I. Never the same
Parts of me have been washed up over time. Seconds ago I was a different person. Discoveries. Decisions. Number of breaths. Thumping of the hearts. The way my neurons send sparks like calls of thunder, the way I blinked my eyes towards that direction where you are standing. Since then, I was never the same.
II. The rule of 7
They say human cells give birth to new ones after 7 years. Scientists try to explain the magic that happens to our DNA; old cells are pushed into a state of self-death as new ones take their place–slowly, steadily. You, literally, become a new person. God built in you a mechanism of sustenance, but the rule is the same: parts of us must die in order to remain alive.
Hang on. 7 years may seem like a long time, but it’s worth the wait to be completely transformed.
My Documents folder is filled with half-made stories. First loves. Magical encounters. Boys and music. I try writing it in different plots, but the story is the same. It’s all about you. You in different faces. You in different features. You in different ways to grow.
I gave you a different name months ago, but trust me on this: you are on my mind. You will not leave me in peace. The torture is still on. Your story’s end may take a long time coming and it may not even make sense, but honey, this story is for you.
I sent you an email and it is not a love letter. Sometime ago, I was plucking the flower’s petals in counting and it ended with a ‘Yes’. I have been waiting for your reply three years, six months and fourteen days to be exact.
Flowers look nice, but they don’t give trustworthy opinions. The evidence? Flowers can’t speak for themselves when they are hurting.
The thing about the ocean is this: there is too much water. The earth is like a big bowl of soup, overflowing with a mass of earth and liquid. I watch the waves topple from atop one another by the seashore, my legs trembling. Into the sky slits a phenomenal spectrum of colors, lit by the golden setting of the sun. The paint splatters onto the crystal canvass, creating rainbow facets as the winds roar.
I am in awe as I bask into its salty fragrance. But there is too much water.