memento vivere

six // ❝ camila was beyond enchanting ❞

we were driving around out of the town where we came from. i let camila take the driver's seat and told her to lead us wherever she wanted to go. she was so excited and overjoyed with it and it was either she drove too fast or at a very low speed but i didn't bother about it. the time was moving at a fast pace and i hated it because i wanted to spend every moment with camila's body on top of mine.

the ride was eventful even if it only consisted of us talking about one another. there was something different when you talked with camila. it was, like, she actually cared about your well-being. i'm not someone who was often gullible, because i was really not into things that would easily consume me for temporary reasons. but camila made seem things easier for me. i talked to her about my own fucking family. the same family that disowned their daughter that was me. they made my life like hell.

and being with camila was heaven.

hell, i told her that i loved cookies n' cream as a flavour for my ice cream. i never told anyone that. no one has known me in years as much as camila knew me in just two fucking days. one thing that puzzled me was that i didn't feel like regretting this. i never regretted meeting camila. i never regretted her bumping on to my shoulder. i never regretted inviting her to that bar. i never regretted letting her in on my apartment, and my life. i never regretted touching her that night, touching every part of her body and i already memorized her. i never regretted letting her drive around this city that i was unfamiliar with. i never regretted telling her things about me that no one else knew about.

“do you miss your family?” she asked, very concerned.

i tried not to remember my family's faces. i hated getting flashbacks about them and about what they did to me. i hated how they treated me. like i was garbage. i was not garbage. i was something else and i always have had the affinity to figure myself out.

“nope,” i replied truthfully.

“not even one bit?” camila glanced at me every so often.

“not really. there was only one thing that i happened to like about them, though.”

“which is?” she asked, seemingly interested.

i never had this much time to talk about my family. i never talked about them. i threw a tantrum when someone asked about them. i hated them that much. and i would hate them with the similar passion i always acquired since i was born into this cruel world. and into that cruel town.

“i guess i had people to call my family. even if they were shitty, i still had a family. i didn't want to grow up without a mum, whether she was an asshole to me and whatnot. i didn't want to grow up without a father, even though he was barely home and when he was, he would fucking scold me for being born. but he was still my father even if he was that shitty. i had a brother who didn't care about the family.”

i felt freedom when i finally had the gut to say that. it felt like i took off a cumbersome problem off my shoulders and it made me relieved from every part of my being. i have never felt such feeling ever since i could breathe. the old feeling was like burning in hell and it kept going on like that for almost a forever. now that camila knew, i felt nothing else but relieved the fuck out of it.

“where is your brother now?” camila asked, her eyes stuck on the road.

“he killed himself. i didn't know that he was depressed.” it was the ugly truth. almost all my life, as much as i hated my family, i thought about all the possibilities that i could have saved him. that i could have spared his life. that i could have prevented him from thinking about taking the coward's exit from life.

it was ironic how he considered it and i never did. i had one hell of a life and i never thought about suicide.

maybe one day.

but not now.