She sighed. She wondered what had triggered the memories back. Now, the nostalgia flooded her mind, wrapping her tightly. She hits her chest. She knows, that she is just a freaking mess in this world. She clicked the ' May 2009 ' without realisation. She immediately regretted that decision. But, the sense of longing overpowered her as she let the page load and her fingers naturally scrolling down to the post. Her heart shatters again. She noticed a line in the post written by younger her, ' It's okay. There will always be next year. ' . But, there was no next year.

What was the cause again? It seems like all of it was a fight about nothing. She shuddered as she remembered the feeling. The heavy feeling. How can she forget it? It followed her forever. The tears she spilled, the broken pieces her heart had become, the endless hugs she yearned for. She never thought a person could experience that amount of agony. She let herself drown in reminiscence.

The oldest. She smiled. The one she always fond of. It was a right decision for her to be the leader, she thought. Staying true to her leadership ability, the oldest had taken the whole school as her responsibility now. She always admired her. For the multilingual skill she possessed and her lovable personality. She loved it when the oldest adored her, patted her, gave way to her simply because she is the youngest and the other is the oldest. Even now, the urge to block the other way playfully and mocked her just to get the attention she needed always overpowered her. She had tried to hate the oldest, but the other always throw back thousand reasons to love her back. The oldest may not know how she can tugged the youngest's heart just by calling her maknae.

The second oldest. She stopped. The best buddy. The one who always stick with her. She is always grateful for the fact. Both of them are different yet similar. They can laugh at things people don't find silly. She loves how the second oldest will defense her against anyone, supported her, hear her childish whine, nagged at her while being completely understanding. Thank you, that all she can mustered to said.

The third one. She laughed. Her only OTP. Beauty defined the third while the youngest is everything but beauty. The bond and dynamic they have is unbreakable. They trusted others easily, too easily. Maybe that is what keeps them together. She missed laying at her lap, being a total baby the youngest is. She loves laughing with the third one, making jokes only they understand and oblivious to the world around them. Please return to my side, she whispered.

Next, the fourth one. She sighed. There are no words suitable to describe the fourth one. The fourth is crazy yet rational. The kind of person who annoyed you yet lovable. The mother-like this one possessed is undeniable. She always yearned for her hug. Because in that hug, she will break down and cries her heart out. The warmth of the hug is irreplaceable. The fourth may be harsh with her choice of words, but her caring trait overshadowed everything.

She felt warm moisture in her eyes. Ah, dust, she convinced herself halfheartedly.

The fifth one. She nodded. The next funny person after herself, she said confidently. There are no conversation between them that ends without big laughs and clutching of stomach for air. She always love the fifth one. How the other never refused her requests how crazy it might sound. The mischievous trait she owned shone brightly whenever the fifth one decided to join the plan. She regretted letting her go sometimes. She knows perfectly how the fifth one function. She follows people around her. Always indecisive and try to follow the flow. Maybe that is what drifted them apart. The fifth one tried another path while she stick to her established path.

The sixth one. Unpredictable yet dorky enough. The one who possessed multilingual skill yet never brag about it. She may seemed like a person who never cared enough but that was never the case. She cared but never show. May be hot-tempered at times but that is what defined her. Young, disciplined, strict. But when she burst into laugh, the youngest one can't help to laugh along.

The seventh one. The maknaes line she belonged to. She shuddered. Memories with the seventh one are ineradicable. It lingers at the back of the mind, reminding her every second how they used to be. To her, trying to understand the seventh one was hard. The tragic loss in her childhood made her build a wall around herself, she noticed. Maybe, maybe, she was not the one meant to break the wall. The peers around the seventh one will break the wall. Right?

The eighth one. She shrugged. Somehow, the eighth one has the same thing going on with the oldest one in her heart. She tried to hate them, yet, both of them reminded her why she loved them both in the first place. If only stares could kill, she would probably dead by now by the number of times the eight one gave a killing stare at her. The eight one is cranky, unpredictable, changed her mind in a flick of seconds yet owned many great ideas. The eight one had saved the youngest from black holes all the times she could remember.

And then you have the youngest. Herself. The maknae. The latecomer. The clingy one. The crybaby. The emotional one. The childish one. The brat. The weird one. The smiley one. Yet the fragile one. The one who constantly tried using her failed aegyo for attention. The one who used to love the other eight with all her pure, young heart could. The one who wept for days after the breakup. The one who can't wake up from her own misery created by herself. The one who trusted others too easily. Probably the only one who shed a tear every 5th May. The girl who pleaded her mom to print nine exact pictures, then, distributing it eagerly the next day, but, become bitter because others took so little notice in her effort. And probably the only one who cares.

Why are we doing this again, she asked herself. She sighed with her head hung low, tears now streaming down her cheek. This is too much for her. Broken hopes, childish expectations and poor judgement. Suddenly, she realised. A shattered dream, that is what this is it.

She tried to wipe the tears, then, gave up.

Mood : t i r e d -