Five Steps --Dedicated to Pikachu :D

First Step.

“Life is cruel, isn’t it?”

Those were the very first words you spoke to me, your voice barely a whisper as we trudged out of the tunnel, the reverberating echoes trailing behind. The light was blinding and warm, after so many years of darkness, icy flailing fingers waving about, hovering like a lost soul. You simply smiled when I asked you why, and for once, I thought I could see the knowledge accumulated over the years in your eyes, vast and brown. Warmth, I thought immediately. Like a leading hand, I grasped onto you for support, even though my weight kept you down, you continued to march on, confident as you strode forward, occasionally looking back at my fragile, pitiful and pathetic frame.

“Come on.”

Second Step.

I could see a mirror of my weak frame in your clouded eyes. You were worn out, physically, mentally and emotionally. I was still as young and naïve, clutching onto your black blouse as I stared up. I thought I could see something hidden behind the happiness, but no, you kept it well, a secret. Sometimes I would catch you looking at me, as if unsatisfied and curious. You would seem to hide a deeper meaning within your words, laced with sarcasm. Was there empathy, too?

“Yeah, two peas in a pod.”

I could never understand why you would use that phrase, of how different we were. You, the confident, astute, beautiful and courageous adult that would appear to solve every problem, not hesitant or agitated. You were always masked with composure and calmness, something I could never imitate. How could you be compared to a small child, immature and childish, ugly in more than one way and so timid, afraid of the dark, everything? I did not understand, not at that time.

Third Step.

The first time I saw you cry.

You were huddled at the corner of your dimly-lit bedroom, sobbing uncontrollably, and tears leaking out. I wondered if I were dreaming, how could someone so strong break down? Apparently you had snapped, for once, your frame shaking, eyes red. I stood in the doorway, staring, hugging my pillow, afraid. You looked up, saw me, and stumbled forward. Shock filled me, robbing me of my speech. You were always so graceful, prancing across the room, but this time, I thought I could see the lost child in you, reappearing. You stumbled and fell into my arms, my frail borders of fence. I felt like a grown up, our roles reversed. For that night, we hugged and cried.

I did not know why I cried, perhaps that my childish mind thought that something bad and evil was coming and it was horribly terrifying, because it caused you to cry. Now, if I were back in that situation again, I would understand why you cried and I would have cried with you again, this time, for different reasons. You were hanging on like a thin strand of rope, about to break anytime, and you were so tired of having to continually shine your bright and seemingly carefree smiles on us.

“It hurts.”

And I thought that the monster hurt you, so I tried to hold you back in one piece, to prevent you from crumbling.

Fourth Step.

You looked at the skies, as we sat on the balconies, and you laughed without humour, your eyes hollow as you stared out, and I imagined your beautiful soul slowly spreading its wings as it flew away. You had aged, mentally and emotionally. You were tired, so tired of everything. Even though you had a smile on your face, beneath that cool façade, you were sighing. You thought I could not see anything, but I could. Still, I pretended to be that young and innocent child. I stared blankly at you, then on impulse, reached out to hold your hand, to stop you from having silly thoughts.

“Oh, and you still haven’t grown up. Now, what monsters are chasing you, again?”

I had grown. But I kept a sheepish smile and shrugged. You scrutinised me with your eyes, suspicious of my actions. That was the second time I had such a long look at your hazel eyes. Now the sparkles had faded into the background, and your pupils were looking faraway, blank and unfocused. I could see pain arching out, slowly burning you in hell. I squeezed your hand and you sighed. You shut your eyes and smiled. I wondered what you were thinking about. As I thought more, my stomach contracted.

Fear seized me once again, and I squeezed your hand, to stop the monsters from coming again.

Last Step.

You’ve gone. I tried to hold you back from falling over the edge, but you merely smiled, something so real and stunning that I momentarily let go of your hand, and watched you crumble away into pieces, the ghost of your last laugh still on your face.

...

I saw another girl stuck in darkness and I am reminded of you and myself again. She is lost, desperately calling out for help, but is ignored by those around her. I walk up to her, wearing your black blouse and she stares at me, blankly. I smile, and the first words I say to her are,

“Life is cruel, isn’t it?”

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I love this :D It was written quite some time ago and it caused quite a stir in a small part of the class; Because I published it on my school blog and dedicated it to someone, so they started discussing on who it was... Ha. It feels kind of funny to watch them discuss it, yet not daring to ask me at all. I shall let them continue wondering who it is dedicated to. Actually, there was no meaning in dedicating it to the person, I just wrote it for fun, but there may be an underlying meaning behind it.. maybe... :D

Have fun reading, Pikachu :D