Suddenly I feel an urge to write something about Hippo. No particular intent, maybe I just need to give the whole thing an end. Like a conclusive paragraph to an essay.
Come to think about it, it has been quite a while since I first met Hippo. In my blurred memory, Hippo turned up at the Aikido class I was taking in December 2006, I just can't recall exactly what date. I did not have any good impression about Hippo in the beginning. He seemed too casual, his words were somehow lack of respect,... But over time I found out Hippo was not that bad as I first assumed, he became likable to me. I admired him for his artistic skills and senses, and his sense of humor as well.
Then one day I officially admitted to Hippo I liked him. A refusal was repeated more than once. A lot of nonsensical things happened.
But it's simply over now, everything.
I found it hard...the night I stood there alone in the light but cold rain... It was good for me afterward though.
At times, when I recall that very moment, I can actually grab the chill on my skin, the deafening noise of motorbikes racing by, the annoying faint words of tease from some guys across the road, as if I were still standing there - in front of the small path leading to Hippo's house. But I have no urge to cry out, to strive to escape from a pain deep down inside, or anything like that anymore. That's a relief.
I came across "The world is flat" this afternoon. Inside was Hippo's handwriting wishing me a lot of good friends, good appetite and good sleep, even the piggy flower he made and put outside the wrapping of the book. I felt sad, but didn't cry.
I know I still like him a lot, but it is the way it is. I was hurt too much to let things go on easily. I'm aware that Hippo just doesn't care whether he can keep me as a friend or not. And I've learnt to do the same.
I have been successful, I suppose. 2 weeks ago I thought I would hate Hippo for the rest of my life. Now I just know why I cannot ever forgive him - no matter whether he cares or not, takes or will take some actions about it or not.
So there it is, a Pig free from Hippo thinking.