Stop Waiting

Stop waiting stop waiting stop waiting stop waiting stop waiting stop waiting stop waiting stop waiting stop waiting.

X whispered to himself while walking under the downpour of the dying day. In this city of utter loneliness and alienation, the rain is the only thing worth living for. Water drips out from his black, wavy hair and into the pavement.

Stop waiting. But stop waiting for what?

If you know X as well as I do, you can already guess this one is about just another girl breaking his heart. Well, she's not just another girl, X objected profusely. He could feel it in every palpitated vein, that she was the most beautiful girl he ever seen, and he'd never wanted anything more than her, the day they walked along the riverside at midnight. Early on that night, he stood silently outside the cafe window and watched her sitting alone, for some times as long as centuries. Her short, brunette - almost red hair- fell on her shoulders when she playing with her phone. He caught a faint smell of sandalwood, rose, and white musk on her neck when she hugged him for a greeting. He could never imagined one day they would become such good friends. The first time they met, X thought she was a rude fucking cunt. She forgot her phone at his office for a few days, and when he returned it to her, she didn't jump up and down, kneeling and bowing at his feet. Just a quick nod with a plain "Thank you."

She was older, about 10 years his senior. She has a strong personality with some poorly covered attitudes. She saw the flaws in people first and foremost. She judged them for the fucked up things they did without mercy. X normally didn't get along with mean people because he found it exhausting. He thought of himself as a forgiving, Zen-Buddha kind of guy. Of course, he has his nasty moments, but her ways of spouting outdo them all. But somehow, they were very sweet to each other, especially when no one else was around. He called her by the wrong name, couldn't remember your name, only something that started with K., and she just got along with it. He's the only one who called her like that. X and K.; NoName and stranger. Why can't we be together?

From the moment X carried for her the bag full of art supplies down the busy streets without being asked, she liked him instantly as a friend. Even though they flirted, smiled, and looked away almost every time. X remembered the night that he finally noticed her. She told him a perverted joke the moment they met. Her friend scolded her for making him blush and red, like a tomato. He tried to swallow a lump in his throat when he saw her flirting with another beautiful girl across the room. She looked so happy that night, with or without him. At the end of the night, she rested her head on his shoulder. He wanted her to stay there forever. For the first time, X turned out to value and cherish this woman's friendship and their community much more than he wanted to admit.

"What is it?" she asked him in the sweetest voice, as if they were kissing and intertwining on the couch, when he showed her After Dark, his favorite book by Haruki Murakami. He made her promise to forget about it the next day, before he told her that he had a crush on her sometimes. She just laughed and said, "I'm too old for you, but I'm very flattered."

He already knew the answer; he just wanted to get it out there. Was he even sad? Did he even want to be with her as a committed and serious partner? No one really knows, even he doesn't have a clue. It's the look in her bright blue eyes when she looks at him, like sunrise in the ocean, that he can't resist. Why wouldn't you give me a chance, cause I'd be anything you want and more. We get along so well. I see you. And you see me like nobody else. What 10 years gonna make a difference?

When at her place having a sleepover with her roommate, X let his perfume linger on her pillow when he slept on it. Fig, coconut, and cedar. The perfume disappeared just as fast when he returned the pillow to her bedroom. He knows she wouldn't mind if it had stayed.

Oh man, I don't like the agony I feel whenever I see you and have to play it cool, pretend as if I don't have any feelings for you. It drives me crazy. I wanna hold your hands and bite your palm when you're being annoyed. I know some parts of you want this too. But why don't you give me a sign..