Something that sparked a memory here, translated…
Actually, I’d been here before, I’d started, recalling the times in the past, when I’d, lost things………
The History of Losing Things
When I’d finally realized that I’d lost my wallet, I was at the post office, and filled out the slips, and was about to pay, but, I just, can’t find my wallet that was in my backpack before. And, I’d just, left my house, no more than fifteen minutes earlier.
The first thought was, it must’ve fallen out as I’d added more money to my card when I’d gone to the super convenience shop. After I’d hopped into a cab, I’d logged online, found the phone number of that super convenient shop, asked the worker, if they’d found my wallet? The worker repeated what I’d told her, and said, no, my heart went cold. But I’d still arrived, at the shop, looked around the place again, it wasn’t there. And, I’d gone down that path I’d walked from before, to the bus station, nope. The cab driver was kind enough, he’d gotten out of his cab, and helped me look for it, later on, I’d asked him to take me to the bus’s terminal station, and, on the way there, I’d bumped into the bus I just got off, it’d just made its rounds, and was about to get back to the terminal station. I rolled down the window, shouted out to the driver, asked him if he’d found a wallet? And, the bus driver was infected by my look and tone of panic, stopped the bus, and told me to go up and look for it myself. He’d told me, that nobody had handed him anything, that after I got off, only a couple came up, sat where I was just sitting, and just got off a short while back. I’d circled around the bus, my heart went cold now. After I got out of the bus, I’d asked the cab driver to take me where my mother worked, to get some more cash, then, to return back to the MRT station.
My mother was there, waiting for me a long time as I got there, with $4,000N.T. in her hands, with that bitter smile on her face. I knew, she was calculating how much money she’d lost for the day, and, wanted to blame me for being so careless, but not knowing how. And naturally, I didn’t say anything else, just took the money, with that “I’m so unlucky” expression, and left, as I felt, that saying “thank you” would make me feel even more ashamed.
Later on, for the entire day, I’d, forced myself, to handle ALL of my affairs, and, called the bank, to stop payment, to the land offices, to file for the application of a brand new identification card, etc., etc., etc., but, I’d still felt, quite depressed. I’d told myself, something good is about to happen soon! But, it didn’t work, with a soured face, without any consolations for myself, and I don’t even have the strength, to make myself feel even worse.
I’d lost my wallet once in college too, my national identification card, my student I.D. were all in there too, I recalled, how my friend rode me to the nearby police station to report my things missing. Afterwards, I’d sat down, on the steps of the subprecinct, started crying, my friend next to me kept telling me jokes, to try to make me laugh, but I just, couldn’t, thinking of how there was an important picture with me and someone else in it, I’d started, crying again.
I’d lost my cell once in college too. I’d placed it in my pocket, and, carelessly it’d, slipped out, in the end, my friend called my number, and I was able to, find it again. I recalled, that I was, worried about how there are several texts from someone I’d liked, and, my box was completely jammed, and I still wasn’t willing, to delete one single message from him, that I may never see those words again. After I’d gotten my cell back, I’d, immediately took out a small notebook, and, copied the messages that I wasn’t willing to delete down.
The Loss of the Proofs of Love
Once, I had lost a notebook that I’d carried with me wherever I’d go. Back then, I was touring in China, and, switched hotels every single week, being scatterbrained, I’d always, leave a “souvenir” at the hotels I’d stayed in. That notebook had the records of my hard work in rehearsals, along with the ins and outs of my life. I’d kept calling the hotel, and they told me that they hadn’t seen anything, I was angry at first, and toward the end, I’d become, quite sorrowful, I’d almost gotten down on my knees and begged them to look for it for me again, but, it just, wasn’t meant to be found again. My friend bought me a brand new notebook as a consolation. Later on, I’d spent one to two days, to record down what I could recall with my laptop, in the mindset of I’m declaring war to the lost things.
The worst time I’d lost something, was the time when my dog, Pipi was lost, it was, also, in college. One day, my dad took Pipi to the back mountains, but he’d misbehaved and my dad disciplined him, and he ran off on his own. That evening when I returned home, as I’d opened the doors, Pipi didn’t rush over to greet me, I lifted my head, saw my dad on the couch, the living room was draped over by darkness, my dad told me, that Pipi was missing. That, was the most fearful face I’d ever seen on my father. I guess, he was afraid of me, feared, that I may never, forgive him. Later on, I’d trekked around the back mountains several times that evening, that, was the darkest evening in my memories, even darker, compared to those nights when I’d lost love. But gladly, the very next day, I saw my neighbor posted a flyer out, and I had, gotten Pipi home successfully.
I looked at my cell, Pipi left me a long time ago. Now, there’s a little brown dog on my cell called Cookie. I’d texted my friend, that thankfully, I’d only lost my wallet, not my dog, or my cell phone, it’s the worst, third place.
I knew, that I felt bad, not about the $6,000 in cash, or the identification cards, or my credit card, it was, the wallet itself, with the note, written on a wrapper of a piece of chocolate.
That was, a white polka dot on black leather wallet, the person who gave it to me said, it suits you! I actually didn’t really like polka dots, but, since then, I’d started getting gifts, in polka dot patterns, and now, I am led to think, that I actually, liked polka dots. I really do like that wallet a lot, but, it’s also because it’s way too cute, I probably won’t ever recover it again.
Turns out, every time I’d lost something, it isn’t really the thing I’d lost that was lost, it’s the unreplaceable feelings attached to the items. But, I’d consoled myself, perhaps, I will, get a brand new lead, then, it will be, the start, of a brand new story…………
So, what you HATE, is the feeling of never finding the emotions attached to those things back again? A lot of people are like that, because, you’d grown attached to the things that you have, and, when the things are lost, you’re not just losing the things themselves, it’s also, the feelings about those things that are lost with it.
and no, still NOT my drawing…
Life, the Obstacle Course 