Notes

Once upon a time, there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter is the question he wanted to spend all his life answering. He wished to talk to her, to play with her, to laugh with her, to hear her pure voice, to cry with her, to be with her, to marry her, and to live with her until eternity. But he had problems. He came from a poor family. He did not know very good English. He had always been a lonely wolf, embracing his own self and thriving best in a lonesome matter. She was different. She was smart, pretty, beautiful, witty, wise, determined, hard-working, and lovely beyond all else. She was a perfect figure, a prize among all men. He knew he would never be able to reach her; their differences were too great to overcome, yet he kept trying. He did not understand what was going inside her head, but every now and then, she would show him signs of her interest in him. These signs gave him hope, a blind hope like a fish in tank, waiting to set free. He would go home and dream about her. He dreamed of a life where she belonged to him. He dreamed of a day when all his bad habits are discarded, and he loved her and she loved him. Days after days he dreamed, and the dream consumed him in bliss and hope. Nonetheless, reality contrasted vastly with his dream. He could not match with her knowledge, and whenever he was with her, he had the feelings that he could never please her. He wanted to reach to her inner heart, to explore her problems and ventured on helping her overcome those obstacles, for he knew she was hurting inside despite her constant smile. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, he always felt that she did not need him. He was just a friend, an acquaintance, a stranger in her eyes. Sometimes she would notice him, casually greeting him with a simple smile, a short hand-wave, a little sign to tell him she saw him. However, the more he approached, the farther the their friendship seemed to fall apart. He was heart-broken.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who longed to become apart of his lover's attention. They had differences, and their differences soon became the ultimate roadblock between the two friends. The boy would think about the girl and ways to approach her, but his conscience, his mind would tell him to stop because he believed he was just an annoyance for such a perfect girl. Time flew. The boy had decided to leave the girl. He decided to never see her again, not because he had come to hate her, to despise her, to loathe her. He left her because he loved her so much. Many times he tried to forget her face, the sound of her voice, the sweetness in her laugh, the gracefulness in her motions. He knew she was too perfect for him. He knew she would never touch a peasant like him. He knew they should not be together, because she had a bright future waiting for her. She was a strong woman, beautiful and strong. She should not get chained down by some random dude in high school. He understood all this, but somehow, he could not tell his heart to forget her. Her image urged his heart to surge, his head to divert from her face, and his pace to quicken. They were creatures of different world. She of the advance species, and he a mundane human, like an elf and a dwarf. He had convinced himself to never contact the girl, even though the decision tore him apart. He loved the girl so much that he had sacrificed his heart for her benefits. He had decided to disappear, to evaporate, to extinguish. He had decided to disregard her, the only person he loved.

Once upon a time, there was a boy whom love had beaten and whose heart had been broken. He suffered greatly, but he knew his suffering was nothing compared to others' pain. And thus he chose not to speak from the darkening chambers of his heart. He chose to retreat himself from the world. He chose to consume his suffering and stored every pain in his chambers. He believed the human heart can stand indefinite amount of discomfort, that it had the power to repair, to forget. With each passing day, he shied himself from people he loved. He faked his condition, determining to put on a facade, to smile every day, like the girl of his love did to him. The deception gave him comfort, but it did not cure his heart. He was wrong. The human heart did not repair itself. And it did not forget.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who wished he were a robot. The robot harbored no feelings in his life source. No love, no hatred, no pain, no suffering, no shame, no pride, no sadness, and no happiness. The robot lived because it was programmed to live. Life was as meaningless as counting crows. He lived because God created him. He lived to sacrifice. He lived to die.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived for others. People told him his way of life would not work, but he saw no meaning in life. He reasoned that people live for a purpose because they had a foundation, and they lived to protect and further their foundation. The boy, on the other hand, had no foundation. His foundation lied solely on God, and God commanded him to be nice to every one, and through those words, he knew living for others was his way of life. His life was doomed, so he wished to help others so they would not have to experience the pain he had gone through. Besides, he had always been good with people. Even at a young age, he would not hurt others. He would judge a person based on his own perspective and circumstance. He knew everyone had problems, and he sought to console all those who were open enough to share their lives to him. And all the while, he locked his secrets deep inside his heart. No one should know of his sadness, of his depression. The more he hid them, the more unaccustomed he grew to tell of his secrets. Days after days, weeks after weeks, and months after months, he forgot about his problems, about his pain, about his insecurities. But his heart hadn't forgotten. The heart did not forget. His brain might be strong enough to force the heart back into its cave, to forbid the heart to elicit its emotions. Yet the heart is a powerful beast. Sometimes, his heart crawled out of its cage and jolt his brain, consuming him in its dark, cold, and eerie chambers. It reminded him of his past, of his bad habits, and of his social status. He could try as much as he wanted, but he would eventually fail at detaching himself of his past, of who he was. He was a complete failure, after all. Even his mother believed it.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who could not experience love. He had no idea why he could not grasp the idea of love. Maybe because of the continuous beatings from his mother when he was little, but he couldn't blame her. His father died before he was born, and his mother had to work hard to feed and provide for him. He was an imperfect child, a failure. His mother loved him, yet he could not feel it. Sometimes, he was convinced that he could not feel anything anymore. His wish of becoming a robot had come true. He thought he would be happy when his wish was granted, but he did not feel anything. No joy. No happiness. Just a great, vast, indefinite, and everlasting emptiness. He believed such emptiness came from his heart, and he was glad because he knew his heart would be able to store every pain he experienced, and every pain everyone experienced, and every pain every life force on this world experienced. He wanted to shoulder the world, like Jesus dying for the sins of the world on his cross. The boy did not want to be like Jesus, but he wanted to share the pain. His life was already too painful, after all; a little more pain would not hurt that bad.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who vowed he would never abandon God. No matter how much trouble he experienced, he knew the moment he disregard God, he would die. God was his only friend ever since he was a little boy. God was his imaginary friend, like Bing Bong from Inside Out of Pixar and Disney Production. God was the only one who knew of every secret he hid in his chambers. God was his only light. God was his only reason to live in this world. Whenever he was with God, the boy felt very comfortable. He could tell God anything, from his undying love for the girl to his struggles and problems of the world. He grew so accustomed to talking to God that he soon stopped ranting to other people. He thought people would not understand him, and they would not be able to help him. Besides, people have their own troubles. How could he go and put more burden on others. He lived like this for a long time, and recently, he had decided to stop ranting to God. He knew God had to take care of all the people in the world. God had to manage people's prayers. God had to forgive people of their sins. God had to make sure the world worked smoothly. God's tasks were too much to be bothered with the boy's trouble. Thus, he decided to not bother God any longer. And with this decision, the boy stopped thinking too far ahead. It was a hard task to accomplish, because the boy liked to think. For hours he would conjure up imaginary images of his life in the future, of a dream world, of his wife, of his children, of the people around him, of the fate of this world, and of the girl whom he loved so dearly. He knew thinking would not help him in any cases, and he needed to focus on his current life. He still wanted to sacrifice his life for others. He still loved the girl. He still listened to the rants of his friends. But he stopped imagining, and he felt less comfortable talking about his problems to God. And for some reasons, the endless chambers of his heart shrank as he set out to stop his thoughts. He did not feel as great as before. The smile was still attached to his face, but he always felt disturbed. He did not know what to do. Maybe he should ask God to guide him. Maybe he should talk to God as friendly and comfortable as before. Maybe he just needed the girl.