#yourtypicalmillenial

[yourtypicalmillennial]

I woke up smiling this morning because Wang Yibo appeared in my dream. It's not that I'm his fan, it's just nice to have him in my subconscious mind, although before I wound down to sleep, I watched Benedict Cumberbatch's interview with Vanity Fair.

[yourtypicalmillennial]

27 February

He texted me, asking if I wanted to have a dinner with him. I said I had to prepare myself in two days. I sent him a picture of me in my glasses with the background of my powerpoint presentation on my laptop. He only sent me a flexed biceps emoji, which we always used it as cheering for each other. We were aware that it was not common for people to use it the way we did. The communication we built was only for both of us, and for some reason, we never needed words to explain. Every look, every smile, every sigh that we made, we understood. A few minutes later, he texted me again, "I'm in Saigon Delight. Do you want me to order you something?" but I didn't notice it until it was midnight and I couldn't bother him by replying to him.

28 February

He texted me again, asking if I wanted to come around after the conference. I told him I would be exhausted because it was the first day and there would be a welcome dinner. He just texted me, "Good luck with your first gig as a keynote speaker! I wish I could see how great you'd look tomorrow, Prof. Petra Rosenberg." I smiled at how he called me Prof. I talked to myself that I would get it soon. Soon, Jordan. Soon. And you have to be there for my inauguration.

I was about to call him but it was 11 PM, and he might have been sleeping. He was always an early riser since the first time I met him in high school. He was always the eager one to get the freshest air, the warmest sunlight in the morning.

29 February

I texted him, "Wish me luck again, please. I'm nervous."

I got no reply. I suppose he buried himself in his sketches and calculations for his bona fide clients. Otherwise, he just had a never ending meeting with his team and inspected the construction site. He had always been the most diligent and ambitious between the two of us. He said it was to maintain the family legacy.

When my watch showed 8 PM, he hadn't answered my text. As we grew older, we realized that adult friendship is as tricky as any other relationship at any stage of life. Forgetting to text back or not answering a call during a meeting was part of our friendship. Maintaining the proximity without crossing each other's boundaries was the thing we learned quite fast. The unresponded text, therefore, didn't bother me a bit. The thought of him going missing barely crossed my mind.

1 March

07.25 AM. I texted him "hey, Jordan. Yesterday was amazing. Guess who I met."

08.35 AM. I checked my phone, wondering why there was no news from Jordan. Then, I called him. Worry started to build up in my chest. He didn't answer. I was sure the phone rang but he didn't take it. I sent him a text again. "Jordan, please. If it's because I couldn't come to your place, I'm sorry. Take my call now."

You bastard, where are you now? I cursed under my breath. I began to hustle so I could reach Jordan's apartment before going about my day.

09.03 AM I left my apartment in hurry, my heart pounding to the point that I could hear my beats close to my ears. I tried to reach him out again, hoping he would answer. Please, Jordan. I beg you. Stay with me. You promise me, Jordan. You have promised there would never be another one like this. He didn't answer. Once I reached a bigger road where taxis passed, I hailed a taxi with a frantic hand as though I could make it go faster. I said the address, "please, hurry up!" 911. My mind couldn't rest. I suddenly prayed to any Gods whom I never believed. The journey from my apartment felt like a thousand miles apart.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My friend, his name is Jordan Blossom. The address is 127 Chester Lane, Belgravia. I haven't been able call him since last night. He once tried to take his own life before. He asked for my presence the last two or three days but I couldn't see him. No, I didn't see him. I had things to do. Please send someone."

The taxi driver apparently took a hint. My trembling voice and the urgency it exuded had him speed up. I tried hard to hold my tears but I choked on my words, realizing I ignored Jordan's cry for help.

"We're sending people right now. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm on the way from Richmond. I'll be there in 15 or 20 minutes."

"Can you tell me again if there is any weapon he might use?"

"No. I have no idea. I don't think he has a weapon. But he would drink up all his pills."

"Alright, Sir. We're sending help. Please stay calm."

27 December

New Year is coming soon and there is still no sign that this grief would leave me alone. The fact that he decided to depart on the day he came to the world added more bitter taste to the grief. I flew off from the country because every street I walked down, I walked down with him. I couldn't see myself wandering around the country without him.

[yourtypicalmillennial]

I'm not a big fan of The Beatles but I often listen to their songs. Listening to their songs is like listening to stories which have various, deep moral value. There's one song that I always listen to multiple times without getting bored. It's "Eleanor Rigby", my all time favorite.

"Eleanor Rigby" gives me this interesting, sad vibe. The more I listen to it the more I imagine about being Eleanor Rigby. I imagine that I was a lonely woman who died alone and was buried by a lonely priest with no one coming to mourn my death. I had no one to share my life with. I didn't belong to any place or group of people. It was nice when I wasn't attached to anything. I had freedom. However, deep inside my heart, I needed someone to bond with. Perhaps, at least I needed people to talk about the weather. I wanted people to need me and think that I was important for them so when I died, people would miss me. But wait... what if I never wanted to be missed when I died? I mean I died. Neither would I know how they felt nor how I felt about them. Or... what if I wanted people to remember me as a good person whose hug was always available whenever they needed it? Well... Eleanor Rigby could be anything in my imagination.

I always have different thoughts and imaginations everytime I listen to "Eleanor Rigby".

I'm wondering what I'll imagine the next time I listen to "Eleanor Rigby".