Lady Trewlany

Hong Kong

a collection of scattered pieces that somehow fit together perfectly
in search of a great perhaps

Message from Writer

i miss everything that i've never had, and that's why i write. i write my story as it is today and as i want it to be tomorrow. there is always truth in my words.

Seasons of love

January 18, 2020


    Just as every story has a beginning, so did our ending. In fact I think it started to end from the moment we began. Every second after that was a combination of events leading to eventual breakdown. Every kiss, every I love you, every whispered secret, it was all leading to this. 
    I think back to when we met. It wasn’t really that long ago, although it feels like I have known you my whole life. I was desperate, dejected and stuck in a continuous cycle of self-destruction. I felt broken, like a childhood toy sitting at the back of a dusty cupboard in a grown man’s house, forgotten and unwanted. I was slowly giving in to the pain, yearning to give up, only holding on for the sake of not making a scene.
    That night, I had gone for a walk in the woods and stopped to rest awhile. I sat beneath an old oak tree, looking out at the world in the only place I still felt alive. On the forest floor lied trees from years ago, fallen in storms and left behind. The seasons had been harsh, stripping away the bark and outer layers, but somehow they only seemed more beautiful. It is these wonderful perplexities of nature that bring me great joy in times of sorrow, that paint a smile upon my freckled face and ignite a fire in my bright, emerald eyes. 
    I heard the soft crunching of the leaves beneath your feet from miles away. I listened as the sound got closer and closer, bringing me out of my trance and back into the real world. Everything I had been through hit me all at once. Once again, I was alone, unwanted and nothing more than a lost cause. But then I looked up, and I saw you. 
    You smiled, biting your lip ever so slightly in the process. I loved that about you. Your grin shined like stars in the sky, with no bright city lights to dim them. It was a smile of wisdom and experience, you could see the scars of the past on your lips, but your eyes held a flame of determination that seemed to say “Yes, I’ve been hurt, but it has only made me stronger.” 
    That smile started something inside me. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe and worth something. We spoke, our words soft and cautious as if we both trying not to break the magical silence of the forest. As the sun set over the rolling hills and the birds returned to their nest, we sat beneath the old oak tree, my head resting on your shoulder and our fingers interlaced. 
    I’ll never forget that first kiss. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. We parted ways, vowing that would meet again the next day. I had so much faith the day I met you. I thought that our love would last forever, that nothing and no one could stand in its way. Even if it was forbidden, our bond was stronger than their ignorant discrimination. Alas, I should’ve known. 
    You kept your word, and we met the next day. And the next and the next and every day for the rest of that dreamy summer. We shared secrets over milkshakes and traded horror stories in the back of your car. But we kept hidden, holding hands only when the rest of the world was asleep. I longed to kiss you in the street, to feel your tingling fingers nestle into my hand as we walked home at night, but I knew we couldn’t. The world wasn’t ready for our love. 
`When school began, we tried to remain the same, but the carefree atmosphere of the summer was lost. There was always work to do, parties to go to and tests to take. The only thing that kept us going was the tiny, secret smiles that travelled across the classroom alighting on our noses. I lived for those.
    Through autumn we danced, star crossed lovers torn apart but fighting for each other. In tough times and carefree days, you were always there by my side. As the leaves on the old oak tree turned from emerald green to deep red and vibrant gold, we grew up, leaving behind our childish flirtations for a deeper, more rooted love. We kissed passionately as the leaves fell like multicoloured rain, a myriad of shapes and sizes tickling our noses as they sailed with the wind. 
I wiped the coffee off your forehead as your cheeks turned red in the cold. We laughed, running through the streets like little kids, frolicking in the breeze then falling, breathless into a pile of newly swept leaves, grinning from ear to ear. By then, those sleepless nights and empty feelings were long forgotten, replaced by your embrace. I felt complete. 
I wanted to grow old with you, to watch the hair on our heads turn from brown to silver and the skin on our fingers scrunch up. You showed a courage which I thought was long extinguished from the world. In your hands, I placed my greatest secret. Us.
    I remember that day as if it were yesterday. It was one of those days in between winter and autumn, where the leaves have fallen but it is not yet cold enough for snow, the kind of days you want to snuggle up by the fire and fall asleep. I woke that morning thinking of you. It had been a few weeks since we had the time to catch up, and I was dying to see you. 
    I picked up my phone, wiping my eyes to get rid of the post-sleep tears and blindly tapping the keys, trying to find your name. When you picked up, I smiled, loving the way your hair fell naturally to one side and wondering how you always managed to look so beautiful. 
    “Hey,” I said, my voice filled with love, “You wanna meet me in front of the library in twenty?”
    “Yeah,” you said, trying to contain your excitement
    The library had been our meeting place since the summer because we could make excuses about it, whereas wandering into the woods was a bit dodgier. I threw on some random clothes, my heart aching to see you so much that fashion was the last thing on my mind. I ran out the door, stopping only to shove some bread in my pocket and mutter and a brief explanation of the outing to my mom. 
    As I ran, snow began to fall. It danced in the light like a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. I felt my eyes grow that tiny bit wider, as I took in the only magic that I knew was real. 
    Finally, I arrived. You stood there in mitten covered hands, snow clinging in small lumps to stray fibres, pristine white over the charcoal grey. Your face was different though as if that grey world of ours had somehow sprung hope. With a half-smile and eyes that promised a rising sense of warmth, you stepped closer to me and shook the mittens off one at a time. Then with both of them in one hand, you wrapped your arms around me, as if I was your gift and you wanted nothing more than to be close. 
    “Well, well, well, I never expected Danny and Maya were the lesbians. How funny”
    A cold, mocking voice ripped apart our lips. We turned, shocked and scared to face the most popular, athletic jock ever known to high school movies. Micky. Just Mickey. No one bothered to ask his last name either in fear or respect- it had always been that way, short and sharp. He was tall and muscular, his platinum blond hair falling over his eyes in a way that no one could resist. But he was a jerk. If you ever wanted the whole school to know something within 24 hours, he was your man.
    We were doomed. 
    I randomly blurted out a terrible excuse, “We were just practising for when we actually get with the guys.” 
    You and I exchanged a look, I see the shock and horror in your once magic-filled eyes, and I feel my face fall, realising there was no way out of this.
“Yeah, right. You’ll pay for lying to Micky.” 
    There it was, the famous third-person referral, they say he does it when he’s the angriest. He smirked at us, his add worthy teeth blinding me, and then turned storming off into the distance, no doubt on the way to cause trouble. 
    “Why did you kiss me?” I was desperately hoping for a valid excuse, but instead, this came.
    “Because I love you, Danny and my love is fed up of hiding.”
    “Well look what you’ve done now.” 
    “Are you really scared of people knowing?”
    “Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Maya, we’re over.”
    And then I made the worst mistake of my life. I left you.
    So, as autumn turned to winter and snow covered the rooftops of our tiny town, we learned to live alone. The first day didn’t even feel real. A nightmare come true, maybe. I found myself waiting to wake up. But that never happened. I felt like someone had cut a huge chunk out of my heart and thrown it to the farthest corner of the earth, never to return. How was I ever going to love someone when all I could see was you. 
    Your ocean eyes and auburn hair, your half-smile and the just-right clothes you were wearing. I thought they were all mine, but I was wrong. That winter was long and hard, I wilted with the trees and moaned with the wind. Sometimes, I would walk by that old oak tree and remember how alive I used to feel. I would stroke it’s strong branches and admire its sturdy trunk, jealous of its permanence throughout our tumultuous journey. 
    As it turned out, Micky had taken pity on us and decided to keep our secret, but it was too late to find a way back into your heart. After all, it was my fear that ended us. So, as the snow melted to slush, I began to build myself up again, learning to live without you. Sometimes, we would pass in the street, exchanging a brief, tender glance but immediately looking away with guilt. We couldn’t tempt ourselves again. 
    Now, spring has come and a new life has begun for both of us. I am here, once again, under the oak tree. Its leaves are green, rusting in the wind. I imagine each dancing leaf as a portal into our lost world, holding endless stories from our fairytale. Each one is art, a bold green with infinite nuance in my eyes. This tree, this mighty feat of nature, has taken so many years to grow, all of those tiny moments morphing imperceptibly into the present. I assume it has seen many things throughout its lifetime, that our story is merely a passing phase, melting into its expansive memory. But I like to think that a part of us will always live within it, that our magic will stay encapsulated for generations. 
    I have come to see that nothing lasts forever here. Just as the seasons come and go, so do our beating hearts. They bring memories of seasons past and the promise of seasons to come. They dance by us, changing gradually in their back and forth way, two steps forward and one step back. And like time itself we cannot halt them, we cannot hang onto one spring or one kiss. Each has their time, their moment, their season. 
    You taught me to live freely, to love without boundaries and be whoever I wanted to be. I will carry a part of you whenever I go, to remind me of who I once was and who I can become. Here, within the safety of these woods, I am finally letting our love sail away with the wind, to places we will never go. 
    Now, I finally feel as alive as the leaves on the oak tree and the trickling stream by my feet. I walk into the sunset, as full of life as one could possibly be.
    And I feel invincible. 


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