written by a dear friend of mine...
YIEN YAN
Yen is holding her bottle of Pepsi with one hand, gobbling it up like she is never going to taste that drink anymore. Just like in the commercial, she finished drinking it with a big “Aaaahhh!!” and burped like hell.
Yen. That is what I call her. When I am in my nicest mood, I call her Yen-Yen and she loves it.
Yen went back to eating her noodles that I cooked for her, a little spicy, the way she likes it over a weekend morning. She eats it with a cold bottle of Pepsi. She is in the middle of writing a story and I know she can no way be disturbed for anything. So what I do is sit here in the bed and try to read my own favorite book. I have now finished Haruki Murakami’s 4th short story called Thailand in his book After the Quake. When I rest my eyes out of the book, I stare at her back, take my earphones off and listen to the tapping of her keyboards. It has become a sweet melody to me. And of course as usual, I wait and see if she turns around and gives me a smile. But that has never ever happened.
Yen leaned her back on her swivel chair. “Uh-oh” I said. “This is not good.” Yen never rests when writing. She is always glued on her screen. That is why she always complains about her back pain when she is at her normal state. (And that means, when she is out of the computer.) She said that if her momentum gets disturbed, she forgets what the story is about and then she becomes totally frustrated and depressed. As expected, she put her hand on her forehead and began to cry.
“Is everything alright?” I stood up and asked her. I wanted to touch her, but I can’t. She did not answer. I took the 2 liter bottle of water lying on the floor and gave it to her. She ignored it. She just kept on crying.
“Can you leave me alone?” she said to me.
I just stood there, surprised. This is the first she had asked me this. She would always want me to bring her water, get the power plug on, hand her earphones, take out her blanket because she’s feeling cold. But this… she wants me out of here. This is something different.
“Do you want me get a fork for your noodles?” I asked. “Shall I get you more coffee?”
“I want you to leave me alone.” I am not mistaken this time. She wants me to leave her alone.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, fuck it, just leave!” She is now out of her regular tune. I am sensing her voice shaking and angry.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Please leave me alone, I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to break your heart, I don’t want you to get stuck with me forever. You should have a life.” She said.
“Is this going to be one of your stories again?” I said. I wanted to initiate a laugh. Laugh, like what we used to do when she is at her lightest mood. Laugh, so she would get the idea that I am not taking her seriously. I just thought that if I smile or giggle or tickle her, it might change the course of this conversation.
Yen is a frustrated writer, that’s according to her. Frustrated because her muse is her miseries. She can't write when she is not melancholic. But I believe otherwise. I believe she is going to have her break someday because she has the passion. I know that the big opportunity is just lurking around the corner for her. She has always wanted to publish her own book. I may not be the best judge but I am going to be the proudest if that happens.
I also know that writers like her have the biggest mood swings. They can be the happiest people on earth at one point and can be at their lowest of lows, when struck with with the big "D" - depression. It is always difficult to understand them. It is absurd though, that she is surrounded with a lot of friends. That’s not impossible because she is never boring when with them. She is fun, she is smart, she plays around like a fool and there can never be dull moments with her. Only few people have ever seen her serious, gloomy face. Only few people have seen her cry and I am one of them. But I am not sure if that is one that I should be proud of.
“Do you want me to call Yuri?” Yen can never be with a lover. That Yuri name… I just made that up. There's a lot of men in her life. Men can never understand a fucked-up crazy bitch like her. They are never going to take her seriously or worst it could be the other way around. Men can only be challenged because Yen ~ is not an ordinary girl. There is something sweet and annoying with her. She doesn’t like being teased of being beautiful, because she believes that she is not. She always gets embarrassed when she is told that she is pretty. But I have always thought that she is. Her personality says it so, it’s the whole package of her that makes her the most beautiful woman in the world. Plus the fact that I am always attracted with weird women.
She looked at me straight in the eye. The rage is burning me. It gave me the creeps, as I have been with her for the longest time but she had never ever looked at me in the eye.
I am the only one who stayed with her when she is at her despondent state. I believe that I am the one who keeps it together for her. She always said that she can tell me everything, without any force at all. She had never told me to stay with her, but I did. Even if I know that she can always choose to be with any men that she likes. Men who can protect her and love her and accept her for all the nutcase that she is. But she rejects them all.
“You are a hopeless, miserable emotional bullshit, yes that’s what you are!” I heard one of her lovers said that. “You are scared of your own self. You are in love with your miseries. You are fucking driving me insane! I love you, I love you. Please, I beg of you, love me too!”
But Yen just stood there. I know she wanted to cry, to pick that man up from his knees while weeping and tell him, “Yes, I love you too, I want you to own me. I want to be happy with you. I want to have a contented life with you.” But she remains standing and then she slowly walks away.
“If that is what you want, then I am going to leave you alone. Take care of yourself, Yen.” I opened the door and closed it behind me. I thought that maybe, it’s now my turn to leave.
And then silence.
But I can’t. I can’t leave her for just one second. I can’t breathe without her. She is my life. So I turned around at an instant. I opened the door again and turned the lights on which I don’t remember turning off. She is no longer in front of her computer. How can she move in bed in a split second? That was really quick! I began to wonder. I saw her cuddled inside her duvet and I assumed her to be peacefully sleeping.
“Rest well then Yen, I think you are just tired.” I told her. But she began shaking inside those sheets, like she is feeling cold or something. But it’s not cold, the AC is off, in fact, it’s really warm in her room. I called out her name, while I am wiping my own sweat.
“Yen-Yen?” she did not answer.
I saw a dark spot starting to form in the sheets. I wondered what that was. It is wet and is beginning to spread all over the bed. I touched it. A warm dark red liquid has appeared at the tip of my middle finger. I am not mistaken… blood. Right away, I uncovered the sheets from her. I saw her lying in her own blood. I saw the knife in her right hand and a small piece of muscle in the other hand. I am in total terror... I am uncontrollably shaking. Blood is still gushing out from her throat. I am calling out her name “Yen!! Yen!!” I am shouting at the top of my voice but nobody seems to be hearing me. Yen sliced her throat but before she did that, she first had cut her ear. They were all there, her ear and the knife.
I opened her cabinet, I am starting to feel cold and dizzy myself. I am looking for something to wrap her throat to stop it from bleeding. But the moment I did that, I saw my reflection in the cabinet door mirror, my face and chest all covered with blood…
One ear missing.
