"Treasured long lost love
Did you search for another
Or vow in silence."
  
  

     When in ten years will we meet again? She didn't exactly specify. Maybe the exact date we met, but it could be ten years from the day we last seen each other. To be sure, I'll wait starting from the day I first met her.

I actually didn't think I'd remember that date, I probably wouldn't have. But my younger self that night pulled out a notebook I seldom used because writing was a pain, and wrote about how some girl took my favorite place in the whole city. As if it was a crime.

But the day I say I start waiting by the old narra, is a week from now. I'm sprawled on my chair looking at the witch-reflection of myself from the mirror in a crisis. How do I face her looking like this?

From a couple days ago, presently, and maybe until the next week or to I have been, and will be continuing to vomit words onto a paper because I got too relaxed and forgot about the deadline of my novel.

My editor too, seems to have had enough of me. Reminding me of the deadlines every day. I'd feel the same way if I was him.

"I miss the days when I could write on my own pace." I groan. On the bright side I can afford to order as much salmon as I want whenever I want.

Like a sloth, I slowly get up from the chair and exit to the living room where my laptop was left open on the table; sometimes it feels like my draft has eyes and it's watching me. Waiting for me to return and continue working on it.

And when I sit down and stare at it, I just start getting excited for the possibility of meeting haiku again in a week. Possibility.

I am hopeless.

A working adult still hung up on her first love like we're going to get together again and marry. I hate to break it to myself but I'm not in a drama.

If she does end up being in a relationship already I could turn my life into a soap opera by trying to get in between their love but I'm not that kind of person. My brother would probably laugh and say something like 'at least I was right about you being a mistress!'

Two years since I came out and he still doesn't seem much different. I dread having to see his cocky expression when I visit home.

A few months ago he was even begging me to buy him a new phone because his girlfriend dumped him and broke his phone after she found out he cheated on her. The cheating part, the girlfriend told me directly. Not wanting my parents to find out he comes to me and thinks I'd help him. Really?

Well, I did. Because he came to my apartment and wouldn't shut his damn mouth.

He said something like "Pleaaase! Lena open the door for me! Please help me! We're family." Ugh.

In the end I still told our parents because I don't condone my brother's behavior. You cheated, you hold yourself accountable.

I eventually wind up brewing coffee while all sorts of thoughts float through my head. What should I wear when I head to the narra? Is it worth dressing up?

If she ends up not coming, then won't I just end up looking like a dog waiting for its master that won't come back?

I managed to stop worrying about these things a while back but now that the time is growing closer and the truth is looming like a rain cloud I can only feel queasy.