There Are Times
There are times when I feel that this is all there is to my life. And then other times, I feel like I am forgetting something very important. Like there is something I promised someone that I cared about. Something so horribly important and saddening that it gives me this huge pit in my heart, and no matter how much I sleep or how many hours of television I watch to take my mind off of it, it won't go away.
When I don't feel that way though, I think that I'm naturally content and ignorant to what I must be missing. I know that I must be missing something, because every time I walk by a mirror, there seems to be someone else pounding on the back of my pupils, trying to be released. I can't shake off that feeling, so I avoid mirrors as much as possible. I feel horribly narcissistic when I stare at my reflection for that long.
When I'm naked, yes I'll even talk about this because in my record of the search for myself, I find it imperative to be completely honest, I always touch this scar just below my chest cavity. It's fully healed now; after all it is just a white scar. A very small one too, though I can't imagine where it's from. The more I concentrate, it seems like the less I can remember. Because I don't know where it came from, or how I got it, it seems to tease me. It's always there, silently mocking me because I have no idea what's going on. Or where I am.
That's silly, really, because I know where I am. I live in my own apartment, though I'm not sure where the money for rent comes from because I don't have a job. And I attend classes at this local community college; though I'm not sure why I chose it or why I am taking classes in botany. My professor got angry with me one day because I refused to pluck the petals off of a rose when we were doing research. There was something about the idea of stripping the flower of its beauty that enraged me.
Roses catch my attention, especially. I think one day I even suggested we grow orange and green roses. Even though they don't exist, I know they don't exist; I was being sincere in my request. He got angry with me, and asked if I took the class seriously or not. Of course I do. There's a level of sincerity I feel towards roses that I can't really explain. I mean, they're beautiful and all. But I should be too much of a tomboy to care about flowers.
Anyway, I guess the point of that little story was to say that I couldn't stand seeing roses with their petals ripped off...
I'm always alone. I live alone, and during classes no one wants to so much as talk to me. Personally, I don't think I'm that weird, well not all the time anyway, and I overheard some girls whispering about me, saying that I act really detached and spacey. Like I'm 'Out of it' or something. I'm not going to disagree, because at times I feel as though this body is not my own. Like I'm living in this prolonged dream, and a quick stab to my chest is the only thing that can wake me. Sorry, I meant a pinch on the butt.
So of course I walk to my classes alone. Everyday I stroll by this weird, corporate looking building, and this same woman is standing there outside, like she is on a cigarette break or something. I've talked to her a couple of times, but I never start the conversation. I hate talking to people, because afterwards I either have this sensation of regret for words I never said, or begin recalling words I might have said to this person before. But no, not now. More like a distant memory or dream.
Especially with her. She's very tall and professional, with these vermilion curls decorating the sides of her face. But the rest of her hair falls past her back against that same professional looking business suit she always wears. Yes, she makes me feel very childish.
I always feel embarrassed, because I'm always forgetting her name. I know that she's expecting me to ask anyway, and instead of answering right off, she gives me this mocking smile and asks if I've found my 'Special Someone' yet. I think she is just teasing me because she notices that I always walk alone, and that tomboys usually have trouble getting boyfriends. But when she pulls me aside she almost looks distraught that I don't recognize her, and even though I see her almost every day, I still come across a blank slate when I'm home alone later that day, trying to remember the color of her eyes, or what we had talked about that day.
"For the hundredth time, you can call me Julie," she had said to me the last time I saw her.
But no, with that smile she was giving me I felt like she was lying to me. Mocking, because that really wasn't her name, and because she knew I was so dense I wouldn't retort otherwise. And even now I am sure that can't really be her name, but I can't testify against it because I don't know what her name could really be.
"Julie? Alright," I responded that last day, positive that for some reason I would remember it, though I can't recall forgetting it either. I wanted to be polite, I felt that I should since she was much older than myself, or maybe she really wasn't but I just got the impression that she was. Anyway, I extended a hand to introduce myself again, but she waved it away, saying that I had told her the false name too many times already.
This day was different than the others, or maybe it was the same because I don't really recall my other encounters with her very well, but this time she started asking the most outlandish and eccentric questions. Like she expected me to be a hero in some movie, or a prince or something. Whatever it was she expected of me really perturbed me, and when I tried to walk away she grabbed my arm with a firm resolve.
"It's okay, I didn't remember anything until I met him," she said as a statement of fact instead of trying to make me feel better. I shrugged away from her, angrily swarming through the concepts of love, roses and duels she was trying to impart on me. But either my curiosity or longing to find something more, even though I don't think I even trusted her, I asked who she was referring to.
"Someone I'd like you to meet. Come with me," It was then that I marked her eyes were green, looking older than mine, yet also very stern and determined not to let me go. So, skipping my botany class for the day, I followed her.
'Julie,' I am just going to address her as this because I have yet to discover her true identity, led me to some downtown smoky bar. I didn't want to go inside, or tell her that I was a year short of being the legal drinking age, or that I was scared there would be poisoned tea in my glass. That was always something else too. I never drink tea. For some reason I assume it'll kill me, like there will be an ancient Italian poison in it or something. I may be paranoid, but I swear I can remember someone, a girl I think, telling me she had poisoned my drink.
I stared at every woman with dark skin that I came across on the way there. I felt dismayed when one wore pants, or her hair color wasn't what I had expected. I don't even know what color I was looking for now, and I probably didn't at the time, but because I'm so used to not finding what I am searching for, I just knew none of these woman were who I wanted.
That is, assuming that I want someone. But I shrugged it off because being so attentive to members of my sex is unlike me. Well, being attentive to anyone, especially in that sort of way is unlike me.
We took a seat at a small remote table. Juri, I mean Julie, sorry, didn't bother asking me if I wanted a drink, and she didn't order one for herself either. Instead, she pointed to the opposite corner at a young man, he must have been younger than me, seated at the piano. I was shocked to discover he looked even more feminine than I did. With his large, doe shaped blue eyes and matching cropped hair; I dare to say he was cute for his petite figure.
The song he played was very lulling, and though I've never heard it before, I caught onto the tune and tapped my fingers to the beat on the table. My companion must have noticed this, because she stared at my fingers intently. That sharp gaze she drilled caught me off guard, and I stopped. While listening, I began to think of Gardens. A garden once lush and vast, with a set of twins playing at a piano with milkshakes sitting aside on a table, the sunshine gleaming as they happily mastered this duet. But then the image became twisted and cold, with long blades of beaten, dead grass and chopped down trees. Frankly, I was expecting something more than this garden I visited. Well, it's not like I have actually ever seen the garden he composed this song for.
When his song was over, I admit this was a tune I had heard in my slumber many times; the tall woman with the orange curls dragged me over to him. When he noticed our presence, his eyes doubled their size when he caught sight of me. As if confirming I was a figure that he had a mental image of but had never actually laid eyes on, he gasped in amazement, and then looked to that woman who brought me there for an explanation.
"Look at who I found," she stoically commented. I immediately felt insulted and confused that both of them now acted like they knew me. Then, on top of that, they began talking as if I was not even there.
"But she doesn't remember anything. Not us, the duels... Not even her."
The boy with the skied eyes immediately looked saddened. He looked at me, and with a sigh extended his hand. He acted like he didn't want to introduce himself, just like Julie had, as if I were supposed to already know him.
"My name is Mickey," he offered while shaking my hand. His fingers were so small, but when I let go he still firmly grasped my hand as if to be sure he really was touching an illusion. That, or he seemed surprised to find someone with pink hair. I've always been self conscious about it too, and the way both of these strange people kept staring at me did not help my confidence at all.
"How are you?" he asked before even asking me anything else more important, like my name, or where I lived. I know I wouldn't have been able to answer either of those questions anyway, but the idea that they knew more about me than I did was disturbing.
"Is Mickey your real name?" I challenged, also glaring at the woman because I know for a fact that there were a lot of things, not just her name, that she wasn't telling me. He blinked in confusion, and for a second looked like he was insulted, but then he bellowed a light-hearted laugh. That resonating sound was familiar to me, just as much as Julie's stare and the scar on my body.
"As far as I know," he smiled brightly. As far as I was concerned, something like 'Miki' sounded better to me, but just like the events as far back as I can remember, which only extend a couple of hours, I kept quite.
There was a vase of blue roses sitting on top of his piano. Blue roses don't exist, at least I didn't think so, but after I blinked they became red. I must have spaced out just as those girls in my class had said I do, because I didn't overhear them talking about the search for some girl, and the fact that she would make me remember, or even when they said she hasn't been found since 'it' happened.
"And just where are we supposed to start looking?" The stern woman said, then she patted my back, which snapped me back to this false reality. I cringed at the hard contact, and once I had realized what they said, I felt, even for a brief moment, the liberating feeling of complete understanding.
"Roses."
Both of them looked at me shocked, and I too was shocked to discover that was my voice. With a surprised blink, Juri - Or whatever her name is- nodded. For some reason I was caught off guard to see her agree with me, and without planning or preparation, she told me that I was to stay with her from now on. Determined, she vowed never to let me out of her sight.
"I don't want to be protected!" I shouted at her. I must have really meant it, and it must have been something appropriate for my character I don't remember, because she laughed a bit and told me that I would have to deal. For now.
For the first time I felt a piece of myself surface that I didn't recognize before. A strong, courageous and honest person welled up inside of me, and for a minute I was proud to say who I was. But then as quick as it came, I forgot everything I might have remembered, and surrendered when this stranger led me out of the bar.
"We'll find her no matter what it takes. Then this will all be over, for good..."
*~*~*~*~*
A/N - More to come hopefully, much later on after I finish work on my very long project I am doing now, but if get good ideas and good responses, then I plan on continuing this. Arigato Minna-san! ^_^
There are times when I feel that this is all there is to my life. And then other times, I feel like I am forgetting something very important. Like there is something I promised someone that I cared about. Something so horribly important and saddening that it gives me this huge pit in my heart, and no matter how much I sleep or how many hours of television I watch to take my mind off of it, it won't go away.
When I don't feel that way though, I think that I'm naturally content and ignorant to what I must be missing. I know that I must be missing something, because every time I walk by a mirror, there seems to be someone else pounding on the back of my pupils, trying to be released. I can't shake off that feeling, so I avoid mirrors as much as possible. I feel horribly narcissistic when I stare at my reflection for that long.
When I'm naked, yes I'll even talk about this because in my record of the search for myself, I find it imperative to be completely honest, I always touch this scar just below my chest cavity. It's fully healed now; after all it is just a white scar. A very small one too, though I can't imagine where it's from. The more I concentrate, it seems like the less I can remember. Because I don't know where it came from, or how I got it, it seems to tease me. It's always there, silently mocking me because I have no idea what's going on. Or where I am.
That's silly, really, because I know where I am. I live in my own apartment, though I'm not sure where the money for rent comes from because I don't have a job. And I attend classes at this local community college; though I'm not sure why I chose it or why I am taking classes in botany. My professor got angry with me one day because I refused to pluck the petals off of a rose when we were doing research. There was something about the idea of stripping the flower of its beauty that enraged me.
Roses catch my attention, especially. I think one day I even suggested we grow orange and green roses. Even though they don't exist, I know they don't exist; I was being sincere in my request. He got angry with me, and asked if I took the class seriously or not. Of course I do. There's a level of sincerity I feel towards roses that I can't really explain. I mean, they're beautiful and all. But I should be too much of a tomboy to care about flowers.
Anyway, I guess the point of that little story was to say that I couldn't stand seeing roses with their petals ripped off...
I'm always alone. I live alone, and during classes no one wants to so much as talk to me. Personally, I don't think I'm that weird, well not all the time anyway, and I overheard some girls whispering about me, saying that I act really detached and spacey. Like I'm 'Out of it' or something. I'm not going to disagree, because at times I feel as though this body is not my own. Like I'm living in this prolonged dream, and a quick stab to my chest is the only thing that can wake me. Sorry, I meant a pinch on the butt.
So of course I walk to my classes alone. Everyday I stroll by this weird, corporate looking building, and this same woman is standing there outside, like she is on a cigarette break or something. I've talked to her a couple of times, but I never start the conversation. I hate talking to people, because afterwards I either have this sensation of regret for words I never said, or begin recalling words I might have said to this person before. But no, not now. More like a distant memory or dream.
Especially with her. She's very tall and professional, with these vermilion curls decorating the sides of her face. But the rest of her hair falls past her back against that same professional looking business suit she always wears. Yes, she makes me feel very childish.
I always feel embarrassed, because I'm always forgetting her name. I know that she's expecting me to ask anyway, and instead of answering right off, she gives me this mocking smile and asks if I've found my 'Special Someone' yet. I think she is just teasing me because she notices that I always walk alone, and that tomboys usually have trouble getting boyfriends. But when she pulls me aside she almost looks distraught that I don't recognize her, and even though I see her almost every day, I still come across a blank slate when I'm home alone later that day, trying to remember the color of her eyes, or what we had talked about that day.
"For the hundredth time, you can call me Julie," she had said to me the last time I saw her.
But no, with that smile she was giving me I felt like she was lying to me. Mocking, because that really wasn't her name, and because she knew I was so dense I wouldn't retort otherwise. And even now I am sure that can't really be her name, but I can't testify against it because I don't know what her name could really be.
"Julie? Alright," I responded that last day, positive that for some reason I would remember it, though I can't recall forgetting it either. I wanted to be polite, I felt that I should since she was much older than myself, or maybe she really wasn't but I just got the impression that she was. Anyway, I extended a hand to introduce myself again, but she waved it away, saying that I had told her the false name too many times already.
This day was different than the others, or maybe it was the same because I don't really recall my other encounters with her very well, but this time she started asking the most outlandish and eccentric questions. Like she expected me to be a hero in some movie, or a prince or something. Whatever it was she expected of me really perturbed me, and when I tried to walk away she grabbed my arm with a firm resolve.
"It's okay, I didn't remember anything until I met him," she said as a statement of fact instead of trying to make me feel better. I shrugged away from her, angrily swarming through the concepts of love, roses and duels she was trying to impart on me. But either my curiosity or longing to find something more, even though I don't think I even trusted her, I asked who she was referring to.
"Someone I'd like you to meet. Come with me," It was then that I marked her eyes were green, looking older than mine, yet also very stern and determined not to let me go. So, skipping my botany class for the day, I followed her.
'Julie,' I am just going to address her as this because I have yet to discover her true identity, led me to some downtown smoky bar. I didn't want to go inside, or tell her that I was a year short of being the legal drinking age, or that I was scared there would be poisoned tea in my glass. That was always something else too. I never drink tea. For some reason I assume it'll kill me, like there will be an ancient Italian poison in it or something. I may be paranoid, but I swear I can remember someone, a girl I think, telling me she had poisoned my drink.
I stared at every woman with dark skin that I came across on the way there. I felt dismayed when one wore pants, or her hair color wasn't what I had expected. I don't even know what color I was looking for now, and I probably didn't at the time, but because I'm so used to not finding what I am searching for, I just knew none of these woman were who I wanted.
That is, assuming that I want someone. But I shrugged it off because being so attentive to members of my sex is unlike me. Well, being attentive to anyone, especially in that sort of way is unlike me.
We took a seat at a small remote table. Juri, I mean Julie, sorry, didn't bother asking me if I wanted a drink, and she didn't order one for herself either. Instead, she pointed to the opposite corner at a young man, he must have been younger than me, seated at the piano. I was shocked to discover he looked even more feminine than I did. With his large, doe shaped blue eyes and matching cropped hair; I dare to say he was cute for his petite figure.
The song he played was very lulling, and though I've never heard it before, I caught onto the tune and tapped my fingers to the beat on the table. My companion must have noticed this, because she stared at my fingers intently. That sharp gaze she drilled caught me off guard, and I stopped. While listening, I began to think of Gardens. A garden once lush and vast, with a set of twins playing at a piano with milkshakes sitting aside on a table, the sunshine gleaming as they happily mastered this duet. But then the image became twisted and cold, with long blades of beaten, dead grass and chopped down trees. Frankly, I was expecting something more than this garden I visited. Well, it's not like I have actually ever seen the garden he composed this song for.
When his song was over, I admit this was a tune I had heard in my slumber many times; the tall woman with the orange curls dragged me over to him. When he noticed our presence, his eyes doubled their size when he caught sight of me. As if confirming I was a figure that he had a mental image of but had never actually laid eyes on, he gasped in amazement, and then looked to that woman who brought me there for an explanation.
"Look at who I found," she stoically commented. I immediately felt insulted and confused that both of them now acted like they knew me. Then, on top of that, they began talking as if I was not even there.
"But she doesn't remember anything. Not us, the duels... Not even her."
The boy with the skied eyes immediately looked saddened. He looked at me, and with a sigh extended his hand. He acted like he didn't want to introduce himself, just like Julie had, as if I were supposed to already know him.
"My name is Mickey," he offered while shaking my hand. His fingers were so small, but when I let go he still firmly grasped my hand as if to be sure he really was touching an illusion. That, or he seemed surprised to find someone with pink hair. I've always been self conscious about it too, and the way both of these strange people kept staring at me did not help my confidence at all.
"How are you?" he asked before even asking me anything else more important, like my name, or where I lived. I know I wouldn't have been able to answer either of those questions anyway, but the idea that they knew more about me than I did was disturbing.
"Is Mickey your real name?" I challenged, also glaring at the woman because I know for a fact that there were a lot of things, not just her name, that she wasn't telling me. He blinked in confusion, and for a second looked like he was insulted, but then he bellowed a light-hearted laugh. That resonating sound was familiar to me, just as much as Julie's stare and the scar on my body.
"As far as I know," he smiled brightly. As far as I was concerned, something like 'Miki' sounded better to me, but just like the events as far back as I can remember, which only extend a couple of hours, I kept quite.
There was a vase of blue roses sitting on top of his piano. Blue roses don't exist, at least I didn't think so, but after I blinked they became red. I must have spaced out just as those girls in my class had said I do, because I didn't overhear them talking about the search for some girl, and the fact that she would make me remember, or even when they said she hasn't been found since 'it' happened.
"And just where are we supposed to start looking?" The stern woman said, then she patted my back, which snapped me back to this false reality. I cringed at the hard contact, and once I had realized what they said, I felt, even for a brief moment, the liberating feeling of complete understanding.
"Roses."
Both of them looked at me shocked, and I too was shocked to discover that was my voice. With a surprised blink, Juri - Or whatever her name is- nodded. For some reason I was caught off guard to see her agree with me, and without planning or preparation, she told me that I was to stay with her from now on. Determined, she vowed never to let me out of her sight.
"I don't want to be protected!" I shouted at her. I must have really meant it, and it must have been something appropriate for my character I don't remember, because she laughed a bit and told me that I would have to deal. For now.
For the first time I felt a piece of myself surface that I didn't recognize before. A strong, courageous and honest person welled up inside of me, and for a minute I was proud to say who I was. But then as quick as it came, I forgot everything I might have remembered, and surrendered when this stranger led me out of the bar.
"We'll find her no matter what it takes. Then this will all be over, for good..."
*~*~*~*~*
A/N - More to come hopefully, much later on after I finish work on my very long project I am doing now, but if get good ideas and good responses, then I plan on continuing this. Arigato Minna-san! ^_^