"In this whole world, I just hate myself."
My thoughts kept wandering like that as the car continued moving. That day was Mother's Day. Everyone in my family decided to go to a restaurant to celebrate. I was too down that day for a celebration. Even though I was not interested, I just accepted it for my parents' happiness.
It was Mother's Day, a day about love and appreciation, yet I felt strangely distant from both.
To add on, I already knew my parents don't give respect to my words at all, so there was no point arguing. Even if I argued, we would still end up going. So instead of ruining my mood more, I just agreed silently.
All these thoughts were playing around in my mind as I tilted my head against the car window, watching the raindrops fall down. The car stopped at the parking lot. As I got down from the car after my brothers, I was amazed after seeing the restaurant.
The restaurant was something very different from other restaurants. The restaurant's name was Rainforest Café. As we stepped inside, it felt like stepping into a living rainforest. It was wrapped in deep greens and browns. Towering trees curled overhead, vines hung low, and waterfalls murmured in the background. Every so often, the lights dimmed, thunder rumbled, lightning flashed, and the jungle came alive with distant animal calls.
Even while sitting at the table, it didn't feel like a restaurant anymore. It felt immersive, playful, a little dramatic—like nature putting on a show just for me. It wasn't quiet or elegant; it was lively, adventurous, and slightly magical, especially as a first-time experience.
As we sat waiting for the waiter, nobody came to give the menu. The restaurant was too crowded that day because of the special occasion. After a long wait, my father went to ask at the counter. I felt more disappointed and even more down waiting for such a long time.
Then my father came back to the table and said the waiter would be here soon. I let out a small sigh and tilted my head on my hand. Then I turned my head toward the Ferris wheel placed in the big fish pond decorated with colourful lights.
As I turned, I saw a boy running across the crossing bridge. He was not too tall but not too short either. He was in perfect height. His dark black hair moved in rhythm with his movements. He was wearing a brown apron over a black shirt.
As he got closer, he turned out to be the waiter for our table.
I felt something different after seeing him. His eyes were shining like moonlight in the darkness of night. His face had a lot of pimples, especially on his cheeks, yet even those pimples looked handsome to me. He was wearing his watch on his right hand—just like me. I love wearing my watch on my right hand. It looks so cool.
He placed the menu on our table. As my parents and brothers went through it, my eyes stayed on him. He was talking friendly with the kids playing in the park beside our table. He was so damn cute that all my sadness melted like ice cream.
For the first time that day, my chest didn't feel so heavy.
I knew I was staring at him too openly, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. After a while, my father ordered the food, and he ran to other tables to take orders. Even his running was magnetic. I tried not to focus on him, and I successfully failed.
I couldn't identify what emotion it was because it was something I had never experienced before. The main thing was that I had no friends who were boys because I was kind of allergic to them.
After a long wait, our order arrived—and what I didn't expect was that he was the one serving it. I thought he was only in charge of taking orders. Before I could finish the thought, something unexpected happened. As he bent down to serve the food, he was too close to me. I could clearly see his reddish cheeks. My heartbeat was racing so fast that I couldn't control myself.
I couldn't stop wanting to glance at him, but my father was sitting in front of me, so I didn't dare. He walked away after serving the food. I ate quietly and never looked in his direction, but my mind was screaming to take a picture of him.
After we finished eating, we went to pay the bill. Of course, he was there too—but he was talking very closely with a girl. I felt something heavy in my heart, a quiet disappointment, but I never showed it.
As we left, I kept turning around, looking back at the restaurant, hoping to see him one last time. But he never crossed my path again. With a heavy heart, I got into the car.
The rest of my day was filled with overthinking.
Is this love?
Or attraction?
Or a crush?
Or just an illusion?
Who was that girl?
Is she his lover? His sister? His friend?
Why am I even thinking about him?
Isn't he way older than me?
Maybe he's just working part-time.
Maybe he's a university student.
Oh my God…
As my thoughts filled my mind, I took my diary and started to draw. Without realizing it, I ended up drawing him. When I noticed, I smiled like a fool at 2 a.m., everyone asleep while I sat there smiling like I'd gone crazy.
Then I wrote:
"This is something new. I've never felt like this before. He made my day a little brighter—something even my parents couldn't do…"
I closed my diary and went to sleep with a smile.