When the clock turns to the next day and shows 00:00, I try to think of a wish that has nothing to do with you. I can’t. Before I can stop myself, I close my eyes and wish to the sky, to God, to all the Gods, to the universe and beyond, to anyone who wants to hear me, I wish for you to be here next to me, stroking my hair before we go to sleep.
At one, I’m still rolling in bed, unable to drift to sleep as used to, like it has been for months now. My eyes are finally almost closing, but I catch the time right as it turns to 1:01am, I try to ignore, to shut my eyes close, but I can’t help but wish for something before I roll to the other side. I wish today I don’t dream of you.
I wake up at six, but I ignore the alarm clock as the last digit turns to one two three four five, and I stare at the ceiling, hoping to fall sleep again. I don’t. At 6:06am, I get out of bed, closing my eyes when I wish to not think about you today. I wish for the world not to feel like a constant reminder of what we were and what I lost. I wish not to remember you every time I see equal hours.
At 8:08am, I’m arriving at work, and I wish that you were there at the elevator, sipping hot coffee, headed to a random doctor’s appointment, just like you were so many mornings ago, a memory so clear it seems like yesterday, the first time I saw you. I wish you were there, staring at me with your beautiful dark eyes, forgetting to go down on the floor you were supposed to, making me forget about whatever world there is outside the elevator, outside of your eyes. I wish with all my heart, but you’re not there, and I press the button and go up all the twelve floors alone.
I miss 9:09am for two minutes, 10:10am for five and I don’t even think of 11:11am until it’s almost noon. I hate it all, because I could really use some wishes, but I don’t need the sharp self-guilt of wishing for you. I hate missing 11:11 the most, though. It’s my favorite wish, because I remember once upon a time, the day I met you, I closed my eyes at 11:11 and wished for there to be an us. I never believed in wishes before that, but I kept thinking of your eyes. Whatever sort of magic that could make me see in them my own was all I needed, and I wished for you.
At 12:12pm, I wish for those flowers you sent me sometimes during your lunchtime. It was out of nowhere, no reason at all. It was always a different kind, one that became my favorite instantly- until the next one arrived. I wish for the pretty colors and light smells, I wish for the curious looks that made me feel the luckiest person alive. I wish for the feeling I got when I looked at them during the day; the feeling that you loved me so much, I could never imagine that fading away. I guess they were just flowers after all.
At 1:01pm, as I’m having lunch, I wish for those meals you used to cook for me. You were a terrible cook, but when it was Valentine’s day, my birthday or the anniversary of our first kiss, first date, first i love you, you would try and try until one of my favorite meals was on the table. They tasted edible at most, but you looked so hopeful, and lately that’s all I have wanted to eat.
I miss all equal hours until I’m leaving at almost six, because my phone died and I was working, trying again to forget to remember. When I’m getting in the subway, I catch 6:06pm and I close my eyes, wishing those moments that keep coming back to me in flashes to go away. You and me, holding hands. Running to get to the train. Kissing goodbye. Standing close to each other because there was nowhere to sit. Listening to the singers, dropping a few coins in the hat as I thought about how perfect for us that song was. Back then, every love song felt like a perfect fit.
I miss 7:07pm and 8:08pm, showering and eating dinner and trying not to listen to the silence of my own home. At 9:09pm, I wish for the music that used to play here. You telling me stories about your day. That movie you loved so much and left playing on the television whenever you were cleaning the house. The two of us laughing loud at a terrible joke, like we used to do so often and then everyday a little less. I wish for the soundtrack of our lives back, but all I can hear is silence.
At 10:10pm, I wish for your kiss. You are such a good kisser. I thought that the first time we kissed, waiting for your car outside that restaurant. You said you wished you could do this somewhere more romantic, but you kissed me anyway. And when the car arrived and I pulled away, I could only think that you were the best kiss of my life, and that I never wanted to stop kissing you. And now I have, and I am heartbroken, and I keep trying to remember our last kiss. Maybe before I left for work, or when I got home at night, or when we went to sleep. I can’t remember our last kiss. I wish to kiss you, and I wish to remember.
At 11:11pm, I wish that I had never made that wish in the first place. I wish you hadn’t made me so in love, so desperate that I became someone who wishes at every equal hours, someone who hopes for God and Gods and the universe and meant to be. I wish I didn’t love you so much you become my equal hours wish, my fallen eyelash wish, my bigger half wish, the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last I think of when I go to sleep.
When the clock turns to the next day and shows 00:00, I wish that tomorrow, against all odds, I can think of a wish that has nothing to do with loving you.