Magic

There was a time when I believed in magic.

Magic is a process, a chance, or a phenomenon.

It’s when two people bump at each other and they like the bumping.

The bumping causes spark.

Ultimately, magic is the process of igniting spark.

This is where I derive my two theories.

Theory #1. There can be more than one magic in a lifetime.

Theory #2. The spark is not permanent.

The principle behind these theories is simple: People move on.

Not everyone who bumps each other stay together forever. They will undergo the process again with some other people. Nobody really knows just how many bumping it takes to finally be settled, be contented, and be happy. There is even no guarantee that one will find it.

The spark dies out too. Maybe not right after the separation. But sooner, later, someday, the spark will fade away. It just has to work that way.

Maybe between the two people, the spark of one dies faster than that of the other. Or it never will. But I’m sure the spark won’t be as strong as it used to. It just cannot be that strong anymore. It has to.

So, people move on, huh? How do you know that? When does that occur? I cannot quantitatively define how or when. I just know that it commences on the day that you did the things you used to do but only this time you did it differently. And your-doing-it-differently does not affect you at all.

For instance, there was Rance. His hair is as pink as mine. His eyes are as green as mine. He laughs without a sound. He sleeps with eyes open. Indeed, we are so much alike. I thought we were meant forever. I was wrong.

We decided to go separate ways. He was already a part of my system so it was hard to let go. It’s like my arms and legs are amputated. I felt helpless like that. If only I could hear my heart, I would hear the cracking sound it makes as it breaks into a thousand flakes. Maybe this is too much but my point is, it did hurt.  

But I will be fine without him. I can still be happy without him.

I cannot tell when I started feeling good without him.

I can only remember the first time that…

I prayed and he is not in it.

I drew and it’s not him.

I wrote a poem and it’s not for him.

I woke up in the morning and he’s not the first person I think of.

I sleep at night and he’s not the last thing in my mind.

I listen to that song and my chest didn’t tighten up.

I watch a game and I didn’t mind that he’s not around.

Or I watch a game and I didn’t seek for anyone in it.

I drink and he’s not by my side.

Somebody else dropped me home.

I went home alone really late and I realized that, “Hey, it’s not so bad in the dark.”

That day of the month came and I didn’t greet anyone.

I deleted a number and I didn’t regret it at all.

And though I memorize the number, I didn’t put it back.

Somebody pat me in my shoulder and I know it’s not him.

I was really down and somebody else cheered me up.

I was lost in crowd and somebody else called out for my name.

People do move on. I am almost certain of it.

Yet there was also a time when…

I kissed and realized it was different.

I hugged yet it felt a little empty.

I held hand and I became uncomfortable.

I said “I love you” and didn’t mean it.

I said “I love you” again and I felt stupid.

I promised I’ll stay forever but I know wouldn’t keep it.

I met a lot of people but I still feel alone.
I don't know if it's because I can't see hair that was as pink.
Or eyes that were as green.

I know that there was a time that I believed in magic.

But it seems magic is just for kids.

If that’s the case, I want to be a child again.