Darling Polan,
Do you daydream? Do you sit and spend your afternoon daydreaming of things you have always wanted? I do. I do a lot of that on weekends when I can be alone with my thoughts and when I can hear my heartbeat. On weekdays, I try to focus on work; I’m good with what I do. I guess that’s the only thing I’m good at, work. I don’t have any talent; I can carry a tune but not enough to see myself auditioning for a contest.
During those mundane afternoons, I daydream of us. Us in my couch, being lazy and talking about just anything. You will look at me with those sleepy eyes, and butterflies will ballet their way inside me. You’ll take my hand and play with them while I bore you with everything about work, friends, food, and my favorite series. You will listen intently as if everything I say has value as if every story I share allows you to see my more profound meaning. You’ll smile and tease me when I talk about how I love the smell of baby’s spoilt milk—my love for all things South Korean and Japan.
Then after talking the whole life out of me, you’d pull me closer to you so you could smell my hair; by the way, I’m using the new shampoo you told me to use for my unruly curly hair. I’ll ask you how your Mondays and Fridays were because those were your busiest days of the week. You’ll tell me about all kinds of chemicals you have onboard and how you love the smell of tanker ship gasoline.
See, I daydream of those moments where I can be me, and you can just be you. We can be us like before, like how we used to be. Like how we look at each other and silently tell our, I love You’s. Like how we laugh about anything even if it’s already annoying to some. How you trace my nose with your fingers because you wonder how my nose is bigger than yours. How you kept looking at your watch because it was almost 6 pm and it was my bitching hour, I turned into an annoying SOB. But you got so used to it; it became a habit for you to hug me and make me feel everything was well at 6 pm.
But like any other Saturday afternoon, the night will soon come and take my daydream hours away. I will have to go back to the reality that you are miles away from me, seas apart, we live in different time zones, and sometimes it’s harder to keep up. Regardless if we’re billions of miles away from each other, you being here with me is no different than you being on the other side of the world.
We’re no longer together, and that’s the end of our story. That’s the end of our love story. So, when I’m feeling sad on days like these. I look forward to my weekends.
Because that’s when I’m the happiest. During my Saturdays and Sundays with you on my couch in my dreamland.
K
