#6. The first song

You know, it’s funny how snowflakes exist

Just to melt away after all the cold and lonesome winter days.

Say, do you suppose they know that they will die right away –

Like all the beautiful things on Earth.

And you know, it’s funny how there are people who’re gone

and there are people who stay.

Say, do you suppose the ones who stay bear a greater pain

since the dead souls have no emotion.

Or is it the other way: there will be another place

and the people who’re gone stay there

watching their beloved ones suffer from a loss that no money or fame can recover.

You know, isn’t it funny how people invented a whole lot of things to measure

and yet there’s nothing to measure the pain

of those who stay and those who have gone away.  

Yeah, but I suppose there will be reasons. Silly ones, good ones, neutral ones. All kinds of reasons for those people.

The white mist looks at me – or to put it in better terms, I think the mist looks at me, and for a brief moment, the strange yet familiar sensation envelopes me in a warm embrace.

You know, it’s funny how I would end up making the same mistake again

if I were to be given another chance.

There is love, and there is heartbreak.

And after a while, you don’t even know if it’s the love or the heartbreak.

Then years go by, and the heartbreak will soon turn into a heartbreak.

Darling, darling, darling – I loved you, and I love you still,

but no amount of love can save either me or you.

Darling, darling, darling – I loved you, and I love you still,

and yet, I am the first one to cross the hills.

The white mist stops singing, but it still maintains that weird stare at me. It kind of feels like the mist is trying to make me remember something. As if the song is about me, just like all the other songs it will ever sing. As if it had been through the heartbreak, and I am but a heartbreak. As if – oh well, but what do I know about talking cats and white mists? After all, I already died.

Ready to go?

Always. Let’s get this over with before this fucking misty thing sings another sad love song.

Man, you are still the same old you huh?

What do you mean?

You only see what your eyes want to see. You have to see it with your heart, too.

The fat, ugly cat walks away and the white mist trails after her. Somehow, the melody of the song gets stuck inside my head. I mumble as I follow the weird couple’s footsteps.

Darling, darling, darling – I loved you, and I love you still – 

A voice from somewhere – some scenarios – far away stabs at my heart and tears it apart:

You know, it’s funny how the heartbreak will always turn into a heartbreak if you give it enough time.

Are you going on about those depressive bullshits again?

No, but answer me. If I were to die before you, will it be the heartbreak for you? Or a heartbreak?

I put down the book I was reading as The Lover wrapped his bony legs around my neck and shoulders. It’s as if he will use the strength he could muster from his legs to strangle me if I refused to give him an answer. This he will never know, but –

A heartbreak, perhaps?

And by perhaps, I mean you will always, always, always be the heartbreak for me. Darling, darling, darling, I loved you, and I love you still.



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Author: Thanh Dinh

A writer at heart. A pessimist on the brain. I am always on the great journey of finding what it means to be living.

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