What forever feels like -- 10
What forever feels like; Jinki/Minho; G
note: ...I don't know what to say. I revisit the conversation between Jinki and his mother, but this time I'm using past tense. Lack of consistency, I know, just...turn a blind eye please. *whistles innocently and looks away* And yes, I have chosen to not answer the question at the end of the last chapter, harhar.
prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | epilogue
Chapter ten -- epilogue
Choi Minho is getting married.
At the time, my eyes told me that my mom's mouth was still moving and it kept moving for a long time. But my ears were only able to record bits and pieces of what she said after that sentence:
Marriage. Parenthood. Happiness.
A string of indigestible and intangible notions.
It may be an awful thing to say, but I wasn't happy for Minho. I couldn't find it in me to even smile at my mom and pretend. The only comfort I had, as I sat through the one-sided conversation, was that neither was I sad for myself.
I didn't know ahead of time how I would react. Truthfully, I didn't even know how I might react. After all, marriage had always fallen far outside of my considerations when it came to Minho. But thinking about it now, logically, I would have expected myself to be upset. Maybe angry, resentful. Possibly going as far as misconstruing the hurt as some form of betrayal. That wasn't how it turned out though. I only felt strangely relieved. And a little empty. Otherwise, there was nothing much worth describing.
A growing lump in my throat, perhaps.
Oh, and the want-the need-to cry.
The same feeling I sneaked out of the house with.
The reason why my face is wet right now.
Why it stings when the wind blows.
But I don't believe the root of this lies in sorrow.
I don't have the right to be sad. More than that, I don't have a reason to be.
Because marriage is something that adults commit themselves to.
And by virtue of this fact, marriage has nothing to do with the teenager who lives and breathes inside my memories.
Choi Minho is getting married.
After hearing this, a lot of things fell into place.
I finally understand now.
The ghosts did not choose to haunt me; I chose to be haunted by them. It isn't he who has continued to linger here but me who has refused to let him go. All along, I have been naively convinced that there is nothing more I can do beyond our goodbye, that saying goodbye is as far as things could go.
But that is a mistaken belief.
Things end when we lay the thought to rest.
When we are able to look forward instead of staring down into the depths of the abyss.
The me who forced myself to say see you later on our last day together, had not let go.
The me who refrained from begging him to come back, had not let go.
The me who ultimately stopped contacting him, still had not let go.
Even the me who ran away from this town couldn't do it.
Now.
This is truly letting go.
Perhaps I am still hopelessly in love with him.
Perhaps that love was eaten up by the hole a long time ago.
But such finer points are not important.
Because I have figured it out.
The difference between forgetting and not remembering.
Between goodbyes and the end.
Say,
Doesn't letting go also hold a feeling of forever?
......
What forever feels like ---- FIN
A/N: «What forever feels like» is flawed and kinda confused, especially in the latter half, but thank you for having stuck through it! Jinki's narration ends here.
......
part two:
The little things -- prologue ... to be posted soon.
note: ...I don't know what to say. I revisit the conversation between Jinki and his mother, but this time I'm using past tense. Lack of consistency, I know, just...turn a blind eye please. *whistles innocently and looks away* And yes, I have chosen to not answer the question at the end of the last chapter, harhar.
prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | epilogue
Chapter ten -- epilogue
Choi Minho is getting married.
At the time, my eyes told me that my mom's mouth was still moving and it kept moving for a long time. But my ears were only able to record bits and pieces of what she said after that sentence:
Marriage. Parenthood. Happiness.
A string of indigestible and intangible notions.
It may be an awful thing to say, but I wasn't happy for Minho. I couldn't find it in me to even smile at my mom and pretend. The only comfort I had, as I sat through the one-sided conversation, was that neither was I sad for myself.
I didn't know ahead of time how I would react. Truthfully, I didn't even know how I might react. After all, marriage had always fallen far outside of my considerations when it came to Minho. But thinking about it now, logically, I would have expected myself to be upset. Maybe angry, resentful. Possibly going as far as misconstruing the hurt as some form of betrayal. That wasn't how it turned out though. I only felt strangely relieved. And a little empty. Otherwise, there was nothing much worth describing.
A growing lump in my throat, perhaps.
Oh, and the want-the need-to cry.
The same feeling I sneaked out of the house with.
The reason why my face is wet right now.
Why it stings when the wind blows.
But I don't believe the root of this lies in sorrow.
I don't have the right to be sad. More than that, I don't have a reason to be.
Because marriage is something that adults commit themselves to.
And by virtue of this fact, marriage has nothing to do with the teenager who lives and breathes inside my memories.
Choi Minho is getting married.
After hearing this, a lot of things fell into place.
I finally understand now.
The ghosts did not choose to haunt me; I chose to be haunted by them. It isn't he who has continued to linger here but me who has refused to let him go. All along, I have been naively convinced that there is nothing more I can do beyond our goodbye, that saying goodbye is as far as things could go.
But that is a mistaken belief.
Things end when we lay the thought to rest.
When we are able to look forward instead of staring down into the depths of the abyss.
The me who forced myself to say see you later on our last day together, had not let go.
The me who refrained from begging him to come back, had not let go.
The me who ultimately stopped contacting him, still had not let go.
Even the me who ran away from this town couldn't do it.
Now.
This is truly letting go.
Perhaps I am still hopelessly in love with him.
Perhaps that love was eaten up by the hole a long time ago.
But such finer points are not important.
Because I have figured it out.
The difference between forgetting and not remembering.
Between goodbyes and the end.
Say,
Doesn't letting go also hold a feeling of forever?
......
What forever feels like ---- FIN
A/N: «What forever feels like» is flawed and kinda confused, especially in the latter half, but thank you for having stuck through it! Jinki's narration ends here.
......
part two:
The little things -- prologue ... to be posted soon.