Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Norwegian Wood

It all started with the three of us. She was my Naoko, he was my Kizuki. But my Kizuki didn’t kill himself. He fucked up, he betrayed me, his best friend. But then my Kizuki apologized, yet he was unable to do the right thing, fix his own mess and take it like a man. So there it was, he is as good as dead to me, and he left me a burden, he left me my Naoko, all hurt and shattered.

My Naoko had a childhood of disappointment and betrayal. Make worse by the wound left by my Kizuki. I stayed by her side as long as I could, long enough until I neglected my own right for a happiness.

But then just like how the story goes, my Naoko never really loves me. Rather than kill herself too, she married another man. And the same with my Kizuki, she is as good as dead to me. I was heartbroken none the less, but rather than taking my sorrow traveling and hitchhiking and sleeping in a sleeping bag in an unknown town along the coast of Japan listening to some fisherman mellowing out about his dead mother, I sink in a workloads of a heavy chemical industry and made rm35000 a year, unintentionally shutting everyone out of my life as I go along.

In the mist of all these shits, you came upon my life, my Midori. And you manage to fascinate me with your wild imaginations and charming intelligences. We share a lot in common. Interests and tastes. I was completely drawn to you. I may as well might have hit the jackpot.

So yeah, there was never the moment of playing guitar on a roof top watching a burning house and clumsy kisses. You are seeing someone and I am too busy living in the past of memories of a girl who took me for granted.

But please believe me so when I tell you that;

You are not a handful, not a fucking bit.

The matter of fact is, I can’t get enough of you. I wish there were more, I want more of you. I don’t want us to be just mere stranger (beautiful or not). You said it yourself, that we are two of a kind. So then why shouldn’t we be together?

I have a wish, I have an evil urge to ask you, to beg you to dump your boyfriend and run away with me doing crazy things like what two beautiful twisted minds ought to be. I want to make a lot of babies with you and we raise them like herds, big fat healthy happy herds and we gonna have farm and chicken and kebun durian and drink coffee on the berendah making fun of the first lady. I want us to argue and fight over trivial things like whose turn is it to pick up the kids at school and whose snore the loudest and sometime I have to sleep on the couch and we both would not speak to one another at the dinner table for two days or less. I want us to hate each other’s in-laws guts and get annoyed with each extended family. I want to grow old with you all weary and beaten-up going through all the crazy shits with you, together. I want it to be as real and as normal as it get. I don’t care about doubt and second thought or regrets and proud to say that this is the best mistake the two of us ever did.

It’s like that all the shits and everything that ever happened to me has a reason, and the reason is you. YOU. You are a godsend and I love you.

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