(no subject)
I stare at the blinking cursor on the screen
Spiteful black line you are,
Your face is thin and infinitely lengthened either end.
Never stop blinking cursor,
Until my neurons fire and my muscles contract...
When my fingers begin to type my thoughts outward on to the screen
Cursor, you blink faster than I cry.
“God, The Viscount is so depressing,” slamming my fresh copy of his latest poetry book down onto the desk in front of me. My laptop groaned: class hadn’t started yet and my paper hadn’t written itself. My grade would be doomed and all that dominated my mind was that woman instead of gender roles in society-the assigned topic. “Ha!” clambering out of my seat, unaware of my surroundings. I had mustered a solution for a two-thousand word paper on gender roles in present today society: the way my mind instantly viewed that woman! I had half an hour to rack my brains for every adjective used to describe her as possible to push up my word count. I had two minutes and thirty-five seconds before the professor arrived. Banzai!
While the professor ranted, I logged into my Lj. No one was online, but I ranted about my professor’s own ranting, spanning a few posts.
Kyoto is known for its vivid autumn experiences. I just blank out and try to figure out how to pay this month’s rent without a job. I want to strive for things in my life-time, but what sorts of things…
There was new comment on one of my older entries. “Your face is so round like a cupcake dictator.” WTF? Damn those random spammers. I refreshed the page. There lay another comment from someone from Holland, so it seemed. They asked if I wanted to be a pen pal with them; I seemed interesting and shared similar hobbies. I replied back with a fast yes.
“I wonder how easy it is to get a job. I must be easy, since everyone else seems to have one.”
Autumn, this year, was inspiring. I never thought the tones of the leaves could leave me breathless. Under the branches, soaring into the skies was me: a man, undecided on his journey stood still, unmoving in his ventures. “If I stay on the same path, will I remain the same?” I faced the direction I just left. “And if I turn back, I know that nothing with happen.”
Autumn forces me to think. If the leaves can change colour with vigor and grace, why can’t I morph into something greater?
Perhaps the process is slower.
I wonder if I might meet someone and let them see my true self. “Such things are too hard,” as I pushed myself forwards in the curtain of falling leaves.
What brings people to become alone? Is it a choice or by fate, some are destined to spend their time alone, either happily or by force.
Entering a bookstore, I browsed my favourite manga and just before standing up after squatting to peruse the bottom shelves, someone’s arm brushed mine. “A girl? Kawaii!” “Ne, you like shoujo manga, don’t you?” after seeing the stack of manga in his hands, possibly to buy.
Nodding, “Mmm.”
“What’s your name?
“Jon.”
“Jon?” I questioned myself. “He’s…look so feminine. And I mistook him for a girl!! What kind of person does he see me as, on a first terms basis? Can’t I distinguish between the two genders?” I peered down at his right hand which tightly held a small palm-sized stuffed panda. My mouth opened, ready to discover if the panda had a name too.
“Panda, his name is Panda,” he shot back softly before I could say anything. I smiled. This person seemed unlike anyone I had met before. Blonde hair tickled his eyelashes as much as Liberty-spiked hair pierced the air around him. He tilted his head. “You like shoujo manga too?” He must’ve noticed the manga I had in my hands. “We’re alike.”
We paid for our manga separately; he bought first two of Kimi ni Todoke and three of Ouran Koukou Host Club, I bought the sixth volume of Otomen; planning to read them on our own terms, respectively. I had an impulse of thought: what face would he pull as his hands reached for the next page? I wanted to see such a thing. A pause: “Ne, are you hungry?” I stammered as he checked his receipt (he stood before me in the line and therefore was served before me). “Let’s eat somewhere; I know a few good places.”
He followed me out to the street and tagged along, saying nothing. The journey was short, but both of us remained quiet besides the inconspicuous scuffing of my shoes. “Here it is.” I exclaimed brightly at the turn of the corner, “The city’s best soba restaurant!”
He smiled and followed after me.
“Welcome! Sit anywhere that you’d like!” shouted an old man from behind the counter as soon as our presence was recognized inside the soba restaurant, “Order as much as you want, Takeshi-I’ve made too much food today!
“Ne, where do you want to sit?” Without uttering a word, he pointed to the exact middle of the soba restaurant and rushed to the table like a child would. I noticed that he was holding a stuffed panda, cupped in his palms. Raising an eyebrow but failing to question him about it, I asked him what he wanted to eat. “Jon, I’m ordering today’s special; you can have anything you like. It’s my treat, okay?” He said nothing, only nodding and smiling when I asked him again what he’d like to order.
Pointing to the menu, he smiled with tired eyes: “Miso.”
It was the only word I heard him say since first encountering him less than ten minutes ago in the bookstore but I felt a deeper connection with him growing as the seconds ticked by. “He’s holding that panda tightly even in a place like this. I wonder what he’s thinking at this moment?” “Ne, Jon…what kind of things do you like? What about your hobbies or your likes and dislikes?”
“Likes?” he whispered, clutching Panda tighter, closer to his chest and lowering his head. “Likes…”