nadine jensen

If only my thoughts could be directly encrypted in this blog before they start to disintegrate into fragmented and incoherent thoughts that disappoint me especially when I cannot pick up the pieces and put them together to recall the whole thought. 

It's really impossible to be able to keep track of every event that happened within a week or even just within a day, but pieces of it will stay vivid in our minds, and not all the time these things are nice, perfect or magical, sometimes these memories that cling on to us hurt us or made us feel differently, scared and unsafe at one point. 

My heart was pounding and racing, trying to blink back my tears. My chest was twisted, breathing constricted and I started to pace faster. Everything was in a blur. Only one thing was clear, I was waiting that he'd make the first move or at least show sign that he's gonna fix it.

We both pounded as we part our ways, maddened by some vague argument, we both walked out only with pride in our hearts. I blame him, and he blames me for refusing to grant him forgiveness which was at that time should be made available for the taking, but I pride stopped me from giving it away easily. So there we were both mad and both waiting, waiting for whoever choked on his or her pride and make the move.

I stood as still as the shelves in the bookstore, unregistering every word I read. Startled by the hand that wrapped around my waist, I blinked back my tears and feigned a straight face. I avoided his eyes, I stopped the words to escape my mouth because I was sure my voice would crack and my tears will stream down my face, giving away how I really felt. 

We sat on the floor like kids, ignoring people, it was like a scene taken straight out of a cheesy flick. I started to fix the books, arranged them by titles, piled them and straightened them, right then and there I knew I was anxious and very depressed. People started to go to that part where we were, and tears that were welling in my eyes started to fall, so I bent my head down to conceal my crying face. 

He took me up, and freed my hand from every book I fiddled on. I couldn't look at him, I was mad at him, really mad, mad and disappointed for being a coward, for being unreasonable again. He wiped tears off of my face and tried to lock our fingers. He held my hand, I held his. 

We walked, silently. The grounds were wet, we were now outside about to go home when he directed me to take a seat on the vacant chairs. We sat there, quietly for a while. I looked at the grounds, the lights reflecting on the puddles, it's Christmas in a few weeks, and the wind is colder than the usual especially that it just rained. His voice was faint, saying sorry while I tried not to listen, tried not to give in. In low and almost inaudible voice, I heard a familiar tune hummed with gibberish words. It was Use Somebody,   a song by Kings of Leon, a band whose documentary he just watched, I downloaded it for him.

The deal, he did as what we agreed on, a song for every time I cry. It was a stupid deal I made him agree on, I just wanted to hear him sing, even if it takes me to cry, and it worked. I cried. Then I laughed, I laughed at his stupid face, he doesn't look stupid, not at all, he was sincere, but I still laughed because the deal actually worked. But it was not just about the deal, it was more of the assurance that he showed me, assurance that he's gonna do anything to bring things to normal and to make sure that everything is okay even if he'd need to murder a song.

We sat quietly for a while and talked some more. I like the rain, I like the feeling of sadness it brings, that sadness that is now replaced with company, contentment and happiness brought about by his presence.

I know there will be more songs to be murdered, more cliches to be recycled and more sleazy imitations of movie scenes, but I'm sure that we have a beautiful plot.