5AM at Limay

Picture the first time you sampled your favorite food. It could have been a rainy day while you sat there savoring the gastronomical delight you happened to chance upon that day. It could have also been a hot, humid day. Beads of sweat could have clung to every pore of your being but you couldn’t really care less. You had in your mouth something that defined and changed you. As exaggerated as it seems, the food that you tasted on that day was probably the best one you’ll ever taste in this lifetime.

There would be no repetitions of the same sensation. There would be no second sampling of your first time. As sad and resigned as it would seem, the next time you would eat the same dish would always be a mock imitation of the first time you ever tasted it.

At a quarter before 5AM I find myself sitting on the floor of a foreign room and typing away on a topic that would seem to be about food. It could be right on the bat as nothing would actually stop me if I change my mind midway through this piece. I mean, who’s stopping me in this early morning light? No one, really. I can’t even stop this parade of thoughts cart-wheeling around in my head.

What am I even getting at here talking about food like it should even matter? No, it’s not about the food. It’s about the message.

It’s about the first time we’ll never be seeing again.

I’m this kind of person when it comes to strange memories. I remember trivial things about people. I find it easy to just pick from my tree of trivial things and to remember it vividly like some picture show. If this worked the same for me during my college years when I’m having a hard time remembering a lot of things, my life would have been a breeze. It would’ve been the easiest years of my life, but that’s beside the point right now. Back to trivial things, I remember most of them as shows where I’m the third person; like I’m part of the audience of a show about myself and my daily adventures.

Sometimes I’d be a rude commentator, lurking behind some obscure corner and cursing my past decisions. I’d be painfully embarrassed about so many things but in the end, I can do nothing but bear the flurry of memories. It’s not so bad when I sleep it off but some memories prove to sleep-proof every now and then.

One such memory would be from almost seven years ago. I was younger and wilder with no room to go. Mind you, I had no hardships in my life. I was just a very dramatic teenager but I doubt I’m ever alone in this kind of angst. Back to the point, I had no room to be what I wanted to be and in that frustrated state of mind I chanced upon a form of romance (like it ever does happen).

It was exhilarating at the very least. It was awkward, confused and, for the most part, dramatic. What could you possibly expect from a freshly-emerged teenager? It was the worst and the best mixed in a cocktail of acne and rabid hormones. Ultimately, it was the proof that maybe there some form of truth in the sad chick flicks we kept on watching on rainy days.

After a while, it would end as most things do. If you were one of the lucky ones you’d probably be sneering at this paragraph’s first sentence. You’d probably be thinking, this didn’t happen to me. You’d probably be feeling quite proud of yourself right about now. Sadly, I’m not exactly lucky when it comes to these things. I find that I don’t have a knack for making things last. It’s like an aria of futility in the never-ending serenade of life, love and everything in between. I’m the singer and I can’t even carry a single tune to save my life.

So at the end of it all, I try so hard to forget.

The problem is, you don’t ever forget. It’s easy to say that you do but every once in a while, you will remember. You will remember these things with such great clarity that it would be almost crippling. Your body will remember all these things: the subtle blush, the rush of a young heart, the sweat in your palms. Ultimately, you will thirst for it for a fraction in eternity and then it will collapse. You will get back to reality and regain as much composure as you can. However flustered you may be, you will just cover it with a smirk and get on living because you know full well that it was just a memory you no longer have to remember.

At the end of a long day when you’re already between the state of sleep and wake you will admit what you couldn’t in all the days that passed – the first one would always be the one that got away.

It will be sad but you’ll be sleeping it off, anyway.

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About kyogakura
Bored 95% of the time.

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