/æ/

Why do you stare?






What do you care?






Which of my reaction are you after?






Have you ever thought this is more than I can bear?






From my life, you will I spare






Sorry for me, don't you dare







At least I hate your hair






And it makes these all fair

Erasing Regrets with "Orange"

Courtesy of image: Google

Orange is a short manga created by Takano Ichigo published in 2012. The story revolves around a group of friends who received a letter from their future selves, telling them to erase the regrets related with the death of their friend in common. Bittersweet; both the plot and the tone of the drawings used by the mangaka contributed to the beauty of the story.

My friend introduced me to Orange. She said that it was cool and all, and it was short, so it wouldn't take much of my time to finish it. It was indeed short, consisting of only 22 chapters (compare it with Naruto--about 700 chapters!), and indeed, it didn't take me more than half a day to devour it. What she didn't tell me was how sad this would be and how it would affect me in ways I had not expected.

Because the main characters were high school students, and the story started with this main female character who received letter from her future self--for God's sake--I thought, "Ah, this would be another typical shoujo manga." It would be sweet, and it would be full of love, vigorous. Very much like Proposal Daisakusen (dorama, 2007). However, soon it was proven otherwise, as the story took a rather dark twist with suicidal potential.

Well, I won't spoil the story. You really should read it for yourselves if you're a fellow masochistic, who likes to abuse your own feelings, because this book will bring you to tears. My friend actually has a great advice to read this: grab your blanket, cover yourself, and read it alone. Of course, do not read it at the office. Seriously, who is stupid enough to read a melancholic story at the office??? Where people could see them cry??? I was dumb.

Anyway, because it's me, what I want to share is the message I thought this manga tried to convey. After reading it, it occurred to me that probably this was about how to be more sensitive to people with depression. Those main characters were high school students; for sure their main concern was themselves. They were living the time of their life. Unfortunately, the fleeting happiness of high school turned into regrets for them in the future. They tried to erase those regrets, to save their friend, from the inevitable death. Hence, the letters.

The way they treat this certain friend changed after receiving the letters. They became more sensitive to his feelings, his action, his choices. . .and they became wary with how they behave around him because it could affect him ever so slightly. They encouraged and supported him. I believe this is important.

As a loud and straightforward person, I realized I may have overlooked someone's voice. I was not sure of what had happened to me, but somehow I turn out to be a person who expects other people to be as 'loud' as me; to be as straightforward and honest with their wants and needs. I don't think being myself is wrong, but I do believe I have to listen more. There's more than meets the eyes.

After all, even if you don't save someone from depression, at the very least you can make the day a happy day for people. You don't want to regret it sometimes in the future.

5/5 for Takano Ichigo for turning a 22 chapters ride into a simultaneously beautiful and meaningful reading!

As cheesy as it may be, this post is dedicated to you

The term 'best friend' does not come easy for me. Oftentimes, I associate it with cheesiness, irrational sense of belonging, dependency, excessive display of exclusivity, and even worse... burden. I do not trust people who so easily declare that they are best friends. Therefore, it had taken me a long time before I finally accepted the fact that I consider the two of you as my best friends. Ugh, it sounds cheesy even now.

But I don't mind, because that's what best friends do: being exceptional. Being special.

Why the sudden change of mind, you ask?

Well, you are not my best friends because we are always together. Neither are we best friends because we are always happy without any slight of disappointment. We are most definitely not best friends just because we have known each other for long.

No.

I can give you cheesy reasons here.

Like how we are best friends because we can be silly together. . .

Or because we traveled together (which of course, a reason more appropriate for the two of you, excluding me, since you really are travel-buddies).

              

Or because you have been there when I was still in this awkward teen-turn-adult phase. . .

Or because you have been there on my biggest moments. . .

But for me, we are best friends because you keep staying for me to come back, welcoming me with warm friendship, despite the times I drifted apart. And I am forever grateful for that. Thank you. It is more than I could imagine asking from someone. And you make me see that being best friends does not necessarily mean we have to stick together all the time or we have to exclusively hang around the three of us - you make me see that 'best friends' go deeper than that: it is as long as we trust we will always be there for each other, especially when we need it the most.

I may not be generous with my words, and this whole post may sound flat, but I know you know how much I value this friendship.

So here's to years we've shared and the years to come.

May we stay best friends against all odds.

I love you.

Let me embarrass us.

Ken & Irina

"I don't like it here," she whispered.

"Again?" I asked. It had been a long time since she called me. There must be something really wrong for her to call me out like this.

"They hate me, don't they?" she rhetorically asked, "They hate my family?"

"Irina..."

She shushed me. She knew my answer; it was a question she often asked, an issue she often raised when we were younger. When she met me. You know nothing; it had been truly heart-breaking. It was the first time she lost her trust. The first time she feared her surrounding. The first time she was afraid to make mistakes. The first time she felt she was challenged by a mountain called 'family'. The time she were friends with Freya.

 

"Is it Freya?" I asked.

 

"No. You know she was never the reason I called you!" Irina hissed, upset.

 

Oh, but I know. She might never wanted to admit it, but I knew she was always jealous of Freya. She was insecure. She could not risk herself looking bad in front of Freya, the flower of the family--loved, happy, beautiful, kind. She was all the things Irina couldn't be. At least, not according to her. If you asked me, I say Irina is perfect. She could not see that, and secretly I was relieved. She would not need me had she felt content with herself.

Anyway, because she said it was not Freya, I tried my second guess.

"Aunt Nora, then?"

 

Silence.

 

"Yes," she whispered, spiteful.

 

"Spit it out," I commanded her. I was there to take her hatred, her anger, her grudge. I kept them and treasured them. I would do anything to take that spite out of her voice. She must be happy. She must be cheerful. She must stand proud.

 

"Aunt Nora hates my family. She hates my father. She hates his children. She even hates her own sister!" Irina cried. "No. No, no, no... No. Not that."

 

She looked at me and pierced me with her hurtful eyes. 

 

"She despises us. She thinks we are lowly... she thinks we are not worthy," she mumbled.

 

I listened.

 

"But we are worthy. We are not superficial. We are humans. We are not bound to her irrational need of respect. We are not parts of her hierarchical little world," she continued. Tell me, I encouraged her. She needed to be encouraged. Keep telling me. Go on. 

 

"Oh, Ken, but this world is hers. She controls the family. Everyone listens to her and we are the odd ones out. She controls, yes, she controls. She commands, and she gets what she wants. She wants to be respected, but doesn't she deserve it? She's the oldest in the family, after all," Irina whimpered. No, no, no. You know that's not true, I whispered.

 

"Yes, that is not true. She cannot just be mad at us and scolded us. Who does she think she is? She cannot control us, she is nobody. She cannot sneered at us in front of her friends! She is a part of the old world. She thinks because her husband is some descendant of an ancient royalty, she becomes a royalty. Hahaha. No. I cannot forgive her for scolding my mother in front of everyone like that just because we came to her house at noon! There was no deal we should come in the morning... she is not smart, she is not smart, she is not rational. She is just a tool with power."

 

A glimpse of shock came across her face. "But, my mother! I feel guilty for hating her sister like that. She will be sad. No, she is already sad because the endless feud between Dad and Aunt Nora. Mother will be the saddest person in the world. I cannot do this to her."

 

If only Irina was not made of pure kindness, she would not be torn. I was about to answer when someone knocked on the door.

 

"Irina?"

 

She gasped. "Who is that!?"

 

"Irina, what are you doing?" The person behind the door raised her voice.

"Mom?" she asked.

"Open the door. Have you greeted the whole family?"

 

Her mother sounded alarmed. I told her I must go. I heard the knock. 

 

"No! No, you can't go. Not like this," she begged me. 

 

"Irina! Open this door right now!" her mother practically yelled.

 

I told her she could call me anytime she wanted. 

"You know as well as I do, you will not come unless things like this happen," she fiercely snapped.

I felt a pang of guilt, and I could not defend myself. I was not always available. She did not always need me. I had explained it to her, but she wouldn't understand. I totally got it. She needed to talk now, not later. Later, I would be nowhere to found.

"IRINA!"

"Don't go, Ken!" she sobbed.

 

But I could not stay longer. 

*

 

"What are you doing!?"

 

Irina finally opened the door for her mother.

 

"Have you greeted the family?"

 

"I have, Mom. You saw me."

Her mother crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I just want to confirm. Why are you here?"

"Nothing, Mom," she answered. 

"Have you been crying?" her mother asked.

"I have not," Irina lied.

"I know you have." Her mother spoke more gently. "Have you been speaking to Ken?"  

Irina did not answer.

Her mother held her chin and forced Irina to look into her eyes.

"Have you or have you not been speaking to Ken?"

Irina knew the answer would disappoint her mother. She knew she would never get the right answer. Speaking to Ken was forbidden. She would be dragged away back to the hospital if her mother knew.

But her mother had to know. Her mother already knew, anyway. Otherwise, she would not even ask.

"I have."

 

"I know," her mother sighed, "I heard her."

The tension that followed was unbearable for both of them. There was long silence before Irina finally said she was sorry. Her mother stood awkwardly. She had wanted to turn her back on her own daughter because she was extremely mad, but she also wanted to hug Irina. She wanted to protect her. She believed she had failed.

She had failed if every time, Irina ran back to Ken for help.

"Irina," her mother began, "what I am about to say... you must have understood it."

Irina nodded. She understood. Hundreds of times had her mother explained it to her.

"You have me. You have your father. You have your little brother."

Irina nodded again. 

"Don't..."

Her mother bit her lip, doubtful.

 

"I don't know how to say this." 

 

Irina welcomed her with a cold wrath.

 

"Don't call Ken every time. I don't want to deal with her again. No. I can't deal with her."

 

Pause.

 

"Irina... you are my daughter. Not her. I need you. I want you," her mother said with such finality that Irina could not help but to ask defiantly, "What's your point?"

 

Her mother broke into tears. 

"Irina... Ken lives in your head. How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

Again?

Seriously, what is it with you? In an alternate universe, we could probably be the greatest team that the world has ever seen (yeah, I know, I make a reference to One Direction's song). I mean, look at us. Even people who didn't know us well at least knew how close we were. How we bickered and then made up. How you teased me and then kept coming around. Our friends knew the story of me and you and our biggest fight. How I was mad as hell and you were too, but you stayed beside me and fought me, for goodness sake, and I cried but you stayed. You were there the whole time. We got closer every time we fought and made up, and I thought I would be the only one who think so, but then you acknowledged it. How great was that?

We were a team, though probably not the greatest. Yet, came the doomed, unfortunate day when my feelings were stronger than my reason, and I put a closure on it. After that, we were never the same. We were friends, still, but we stopped being a team. You found yourself a girlfriend, I found myself a company. It was us writing our new stories. You may ask me why, or you may not, but between us... there was never a possibility. You made it pretty clear.

So, what is it with you? Times have passed, your girlfriend stays while my doomed, unfortunate company left, and we don't even talk anymore. Why do you come back in a form of, despite being vivid, unreal memory that mercilessly washes over me when I sleep? In this universe, we are done. Perhaps the you in my dream would like to find me and our possibility in our alternate universe? Either way, stop sneaking into my head like this and leave me hanging. By the way, I know that dream, according to Freud, is a kind of sublimation for suppressed id. That might be me and my longing for something I cannot really specify since I don't even know what it is--that might be it, and it takes its form in you. However, that notion is so unromantic, and I decided that you are not a Freudian effect. I prefer it was you who sneaked into my mind.

 

But still, STOP. I love you, but it's not worth it.