Module 5: Double Area

 

            There have been numerous attempts to understand a man’s own judgement, but up until now, no one has fully understood the complete meaning of emotional factor. I barely give a damn about that right now. All I know is that my mind has regained its stability after a long while of insanity.

 

            Right now, I have a 0.5 Unipin with me and a freshly printed binder notebook I just bought from Merriam/Webster across the street. This room doesn’t feel all too familiar to me, but I feel like I want to stay here for a while, or at least until my break time is over. In front of me is a picture of Miyamoto Ruri walking barefoot with her shoes on one hand, and to my right is a lamp lighting a spotlight on the manuscript I’m writing. The cold air of the A.C. wafts from my left as I held a mug filled with a steaming hot mix of Kopiko: L.A. Coffee. I would call this feeling perfect if it weren’t for a certain someone working next to me.

 

            Looking over my shoulder, I notice that she desperately tried to make a ponytail out of her short hair, but it looks more like a bunny tail to me. Unlike myself, she isn’t wearing her school uniform; she has a plain white shirt on and shorts with a Three Stars and a Sun design.

 

            She’s busy doing her draft on an Oslo Paper magically taped to her desk whilst she hums the melody of ‘In Memory of My First Love” from “The World God Only Knows”.

 

            No, I could never call this perfect; rather, I’d consider it as divine.

 

            “Are you done?” I asked with a low voice after taking a sip.

 

            “Cover page is done”, she says as she rotates her chair to face me.

 

            The cover page featured the image of Harana Trinidades playing in the rain while a chibi version of Janus Sandoval rides a small bangkang papel (paper boat) through the flooded street where Harana is playing.

 

            The layout of the page is even better than I pictured... so much better than my illustrations.

 

            We’re making good pacing since we started. I’ve finished three out of seven chapters since last week and she’s done with properly shading the first two Novel Illustrations.

 

            It could some work, actually, and I’m having trouble with what tense I should use in the story, but if I were to put into words how our current state is, everything is just...

 

            “So, what do you think? Perfect right?”

 

            I hesitated in my words until I could give her an honest smile to say:

 

            “Good enough.”

 

            She smiles right back at me.

 

            Struck me right at the heart, actually, because it bothers me that this girl knows me more than I know myself. And for her to suddenly show how happy she is when she works on a Light Novel that no one is going to read... makes me envious of her child-like outlook.

 

            I know I’ll never be the same again after all the negativity that’s been gradually building, but I won’t let that stop me from...

 

            “Why are you crying?”

 

            “What?”

 

            She reaches over and wipes off the tear on my cheek.

 

            Wait... Why the f*ck am I crying?

 

            I backed away from her when I noticed what was happening to me.

 

            “Where are you going?”

 

            “I’m... gonna take a piss...”

 

            “Are you alright?”

 

            “Just... let me use your toilet.”

 

            I stumble as I walk toward her bathroom. Feeling sick, I lock the door and face the mirror above the sink to examine myself.

 

            P*nyemas... Parang g*go lang ah...

 

            My eyes are swollen and the tears just keep on coming. Violently, I wipe it all off with my wrists and scrub it against my eyelids in an effort to shut down my tear ducts.

 

            It’s not working.

 

            Hey, come on, Ilyas.

 

            Quit acting like a p*ssy.

 

            It’s really uncool for you to do this in front of her, you know?

 

            So why the f*ck are you crying?

 

            Man-up already, you b*****d.

 

            You’ll be fine. Stop being sad already.

 

            “Ilyas! What’s wrong? Let me in!”

 

            I thrust my hand to the door knob and pry the door open, causing Clarisse to slip and lean her face against my chest.

 

            I don’t want to forget anymore.

 

            I wrap my arms around her and tell her what I thought:

 

            “I think I...”

 

            “...Ilyas?”

 

            “I just... remembered something.”

           

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            This is my life right now. I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve this, but as long as I’m breathing, I swear I’ll never forget this, Clarisse.