Cerpen 3 | Square one.

Thing is, I didn't like you the first time I saw you. It was either you never wanted to look at me or I never caught you looking at me. You were so detached as if people around you were non-existent. Did I fail to recall any remark you had made or tried to or there was really no doubt about who broke the ice first. And as I got to know you I thought you were special. :)

You started off with an excellent attitude and such patience not many people possess. You listened very well; and you found the way to joke with me without hurting me and to bear jokes without getting hurt. You were honest, and outspoken. At times when you didn't have the heart to tell the truth you'd draw expressions to portray the words and you'd left me the time to ask what went wrong. What more I liked about you was the fact that you always claimed you were special by saying something like "Duh, this is (your name) you're talking about" and I thought you had personality, a character of your own. I perceived you as having a life without a box, because I knew exactly what were you capable of.

Then one night you told me that "I wasn't like this when I was in school" and I knew a turning point of something we both were uncertain was nearing.

Now it appears to me that you have a life in a box. Seems to me that you need A BOX because someone else wants you to be in a box. Or perhaps I'm wrong. Maybe it's you who want it. It's okay, it doesn't matter. What matters to me is whose box is it really? Your decoration is quite similar to him. Both of you talked about almost the same thing, liked almost the same thing, hated almost the same thing, played almost the same game.

Don’t ever tell me I am wrong. I remember the shoes you both used to wear. Now when it's there both of you ignore it as if the presence of the shoes was impertinent to your rapture lives. You see, it's simple, it's either you followed the other one or the other one had followed you. The odd thing is that sometimes when one of you isn’t around the other one would take the chance to wear. And both of you pretend that you like the shoes but dislike it at the same time. You call for it when you need it and when the moment comes, the moment when both of you realize you HAVE TO SHARE, both of you would make that face, like the fox towards the ‘sour’ grapes, but since both of you know it’s hard to resist the comfort that the shoes could possibly offer, both of you would continue to pretend.

Both of you still talk about the same thing, like the same thing, hate the same thing, and play the same game. It’s getting hard to tell which one is which.