But a story of how people come and go but nothing is arbitrary.
How some people, like just a stroke of brush on a canvas, could leave a permanent paint.
This is also a story of how first impressions, most of the time, never last.
This is my Cinderella Story.
I First met Ian during my Second year in college. But he looks so familiar like I already saw him for my Third lifetime.
Ian for the record was a heartthrob in our class, every girl would swoon when he smiles... But not me!
In a way, I hated him.
For me, Ian was an arrogant typical guy who only cares about his looks and how to get every girl in the class like him.
It was on our Fourth semester, one sunny Sunday, I was wearing an old shirt from my Fifth grade, on the Sixth month of the year, around Seventh in the morning.
I went to the nearby bookstore to buy something, I can't remember now, when I suddenly broke my flip-flop sandals.
It was still so early in the morning that all the stores were still closed and thus, I can't just buy a new pair.
So I tried my best to walk home limping.
Then there was Ian, walking along the streets of Morayta, with a smile from ear to ear and approached me and asked what's wrong.
So I told him that I broke my sandals while walking home.
At that moment I thought he would just laugh at me like he was the cool guy in highschool football team and I was the loser sitting on the benches.
BUT no! His expression suddenly become concerned and helped me walk to one of the nearest bench outside our university campus. He told me to wait for him there as he get my broken sandal and suddenly he was out of my sight.
For about fifteen minutes, I waited for him to come back.
Suddenly, there he was, walking in the streets of Morayta, with a smile from ear to ear holding my sandal.
He gave it to me and I saw that the strap was stapled.
He told me that he went looking for street vendors if they have a stapler so he could fix it.
I thanked him and we went on our separate ways.
After that incident, I no longer hate Ian.
We became casual friends but not really that close.
But I no longer hate him, and I no longer think of him as the arrogant superficial guy.
I finally saw the gentleman in him.
In a way, that was just a brief encounter but I wouldn't be able to reach home safe and sound without him...
Or maybe I would be safe...
But definitely not sound.
And for some reasons, that encounter changed my way on how I look at other people.
I became less judgemental.
I became more eager to know them first before I decide if they are good for me or not.
I learned how to give the benefit of the doubt.
And for so many years...
If that did not happen...
I wouldn't be here writing about brief encounters that made an impact in our lives.
Most of the time we are not aware of how those brief encounters could actually affect someone's life, someone's beliefs, someone's way of thinking.
The people we've touched and how we touched them leaves a permanent mark.
Even with just the slightest stroke of a brush, it could leave a permanent color on their own canvas.
And if we were to leave a mark...
Make sure it would be one beautiful.
If it hurts, make sure it becomes a tattoo and not a scar.
I don't know if Ian could still remember that incident along the streets of Morayta.
But it doesn't matter.
This is not his story anyway.
This is my Cinderella Story.
Footnotes:
Based on actual events.
Based on my real story.
