"Do you know why writers are both sad and happy?"
He looked straight into my soul for a moment and shooked his head. He couldn't stand looking at my eyes for too long. He tanned. Has he been swimming?
"No.. why?"
"Because we think of so many possibilities a normal person couldn't. We never ran out of things to love. We love so much that it flutters our hearts, thus the reason for writing." I smiled to the depths of my emotion. Looking nowhere.
"And? How about the sad part?"
His deep baritone voice is echoing in my brain every now and then. It hunts me every night in a beautiful way possible. Once, I thought that being ironically different from others is out of my league but just as I thought it is, it's not. It's like a contrast, a perfect contrast of dark and light. The idea of yin and yang, old and new. Being perfectly imperfect. It's like a beautiful canvass with a perfect painting but has unknown meaning. It's him, my irony.
"Well the sad part is, we love so much. We think of so many possibilities that it flutters our hearts."
His thick brows furrowed. I smiled. He always do that when he's frustrated and that's what I intend to do. Frustrate him. I chuckled inside and mentally noted how to really chuckle inside my brain.
"But isn't that still the happy part? You just repeated it. Niloloko mo ata ako eh.." I observe his pattern of speaking. The way he moves his plum lips. I looked into his deep set of eyes. What an art.
I shrugged my shoulders, smiled at yumuko.
"Who knows, what happy and sad really means. We can be happy that we're writing something but we are partly sad because sadness made us write the happy part. Happiness will always be your medium and sadness will be your channel." I rested my chin on my knees. "When I said that 'we love so much and we think of so many possibilities that it flutters our hearts', didn't you realized that the love part can be unrequited?" I saw him stiffened over the last part I said. There you go, you got it.
"We are happy that we pour out so much emotions especially love but we are sad because we pour out so many emotions....to a person who'll never reciprocate it. It's either you'll break apart or you'll feel complete. It's a beautiful destruction, a disaster the one writer's couldn't live without. The feeling of love always stands out and yet it's uncontrollable. Both sad and happy. Both holds the strongest feeling you could ever have. Very confusing.."
"Just like you?" Aniya.
"Yes, just like me. Confusing.." I said as I was summoned to oblivion.
I smiled, as I dreamed the way he looked at my soul. The way he is confused with brows furrowed. The way he move his mouth when he speak of something he is confused of. His mysterious set of deep eyes that Windows his soul. For a moment I thought, he's in love with me too. I smiled sadly..
Who would even fall in love with a figurative and literal blind writer.. maybe be would, maybe he was about to but not anymore. Not ever..