My clock telling me that morning time is around the corner, and I knew exactly that I had to be asleep as soon as possible. but my head filled by the clinking sounds of the wind chime that got hanged by the end of my house’s corridor. it didn’t allow me to do what I wished for.
• • •
to be honest, I’m the kind of person who able to tolerate noises on my sleeping hours. but, don’t get me wrong, this is not a case of noise pollution. The problem is; the sounds kept reinvigorates my memories of her around the same time last year. I guess the reason why that autumn wind kept blowing is to become the one to blame.
but, what’s going on about memories of her?
I always said that I had not many memories of her.
But single kick or at least a knick-knack about her, able to split my spine in two. then melts my chest like mozzarella cheese on American pizza, though the unmelted part of my body still erected solidly as if consolidated by invisible wires. so I’m still the tough immovable object on the outside.
Back to the questions.
Did I ever love her? if so, then why did I loved her?
I always trying to formulate the reasoning based on the thesis and hypothesis about everything. But, regarding my feelings to her? I never really know what is the reasons why I ever loved her.
maybe the absence of reasons is the reason.
or maybe I never loved her as on a state of feeling. but I had always loved her by the definition of LOVE as a verb. I needed to share affection with other human beings, it is an act of a healthy mind. an act to keep my sanity.
“… To keep my sanity” that very sentence echoed through my mind. now I realized that I was unconsciously had an unhealthy obsession with her.
now.. now.. why I’m still not able to sleep?
Asides from the clinking sounds of the wind chime, my room is in no condition to sleep. There’s a lot of my sister’s stuff around my bed, even more so across the whole house.
a zebra pattern decoration blocked my way to the bathroom, A desk lamp and 2 other lamps sitting neatly around it. Books and plan boards were among the things that lie on the corridor of my house, and a hanger full of necklaces is hanging on the doorknob. even the wind chime that kept clinking tonight is something that originally belongs to her room. It’s kind of hard to believe that my sister could jam all of it into her room.
apparently, there is no conceivable reason to explain why my whole house became such a mess. My sister has impulsively painted her bedroom by purely the whisper of a hunch. I’ve been living with her for pretty much every single day on my life, but I never understand her way of reasoning.
Subsequently, until the time that normal people – not me – supposed to sleep, the paint was not dry yet. she now slept in my parent’s room, downstairs.
• • •
My clock says its 3 in the morning, and I’m still haven’t sleep yet, my sense got numbed.
Apart from the clinking sounds of the wind chime, all I could sense is the scent of the wet paint that coming from my sister’s bedroom. I wonder if breathing this kind of air a whole night could make someone goes high. I mean, if some street junkies could use a can of glue to make themselves go high, why not a pint of fresh paint? It has a similar scent to those glues.
whatever, now I can blame on the wet paint scent too.
I became uneasy, I hate the fact that memory of us kept flashed in my head like a flash of brief lightning you saw before a thunder.
One particular memory flashed the brightest, and it surely gave me a mixed feeling.
At a certain time on this very hour, we were once sitting together in your room. Telling things that much long ago were not yet became lies. Right after that, I remember the soft breath sounds of your sleep filling my head exactly like the way clinking sounds of wind chime filling my head tonight.
And right when you were there, sincerely sleeping beside me, I was doing something you never thought I ever do. I was wandering inside your head, placing a needle on your cognitive haystack. only for me to later found it and became a hero when you find yourself in complete dissonance.
is that an act of love? is that the definition of the word LOVE as a verb?
I don’t know.
my head getting dizzy and my vision has gotten blurry. maybe the scent of fresh paint does indeed make you go high.