Trying to Craft Another Story

I was dreaming last night… but it is so vivid that I can feel myself being part of the story.

It was his party. But amidst the happy mood in the place, I am sad. I am alone. I don’t want to join the merriment because what I feel doesn’t belong to that kind of ambiance. But I have to be there. I have to because –

He’s there.

I want to tell him, I want him to know what I feel. I want to tell him as soon as he enjoyed himself in the celebration – whatever that is.

And for that I will wait. No matter how long… no matter what I feel… I will wait.

And after a long while, everyone has enjoyed the night. Everyone has said their goodbyes, and everyone left – except me.

“Can we talk…?”

I want to ask him, but I just cannot utter a single word. I was nervous, I was afraid. Afraid of what I will say, and what he will answer… but this is the thing: you cannot let it out unless you have the courage to let it out. So I grabbed a bit of courage and asked him.

“Can we talk…?”


He did not say anything, but his face was surprised that he saw me. He thought everyone is gone home. As if I did not exist in the party at all.

When he realized there was still one person wanting to talk with him, he just nodded his head.


My conscience told me, shouting for me to start talking and tell everything. Grab another handful of courage and –

-Tell him how you feel-

But I was afraid. Afraid of the unrequited love, of the one-sided feeling… What if he won’t feel the same? What if he turned me down? What if – all are still presumptions, until…

Until the moment that I felt my eyes holding back tears. I was crying.

Bertong badtrip! I woke up… and I can’t remember what happened after that momentous moment. Haist! Sorry if the craft is so corny… I know this is so “high school”… And I realized that I was born to appreciate short stories and other forms of literature, not to be a full time writer of one… Cheers for that!

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