In the vast sea of people, I could only see you.
The early afternoon sun shimmered on your face through the window blinds.
My attention wasn’t on the speaker but you, yet yours was waiting patiently for this to end.
A hint of sadness was shown on your face, for what reasons I don’t know why.
My heart plunged down to the deepest of seas as I could do nothing about it.
For that someone who lived forever.
To end my life, is to find someone who has the courage to love me.
Getting by day after day sending my closed ones off to afterlife is what I do. It hurts – because I remember every single death and memory I’ve been through.
You came like my sudden raging emotions. Small and light like violet petals. Something so petite yet having the ability to pull me towards you against gravity.
With a thud my heart fell next to yours. I’m mesmerised by your childlike behaviour – how you are always so fascinated by small little things like yourself.
I got reminded when the sword buried into my chest and took my last breath. My memories flashes from that scene to your beautiful face with an endearing smile.
Once again my breath gets taken away. This time, by you. In hundreds of years I’ve been finding someone to love me so that I can die – to cross over. So that I’m able to forget everything I remembered entirely throughout these decades.
The thought of my heart palpitating faster because of your existence causes my nervous systems to act up and I stand on my feet.
I have you now but I have to decide if I want you to let me die, or I want you to live with me forever.
When people get into misunderstandings, it’s only because they have only listened to one side of the story.
Sometimes, it’s because they only chose to hear one side of the story.
We can also say that most kind of love is one sided too. Add two years to eight years and you get a decade. We all have choices and some – we use it to dedicate our time to someone who has no idea who we are and whether we exist or not.
Eight years of investing her youth on someone that probably doesn’t know her name nor her existence.
It’s sad, they say.
Working hard for an education, finding part-time jobs to supplement her collection of heavy and expensive lenses just to take quality photos of that man. It’s a fangirl life.
It’s difficult to explain how we can love someone so much without even knowing what kind of person that man actually is. The persona shown on television might be unreal, but we don’t want to know that. We just want to believe what we see and infer from it.
He’s kind, religious, filial. Tall, handsome and talented. He’s someone she wants to dedicate her life to. It’s not difficult because this has been cultivated in the culture itself. She doesn’t mind spending thousands to go overseas alone just to see him perform with his teammates.
The photos she edited, made into calendars, season greetings and photo books. The amount of fans trying to purchase her works motivates her to do better, to love that man more.
The people she has met throughout these eight years have given her joy and accompaniment.
All these friends and experiences she has received will never be erased from her memories because they are all good memories that she can fondly look back at.
2008.09.15 ~ 2016.12.09
Thank you for your utmost hard work and dedication to the fandom. Thank you for your love for him, so that we could have beautiful photos of him that you’ve spent your youth taking.
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