job here, didn’t he?”

No, the plan is moot. Now he has his mother and brother to look for, remember?

“… Oh, yeah. How could I forgot such vital information?”

And I think he’ll move to the place he mentioned (that other island) after his brother graduates from high school.

“Which will happen this year.”

Time flies, darling.

“…”

… What?

“How did the conversation turned into a discussion of him?”

Maybe that’s because you still love him? If that’s so, it’s natural that he will be the first to come to your—our—mind when we’re talking about anything romance-related.

“I may. If I don’t, I won’t be having him hugging me protectively in yesterday night’s dream.”

And you wanted to stay like that. Safe and warm in his arms.

“That is, if he loves me back, too. What if he doesn’t, or what if I won’t get married at all, to anyone, like I pondered before? Heck, I’m not even sure I’ll even get a boyfriend at this rate. If that happens, I—we—won’t even have a chance to get a heartwarming gesture like that, least of all stay inside it.”

… I don’t know.

And loneliness rushed into the cracks of silence, like flooding waters rushing into the cracks of a lowland.

—

It has been a while since I truly begged for something in a prayer.

I don’t even remember what it was.

But tonight, after a long time of having only (several so-called) idle talks with God, I begged for one thing with all my heart.

“Please, Lord, don’t let me be alone anymore.”

That Dream.

jaded-journal — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 14:06:59 +0700

I had a dream just this morning. I was supposed to catch a person from doing robbery. She was armed with a knife and she slashed around. I did not bring any weapon but I managed to pin her arms and drag her to authority.

Then the dream changed. You were there, we were walking through the streets at night and in front of us were a group of underclassmen. You put your arm around my shoulder, squeezing me. It was warm. One of the underclassmen turned around and saw us but you didn’t care, and we just walked like that, clinging to each other.

But it was only a dream.

Thanks for ruining an otherwise fine night.

jaded-journal — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 01:51:55 +0700

Let’s start the rant with what happened yesterday. Yesterday, I sat with you before the test and supposedly we studied. Supposedly. We both know the truth. We talked. About what, I can’t remember for sure. We talked a bit about manga, a bit about marriage and religion, a bit about the exam, a bit about some people we know, and some other things I can’t remember too well. But you did say something along the lines of “you coming tomorrow?” to which I replied, “maybe, should I?” and you replied, “yes, of course you should, there’d be free food!”

You ended the topic with “the dress code is batik”, said with such finality in your tone as if you were so sure I would come.

I didn’t wear batik when I went to campus earlier this afternoon. Then I stumbled into one of the juniors. She was all enthusiastic and asked me to come to the event. I said maybe. I was reminded of what you said yesterday, and I made up my mind.

You know what I did next? I went to my best friend’s place, forced her to lend me a batik top (with the cutest bolero that I am almost tempted to steal from her), and dragged her all the way to the event although she was not really the most eager person in the world to come with me there. All for you. I wanted to talk to you, laugh along your side as we watch the little mini-games and events and quizzes and award-thingies. I came because you asked me to.

What did I get?

For one, you were right. She—the junior—was right. There really was free food, and it was pretty good too.

Secondly, it was fun. The weather was good and I laughed and laughed and laughed and got to talk to some friends and all.

But you. You, sir, single-handedly—or should I say effortlessly—ruined the night. Not by making snide, sarcastic comments or straight-out making fun of me like you usually do. No.

You ignored me. You did not even say hi. Was it really to hard for you to spot me? Because I’m pretty sure you noticed a friend sitting next to me. You did talk to her. But you did not even spare a single glance my way. I doubt you noticed that I even existed then.

And guess why it hurt? It hurt because I did all these for you. Because you eagerly said that I should come. Because we did have a great chat yesterday, like those other days we did talk a lot about practically everything. And then what happened was that you ignored me like those other days you ignored me.

I’m tired of you.

Last, but not least, do reduce the number of cigarettes you smoke every day because according to my best friend you were coughing like a tuberculosis patient on his deathbed tonight, and heavens, as much as I don’t want to care and it’s your absolute right to try dying I still worry about your health.

Yours sincerely,

The Acquaintance (But Not Friend, Since Friends Say Hi To Each Other) Who Secretly Care For You.

Rolling In The Deep

jaded-journal — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 20:15:15 +0700

We could have had it all

Rolling in the deep

You had my heart in your hand

But you played it to the beat.

You know, I’m starting to wonder if I really moved on, because people say if I really had I’d stop thinking of you. But I suppose if you etched it so deep in me it’s bound to leave an itching scar even after it’s plucked out. So there you go. You are nothing more than an itchy scar, and I suppose it wouldn’t hurt me anymore.

It happened in a flash.

jaded-journal — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 22:17:35 +0700

One moment we were talking about the hazing planning I used to hate so much — and I still do hold some sort of an aversion towards it, only I’m hypocritical enough to use it to get close to you — and the next moment you were looking at me, asking if I were ill.

What did I answer it with? Can’t recall much, but it must have been along the line of “Sorta, tired, feeling weak” or something, because before I knew it you extended your hand and ruffled my hair lightly, telling me to rest, and then left me baffled.

How could you expect me to rest after that?

Glasses.

ingenuousme — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 12:43:33 +0700

She blinked a few times, trying her hardest to convince herself that no, she was not dreaming. She was mesmerized, her ability to think straight nullified by the sight before her eyes.

She finished tying her shoelaces hurriedly, knowing that if she looked at him any longer, he’d know she was staring. And everyone knows that staring is not a polite thing to do.

She stood up and greeted him as he walked through the front door. He smiled, and she was sure she would’ve swooned if he was already her dear lover at that time.

Because his glasses made him look a gazillion times better.

Like a bishounen in manga and anime, only he’s real, and … much better-looking.

She bid her mother goodbye, and as she led her friends outside to start their trip to town that day, she sighed and smiled to herself.

“This is going to be a long day for sure.”

… Not that it’s a bad thing, of course.

Herself.

ingenuousme — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 02:18:00 +0700

She stole a glance at him.

The man she had loved for four years already, whom she could only meet once or twice a year since she went to a university away from their hometown.

The man hadn’t changed a lot in appearance. His hair looked like it hadn’t been cut for months, like the first time they talked to each other in the teen service five years earlier. His tall and average-built figure loomed over her, just like it always was.

But his smile had changed somehow.

She could guess why. He just lost his father the month before, and although he said to her that ‘life must go on’ and her sister said that he looked like his normal, stoic self at the funeral, she knew that deep inside, he needed someone to talk to about the matter. Someone who could and would understand how he felt. Someone he could trust with his fragile feelings.

She wanted to be that someone.

She wanted to pull him aside from the crowd and talked to him privately, comfort him with her feeble words and maybe let him cry on her shoulder.

But she only stood silently and clenched her hands.

Because she didn’t even know the meaning of her presence to him.

She wanted to be the woman he loved. To be the person he would share his tears with, for the rest of their lives. Oh, how she wished for that to be true.

But she had nothing to give to him except herself.

Herself, who did not have the beauty he saw in some other females.

Herself, who liked machinery and computers more than cooking in the kitchen.

Herself, whose manners were still defective to be a lady.

Herself, whose presence was sometimes too loud and overbearing.

Herself, who could not visit his father in hospital when he was still alive.

Herself, who could not be there for him when his father died.

Herself, who could not attend his father’s funeral.

Herself, who could only offer her loyalty to him, which people say is only necessary when she already has a bond with him.

Herself, who could only cry at night when her heart hurts so much whenever she misses him…

And so, she turned away and looked at the clear blue sky above,

so that he — nobody — would see her silent tears.

The Gift.

jaded-journal — Mon, 04 Jul 2011 23:40:00 +0700

She saw the notebook — small, red, with a black elastic to keep it closed around it — in a bookstore, and almost immediately she decided to buy it for him. So she did, only to have it kept in her bag, not wrapped, her mind debating if she should just give it. At one point, she decided, “To hell with it!” and set her mind to present it to him.

So the day came. She intentionally came earlier than she ought to, only so she could make an excuse by buying coffee in a cafe near the student org room, then pass by and “accidentally” meet him. He nonchalantly asked for a sip of her coffee, and she gave it to him, a small smile nearly visible on her lips as she watched him drink. When he handed the plastic cup back to her, she shoved the notebook, wrapped with plain paper, to his face.

He told her he’d open the present later and thanked her.

Some hours later, he texted her “thank you” again.

She smiled.

Summer Fireworks

ingenuousme — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 05:38:00 +0700

That day was scorching hot.

The fact that they were in the beach didn’t help.

Her thin top was already semi-transparent due to being soaked in her overflowing sweat, and she silently thanked God she decided to wear her swimsuit underneath it.

She walked over to the ice cream booth and proceeded to buy two cups, one chocolate-flavored and another vanilla-flavored. After paying and thanking the booth owner, she approached a man lying lazily under the shadow of a big coconut tree and shoved the vanilla ice cream to his face.

“… I didn’t recall asking you to buy me one,” he said, opening one eye slightly.

“Just take it. It’s a thank you gift from me,” she said while shoving the white and melting ice cream to his face one more time, still standing over him.

The man grunted and sat up, while she squatted down and handed over his cup.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked, looking straight into her eye in confusion and his hand taking the cold cup from her hand. She smiled and sat down beside the man, the small wooden ice cream spoon now between her lips.

“Well, first, you agreed to drive me and my sister to the beach when I said my parents couldn’t come with us because they have to go to work. Second, you agreed to keep us company while we were playing in the ocean. Third, you didn’t ask a peep about whether I actually can drive all the way here or not. Which answer is: yes, I can drive here without getting lost,” she rambled while maintaining a smirk on her face. He gaped on the revelation and sighed heavily, his free hand on his face.

“I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this…” he mumbled. She laughed merrily and moved the wooden spoon from between her lips into her melting chocolate ice cream.

“Problem is, my cousin accidentally brought my driver’s license home when he visited last Saturday, so you’re still really useful, Mr. Jared Driver Shields,” she said, putting a flick of ice cream into her mouth happily.

“Why can’t you use the word ‘helpful’ instead? And you dare make a pun on MY name, you…!” he snorted and pushed her body away playfully. They laughed together and proceeded to enjoy their ice cream.

There were only a few groups of people in the beach that day, because they went there on a Monday in the middle of October, when people were still busy in their offices to enjoy the soothing sound of ocean waves. The place where he worked had Monday instead of Saturday as a free day, and the laboratory where she was employed was giving the researchers a one-week break due to the company’s birthday celebration. Her sister wasn’t having classes because her upperclassmen went to a three-day study trip outside of town and most of the teachers went to accompany them, so a holiday she got. A lucky coincidence, it was.

Chrysanthe finished her ice cream first and shoved her empty cup to Jared’s side, leaving him gaping in protest.

“I’m going to buy another cup,” she said, running away with a smirk full of victory on her face.

“You’ll get fat!” he shouted back. Apparently she didn’t hear him, because she was already at the ice cream booth and her hand gestured ‘one more cup, please’ to the pleased-looking booth owner.

He let out a sigh and smiled. She had always been like that for as long as he could remember, doing whatever she wants just like a free wind. The trait left her with many exciting moments and also problems, but since she always had her friends to help and support her, he guessed she would be alright anyway.

She went back with a cup of chocolate ice cream in her hand, humming a happy tune. And once again, she shoved the cup to Jared’s side.

“Aren’t you going to eat it?” he asked, eyebrows frowning in confusion.

“Nobody said I was going to buy another cup for myself,” she said with a grin plastered on her face while walking away.

“It’s for my sister.”

—

That day passed on quickly of excitement. After they got bored playing with sand and salty seawater, they went to the theme park in the same complex as the beach and rode on many rides. Wasn’t a cheap entertainment still, but it was worth the fun.

They went to the beach once more to watch the sunset and snapped some photos of the beautiful view, after that they had dinner in a local restaurant. Chrysanthe’s sister was really exhausted, she fell asleep right after she got on the car. The couple then decided to have a little date, so they drove to a calm corner of the area and had a chat while sitting on the car. Literally.

“Been a while since we had a peaceful date like this,” Jared started. Chrysanthe snorted, holding back her laugh.

“You don’t say. Statistically speaking, we had 97% of our dates accompanied by friendly spies around the area. And somehow they always got found out by causing a ruckus…” she rambled. He ruffled her hair and chuckled.

“Why, can’t you say it in common language? You spent too much time in the laboratory with your research already, it’s getting to you.” She snuggled to him and looked up to the sky filled with little dots of light.

“Well, you are the biggest motivation of that research, you know that already,” she said. He put his arm around her shoulders and nodded slightly.

“I know. How can I forget?”

Just then, a shooting sound echoed, and a bright flower bloomed in the night sky.

“I don’t know they’re showing fireworks at this time of year,” he said.

“They’re beautiful,” Chrysanthe whispered in amazement. “It’s exactly like the one from that time.”

Jared pulled away and looked into her eyes.

“That time?”

“It was when I saw fireworks with my family a few years ago. The image of us watching fireworks together that flitted through my mind was so vivid I couldn’t get it out of my head. It was a really emotional image for me and I felt so lonely, since I was still waiting at that time…” she said with a small smile on her lips. He took her hand and caressed it.

“I really made you feel that lonely…?”

“You did.” She got on her knees and hugged him tight.

“But you’re here with me now to watch fire flowers bloom in the sky, and that’s more than enough,” she whispered softly.

He smiled and hugged her back, bright flowers blooming in the dark night sky as their background scenery. When they pulled apart, she took a big fan from her handbag and grinned.

“Where did you get that? No, when…?” he gaped. She opened the fan with one flick and waved it in her hand.

“On a nearby stand, when you were riding the coaster with my sister.”

“What for? You brought one from home already.” She lowered her head, her nose nearly touched his.

“This one is bigger,” she said with a mysterious smirk.

“It will cover our faces better when we kiss.”

——

The fireworks I wanted to see with you are so beautiful.
Hey, I loved you, I loved you…

Miho Fukuhara – HANABI SKY