Saturday, September 17, 2005 || Seeking Heaven
- In an attempt to cure my writer's block, I wrote this on impulse. Probably not really good, but I liked it, since I think that I feel sort of normal again, after those weeks of mental suffering. O_o
Dedicated to the love of my life, who broke my heart in ways I could never have imagined. LOL.
Seeking Heaven
I walked down the sandy white beach, savouring the sweet scents of coconut oil, closing my eyes as I listened to the sounds of the waves lapping. It was a deserted, lonely beach, its sparkling white soil looking almost untouched, a picture of sheer paradise. I continued walking, smiling to myself as I enjoyed the beautiful surroundings, and suddenly, I felt someone's eyes on me. I turned to my left and noticed a man sitting below a palm tree, a paintbrush in his right hand and an easel in front of him.
"Hello. I thought this was a deserted beach ... " I said to him, raising my eyebrows as I studied his angular, perfectly-sculpted face with intense dark eyes and scrawny brown hair. "Well, looks like you're not the only one who discovered this place." the stranger said, shrugging his shoulders, his face lighting up with a soft smile. I smiled back." I'm just looking for a peaceful spot to write. Are you painting something?"
"Yes, the scenary is beautiful, isn't it? I'm an artist. I paint."
He was eighteen, and I was only sixteen. Ever since that memorable day on the beach, we spent most of our time together, and inevitably, we fell in love. Mark was my first love, and we spent our time in his small studio in a shady street. I would silently watch Mark paint while I wrote endless poems and poetry for him. We'd spend every weekend on the beautiful, deserted beach, playing in the sun and cuddling on the beach. I was overwhelmed by the wave of emotions I felt and basked in the warmth of his embrace and the soft, tender moments we shared.
"What are you painting, Mark? Why is the man smiling at the candle in such a sad way?" I mused, staring at the dark, abstract painting in front of my eyes.
"The dark room signifies the man's life, while the candle, the only source of light in the room, signifies Hope for him. He's smiling this way because he's happy that the candle lit up his room, and in a sad way because he knows that a gust of wind is all it takes for the candle to flicker out." He told me, his deep, soronous voice serious. He stared at me, a sad, intense look in his eyes, and softly added:" Just like how I feel when I'm with you."
I averted my gaze and stared out the window, so he wouldn't see the tears that started to well up in the corner of my eyes.
I knew I would never be able to confine the hunger in me that yearned for something much more in life. I was born in a large family, and being the middle child, I always felt insignificant and unloved throughout my childhood. I found my only solace in writing and I vowed that one day, through writing, I'd achieve my dreams of Heaven. Heaven, I decided, was not a place where dead souls depart for. It was just a state of mind, a place on earth that was up to us to discover for ourselves and keep. I knew that I wanted recognition, and for people to acknowledge my existence. A world where I'd finally be taken seriously, where people wouldn't look at me and only see a petite, slender girl with long, flowing hair.
'Mark is different ...' I realized. He was contented, living in his small studio, as long as he could paint his dreams on a blank canvas, uninterrupted. I found his devil-may-care attitude charming and intriguing, but it later irked me that his goals in life were so far apart from mine. 'I would never compromise my own sense of creativity just to achieve succeess, Larissa. It's not what I want in life.' was his constant argue whenever I urged him to attend an art college or return to school again.
"Don't the stars look particularly bright tonight?" Mark whispered into my ear while gesturing at the blue sky. "It's almost as if nothing else existed, and the stars are just twinkling for us. For everything that exists only between us." he added, holding me closer as he softly kissed me. I held him closer and feverishly tried to calm the storms that were brewing in my mind.
"I need to leave, Mark ..." I shakily whispered, pushing his arms away.
"Leave? Now?" he asked, confusion filling his eyes. He saw the tears streaming down my face and the look on my face ... and he understood. He always understood.
A year passed by swiftly, and I was home for the holidays. I still remember that night, that teary goodbye when I told Mark about the scholarship that I was offered in New York. I missed him so much and the memories of us would replay in my mind everyday, but I pushed them all aside by burying myself deeply into my studies. But now, I was home, and the memories taunted me more than ever. Every picture, every place would remind me of him and tears would cloud my eyes, a glazed look on my face as I relived the memories in my head.
One day, my sister turned on the television and the sight that greeted me was nothing that I'd expected. It was Mark, sitting on a sofa, accompanied by a perky looking lady. He looked different, neater and dignified, but the eyes that haunted my dreams and the smile that was engraved in my heart were still the same.
"Today, we have with us our country's youngest and probably most talented aspiring aritist, Mark Morreti. He sprung to fame after his most well-known masterpiece, An Angel's Smile caught the eyes and hearts of many. So, Mark, what inspired you to paint such an enigmatic and obscure painting? Is the girl in the picture imaginary, or someone you know?"
The screen flashed to a picture of a painting I'd never seen before. It was me, standing on the beach where we first met, staring at the skies with tears spilling down my cheeks and a soft smile playing on my lips.
Mark looked into the camera and smiled. "The only person I ever loved blessed me with the inspiration to paint this. Just like an angel, she floated into my life and touched me in many ways, before she left, leaving me only memories of her smile and tears."
"Are you still in love with her, Mark?" the host asked, raising her eyebrows quizzically.
Mark paused before he answered. "Yes. I don't blame her for leaving, I could never truly make her happy ... I pray that she'll find the happiness she wants, wherever she is."
I switched off the television, a glazed look on my face and I wept. Weeping because I knew how much I missed him. Crying for all the things that could've been, and will never be, because of my selfish desires.
I returned to New York the day after I watched that interview. I am twenty two now, and I've finally gained everything I was aiming for in life. After the debut of my first novel, I achieved recognition and critical acclaim, everything I always wanted in life. I still thought about Mark from time to time, and it showed in my writings. People would often ask me about the intense, romantic, dark man that I fervently wrote about, and I would only reply with an enigmatic smile, leaving it for themselves to figure it out. I constantly heard about Mark and I was glad that he was successful.
It was a bright, sunny day in the summer when I suddenly felt a deep urge to visit that deserted beach again, the one I used to frequent all the time in my youth. As I drove, I couldn't help but think of Mark again, and I wondered if I'd ever see him again. Are you happy, Mark? Have you forgiven me? Do you still miss me, the way I'll always miss you?
I gazed out at the austerely blue sea, watching the seagulls fly and feeling the salty air caressing my face. I walked on, and I saw a silhouette of a man staring at the sea. I felt a nudge in my heart and I ran towards the figure, feeling my heart pounding with trepidation. I knew it was him.
Mark turned around and saw me staring at him, my mouth open in disbelief, and he smiled at me. Unable to think of what to say, I only smiled back, staring into the brown eyes that haunted my dreams for the past five years.
"It's been awhile, Larissa." He finally uttered, breaking the silence between us.
"Yeah... What are you doing here, Mark?" I asked in a whisper, trying to subdue the voices and butterflies that danced in my heart.
"Waiting for you to come around." He answered, his eyes twinkling as he reached for my hands.
As I held him in my arms, I knew that everything I seeked for were merely translucent shadows of the Heaven I imagined. Our laughter, our tears and the love we would always share ... That was heaven. And I would never let it go again.
The end.
Okay, since I've got that off my chest, I shall now proceed to play my PS2. After all, I'm heartbroken.
