When I recall my childhood, things tend to appear in my mind in sunlit background, and everybody dear to me also tends to wear resplendent clothes. Those pictures in my mind are the amalgamation of those hot colors. And me there, was often a girl in bright colors exposed her arms to the sun without any awareness of sunburn.
That’s how my memory captures things, which is very unreasonable, very desultory.
But there’s a man who is framed in my mind in white. He is not special to me, he is not the one I love, he is just a man supposed to be forgotten among other things that are jumbled together in my old world. When things faded away due to my memory’s fraility, the last things of him remaining in my memory and my imagination are his white T-shirt, his light skin and his white tooth when he smiled. All the times, he was sitting on the porch of his house, with his mother there who was busy with selling things to my mother. I smiled at him as a greeting, because as for me at that time, greeting with a smile is the best way ever to express politeness. Then he smiled, then in a few minutes, I smiled again and then, he laughed saying: “She’s smiling!!”. “She’s smiling” – the only thing he said or the only thing I remember he said.
Even when all of a sudden I came across him in the crowd many years after and found his skin was getting weather-beaten, his appearance in my mind has never changed. Even when I heard he has taken his own life after all, I will never distort my own memory of him. But I’ve kept wondering how he rummaged his memory for the most wonderful pieces in his life, how he embraced them the last time and then left them nowhere in his imminent errant soul, if he really did this. What if he woke up the last time in the hospital, realizing he had nothing to miss but his own death.
On the way to the night class, I looked at the sky before my eyes. The sky was on the verge of ending its sunset. At that time the trees were just some silhouettes standing still on the background of sunset sky. And the sky dressed in an ombre roseate veil of light. Everything is tenderly and immediately captured by my eyes and my mind. I’m not sure with the latter, but I actually walked along that way with two eyes sticking to the roseate firmament. Just for a moment.
I’ve had my teacher help me with Maths after the school for two weeks. Every afternoon, after dinner, I leave my house and walk to hers. Most of the time on the way I think about how serious the predicament I’m facing is, or what about my feelings during the day, whether they are worse or better than those during the yesterday. But the moment I saw the roseate area which was like a fleecy scarf embracing my soul in the sky, I felt like my life would be somehow undulating though my fear of being solitude.
The more frequently I see every elaption of the time in my hometown, the dearer it becomes in my memory.
I don’t know why I still keep tangling my brain with the thoughts of organizing my life after all of the abandoned. To some degree, maybe I’m really that kind of person, a person who likes to make plans, to-do lists, goals and tends to do anything with intention and take advantage of everything.
Goofing around on the Internet in a day of boredom, once more time, the idea of reorganizing my life once again stirred my mind when I find out some articles and videos about a thing called bullet journal. People describe it as a combination of diary and planner, so it’s obviously much more effective than ever.
Last night, I wrote out an outline for my future bullet journal which I had my brother buy for me a few days ago. It’s kind of a perfect time to start this one but I am by no means sure because I know the expantancy of my bullet journal depends most on my self-discipline.
Lately, I’ve become more and more hestitant when buying everything but books. I’m afraid of abandoning them after a moment of madness. In terms of notebooks, clothings, or anything looking adorable at first, I just keep staring at them and convincing myself that I have nothing to do with them. Therefore, when my brother told me what I need to buy at that moment, I waited until a few days later to ask him to buy for me a dot grid book.
Yep, it would be a plain dot grid book, not a floral one like I thought before.