Kilometer Zero

“May I know your name?” I was once standing, leaning on the marker from where all distances are measured. “May I know your name?” I asked you. You kind of remind me of someone I know. You look similar, as if he had matured and aged and grew beard, and he became you. You sound similar, as if his voice had deepened as adolescence ended, and he became you. You have the same texture of his body, as if he had trained under the sun and ran in the rain and lifted a thousand weights and ate a thousand dishes, and he became you. You were so similar, but I knew he isn’t you. “May I know your name?” Whatever your answer was, I didn’t mind. All I know was you aren’t him, and he isn’t you. Do you have spare time? Let’s sit there and talk for a while. It has been a long time since I found a person to talk to about regrets and failures that how I wished have never happened. You know what, the first time I saw you I felt the intensity of the sunlight catalyzing my skin with the humid air soothing the hurt somehow. When you left me for another town, I hoped you’d keep in touch. We met once in a while to keep our faiths in harmony. It was fun, until you drove me away. I had a very long list of breakup songs perfectly talking about how I felt that time. They kept me company because I had no one to talk to, about regrets and failures that how I wished have never existed. They became my friends when you were with something else—probably your books or your personal space, because you wanted to be free, right? You set goals and plans to shush the noises of your life, to focus on your visions. You set priorities, too late. You told me and no one else. Your move was too impetuous that I did not understand at all. Tell me, was it because you had that insecurity within you? Was it because you saw how I ran my life and how it was different from yours when we stood on just the same ground level? Was it because you had me in your hands and I ran off, and I handled my own life better than you would have done with my life? Why didn’t you tell me when I asked? Any of your thoughts, I did not understand. For so long, I have lived in assumptions of things I had no idea of, because the only one who can give me answers was not responding. I got tired of getting all hyped waiting for your face to appear on my screen, and then getting all down when it did not happen. I thought so perfectly you received utmost of your freedom and personal space, because we were in no means “attached”. Our relationship was fake and tentative and ambiguous and unbinding and illusory. Why were you so unfair? So many things happened. And now, you just sit here beside me and stare at me as if you were so innocent? Oh yes, I was the one in the wrong side. I was always the one at fault. You were never wrong. I was always the bad guy, the traitor, the cold, the one pushing you away first. I was always the one with the alibi that you come to forgive. And then, you got tired of all the excuses and disappeared without explaining anything. You came back so casually but still you didn’t explain. Did you realize you hurt me? And did you realize that the more painful thing is that I am not even worth an explanation? I have found a love that was not like yours. It is an unselfish love—it helps me build myself. It pulls me to the right track. It keeps me warm and relaxed every single time. It opens me to discovery of the “hundred thousand things to see” in the song. It makes me sing a thousand songs and still never find the perfect lines to describe the magic. It is a love that I can boast about—I can take pride against you, even if you don’t care anymore. Why am I telling you these things? I couldn’t understand myself. I know that you were not the one who was with me back then. Although you look the same, the same! It was definitely “him” who was not you. Very different. We were at both sides of the marker, never speaking anything the whole time. Those few minutes that we were both blank, not even knowing why we were there, I was able to tell you less than half of half of the things I should have told you before. Half of half? Because, half of everything already faded and has no meaning anymore, and with time I forgot what they were on the first place. The other half is my catharsis—the one I reminisce to keep the pain alive and at the same time kill it—wherefore more than half of that half are in line, and the other less than half of that half I asked of you in my mind… the totality of that half plus the other half I was not able to get answers during our whole lives. I know I shouldn’t talk about these things to a stranger that I only “saw” today. I was not even able to ask your name because it was absurd to ask a stranger of his name when I have no business to do with him. I only glanced at you, few times, to see your face. Until, you left. And I stood under the rain, looking at the sky that cried its tears to make you fade grey as you slowly walked away, never looking back. Nothing’s ever new in leaving. I was once again standing, leaning on the starting point of all the memories and futures that I had and should have had. No. You can’t be. I’m sorry I associated you with a memory that was not of you. I even cursed you in my mind when I don’t even know you. I’m sorry I had foul thoughts about you. I knew very well that I was wrong—it was not you I detest. You’re not the same person that lived in my past. You’re not him—no, not anymore.