Reminiscing at 11.47pm

Memories in boxes under you bed.

At 11:26pm on a Monday night, I am thinking of you. I am not thinking of the person you were once but of who you are now. I am slowly starting to get over the memories I once held of you and instead wait for the unexpected. (Because isn’t that what you do best?) I have let my fantasies go beyond points, dangerous points where I am no longer certain of myself.

But I keep on going anyway.

I am forgetting, healing and most of all, forgiving. There’s this nagging feeling within me, a feeling that somehow does not want to let go just yet, that somehow I enjoy the thrill of obsession. The other day, I flipped to a horoscope on the pages of a magazine featuring girls I want to be, and who you would want.

I vaguely remember the words, you will learn to get over someone who has caused you heartache this past year. How precise. But then again out of the few million Libras existent in this world, surely this was meant for me; I would like to believe so. Soon, you will be just another faded memory, one that I’ll place in a box to hide under my bed. This is the box which will wait for dust to collect until finally, you can lift the lid off and allow the scent of a thousand thoughts distilled into one memory to wash over you. When that time will come, I’m not so sure. In the future, the possibilities seem endless, the ends of our strings may or may not get knotted together.

But for now, I’ll preserve the image of this young boy, a social butterfly with an affinity to draw people closer to him. One whose fingers breathe art but chooses head over heart. This is the boy who took one girl’s heart for granted; this is the teacher who unknowingly taught that girl a lesson or two on love. In time to come, your image will fray at the edges, with layers of sepia hue painted across the surface.

It is now 11:47pm, 21 minutes closer to revealing the box of memories you are contained in. 

Author's Note

This is for those who have broken and broke.

Reviews

[Talal Hussain]

good job :-)

[Daniel Eckert]

What a fantastic voice. I pictured a woman speaking while starring at the falling rain out a window. Maybe it is just me but as I read it, it felt as if it was being read to me. A great piece of prose. I enjoyed it very much; thank you for sharing.

[Annabelle]

Thanks so much! The visual image you talked about certainly does resound with this prose the more I think about it