kotoba

It was raining this afternoon. It felt really good. Normally, Saturday afternoons are hot and humid. The sun would shine really bright.

But today was different. It rained. And that made today a little bit more special than other Saturday afternoons.

I spent my rainy Saturday afternoon reading Haruki Murakami’s Firefly. It was one of the stories in his compilation of short stories called “Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman” that I bought over a year ago in Popular’s Book Fair.

Honestly, I don’t really understand most of the stories. I couldn’t get what he is trying to say. Every time I got to the end, I would be in a state of confusion. I would think to myself that there must be something more, that I have to look between the lines. But I don’t know where to look.

Then I started to think that maybe the end doesn’t matter, all that matters is the journey to the end.

Firefly is a story about a boy and a girl who doesn’t have much to say to each other. During their dates, they would walk together in silence and eat their meals without saying a word. It’s not because they like it that way, they just couldn’t find anything to talk about when they are together. Maybe they lack chemistry. They do want to say something, but the right words just elude them.

Like what I’m experiencing now.

I started out wanting to write about possibilities. But here I am writing 1000 words bout totally unrelated things. I knew what I wanted to say, but my mind just went blank when I stared at this blank space. I have the words in my mind, but I just can’t seem to type it out. It is frustrating. 

I wish you can just get into my head to see the words for yourself.

That’s why I envy those that can seem to express what he is feeling so easily. So easily that I can almost feel what he is feeling too. Like he is talking about me, to me.

They are just words, but they are able to touch my heart, when nothing can.