It’s more than just she was the one who kissed me. But it was, more importantly, my first kiss.
But then I should have not think about it anymore. If its not a big deal to her, it SHOULDN’T be big deal to me too. It doesn’t matter that it feels sweet and great. That I refused to brush my teeth that night to get hold of her lips next to mine. It was the first time. Maybe if I kiss somebody else, I would know there are far more exciting kisses than that. Right? I must go out and kiss someone else then.
How come a person could do that out of nothing? Did my breath smells like a spoiled fish? Am I not good? But if my memory serves me right, she did not kiss me only once. She drank that beer again and kissed me again. We went on until there’s no more to consume. I thought the fun was over. I felt sad looking at the empty bottle. We laughed. And fell silent. And the next time we found ourselves kissing again, over ice cream, over ice. We wrapped them together with out thirsty mouths. We didn’t talk with words. We just looked at each other or laugh. My fidgety hands on her waist. He hands massaging and pulling my hair. Her breath brushing to my ear. Ahh..It feels so good. It was the first time I felt a connection with the universe I’m living in. I remember every details of that night. It keeps replaying on my mind.
It’s been a week. We are in the same room. Hell, we even sit beside each other. She talked with everyone else except me. I feel like I don’t have any difference with that cactus plant sitting in the middle of the teacher’s table. Or that bulletin board that no one bothered to read. These past few days, there was this vacuum around her. If I dare to step on that vaccum, I won’t breath. I don’t feel I have a body with me right now. I doubt if I’m still a solid matter. Everybody sees me but her eyes peering through mine is the only thing I cared about.
"Stop staring at me."
She’s saying something. I think it’s for me. But she’s not looking at me. Her eyes are looking straight ahead like a possessed doll. Nothing is moving except her mouth. I even doubt if she’s really talking.
" I loved you but only for that moment. "
I almost said why but she already answered.
"You know, love is the same with having a fever or a disease. Scientifically proven. I just get healed from it rather too easily than most people. Just a bite from an ant, I suppose."
And then nothing. She is writing on her notebook now. Her handwriting is cursive, with equal spacing, with balance, beautiful. It’s a delight for me to watch her write. I want her to talk to me more. Even what she just said was painful to hear. Minutes passed and I began to think that what I heard is just a glitch on reality and I am just hearing things.
#lol, it’s been awhile since I wrote something. Hello tumblersphere! I’m alone in the office. ;( :(