32nd of December

32nd of December.

A whistling noise followed by a huge explosion of lights, sound and colors signifies the start of today. Colored flames decorated the midnight sky with their fleeting bits of life. Painting, staining, filling every of corner of the deep dark sky with myriad of patterns ranging from simple circles to complicated silhouettes. It was a temporal art exhibition held in the heavens, domineering and ambitious. But 'twas fascinating nonetheless.

I was at the roof deck. I've been there since an hour before the carnival of lights blazed up in the sky. Blanket, pillows, snacks and drinks were my only companion for the festively lonely night. But it's fine, it's always lonely at the VIP seat.

I got the blanket wrapped snugly around myself. The soft warmth provides enough defence against the coldness of the concrete wall I'm leaning on. Gray, hard, and freezing, such a typical wall. But at this moment, there is nothing else I'd rather have on my back but this wall. At the very least, it has the strength to support my feeble self and join me as I watch the explosion of lights above.

There's not a light bulb turned on at the moment. Only the bleary light from the phone's screen illuminates the desolate scene of a woman, sitting lonely, watching fireworks at the distance. It was a chiaroscuro of vibrant skies and a somber roof. Aberrantly spellbinding in its contrast.

The clock struck twelve and the 31st of December ended. I deny myself awareness of the subtle shift of days; the subtle shift of time. I don't want tomorrow to come just yet. With the cover of the darkness, I weave myself a make-believe story of an everlasting night.

Once upon a time, on the 32nd of December, I wished upon the artificial stars of the after midnight sky.

I whispered, "I don't want to be alone."

"You never were alone," the artificial stars whispered back.

"But this huge empty house says otherwise..."

Silent halls, silent walls and loud echoes. Every single footsteps thunders loudly like a raging storm. I feel electrified. The lightning coursing in my veins wanted out - wanted unbridled freedom. It has a single-minded goal of bringing pure and utter mutual destruction between me and everything else. The impulse to break things is getting out of hand. I may have forgotten to leash it well.

I wrapped the blanket more tightly to myself. Yet its superficial warmth slowly drifts away.

'No, don't go.'

Don't go.

Don't leave me alone.

I don't want to be sad.

Or cold.

Or helpless.

I don't want... I don't know what I want.

Hugging my knees to myself, I listen to the sound of fireworks going off the distance. Not daring to look anymore. The lights are blinding. Excruciatingly so. Let me just cloak myself in darkness. Cold calm darkness. Hidden away from the flashing world.

Seconds tick by. Minutes. Hours. Moments. Memories. As if gods melted time and sensations, pouring it all inside my head. They twist, they turn and I watch myself go crazy. They push, they pull and I lost sight of my boundary.

When is now?

Where is here?

At this point, a friend of mine would say, "Sleep it off. You'll feel way better after waking up."

'I don't want to sleep.'

Nothing feels the same when it's dawn.

'I don't want to sleep.'

Tomorrow will come in a flash if I do.

I'm so afraid of tomorrow.

Then suddenly, my phone rang off. Its soft tune rang so loud in this silent roof deck. Hesitantly, I reached out and checked the name on the screen. There's no name. Just a long string of an 11 digit number. My thumb hovers the screen, indecision freezing it in place.

I hate calls. It feels so personal. So real. However, as I study the string of numbers for any clue, an impulse welled up from inside of me. I want to answer this call. I want someone to talk to.

I brought down my thumb into the green button. As I was about to slide my finger across the screen, the ringing stopped.

I was too late. I missed my chance. Fear froze my tracks. The same fear hinders me from dialing the number.

This is fate. I'm meant to be alone on the 32nd of December. I let the phone fall into the blanketed floor and once more curled into myself.

That's when the tears started falling. The dam I'm keeping finally broke down and the flood of emotion is simply too much to keep inside my heart. I didn't swipe at the tear. I let them flow. I'm tired of wiping my tears. I'm tired. So so tired.

Just as I was about to close my eyes and let the dream world take me away, the phone rang again. Somehow, it sounds louder than before. So loud, so deafening, as if it want to scream, "I'm here! Answer me!"

And I did. This time, I manage to answer it in time. The hesitation is no longer there. I'm too tired to hesitate. When the ringing stopped, I waited for the other person to speak.

The line was silent. I waited and waited but no one spoke. I didn't. They didn't. No one did.

'A prank call, huh?'

I feel... disappointed.

My thumb hovers once more on the screen, this time above the red end call button. As I were about to press it, a quiet voice came out the speaker.

"Hey, Happy New Year."

(Ja1.19)​

*****
My first blog post for the year. Yay!
It's a new year story posted way too late though. Actually, this feels like half a story. The ending sucks cause I lost momentum and never got it back. Sad. And while I was hoping the said momentum to return, it's already January 12 and still nothing changed. Oh well, just gonna post it either way.