As Is

There is a story she is dying to tell but couldn't for reasons beyond her, a story that would absolutely depict the kind of person that she wishes to be but for reasons beyond her, she just couldn't.

This is an attempt to tell her story.

Maybe if someone else would, she wouldn't have to hesitate, she wouldn't have to choke in her own words, as someone else would attempt the absurd, hoping to get the message across, if only to make her understand the very essence of her story.

She went to this place she described as strangely mystical and there she was able to smell the proverbial flower. She never dreamed of visiting such mystical place but somehow fate brought her there if only to find that peace she longed to have. She felt the desperation to be somewhere else and the place simply beckoned her.

She fell in love instantly with the place and the people she met in that strange mystical place.

There she met a stranger who dared her to try things differently, to attempt the absurd even if it meant going half crazy, to chance upon the rapids that was going to be her story.

You see, she is the kind of girl who makes plans, who organizes things in numeric and alphabetical orders, she makes calculated steps and taking chances are just not her thing.

This was precisely why she has gone off to that strange place because of the disorder she was threading. She almost lost her grip but she held on if only to find a new or perhaps a different perspective.

Meeting the stranger for the first time did not have that much impression on her as she knew and understood he, just like her, was a passer-by.

The stranger stopped at nothing to make her think twice about things that mattered and for those things that didn't. Perhaps for him she was just another conquest, but for her, the little gestures, the little acts of kindness, the tiny ways of showing he cared, made much of a difference and then surprisingly she smiled again.

She knew what she was getting herself into was dangerous for her own frailties but she found herself wanting.

On Christmas eve she has chosen to chance the rapids and dared to dance the tide. She told herself all she needed to do was close her eyes.

The stranger held her, swift but caring, and then she was taken to a distant place she never dared to reach before.

He brought her to places she's never been before and instead of being scared, she smiled and laughed and giggled. She was truly happy.

Then it was time to leave, to move on, and to say goodbye. She smiled and planted a kiss on his lips and said goodbye. She left with a smile knowing she had a really good time in that strange mystical place and she was happy.

Back in her own world she started making plans again, organizing things and setting time table. Amidst all that, the stranger came to visit her, but instead of being happy about it she was surprised to feel strangely sad, because things didn't make sense for her anymore and having to say goodbye twice is just anticlimactic. But she welcomed him just the same despite not understanding why or how, despite of and regardless. She slipped. She knew she was slipping back.

The stranger came and gone.

She is left with a thought, a feeling, questions after questions, leaving her distracted, disturbed. He took with him her smile when he left without telling why he came.

She is at a crossroad, left with a choice, her only option, if only she could just close her eyes and let things happen like she did that one Christmas eve. If only she could she would.

You see the stranger was a strange man, his job is to make people happy. He makes everyone around him smile. She was one of those he probably sensed could use some smiles. She, on the other hand, is a thinker. A wanderlust who does not know what she wants or where she wants to be.

He would if he could.

She would if she could.

But strangely enough if they would when they could, they'd cease to be themselves.

The story ends where it should be.

As is.