Despite of everything I still looked up to my old self

I felt my body was shattered to pieces when I lay down to my old bed room. The cushion is still soft as ever and the memories I had with it just flows on my mind simultaneously. I was drowned to my overwhelming and suffocating emotions. I looked up to the ceiling from left to right, then go back to every corner of my room. It is still what it looks like in 17 years. Random memories are flashing back then I, without knowing - I'm starting to cry.

The cry I contained for all those tragic events happened in my life. I wasn't able to cry because I know when I cry, I cannot control. I cannot control these mixed emotions in my heart and I might hurt myself. The curtains are old and a bit dusty. My favourite painting is still hanging on the top-left corner of my room which my bookshelf was placed. I remembered the most read book I had entitled, the friends of my enemies. I loved how the story started which I was hooked to read. To every end of chapter, I want to read more because I felt like the author is teasing me.

I started to compile all my old pillows and put my foot on top. This good old days when I used to jump up to my pillows and my mom will scold me because I might hurt myself. Thus my bed might broke too. When my sister came in to my room, I used to throw pillow on her face and she will get mad. She will throw her phone at me and of course, I'll let not myself hit by it. Carrying two pillows both in my hands, and rushing to her to bombard her face. She will again get mad and I absolutely loved it.

It was difficult to stay in my room because I felt alone and sad. My eyes are becoming teary and I stood up to shake my restless body. I scooped some of the dust and blew them away. I remembered how we had so much fun when we used to play the powder and used it as makeup. Putting first to my eyebrows, forehead, nose and the rest of my face. I looked like a peking duck whose about to enter Chinese theatre to perform some funny scenes and entertain the guests.

I sat down to my old chair and look at the mirror. I'm analyzing my face, shoulders, hands, legs and the rest of my body. What I have done? This is not me. I used to be a good, kind, friendly guy who loved by people. I got praised and compliments from strangers to wherever I go. I am not looking at myself. I'm draining my own energy without realizing I'm gradually becoming a dead man. My eyes are starting to form liquid at the left side corner. I looked up above in real quick to get back my teary eyes. I'm not ready yet to cry. Not now!

I opened my old table and found the old letters written by my past self. They are a bit dusty and some are too dried. The ink was quite dull and spilled over my penmanship. I still open some of my letters and browse until I reached the last letter. I sort the letters by their sizes because some are too fancy and big. There are letters that is heavy because of what I put on it before. Reading some of them makes me smile and again, old memories which now is clearer than awhile ago.

The one that catched my eye is the letter I found in the last third layer of my table. It was stapled and locked with some sort of yarn. I opened it slowly because I don't want the string attached to be cut. My eyes almost popped-out when I saw my old penmanship. I was stunned for a second and adored how I used to write this good. My strokes, serifs, and curvings are just too perfect in my teary eyes.

I cannot read the letter because if I do, my head will start punching with heavy and emotional storyline of my life. I kept one letter in my pocket and stood up. I saw my foot really unpleasant and full of dirt. It was like before when my sister asked me join her to catch some dragonfly at the yard. I remember her smiles which I adored so much. Her laughed made my heart shouting with joy. She was the best sister in the world. When I was about catch a dragonfly, she hugged me at the back. She said I love you and I responsed back. I held her little arms and pinched it. I continued to walk in my old room and I found myself standing in front of a painting.

This painting's portrayal was too emotional. The mother carrying her baby with a strong, sturdy and colorful scarf. She hold a basket with various vegetables and you will notice the sun above. There is a corona on top of head and I interpret it as she was the queen of her own home. She is a queen, and will always be a queen. I remember my mother who used to tap my shoulder. She kissed my forehead whenever I went to school and we exchanging I love you's. She gave me a lunchbox with full of healthy sandwiches and mayos.

I will end my reminiscence in which I remember my mother. The whole tour about my old room wasn't finished yet. I would like to tap every corner of my room and share the story behind it. Carrying the sack of emotions are instilled on my mind and my heart. Would you like to read more about this little tour of mine?

Thank you for reading!

Blog #36
3/3/22