Exactly What I Want

Inspired by Jisoo Hope Yoon: https://jisoohopeyoon.com/2018/01/15/exactly-what-i-want/

What I want is this: to be awoken at midnight by a roaring thunderstorm. It will precede my college move-out, which would supposedly take place the next morning. I want to attempt to go back to sleep multiple times but to no avail so instead I would sneak out of my dorm, careful to not wake my roommate.

I want to walk outside and I want a girl I've never met to be there too, admiring the harmony of nature, sitting on the sidewalk, enshrouded by the aura of a dainty floor lamp. I want her to be a senior, preparing for her final move out as well. I want us to share stories of our college experiences, our life before that, and our plans for the future. I want to tell her that one of my largest goals is to direct a self-reflective masterpiece memoir and reach the hearts of millions. I want her to compliment my vision and we'd discuss the logistics for a while.

I want to explain to her that despite possessing freedom I'd never had before, I never truly felt free, and I want her to express a similar sentiment. So I'd ask her if she wanted to live out what we felt in the moment was our perfect night. I want her to tell me I'm hopeless but she'd agree because she'd been longing for that too.

Together, I want to live out an unforgettable six hours. I want to visit a 24-hour drive through and order the entire menu, while blasting expressive, existential ballads like "Selfless," by The Strokes, or "Welcome to the Black Parade," by My Chemical Romance, or "The Outsider," by Lyn Lapid. I want us to scream the lyrics at the top of our lungs, as the ambient rain contrasts our shrill voices. I want to run, from my problems, and from hers, and I want us to believe that maybe if we drive fast enough and scream loud enough, we can defy space-time.

After two hours of aimless driving, I want us to end up at an isolated field, with various species of flowers and cherry blossom trees. I want there to be one winding pathway that cuts through the center of the field, which snakes from one side all the way to the other. I want us to walk halfway down that trail, and then wander into the grass and blaze our own path. I want our hike to take us to a small grassy hill, accompanied by a grotto and a small lake. I want us to climb to the top of the hill, slide down into the water and worry about the consequences later. Then I want us to get up and do it all over again.

As dawn breaks and we begin to count down the time we have left together, I want her to ask for my contact information, but I'll deliberately give her the wrong phone number. She'll tell me she was flying back home to Shanghai, and I'd tell her I'd one day be there with her too.

I want her to walk away one final time, and I want to watch her shadow fade into the sunrise, like the ending of a beautiful movie. I would have the opportunity to extend our time just a bit longer, by calling her name out one last time. But I will let the moment go, tearing up as I crumble to the floor and beg the stars for a sign. The next few seconds would feel like eternity, and yet nothing at all.

I want my heart to break into a million pieces. I want to struggle to stand up. I want to attempt to leave the open, grassy field, but I want my efforts to fall flat. I want cold gusts of wind to brush across my face and send chills down my spine.

I want to remain there, motionless, for seven days and seven nights longing that she'll come back, but she won't. On day five, I want the rain to turn to snow. I want the wind to blow gently again, and I want it to carry cherry blossoms upon my body. I want to be half-buried in snow and struck by lightning. I want to die on that field, covered in snowflakes, surrounded by Sakura flowers and white bunnies with fluffy tails.

I want her to forget my name, to forget everything that had happened that night, and eventually to forget the memory of me. Yet, I want her to have a persistent feeling that draws her back to that field for the rest of her life. I want her to revisit that field in fifteen years, and reminisce; the clear skies, the camellias, and the petrichor. I want her to contemplate why this field seemed so important to her, but I want her never to be able to put a finger on the reason.

As she leaves, I want her to carelessly drop her half-extinguished cigarette. I want its spark to reignite once again and for fire to rapidly consume the field. I want the cherry blossoms to go up in flames, I want the camellias to be reduced to ashes. I want the sky to turn grey, and I want it to smell like hopeless insurgency. I want my body to burn, for my remains to be carried up into the atmosphere and disappear into the infinitude of the cosmos. And I want to finally understand that existence is futile, everything comes and goes, and permanence is a helpless cry into the void. That's exactly what I want.