A Yearly Rose For Jewell (Part 1)

A Day Of Loss

In these veins, the lifeblood of my philosophy and memoirs, I have only come across two sullen instances, where for the event of one day, I am a zombie to a mentally depressing boredom. Today was a fair day with much to write about but it had a certain air about it, of loss, of lacking presence. Today, now, in these hours of my memoirs, I dwell upon many hapless memories and shed equal tributaries. My mind at the moment is a strength of words, where my fingers are the floodgates, allowing a certain flow to escalate to the speed of my hands.

However, before I speak of what is really on my mind and has been playing my emotional thought for the last hour (And days before as I frequently thought upon this subject), let me speak of the factual unfolds. Spring has but twenty one days to arise, the fading memory of my anniversary with Lyssa holds upon the same amount of days this month and as the day is now the tenth and without substance to significance, within the next tenfold of days Lyssa will be celebrating her 20th birthday, on the 20th day.

How many dates and situations coincide, with this marking day of no caliber to importance but to shed a benchmark for importance’s calculation. Lyssa’s birthday really doesn’t mean that much to me but as these are the pages of life and chronology, I am quick to note the plans for her eventful night. At the moment, they are vague but what I do know is that Lyssa is heading to a club or bar on the weekend at Parramatta where there will be male and female strippers dancing around.

Jewell On My Mind

Now onto the more important loss and existent memory, Jewell. Uprooted from the basest of thought, her reincarnation arose many days ago but it was triggered moreso by the couple I saw yesterday heading back to work from lunch. From a hind view and walking with some Leb guy who looked like the short Mazin who hangs around wit the Lebs in Campbelltown, her skinny figure and style of clothes made me think she was Asian. This strange combination intrigued me as I walked faster to catch up to both of them, dwelling over her body that reminded me of another.

It wasn’t until I got close to her that I realized how hot she was and how she was Lebanese. Being tall was a consolation to her waif-like body, having flare-like pants and sporting a fur coat. The guy couldn’t stop kissing her in public, not caring about the people that obviously thought he was overjoyed with his girlfriend. I know I would have been as proud as him to be alongside of her and as his embracing attitude continued, it made me realize that this was the same feeling deep inside that I still felt for Jewell.

The admiration will never disappear and now I realize (If I hadn’t done so before) that I was deeply head over heels for Jewell. That day when I mentioned that I could have had a love for her before we ended our tormented past came from my lips with dubiety. That’s the reason Jewell snapped to say “Don’t even say that”, as if my words were despicably untrue. However, now, with some hindsight, all these little things that keep reminding me of Jewell and how infatuated I was can’t be wrong.

What really stirred my emotions was how this girl was carrying her fur coat, just like Jewell was in her suave manner the last time we had seen each other. This girl had the Barbie-doll look despite her having silky black hair and as I reminisce on Jewell, I realize that once upon a time, she too was my Barbie girl, one that I cherished with such an endeared love.

Missing Jewell

Such swain didst love the perjured years that harbored a civil heart, of such innocence, plaguing virility adorned. Our hearts were set to such lively regret, we did part and apart we did grieve. Now, still, upon a memory I do grieve, feeling the irony that the lost years are indeed the years now lost from Jewell and marry, the forlorn memory is one guided amiss. For scorned I lingering serve to time and faith, hoping that both will bring the bereaved when best they cross paths.

To say that I miss Jewell would hold truth but it is as weird a longing as my explanation of today being depressing despite it being a vibrant day. Today on the train, seeing Nikita chatting with some guy who looked like he was going out with her, I looked at the two of them together and with depressant thoughts, thought some more. It gave rise to my distant loves and those adjoining dreams.

Seeing everyone around me being happy, I realized how happy I would be with Jewell and as I came home on the bus today, I immersed myself in thought. To my knowledge, Jewell has never received a Rose from me as we hadn’t gone out for such a telling length of time. However, when I created her CD, I granted that once healthy Rose as the first Rose ever to her received. Realizing that with Jewell I tend to be creative and ingenious so that her memory can be unlike anyone else’s, I gathered some more inspirational foresight.

The Fig Tree In Hyde Park

When Jewell and I finally meet in the future and if or when we ever do get back together, it will be hard for me to sustain from the cliché of buying her Roses but, the thought of indirectly wooing her sparked with great interest upon my mind. As I’ve done with Jewell unique acts rarely repeated, I seek to continue this hapless love story. Something that Jewell and I will always have is that illustrious haven under that great fig tree in Hyde Park.

That day which I feel was March 16th two years ago was the crest of our glory, to which my respect honored with creativity. Much importance stems around this day as it was the transition of favorable thought in our relationship and a year passing, it was also inspiration for many poems and the CD I created for Jewell. Now, its charismatic inspiration dwells upon me more and with this tethered view upon a Rose’s favorable role, I have a new reverence to admit.

Forth from next year, when March 16th arrives, I will start a tradition whereas each year I will journey to that fig tree in Hyde Park with a single rose to the memory of the lost years. The rose will be bought whole and living on February the 1st to commemorate the dawning of our tide. As in my relationship with Jewell, I will shed all my mystified love and undying respect until we arrive to March 16th, the severance.

One Rose Across Another

Cutting the Rose from its foundation, I will wrap it carefully, as if nurturing a withering sense of life and upon my journey I will begin, to Hyde Park. There I will sit upon the day’s briskness, in homage and in quietude. As weaning does come at gravest situations, I will end my journey by placing the Rose upon the ground and walk away feeling a half filled void of satisfaction.

This sacrament to memory however will always feel incomplete. The only way that I would be able to fill that disconsolate void is if one day, Jewell picks up the same tradition. Until the day that she too bears this anniversary of events, I will place the Rose diagonally, so that when time permits, Jewell can lay hers above mine and across so that it’s marked as an ‘X’.

In art and mind, this would be considered as our two lives, entities and the all of our united worth, laying across each other as two bodies entwined in love and love in Roses that permit. Her innocence and our naïveté is shown to the fact that she’s never received a Rose from me but yet, her innocence and my naïveté still lay in tact as serves to the memory of our inaugurated lives…

Lyssa’s Secret Phone Call

Before I begin upon proper chronology, let me just point out the heated but partially informative conversation that I had with Lyssa tonight. The time was around 9:00 p.m. that Lyssa decided to call me, again, knowing that it was going to be her. After we shared a couple of welcoming words and Lyssa apologizing for not being able to join me for lunch on Monday (You’ll hear of that later) I was blunt enough to ask “So, are you going to tell me the big story yet”.

“Oh, sorry, I can’t tell you that” she told me, basically urging her oath of tight lipped faith. However, my conniving ways worked in what best would fit into my assumptions and asking “Does it have to do with Naqi cheating on Penelope with that little slut in Campbelltown”. Figuring that I wouldn’t let the real cat out of the bag and using what we had already discussed as a cushion, she was quick to note that this indeed was the dispute.

Trying to find out the source from whom Penelope found out, Lyssa kept telling me irritably to mind my own business. “Now I know why you wanted to have lunch with me on Monday” she yelled, “Because you wanted to interrogate me about this secret. However, that was mostly a very bad assumption as I had proper cause, leaving that thought well from my mind. “I told Penelope that I knew all along and she understands why I didn’t tell her” Lyssa noted, hiding herself behind her not knowing if what I was saying was indeed true.

However, like everyone else, Lyssa didn’t want to get in the thick of things so her name would be tainted or talked of for the rest of this gossip’s life. The conversation became heated because I was persistent on the source, figuring I would find out eventually. “Stop sticking your nose into other people’s business” Lyssa exclaimed as I argued it was my business due to my knowing about the problem and people involved. Some heated discussion later and my opinionated views later, Lyssa and I hastily said goodbye to each other and hadn’t talked since.

Naqi Falls Off His Podium

There you have it, Penelope finally found out the truth that everyone has been yearning to be recognized and the just thing was done, she told him to bounce. If she will get back with him is uncertain but I want to believe that the two of them are separated for good now. As most people have wished now, Naqi has finally been knocked off his podium of austere arrogance and complacent gluttony. He’s had it too good for too long and now for a long while, the good will eventually subside.

He won’t inherit the friendship with Penelope that I have with Lyssa as my lesser sin was irrefutably forgiven. If I wanted to now, I could make amends with Penelope where there was nothing but spite to tear of semblance apart. Naqi has been forsaken and as Penelope will now rebuild her life without Naqi, he will be as alone as I in my gloomiest of times. Luckily I had acquaintances to fall back on, the old group before Naqi tainted it if you will.

Naqi has his Leb friends but most that he can’t look straight in the eyes because of his little perjure. The future for Naqi as yet is unsettled, no girlfriend, no friends anymore, no car, no family appease and all he has to look forward to is work to keep him company. How will he survive without his one true lifeline and how will he face the uncertainty of life, possibly facing old age alone.