Rosaline & Tulpa #3

Tell me,
can true love flee away
like those birds that fly away,
having a ditch from a tree of life
to another?
Tell me,
does giving in
to despondency
signify the fate you're opted for
is
not to be loved?

***

Once the blanket covered up my whole body, I fell asleep in an instant.

Rosaline was now sitting on a bench, somewhere in nowhere. The bench was actually dank but whatever. She kept sitting on it as she was trying to figure out where the dream brought her to this time.

Glimmer of hope to find out where she was never really came after some time--she wasn't so certain how long she'd been in there, it was like only minutes but probably coulod be hours--and therefore she began to amble up to wherever her feet heading to. Trees with bare branches were in her both right and left sides, fogs surrounded all over her, and the light was so dim she only could see something within 10 meters, despite the moonlight. She came to a halt for a second and fidgeted for a little while, shuddering, gasping. It occured to her it was just so bizzare that how cozy it was with the way the wing blew plenty of scattered leaves on the boulevard, with the clouds of obscurity in her mind, and with the emptiness she often felt in spite of the crowded world. A pang of pain pricked through her blood, rushing through each artery in her body. A dog was yelping in a far, far away, out of her sight.

She then continued ambling up, enjoying the odd icy dew on her skin.

That is actually pretty rare that I can be pulled away that easily from the reality to the hazy fuzziness, called dreamland, where Tulpa can never come in. And I am really happy, temporarily happy though, as I have waited for this moment to come for... I don't know, like 10 years? 5 years? Or a year, perhaps? I forget how long I've waited for what I thought was just a vain effort, and I also forget how that even feels.

It occurs to me that I terribly yearn to be dragged to this beautiful unconsciousness. And once I'm in it, I never want to be woken up. Ever since I suffer from this disorder, I barely can sleep. The insomnia always has my mind in tangle like it keeps running, working, over thinking regarding something either real or unreal, I can't really tell, because I have these high imaginations that the average teenagers surely don't have.

Imaginations that made my old friends give me weird look, followed by "what are you talking about, you must be joking since it can't be true" once they heard of it. I remember I laughed my ass off despite the agony, not that it was funny, it was awfully hurting instead. I was afwully hurt. The bitterness I felt was way too much I kept blaming myself for being so stupid telling such a personal privacy to them. Because they considered me as a weirdo afterwards.

Imaginations that made people rant about me being crazy and yap about how that can't possibly happen. I always assume those people just don't get it, I mean how come this impossibly happen when me, the sufferer, the real so-called victim does exist? Me, whom they thought was only another nut, standing and living and inhaling the same oxygen as they do? They only keep compressing each cell in their brain with silly statement that I'm just one with no commonsense, which--of course--isn't true. Or probably is true. Whatever.

And imaginations that made my dad, my own dad, behaves so awkwardly reluctant, distant, cold, and all that to me ever since doctor told him. I was literally aghast in the first month or so once he barely even talked to me. I don't have any siblings, and all I have now is only him. So what can I do? Average teenagers go out of their way to keep bringing up how sweet their dads allegedly are. I believe their stories after all since I also have ever felt them a couple years ago, but it's just no way for now. Oftentimes, I grumble how love can slip away that way, how life can be so unfair, and how everything goes sucks way too much.

Rosaline was now in the middle of the night, where the moon was exactly on top of her. It was downright murky. Her sight was only 10 meters away and yet she kept on wandering.

A wooden building considerably loomed as a haggard one, wedged in a darkening patch of shadow. The grove of trees seemed to be steadily disappearing as--apparently--a shack with a muddy water in front of its door came to her sight. The window, the only window in there, was really dust-frosted. The shack had seemingly not been cleaned up like in ages, and it was gross.

Rosaline knocked the door as though there were any ones living in it. But of course no answer came as a response, and therefore she then opened the door and found an old wooden chair as the only thing left in that shack.

She sat, thought of an absolute nothing, waiting to come down to earth and play another fun game with Tulpa in real life.

This is what I've learned about life: happiness and pain never go hand in hand. --ets281214

"Thrush Can Speak?!"

Hi. I’m Everest O'Neall, just call me Eve. Yes, that simple.

            I’m still 16. I am an easy-going person and I don’t feel stressed too much the way others feel due to tasks—well, at least I haven’t felt it for even once. And honestly I don’t know whether I am too stupid or… crazy or whatever, since I talked to a thrush and the thrush talked to me back!!! Yes, I myself still don’t believe this but I really experienced it! It happened when I was on my trip to Colorado, United States, some weeks ago. I went there when I was having my school vacation with some of my classmates. I mean, my crazy classmates. They always laugh everywhere at every little thing which is actually not funny at all, and they are sassy as well. And due to that, I turned to be kind of the personalities ever since I knew them. Ugh.

            We went to a mini beautiful forest in Colorado by bus. We left home at 9 o’clock in the morning and the trip took us for about an hour, until we arrived there. “WELCOME, MY TWINS!” with a picture of a smiling gorilla beside it, welcomed us warmly—well, it was annoying me actually. I’m too beautiful to be called “my twin” by gorilla, for God's sake.

After entering the forest, we saw various animals such as big elephants near a small pond, small ants which were standing in rows on big leaves, wild tigers in their cage, and many more. None of them hadn’t been taken their pictures by me.

I love taking picture indeed.

I’ll even do weird things only to take picture.

Yes, I have ever done.

And that time I did it again—the weird thing.

We were still a bit normal—I mean, not too crazy like laughing and sass—until Suzanna, one of my friends who’s a bit sassy said, “Hey Eve, I’d be very happy to buy you a new camera if you could draw the thrush’s attention and take a picture of it at the same second.” She appointed towards a very beautiful bird with combination of yellow, red, and orange feather which was perching on a high tree calmly.

I saw it.

But then I wondered, thrush should have black and white feather, shouldn’t it? Then why that thrush’s feather is yellow, orange, and red…?

“If you don’t want to, then you have a yellow streak, Eve.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Anna.” Then I walked arrogantly approaching the thrush (burung kutilang), but perhaps I walked so fast that made the thrush fly away. I heard my friends started laughing—again—and it made me really fed up. I followed the thrush immediately and left my friends behind with camera hung on my neck.

Haha, the thrush perched on a high tree eventually. I prepared to take a picture of it and stood underneath the tree, then 1… 2… 3…

Click.

My friends were walking towards me.

“Yeaaah, I succeeded, klutz! Remember you’ve to buy me a new camera, Anna, hahaha!” I laughed loudly, felt satisfied. “I don’t believe you’re that silly to ask me to do such a very easy thing, Anna.”

Anna sighed, then she said, “I wonder if you’re deaf, or you just forget, or you're very stupid, Eve. I said draw the thrush’s attention and take a picture of it at the same second, didn’t I?” She looked askance.

I looked aside and just realized that she really said that, but I forgot. “It means you have to make the thrush look at you while you're taking its picture. Got it?” Suzanna said.

Without answering Suzanna’s question, I reached for the thrush and found it still perching on the high tree.

No prior thought.

I climbed up the tree.

My friends laughed at me, but whatever. I didn’t give a damn.

I kept climbing up, climbing up, climbing up, until the beautiful thrush was right in front of me and fortunately, it didn’t fly away again and it looked right at me. I took my camera and said “Cheers!” to the thrush and… “Cheers.” Click.

“Wait, what?!” I asked to myself. “What?” I looked at it. I didn’t say cheers for twice.

“What?”

“Oh my God!?” I was very surprised when knowing the thrush could speak! Thrush just talked to me! I never heard that thrush could speak with humans before. “This is unbelievable, I want to run, I want to shout, oh my God you can speak, YOU JUST SPOKE TO ME, DIDN’T YOU, THRUSH?” Well, I forgot that I was still on top of the tree.

“I am not thrush.” The bird replied.

I was made really confused by it. “Not a thrush?”

“I am not thrush.” The bird replied the same answer. “I am not thrush. I am not thrush. I am myna (burung beo).”

“Myna? Oh your name is Myna?” Yes, to be honest, I was really stupid that time.

“No, you silly! Silly girl. I am myna. Myna.” The myna flew away and left me confused on top of the tree.

I still hadn’t noticed what the bird meant until I arrived home at 5 pm. I searched for Myna Birds in the internet immediately after arriving and… ugh.

“Why didn’t I think that myna is actually a kind of bird which is capable of speaking?! Of course it was not thrush, no thrush has ever been capable of speaking in this world!”

And now please don’t tell me I’m stupid or crazy or… what. The one who is so is actually Suzanna. She was the one who said first that it was thrush, not me. Heh. The end. --ets110913