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Love Doesn’t Hurt

Somehow I see it inside her, how broken and torn apart she is. Pieces of her falling apart just can’t seemed to be fixed anymore. Just like  Newton’s apple, she fell. Maybe it’s her eyes that showed me, maybe it’s her movements lately, or maybe it’s just me knowing her too damn well. I felt weak in front of her, looking at the state she’s in.

“Let me help you”

The urge to tell her to surrender herself to me and just be mine is big. I hoped she could live her life today as mine, and I’ll fix her with all my might.

“I don’t know.. I just- I really don’t know” she shuttered.

I could see it in her, how she’s questioning me, wondering if I’m worth the ride, wondering if this is really the right choice.

“take time to think about it, don’t rush.. but really, I just want you to give me a chance. Just that one chance is enough.”

For someone who’s as broken as her, I believe it’s a natural reacti and on given out by the walls that was built to protect herself. May it be a yes, may it be a no, I’ll still be here and we’ll take time together.

“ I’ll wait for you, I’ll wait by your side.” I continued

Might this be my inner greed, but I wanted her to come to me as I’ll give her my all. I loved her just as much as I loved my own.  Without any exceptions, I’ll love her as if she’s my last, I’ll love her as if she hasn’t been loved before.

She stood there with her head down, she just couldn’t see me in the eyes. I took a step closer to her, gently I hold both of her cheeks. Her apple cheeks were soft, I guess it’s just like her heart then. Our eyes met, there I saw every story she wanted to tell me. The pain, the sadness, the despair, and everything else. I wiped away her tears, hoping she’ll stop crying. In he midst of this vibe, her cherry lips just stood out the most out of the sudden. Her cherry red lips that looked so kissable, I guess.

My head moved on its’ own, lowered my self down, and everything just went silent. My lips went straight to hers as we shared a kiss. My heartbeat was beating faster than a drummer as our lips locked, my eyes just closed unknowingly. I could feel her breath, the sweet minty flavor that might be from her lip balm, and her fluffy lips that felt even more irresistible. I could taste her tears that kept on falling, I could feel the warmth of the tears. Urge was real, greed was real. I couldn’t stop myself, I couldn’t pull myself back, I wanted to hold her even more intimately, I wanted more.

Considering the state she’s in, I managed to pull myself back, and unlocked my lips from hers’. I put my forehead on her forehead, breathing in and out, realizing that I must’ve been out of my mind for kissing her, yet a part of me enjoyed the kiss. Everything just felt so quiet, as if it’s a dream. Waking my self up, I opened my eyes.

“ Please.. trust me and just let me in..” I whispered.

I hoped to see a light in her pitch dark heart, I hoped that door will show some gap, I hoped to be her key.

“love doesn’t have to be painful” I continued.

I took a step back, putting away my face from hers’, patted her head. Considering the way she acted and reacted, I supposed it’s a yes then. There, I will show her the real definition of love, the true love. I’ll prove it to her, that I’m different, that the love I’ll give her is none of the love she has ever felt before.

I promise her happiness.

_________________________________________

 

Hey guys! been a while since i last posted something here. this time i came back with a super short “story” based on the song,  Love Doesn’t Hurt – Shannon ft. Amber. the song kind of hit me hard with its’ lyrics and i just feel like trying something new, and that’s how it happened. and as usual, i hope you guys could excuse me for my grammar mistakes. Enjoy!

“Me” & “It” – String 2 (final)

Going to school the next day after being dumbfounded at late midnight did made side effects. I was confused most of the time, sounds were echoing in my ears.  My soul and mind were in different locations. I could have use some help to slap me back to reality. Right at that moment, a book hit my head softly from behind. Everything that echoed suddenly became clear. I looked back to see who did that and what a fate, it was her. Well that’s great, the girl I almost killed last night is attending the same school as I am. I might well get mocked as a murderer soon. Thanks to her I was fully awake and managed to pull her into an empty room for an explanation. I pulled her into the music room right beside us and locked the door. She didn’t look flabbergasted, instead she was calm.

“Explain.” I demanded.

“Which part? The part where I fell into the ocean and survived? Or the part where I said you owe me one?” she replied as if it was unimportant.

“Both.”

“Well I have a very special bond with the ocean so I knew I would survive even if I jumped and you owe me one because I saved you from turning into a murderer”

Just what kind of nonsense was she talking about? Special bond? She could’ve died from drowning. Just how low is the value of life for her. On the other hand I did agree that she did save me from having a murder record.

“What do you want?” I asked, hoping to finish this problem in one go.

She grinned as she turned back while scanning the room. Her head was looking around from left to right like she was looking for something. Truly a girl full of eagerness. She finally found what she wanted to find, she walked to the object, handing it to me. Just like I almost expected, It was a cello. Holding the cello while leaning on it, she looked at me with those eyes. The eyes that spoke more than words. She knew that I knew what she meant just by holding the cello. I wasn’t pleased with what she wanted, more like I was pissed. I turned my back to her and tried to leave the room. She was being ridiculously annoying. Right when I tried opening the door, she slammed it closed, making my heart jump a loop. With rage I glared at her, showing her how much I was pissed.

“You’re a 2 years straight front-runner, it’s impossible for you to leave cello alone. I know deep inside you have missed playing it.” She said softly.

“Don’t you dare act like you know me!” I told her with great emphasis.

“You know I’m right” she replied right before I left the room.

I went out just like that, leaving her alone. Yes, she was right. I missed cello more than anything else. I missed the strings, I missed the pressure I had to put in when I needed to press the notes, I missed swaying my bow, I missed every aspect in cello yet, it had been years since I last touched it.

As the school bell rang, it was over, I headed out from my classroom filled with the thought of what had happened earlier. As I walked out, I saw her walking out from her classroom with her friends. She was coming out from the class beside mine which was the 3rd year senior’s class. I realized that she was older than me by two years. How disrespectful I had been towards a senior. She was so busy with her friends that she didn’t even notice me. I was not interested in meddling with her life so I decided to go away like I had never even seen her.

I went by the hallway, passing by the music class. A part of me was pulling my body and soul to stay, to enter that freaking room, to hold that cello, to play it just like I used to do. It had me stopped walking for a while. Pondering whether  I should enter the room. That part of me became larger each second thus my body moved on its own, going into the room.  “What am I doing? Why am I doing all sort of stuffs now?”

The room was peacefully empty and calm. It was still the same scent as before, nothing had changed. I didn’t quite notice the room when I was with her since I was too focused on her. The cello that was lying down in the corner of the room; was sleeping still, waiting for it’s cellist. A music room was filled with various kinds of instruments, nothing shone brighter than the cello. What made it shine that bright? Will everyone feel the same feeling and share the same sight as I do? It was a pleasant sight when I saw all kinds of composer posters. The sunlight that went through the squared window embraced the entire room.

I pulled a chair near the cello, making the squeaking noises as it scratched the floor. Sitting down, facing the wall, back to the door. Pleasing my inner desire, I held the cello for the first time in two years. “This Is it, this feeling, this sensation.” It was gratifying, the exact weight of the cello, the width my legs  had to open, the cuddle it has given me. Gently I lift up the bow, situated my fingers to the C note. As I tried to pull the starter, the tremor appeared. The quiver that jammed me from cello, a slap of reality.  I was scared, I was so scared. I was screaming for help and mercy, but it was inside. If only I could scream it out all physically.

The door suddenly opened, she entered as if she knew I was going to be here. She cheated a small smile, closing the door while looking at me proudly, or so. I was somehow embarrassed since seeing me in this state was living proof of what she had said was true. I avoided eye contact by lowering my head and my bow. My hands were still trembling, I gripped it hard. I heard the footsteps growing nearer. “She’s coming” I thought. From behind, she held my right hand, lifting it up to the extent of my abdomen, the right posture for a player. Dazed, I followed her flow.

“Close your eyes. You play for yourself, not others. Calm down, it’s alright.” She said.

I took a deep breath as she let go of my hand. Unexpectedly, the tremor stopped. I couldn’t even hold a cello for two years, yet she made me do it. I wondered why she could help me. Why was she the trigger for my recovery? I just couldn’t understand. For the first time in two years, I saw the light that I had once lost.

“That’s it. Good girl.” She continued.

She handed me a booklet that said “45th Cello Friendship Competition”  She looked into my eyes genuinely, telling me to join with her eyes. Just like that, she walked out of the room. Right before she could exit the room, my mouth suddenly spoke.

“h-hey.. name?” I asked intuitively.

“ Vivian.” She said, smiling for the last time before leaving.

She brought me to my turning point in my life. She made my life bright, she changed me in and out. i could hear the notes coming from my ears, I could play it again. I finally get hold of everything I had wanted.

Ever since that day, she helped me a lot with my recovery. I figured out that she was a pianist and a composer a few days later. She made me promise to join the competition. Meanwhile she, herself promised to come on that day. The closer I got, the more I realize how “ridiculous” she was. She became more than a friend to me, she became my mom, my sister, my teacher, and my buddy. No matter how many people dissed her for hanging out with me, she held onto me. Forgetting what happened in the lighthouse, we went on. Thankfully, my recovery was a rapid process. I regained some of my courage and skills. And all I wanted was to be better and better.

It was finally the day of the competition. Although incident was more than 2 years ago, the vibe was still the same. Wearing the same white dress as 2 years ago, I challenge myself on the same stage. Before I even performed, news of the disastrous cello player coming back was already making a headline. I meditated to avoid any errors. Calming myself, I heard the MC calling out my name. It was my turn to perform, the chance to redeem myself from my past mistake.

I crossed the stage to the center where the chair was standing. Just like before, the stage was getting larger as I arrived in the center. This time, there was a piano beside the chair, about 2m away from the chair. Spotlight on me, I took my first deep breath in. I gave out a bow to the audience, they responded with chatter. I guess they hadn’t moved on from my past mistake. Standing after the bow, I tried to look at the audience, searching for Vivian. And there, I saw her sitting down in the 10th row from the front. She was wearing a black dress showing her sexy shoulders. With her hair tied as a bun, she looked beautiful as ever. We made brief eye contact which led us to smiling at each other. I then sat down in the chair.

Putting my legs on the right position, squeezing the cello softly between my legs. The right amount of pressure, the right width. Hands on bow, hands on neck. Everything is going perfectly fine by now. I lift up my hand to the right posture, being ready to start playing.

feu

I started the performance, shooting melodies and harmony with the bow. Note by note, my finger moved from up to down. All types of shapes my fingers made, all kinds of melodies I made. Just when I thought I was doing well, I made a mistake. A slip of out tune. It caught me off guard that I panicked and made another mistake. The god of strings wasn’t on my side. That mistake triggered me, making me tremble again. I didn’t stop playing, I went on. Slowly, the chatter from the audience was louder than the melodies I was playing. I felt like I was sinking into the chatter, not the notes I was playing. I was breathing heavily, heart thumping faster and faster. The fear came back, every traumatic experience was here again. In the midst of everything, the piano suddenly started playing. The tranquil melody had appeared out of nowhere. I stopped and looked at the piano in a zap, Vivian was there. Breaking all the rules, she was on stage, in front of the piano. she looked at me, smiling that smile she always did. “Play” she said.

I closed my eyes and told myself, “This is your stage, your cello” encouraging myself with the cherished memories I had with her.  Remembering every effort I put into the recovery. Reminding myself of what I truly desired.

violoncelle

I was back with my strings, closing my eyes while playing. The piano voices that spoke to me, the strings that accompanied them. It wasn’t a planned duet, yet it was something beyond my expectation. The sound of the piano clashed with the sound of the cello, was it a war? I wondered. It clashed and clashed, but it was flowing like water. A beautiful war I supposed? Like a planned battle, one attacked and one defended, so does the opposite. Going back and forth, we exchanged notes, making an un-conceptual harmony. I bet Mozart would have been proud to see us perform.

It was done. We finished performing, we finished the intense fight. We exchanged eye contact with a smile. Even with sweat flowing down me, I didn’t feel tired at all. I was positive that this is the biggest and proudest achievement I’d pulled off. We gave a bow to the audience while they clapped and cheered loudly. Right after the bow, I ran to her and hugged her. I was so happy, I was so glad to the extent of crying. Pride it was. I couldn’t get the 1st , 2nd , nor the 3rd but the judges awarded me with a full scholarship in London majoring in classical music. I realized how trophies are nothing compared to enjoyment. I fulfilled what I’d desired, there’s nothing but pleasure to feel.

I learnt that it was only a matter of time before the wheel spins, good will come, bad will go. Fame came to me in an instant, headlines spreading all about the revival of a destroyed cellist. Everything went back to 2 years ago, except to the fact that there was Vivian. I regained everything back. From that moment on, I have gone higher and higher. I’ll always enjoy myself as a cellist to the fullest. That’s my promise.

 


 

WHAT’S NEXT?

“Me” & “It” – string 1

I closed my eyes to calm myself. A deep breath in, a deep sigh out. A self-hypnotism to chill myself that I hoped would work. I held my cello tight and it’s bow, hoping and praying I would do just right even though I was still shaking. After a few seconds of staying still, the fact that I was going to perform skimmed into me. Still with my eyes closed, I held my cello and it’s bow into the right position, situated my legs into the right posture as they might receive quite a lot of pressure due to the undying fear I was currently feeling. My fingers were arranged to the first note, my bow was ready to snipe. A final intake of oxygen, and a final push out of carbon dioxide. I opened my eyes as I said in a whisper.

“ feu.”

That was the cue before I began battling it out with the strings. I tried playing each note with flow and grace, yet fear won over me. Every note sounded shaky and unstable. I didn’t just destroy a classical piece in front of 2.000 people, I destroyed my very own pride. That was the moment I realized that I wasn’t clashing with the strings, I was facing myself. I was fighting with the fear inside me as it engaged keenly. I was still in the middle of the performance when I realized how much fear I was handling. It wasn’t good news since I was wrecked midway. Obviously I made a mistake and everything was falling apart before I could even save it. There, I stopped playing. The silence that was here few minutes ago was gone. What was there was some blaring chatter that was judging me. Unintentionally, tears started dripping down from my eyes. Were they tears of shame? Was it just a plain sadness? Or was it both?

The news of me failing the performance spread around the school in a haste. Mockery and derision I received. Each person’s story seemed to have different versions, yet I had to admit that all of them were true. I seemed like the national top classical music school doesn’t only teach music, but also teaches how to gossip. From that moment on, I saw different types of eyes in everyone. Pity, loathing, teasing,  and concern. I wondered just how pitiful I must’ve been to receive these kinds of stares. Moreover, I wondered what had made me tremble that much, to the extent of crying.

As much as I wanted to play cello again, I couldn’t. The humiliation was too much for me, making me part ways with my source of happiness. The disgrace was a great wall as it separated me, not just from my cello, but also the world. Heads down, eyes down. The only thing I see in my life is nothing but the ground. Moving forward with my head up it’s just something I can’t do now.

I went out alone 11p.m. at night, yearning for peace and tranquility. A cold night breeze whooshed throughout the alley, it was loneliness. The Chirping sound of the cricket accompanied my walk as I went straight to the lighthouse near the beach. I put both of my hands into the pockets of my denim jacket, bearing the cold. Slowly I heard the sound of the ocean, beautifully dragging me into the rhythm. The reserved surroundings were well matched with what I needed right then. I went up to the top of the lighthouse to see the sea and stars from up above.

As I arrived, I realize that the lighthouse wasn’t empty. Stood there, was a figure of a girl with long brown soft curled hair. She was only wearing a simple white tee and tight denim jeans but she didn’t look floppy. Somehow I knew for sure that she wasn’t there for the same reason as I. A few moments after, she turned and looked at me. There, we made eye contact. Just like those movies, our hair was swinging with the wind and nothing else was there other than the two of us. She sent a small smile as she greeted me with a hello. As expected, it wasn’t just her look, her voice was as stunning as her looks. She had the voice of a singer, a very unique and timbred voice. “A singer?” I thought to myself.

“Hello” she said.

I didn’t reply, I knew just how rude that was but interacting with others wasn’t quite my thing after the incident. I put my head down to avoid eye contact, moving right. It was beyond my expectation as she blocked my way.

“You’re Evanna, right?” she hesitated.

Without my knowing, I took a break from taking another step. Just like a car hitting the brakes as it was about to crash. And just like a glass that’s falling from a table, I was about to break into tears. As much as I wanted to reply to her, I held back to prevent myself from crying in front of a stranger. Somehow, the breeze became colder than before.

“You are, right? The one- sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Would you shut it?” I abruptly said.

I couldn’t handle it when she brought up about the incident. Just like a bomb, I exploded at her. Even so, I still managed to hold my tears in. Rage was bundled up inside me, I went away from her, unconsciously pushing her away hard enough to make her step backwards.

I didn’t realize I was pushing so hard that she tripped over the rail that were circled the walkway. As she grabbed the edge of the rail, she let out a scream, asking for help. I was certainly shocked by what I had done, instinctively I went to her side, held out my hand to help her. I held her hand tightly, not wanting to let it go. I didn’t want to have a murder record when I was still just 15.

“Don’t let go.” I said in a pinch.

She didn’t reply with words. But I could see it in her eyes, the fear she was feeling, the tears. It was a different kind of fear, something beyond what I had gone through. I realized how I was unwilling to let her die, how I was unwilling to let her experience that kind of trauma. I pitied her like myself. I tried to pull her up will all I had but I was too weak. I realized the chances were too low, and I bet she did too. She knew she’d fall but she didn’t show any hate and resentment.

I had only one backup plan left but I didn’t know if it would work. After a quick thought, I made up my mind to go on with that plan regardless of the risks. I looked down to the ocean, checking how the waves were.  Somehow the waves were dancing to the fullest, gushing with all its’ might. I was taken aback by how scary it was, giving a second thought of going with that plan.

“ let go” she said.

She caught me off guard as she volunteered to let her hand go. “just what is this girl thinking? Does she want to die?” i thought. That time, a part of me was telling me to let go. Like a whisper, I heard my own thoughts speaking to me. in the meantime, my hands were slowly slipping, losing their strength. “Damn it!”

Out of a sudden, she let go of my hand, making me intuitively hold her hand tighter. With what I had left, it was obvious that it wasn’t long until she’d fall. That was the panic point. Everything just started to get messy. I was somehow trembling due to the pressure I was handling, sweat were continuously dripping with my teeth clenched tight. And just like what I thought, she fell.

“No!” I shouted.

As much as I sounded hysterical, it didn’t matter much that time. I wondered what made her so brave. I certainly saw it in her eyes, the anxiety inside her was all packed up. But just what exactly made her so courageous to let go off my hand and fall from approximately 40 meter tall light house? There’s only a word that could describe her. “Ridiculous”

I ran down, planning to save her from below as I knew how to swim. I was panicking that hard that I couldn’t even hear the sound of the ocean. The only thing I heard was my heavy breathing, it was loud. My speed was slowing down while I was running on the beach. “Surely have to do more sports.” Just as I got closer to the ocean, I saw a figure of a girl walking unsteadily out from the water. “Impossible” I thought. Yes, it was without a doubt her. Taking another sudden break, I paused there looking at her coming out of the water. I was trying to believe. Slow steps I took towards her, small steps. I was low-key trembling when I saw her face clearly. Looking drenched, she survived. She could’ve died, and yet she’s here in front of my eyes. My leg gave up as I fell down, sitting. Tears were dripping slowly, one and two. “Just what is she? It’s impossible to guess. What the heck just happened?”  I was dumbfounded. The closer she got, the more I was taken aback.

“Well that was one hell of a thrill” she said. Giving out a small smile as if nothing bad had happened.

“It’s late now, go back home.” She continued while walking past me, leaving me there all alone.

I didn’t stop her, I couldn’t do anything but freeze. “Just what is this? Why can’t I say something?”

            “You owe me one!” she suddenly shouted from afar.

Everything went by so fast, making me even more confused. Sitting alone tragically made it seemed like nothing was moving, neither was the time. The whole world stopped for a minute, so did the universe.

 

next on potatomatoo

“Me” & “It” – String 2 (final)

“Me” & “It”

“Me” & “It” is a short story that i wrote few months ago which i submitted to Asian English Olympics 2017 short story writing competition. well it’s kinda a one-shot story and i wrote it in about 24 hours. short amount of time indeed.

Even though i didn’t make it to the finals, i’m proud enough to finish this story since yeah, duhh.. i was seriously in rush. the judges comments are quite positive except the fact that i did a loooottt of grammar mistakes. since the competition is over, i think it’s okay to post it here, personally.

it wouldn’t be fun if i post all of it right away, ain’t it? so first thing first. the sypnosis!

here you go, enjoy!

“Me” & “it”

            Evanna is a 2 years consecutive front-runner majoring in Cello. The next year when she was competing, fear ate her inside and out as she botched her performance in front of 2.000 people.  As a result, she underwent trauma in playing cello. She couldn’t hear the notes nor hold a cello. She received mockery and hate from the people around her. Making her self-esteem drop all the way down. One day, she met a girl on a light-house and then experienced a near death experience. Being indebted to the girl, she was told to play the cello as a way to paying the debt.  Can she find a way back to her old brilliance?

Next On Potatomatoo

“Me” & “It” – String 1