In a Perfect World, we hold our hands walking down the street looking at the sunset. We could care less of what others would think or say, because in our world… it’s only us that matter. Happiness will be our motto, for everyday we have what completes us in every way. We would sit having coffee or just the regular hot chocolate since you don’t care for that cup of bitter juice. You would share with me your worries and your wishes… worries of time and space taken from us; wishes of having a future together. In this perfect world, no tears would shed from these eyes… as if the word ‘tears’ never existed in the dictionaries. In this perfect world, I could be what I want and whom I want… because it fulfills me.
But in this world, it is not perfect scenery. Skies are never always clear and snow will never stay white. Us holding hands would be shunned upon and looked at as something not of this world. Our feelings would never be taken seriously because of what everyone grew up listening to. And in this world, it is never how I have hoped to be. We can never be that perfect couple that walk down that glimmering street or go together to grab that intimate cup of hot bliss. We could never share our worries and wishes of us as one; for in this world, we do not see as one.
Your heart travels on one that sees active lines aggressively shooting through the routes in front of you. That bleeds sweat and adrenaline when challenged to a game with others. These lines have shields and swords to protect what is important to you. These lines only hope to go into a flowery tunnel filled with sweet fragrances and warm rays of light where at the end it can break through into many routes instead of staying in that one.
But in my heart, it does not walk the same roads. These roads are the flowery paths that seem to only belong in this tunnel. Fragrances that only imitate that which comes from the opening to highways. The lines in my heart are one that does not belong; yet it is sure that it is on the right track. Unlike yours that cross into tunnels and branch into something more, mine will never cross into yours and travel that same path. The path that seems all flowery and fragrant is filled with stones and cracks that slow my lines from catching yours. In this world, my lines don’t belong.
Yet some curse has thrown more rocks into my path. Those that resemble more like mountains than any typical rock. In this world, I climb this mountain trying to reach your path hoping that maybe we can cross into the tunnel together and branch into these vast highways. But when I reach to the other side, you have passed into that tunnel that I had hoped to be ours to cross. As my lines move faster to find some connection into your route, it quickly finds that the rails are never opened, and that my route only goes in the opposite direction of where I had hoped to go. In this world, it is not a perfect world: only a flawed one.
-Anthony Tan 10/24/2009
