My Fictional Writing #1

“How can you always be positive? Don’t you have worries, too?” she asked me, almost confused and amazed.

 It made me think back for a bit,

 then it hits me.

 It was not like a sudden bump at the door. It was slow, almost like torture. It is like falling off a stair; only the steps are too far from each other that you will still need to roll a few times before falling again to the next one.

 It hit me hard!

 “I guess I was just tired of being worried and sad about many things?” I answered reluctantly with an unconscious shrug off my shoulders.

 “But isn’t it normal? To worry? To be sad?” she followed, now very curious about what I might say next.

 I got myself in a bind. Because honestly, it is so hard to explain to other people your experiences. I don’t know how to tell her how I used to eat worries for breakfast. I got drunk with sadness, then vomited all of it later, just for me to eat it all again the next day.

 It was horrible. I have been like that since I first got my heart broken. I suffered the same routine for years. Until one day, I just got tired of feeling like that. So, I started looking forward to eating my breakfast and eating it with pleasure. Every night when I feel like burping up, I take a bowl and catch them all to eat them back up more completely that night. I repeated that until I got used to its taste. And later on, I just realized that it doesn’t bother me anymore. I was already looking for a new flavor. A new dish will be served on my table. I won’t say that I got used to it. Because, after all, they are still nasty feelings. But maybe the right way to put it was that I got to know that kind of feeling that I know now where I will put it in my heart whenever it appears. There is a dedicated place for my stomach to take its time before leaving my body.

 Suddenly, I feel a tap on my left arm. “Hey, are you still there?” I heard her laugh as she said that.

 I was utterly lost in thought that I forgot she was there.

 “No, it isn’t. But some might say it is because we sometimes forget that we always have a choice on what to do with things. We decide it ourselves.” I explained, trying to make up for when I spaced out.

 She was not convinced. I can see it on her face.

 “See that river over there?” I asked, pointing at the river just a few yards away.

 “Yep!” She nodded.

 “People will have different ways of crossing that river. Some might swim through it or use that bridge over there.” I continued while pointing at the bridge on our right side.

 “But either way, all of them will face problems while crossing it. The problems may differ, but they will still have them.” I finished, hoping she’ll understand it somehow.

 “Even the ones using the bridge?” she immediately follows.

 I was startled. But a smile is slowly forming now on my face. I never thought she was paying that much attention when I casually tried to give her a simpler analogy.

 “Yes! Especially the ones on the bridge.” I said while slightly laughing. Amused by her curiosity.

 “But why? Isn’t it much safer?” she was confused.

 At this point, I was already happy. I completely understand where she comes from; her question was very rational.

 I pinched her right cheek gently.

 “Yes, it was exactly because of that reason that they will have problems.” I stopped, then smiled at her.

 “When people feel safe, they tend to take things for granted. The sudden rush of happiness will blind them, and they will start to look straight ahead. And they panic and overthink things when things go for a little curve.”

 She was silent.

 She was slowly absorbing things. I can tell this because her face gradually brightens while looking at the bridge.

 “So, where are you? At the river or the bridge?” she is now beaming with a big smile looking at me.

 “I’m in space staring at how tiny this river is,” I answered, sticking my tongue out.

 We both then ended up bursting with laughter.