Recycling

Little Ants

Thank you to everyone who has ever stayed in this room. Thank you to the person who has been reading this messy writing and not leaving a single ink blasphemy and so on, thank you for everything.

At that time in the room room I returned for a moment to sigh for a time I was like a person who had no stance. A high IQ student should be able to overcome the heart.

Students who had been struggling with thick books, but it was not me, I realized the ability I had was not like them.

I even have trouble writing a letter that if thought only as easy as pouring water into a glass, just write and send, just pour and drink. Done it. Real easy.

I am not that kind of person, now this self is even stunned, staring at the lingering silence, frozen in front of the computer screen, staring at the keyboard while weighing the taste that I can never explain.

While these thoughts and feelings are both compactly opened my eyes as if to invite myself to dwell on the letter, I honestly do not want to say much, at that time it is better I choose to move from the computer desk, and I want to leave the computer desk, go to the kitchen.

I opened the refrigerator. Take a drink, thank God there plastered my favorite juice. When sipping what I think is refreshing, the cold drink as if to enter the esophagus with a very comfortable taste, of course the taste of this juice is always delicious, guava juice is grandfather's favorite. Not only my grandfather, I like him too.

At that time since the first time to drink it there are things that immediately make it a favorite drink. I like the taste that seems to break in the mouth alias refreshing.

When I gulped at him, Grandpa passed right in front of me. “That juice has grandpa, you drink?” He looked at me hard. I was wrong trying to find an excuse.

I grinned, scratched my head. “But, in the packaging there is no writing that this has grandfather.” Guava juice is factory-made that is sold freely in stores, the reason why it is not named. For me there is no need to mention the name, later even counted ads.

“Show me you make excuses. There are still many stocks, no need to worry about running out. Ah, yes how about your love, have you found a replacement?” As usual, he patted me on the shoulder. He continued laughing opening the refrigerator, taking guava juice just like me.

I fell silent lethargic, actually there are many things in this world, why even discuss love, Grandpa was-there was not before did not tell me to learn, continue to learn. I was confused to answer.

Really, I was afraid to answer with the origin of the word, deep in my mind, grandfather like deliberately asking. I need to be more careful.

“Well, why are you quiet so, you have trouble finding answers?”

I was still silent, continuing to gulp down the juice drink. My mind is loading looking for the answer. I've been lethargic not even a spirit anymore, someone anyone please. Love me spirit. Honestly, longing is not as easy as it is said, expressed however only people who have lived it know the feeling.

“Grandfather, love is what?” Gosh gosh? I reflexively asked back. My eyes were blankly staring at the floor, rather looking down there was no more spirit.

“Your grandfather must have heard it wrong, what about your record that day, Lita Aksima that you wrote on your computer it.”

“Lita Aksima? She's just a word that keeps soaring in the sheets of paper, she's just a female character in the fantasy fiction novel that I've created.” I'm being honest as it is. Lita Aksima, the tea leaf farmer and the gold mining village are just fiction. Shape in endless drawing.

I don't deny that the story wasn't finished I wrote because of a delay in the schedule that I couldn't separate between real life and hallucinations. Hold notes, throw out wishful thinking.

“Novel Fiction?” Grandfather seemed astonished to hear it, it was likely that he was shocked or why it was clear that I did not know the reason.

“Grandfather, that's what my proverbs call. Lita Aksima is a love fiction story. Let him be in the sheet of paper, always so. Don't bother anymore, she is already happily married to someone else.” That is, the fiction in the story, the reality is more painful.

If you want to know, Lita Aksima has eroded the most deepest sanitary. My first love was still Wapta. He was the one who first introduced me with longing, making myself tell a story to a friend who used to give color, accurate explanations harboring flavor.

I've been holding for so long. Never the slightest word that provoked feelings, never the slightest bit of notes that I sent directly to him.

“So, you mean how?” Grandpa asked again. I have no interest in talking, it feels like this heart feels awkward. My soul has melted the largest chunk of ice in multiples of the heart of shared love, forgotten affection.

I took a breath not to talk about it further. Grandpa laughed in a raucous voice. He patted me back on the shoulder. “Or the woman of the day who accompanied you here?” Grandpa really has made me helpless again, I feel powerless to say.

I nodded silently, looking down.

“Young man, your face turned moody like that, is this really suffering for you?”

I looked up a little, holding back the hot tears that were about to reveal their form.

“Three words. I love you?” Grandpa joked, he laughed patting me on the shoulder again.

I ran out of logic and kept quiet, not laughing. “Three words. Wapta, how are you?” I said briefly without length. Saying it without explaining just saying what I wrote when my hands were tired of writing before, then delete it, repeat until it is finished and look at it for hours contemplating, then I decided not to send it.

“Only that?”

I nodded back. “Only it.”

“You ever fight?”

“Nothing, grandpa. We never fight, no problem.”

“Grandfather knows a little about you, Man. This is the problem within yourself, you hesitate in action. When you send him a letter, do not think first he likes your letter or not, believe me you are just asking news about him, it does not need to be that complicated.”

“It's complicated. What if the letter made her even further away from me?”

“You write as usual. Your talent is the one who wrote the word mess, prove to him you can write better now, then the woman will be happy to hear it.”

“I'm not sure.”

“It's up to you. Grandpa wants to go to the store again, the intention was here to take a knife for watermelon. You want to go there? Eat watermelon.” Grandpa's getting away from me. I shook my head, did not like watermelon, just like the coffee of the day, the coffee that I now have made peace and love.

I used to have the same trauma as watermelon, one of the people at the birthday party hit my head with watermelon. What was my fault at the time, nothing. Those memories have always been bad memories in the life I was about to forget.

“Don't daydream so, you know your father, Man. He liked watermelon, when grandfather said watermelon. He was the first person who enthusiastically broke it. Come on, you're coming with grandpa!” Grandfather came back, forcing me who was not excited, let alone discussing watermelon.

“I don't like watermelon.”

“Good news. Your father didn't like watermelon either. You know why, back then he thought watermelon was vampire food. Well, that's your dad. You are the same as him, try to explain your reasons to grandfather.”

“If I explain to grandpa, is it sure grandpa can understand what I said?” let me start the style as usual, start breathing looking for a messy word in the mind.

For a moment I forgot the sadness that struck my heart, looking for the absurd word in explaining it.

“Try me to explain.” Grandpa asked me.

I stared with a steady smile, sighing slowly. “Then, in a big pitcher between insects, a little ant crawled in front of the grasshoppers. He saw a lump of brown sugar, how badly he wanted to taste, even when it seemed the locusts wanted to lend a helping hand, when the little ants were near the locusts. They all cheered the samsam, they compactly pelted the little ant until he suffered days of being unable to walk, then days of not eating.”

Grandfather was silent noiseless, likely thinking about the meaning, already the words messy, do not need to think.

“It's complicated. Why would a grasshopper do that to a little ant? There must be a reason, right?”

“Small ants have no one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Already, grandfather do not discuss anymore. By the way, grandpa ate it. I don't like watermelon.”

“Young people, like it or not you try to eat it a little, you will know the taste.” Grandfather looked at me for a moment, then left from before me. Uh. Not far from me he approached again. “Come, you come with grandpa. At least you should come, dot.” This time, grandfather pulled my hand, I didn't say much just following his directions.

I had to follow Grandpa. It's okay, I like this, grandfather like to continue with me, teaching new things.

Always and always associated me with my father. Actually I do not know the figure of my father how the person, he explained I was orphaned since the age of seven years.