Everything was a wreak. Torched by fire, and lying in ruins. What a ironic end to the passionate forever that she hinted at. Now all that's left is a tangled charred mess. This hideout, his life and his heart all in rambles. Everyone told him that she was too fiery for him and one day he would burn his fingers. And it did... But does it even matter now? She was gone and so was he.
After they said their goodbyes that day, she disappear from his town without a trace. Perhaps it was for the best. But disappearing from his sight doesn't mean that she would ever disappear from his heart. He wondering if she ever sat down and thought that this was the best ending that they could get. Is it possible for this to end in any other way? Did she ever cared in the first place?
Maybe it was all part of her plan or maybe it's a sign that he should move on. The small hideout near the lake caught fire that summer, 3 weeks after she left. It held the closest and most intimate memories that they shared. Just as how she suddenly crashed into his life, she left with a bang. All that’s left is this pile of ash and charred wood where their fondest memories reside.
No matter how much it hurts to be at that very place where everything starts and where it all ends, he would always visit. Maybe the pain was the one and only way to make sure that he was still living and breathing; that he’s still alive. It was like an addiction, even if he wanted to, he would never be able to quit. This log house, even if it would rot and crumble, would still remain to be the center of his world.
So here he was, sitting in the middle of the charred mess that the hideout had became, thinking just where did all this went wrong. But there was no answer; none that would satisfy him. For some reason or another, his mind was obsessed over finding the answer. But just as expected it was a dead end.
The more he obsessed over it, the more questions appeared. Why? What in the world went so wrong that she had to take off and erase herself from his world? It feels like the world is losing reason. Nothing makes sense anymore. And in the end, he came to questions that he didn’t want to answer.
Was it love?
Did she loved me?
Was it worth it?
And most importantly:
At this point of time, does it matter?
It was not as if he couldn’t answer the question. It just wasn’t the answers that he wants to think about. But those questions are persistent and relentless, occupying his waking thoughts. Within the log house, the nagging voices gets louder and harder to ignore. He wanted answers but not from his mind. He wanted to hear it in her own words, to make it real.
Their relationship had always been fiery so it’s probably natural that the end would be equally fiery. The burning passion slowly degraded into an endless anger. Self-directed anger. The need to destroy to feel. He wanted it to be gone. Since she left, it’s not fair that the memory of her still haunts him. If she was to go, then no traces should be left behind. And there he would called forth a typhoon and rip what’s left of the memories into pieces, throw them so far away that they will never come back the same ever.
Did he loved her?
Does it matter now?