The transition from girlhood to becoming a woman begins by falling in love with a man, growing and learning beside him as such. Mine started with the sudden death of one.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9JHS0aBakn
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I had never been formally introduced to Russel. All that I know of him, I knew through stories told by my tutor. He was her “other student”. It was evident that she preferred me more; this blatant favoritism only led to his jealousy. Now whether he truly disliked me is an enigma that shall never be answered.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrT5eNN5Kk0
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Our first interaction was when he commissioned me to make him bookmarks. We were civil to each other, and upon receiving them he was beyond enthusiastic, or so I heard through her. Then began our childish jabs. By this time our tutor’s preference was clear; eventually it encouraged him to throw the first strikes. The intricate details of our exchange are now shrouded in my memories, but I played coy and innocent. I made the perfect victim; though anyone who knew me would debunk my act in seconds. This continued for a while, my response became sharper and the victimization was starting to crack. We had fully become, as they say, frenemies. Eventually, my tutor and I convinced him to visit my gym; I could finally make him eat his own words. Unfortunately we never met, he saw me but I didn’t see him. He didn’t even step inside the gym, he talked with my coach and left. The jabs never ceased to come, they were very much the highlight of my day. My tutor would walk in and I wouldn’t waste even a second in asking her about it. I was, in all honesty, very bored. Most of my frenemies had become my good friends, however I missed our cathartic arguments, and our back and forth disses. Russel filled that need. Before I had known, he had crept in and made himself at home in my life.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuKAJDyJcxV
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After this incident, I wrote him a letter, filled with the most heinous curses I could come up with. Without a doubt, it was one of my best works. I felt as if I had won this battle, surely he would be left feeling defeated after reading this, and be unable to come up with any counters.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0bEbQokVEI
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Unbeknownst to me, as I sat writing that very letter he had gotten into a car crash. While I enthusiastically waited for my tutor to bring me news of his surrender, he was left at the mercy of the efficacy of doctors. At first, the news didn’t bother me. I found it humorous even. However that would change when he went into comatose. I started to become worried. That being said I knew he would recover. Sadly my prediction didn’t come true for a while. His health slowly deteriorated and when he woke up, he had lost his memory. Soon he had to be taken to Singapore for proper treatment. My thoughtful tutor told me all this in one sitting, hence I was once more, unfazed. He would surely recover.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfPBOGKRspt
Under the care of vigilant and skilled doctors, his recovery was seemingly assured. Eventually my tutor started to talk with him. During these conversations, his true intentions came to light.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKtcrP07jp0
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Before he had gone into a vegetative state, when she sat by his hospital bed, reading him the letter, he had told her he liked me; his sentiment was unclear to the both of us at the time. Accompanied by what he said in the following weeks, one could draft a conclusion. When he, at long last, received the needed treatment and began to flourish, let out a few crucial details. He indeed liked me romantically, however he knew the answer would be no, therefore he tried his best to suppress these unspoken feelings. Tragedy struck upon us once again; he fell off his bed causing internal bleeding in his brain. As of now he had been declared medically dead, with minimal, if not nonexistent chances of resuscitation.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPWJ3dSZnHD
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Under no circumstance did I reciprocate his feelings, all that I can say with confidence. That did not mean I never cared for him. Slowly but surely he had become an integral part of my routine, and without a doubt I appreciated the variety he brought in my life. As he stands in this in-between, I mourn him, with all my heart. I wish he beats all odds and perseveres. Before I even realized it, he had become a friend. Though our interactions were hostile, in the aggressiveness I found solace. All those plans of us meeting are now left torn apart and thrown in the trash, all against my will. I had been waiting for someone that will never arrive. I am left in a state of confusion, unclear as to which god to pray to, which will answer. This boy I have never once met has left me distraught. Something even my own family fails at. Even still, I am in denial that he will leave us.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoPFE6JiwPG
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Anger bubbles in my stomach. No matter how much I pray, I realize in the end, it is utterly futile. Even if there is a god, will he save Russel? Will He turn the tide of battle in his favour, so that, in spite of every obstacle, Russel survives? I doubt it. The suddenness of the situation makes me wonder if we are a comedy for the divine-once thriving almost, now he lies dying. We are perhaps, only jokes to entertain the immortal; our lives serving no purpose other than to appease their every desire. Maybe to them, this is only another episode in their favourite show, not the potential death of a boy in his prime.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsyj9Tfwg8e
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No matter how many tears I shed, they won’t bring Russel back. Regardless of the words I write, I cannot immortalize him; only records of my emotions will remain long after the earth has swallowed his young and fragile body. Art cannot bring back the dead, nor will it benefit them in any way. Although I cannot imagine his face (for I have never seen it), the image of his mangled corpse rips me to shreds and I break down like a little child. How is it that someone I have never met, never seen, never even talked to, can strip down all my barriers and leave me so bare?42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcwFWeEw9cc
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Even if I continue to live, I won’t win, not with him dead. We are both stuck in purgatory-in transition. He will either die or recover, his body traversing the tight line between death and life; while I grow and mature into a woman. This divine comedy will only end when we both transition and he survives. Only when he grapples death itself and wins, will we be able to move into paradise and our transitions will be complete.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3v6FpHVhfM
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If the worst comes to be, we shall always remember him as an 18 year old boy. Though he is older than I am, even when I have shriveled up with age, he will forever remain a young man. Until death comes to take me, his death will be carved into my life as the first to truly affect me. In due time, his grieving parents will bring his body back to our country, cover him in funeral cloths as per tradition, and cover his still growing body with earth. In the meantime, I, as always, will be left wondering what became of the boy I once teased for wearing makeup. My mind will forever be stained with the memory of a boy who died before I met him, his voice I will never hear and his being formed only by collections of stories I heard from my tutor.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK2rNJv6PSh
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