From obscurity to certainty pt.1

The word zapped me like a whipped cream drizzled with caramel on top of a house blend frappucino. Tangy on the tongue, smooth by the surface. Just the way I wanted. Exactly the jolt I craved for.

Lest, I forget this early morning coffee, the word won't drift away from my memory any more. Vivid it was when it stabbed me that what I am going through right now is nothing but a dream-a lucid dream-that I need not to wake up from but continue to fly in its dark-cloudy skies, immerse in its obscure waters, and tread on its thorny path before I open my eyes.

For months, I have been patiently counting the lonely nights I spent in solitude and the few remaining nights I have to endure before finally saying “It’s over. I am done with this.” And when that glory moment come, I won’t cower but shall walk across the room triumphantly tall and proud as if I’m saying, “I won’t look back. Never.”

But last night, it was different. The answers to my questions yielded itself like a lady waiting for her man in the open-willing, submissive, adorning. I succumbed to the inevitability of solitude, waiting and death.