this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. i’m supposed to sing about love when i remember the gentle twinkling of windchimes. you’re supposed to listen to this serenade and tell me you’re here next to me.
i’ve thought long and hard about what you had told me. i came up with this conclusion: if i’m just cruising through the days aimlessly, then i don’t want to wake up to this dreadful reality. i want to shut out their catty laughter like i shut my bedroom windows; i want to draw the curtains close on their switchblade smiles.
let’s hang up the windchimes we made at school and hide out in the treehouse for two – you promised me so, didn’t you?
i didn’t know how to describe the blue sky to you. you told me that the sky is azure. i went along with it because words were your forte, not mine. the sky today is a tiffany blue. i hope i got the shade of blue right today, and that you’d pat me on the head for it.
i still don’t know how to describe the blue sky to you, more so now that you are far away. but more than your praises, i’d rather have you here next to me, telling me that the sky is a light teal today.
we used to watch the stars on my roof and wonder how high the clouds were at night. i told you my favourite constellations and myths; you told me that dying isn’t so bad if mortals were turned into stars. you laughed lightly, the familiar sound carried away by the night breeze as soon as it left your lips. i replied that dying is much easier than living even though i knew that i’d just decompose in the earth.
like the bright child you are, you chuckled and told me that you’d just have to shine bright enough for both our shadows to disappear. it took a few seconds of hearing your laughter again to jog my memory. your giggles resemble the tinkling of windchimes on my front porch – out-of-tempo, but melodious and bright.
i hope the gods turned you into your favourite star – you wanted so much to be one in this lifetime. that way, i could always look up at you during those lonely nights and pretend we were both breathing the same night air. then, i would tell you that i miss you, please come back to me so that we can end this long-distance relationship.
you see, i had actually known that you had been gone for quite some time. messaging you and then replying my message from your phone took me back to those nostalgic days when we played make-believe. let’s play our childhood game for the last time, shall we?
“what would you do if today was your last day alive?” is a question that everyone gets asked at least once in their lifetime. i’ve asked myself this question every day since you’ve been gone, and i don’t know how to answer it.
there are a lot of things i still don’t know – what shade of blue the sky is or how high the clouds are at night. now that you are gone, the one that tops my list of i-don’t-knows would be things to do on the last day of my life. on that last day, i’m sure that when i look back, the sepia-tinted memories of our time together will play out like an old movie, stuttering and stopping at candid moments. but i don’t want just a shared past. i want presents from you; i want to share the present (and future) with you.
fact: you would not be here on the last day of my life.
fact: the windchimes no longer sing in the summer breeze. (i kept them away after you had left.)
fact: you didn’t leave a note behind before you slipped right between my fingers.
opinion: i should have traded my life for yours. i was merely a candle without a wick; your were a furnace burning with passion and unfulfilled dreams.
maybe one day i’ll sing love songs when i hear the windchimes again.
maybe one day i’ll finally acknowledge that you wouldn’t be here on the last day of my life.
maybe one day i’ll smile when i hear your laughter in those windchimes that i love so much.
for now, i just want to tell you this:
you’ve done well. rest in peace now.
goodnight.
inspired by 言って。(itte.) / say it. by ヨルシカ (yorushika).
sea of fools 