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"If you could throw it all away and start over, would you?"
She suddenly said as casually as ever, like she always did whenever she spoke of most things.
"What?" he replied, turning to her.
She always did come up with the most spontaneous topics, but he didn't mind. He liked that about her. That she would just blurt out anything that comes to her mind.
"If you could, say, leave this place; leave everything behind--your car, your computer, your job, your pet, anything--would you?" she went on.
He stared at her for a moment and mulled over the question.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Sometimes I just think about these things. Sometimes I wish I was a different person with a different name. You know, escaping to a far away place and restarting everything. With nothing. Just you and the clothes on your back. Just you and your nameless self. You think that's possible?"
"Mmm," he said in a slight nod. "But I wouldn't throw away every single thing."
"Why not? When you start to hold on to things then you never really move on."
"Well, for instance, I wouldn't throw away my resume or something. How'd I get a job then? If I'm restarting somewhere I still have to have some back-up to, you know, make a living or something."
"Who cares," she said, furrowing her brows. Then, smiling. "That's the point of starting over. Completely starting over. Besides there are jobs out there that don't need silly resumes."
"Hmm."
"Then when you're tired of it all, you move on to the next place and start again. You do it over and over until you've lived so many lives that you get tired of it."
He smiled at her gently. She liked it when he smiled. She liked the small lines that form around the corners of his mouth when he did so.
"Okay then," he said with sudden enthusiasm. "I'm up for that. But there are two things that I'd never ever let go."
She raised a brow. "And that would be...?"
"First, my music," he simply said. "I don't care for the clothes on my back. As long as I have music, I know I'd survive."
"Really?" she laughed.
"Really. There's nothing more unbelievably inspiring and motivating than music."
"It's really that important, huh?"
"Well, yeah. Wouldn't you think so? Nothing uplifts me more. Listening to your favorite song; strumming the guitar; turning on the radio; writing a song; singing to your heart's content..."
"Okay," she nodded. "Then, what would be the second thing you'd never let go?"
...
"You," he said.
She didn't reply for a moment; only stared at him curiously.
"Why me?" she asked with a slight smile.
"I think you're really important. I can't let go of the important things."
"How am I so important?"
"Well...I have my music. I can sing to my heart's content, as I said...But, what if- what if I forget. What if I forget the words; the tune. What if I forget the song...You'd be there. I'd love for you to always be there. To sing me back the words when I've forgotten. To hum me the tune. So that when I've lost myself, you'd remind me. Because forgetting would be such a regrettable thing, don't you think? You need someone with you. To always serve as a positive reminder, or an inspiration. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
She didn't know what to say. He was strange at times, she thought. Or rather, his thoughts were strange.
"You are unfathomable sometimes," she simply told him.
"Is that bad?"
"No. I love that about you."
He laughed and reached for her hand. "Well then," he beamed. "Shall we escape then? Somewhere. Anywhere."
"That would be great," she smiled, grasping his hand tightly.
She suddenly said as casually as ever, like she always did whenever she spoke of most things.
"What?" he replied, turning to her.
She always did come up with the most spontaneous topics, but he didn't mind. He liked that about her. That she would just blurt out anything that comes to her mind.
"If you could, say, leave this place; leave everything behind--your car, your computer, your job, your pet, anything--would you?" she went on.
He stared at her for a moment and mulled over the question.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Sometimes I just think about these things. Sometimes I wish I was a different person with a different name. You know, escaping to a far away place and restarting everything. With nothing. Just you and the clothes on your back. Just you and your nameless self. You think that's possible?"
"Mmm," he said in a slight nod. "But I wouldn't throw away every single thing."
"Why not? When you start to hold on to things then you never really move on."
"Well, for instance, I wouldn't throw away my resume or something. How'd I get a job then? If I'm restarting somewhere I still have to have some back-up to, you know, make a living or something."
"Who cares," she said, furrowing her brows. Then, smiling. "That's the point of starting over. Completely starting over. Besides there are jobs out there that don't need silly resumes."
"Hmm."
"Then when you're tired of it all, you move on to the next place and start again. You do it over and over until you've lived so many lives that you get tired of it."
He smiled at her gently. She liked it when he smiled. She liked the small lines that form around the corners of his mouth when he did so.
"Okay then," he said with sudden enthusiasm. "I'm up for that. But there are two things that I'd never ever let go."
She raised a brow. "And that would be...?"
"First, my music," he simply said. "I don't care for the clothes on my back. As long as I have music, I know I'd survive."
"Really?" she laughed.
"Really. There's nothing more unbelievably inspiring and motivating than music."
"It's really that important, huh?"
"Well, yeah. Wouldn't you think so? Nothing uplifts me more. Listening to your favorite song; strumming the guitar; turning on the radio; writing a song; singing to your heart's content..."
"Okay," she nodded. "Then, what would be the second thing you'd never let go?"
...
"You," he said.
She didn't reply for a moment; only stared at him curiously.
"Why me?" she asked with a slight smile.
"I think you're really important. I can't let go of the important things."
"How am I so important?"
"Well...I have my music. I can sing to my heart's content, as I said...But, what if- what if I forget. What if I forget the words; the tune. What if I forget the song...You'd be there. I'd love for you to always be there. To sing me back the words when I've forgotten. To hum me the tune. So that when I've lost myself, you'd remind me. Because forgetting would be such a regrettable thing, don't you think? You need someone with you. To always serve as a positive reminder, or an inspiration. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
She didn't know what to say. He was strange at times, she thought. Or rather, his thoughts were strange.
"You are unfathomable sometimes," she simply told him.
"Is that bad?"
"No. I love that about you."
He laughed and reached for her hand. "Well then," he beamed. "Shall we escape then? Somewhere. Anywhere."
"That would be great," she smiled, grasping his hand tightly.