Heartscream

This is hurting me all over again.



I was curled up with a book in my favourite seat after eons deprived of this luxury, I'd wrinkled my brow in sympathy for the protagonist, and laughed at a smart bit of comic by the author; when suddenly, still holding the book but detached from it, I started tearing.

And it wouldn't stop.

I haven't cried this way for months. I was going fine, I'd made my Decision, why'd you have to pop up again like a d*mn weed when all I want is to be able to look out my window and smell the roses?

The repeated irony never fails to turn up a corner of my mouth - makes me laugh, even. I'm sure now God has a sense of humour in His timing and I'm glad to know this side of Him but that last time, it wasn't funny. More like exasperating and impossible.






Today I drove on the road where you realised we'd forgotten the chicken sandwich. And I stood on the black black escalators in an outfit that wasn't purple.



I miss the way you blink and how it undermines the seriousness of the topic, and of your stoneface.
I miss the way you walk on your toes, always odd to me but at the same time so a part of you that it, too, I embrace.
And I miss the way you speak, with that little upward inflection at the introductory line when you're explaining something to me.
I miss being part of your life, 'cause - face it - you're still very much part of mine.


And that is why I got rid of seeing bits of the life of someone who doesn't want to know about my life,
why I walked mechanically and felt my own face turn to stone,
why I won't pick up when Nobody is calling.




I know now, firsthand, that the ones who experience the highest peaks, the most radiant joy, are the same ones who go through the emptiest tunnels, the deepest grief. And that's the reason why I would need someone of a more moderate temperament. Two of my kind would only destroy each other.

My mind, it connects everything to something else I know. It's wonderful, I appreciate this innate ability but when it comes to you, it only makes me want to disconnect heart and mind. It makes me feel like being born without this way of thinking seems more like a superpower than anything else. An orange will always be an orange to you. But to me, it is laughter, kindness and a mini caveman.

Just like how the mention of grilled chicken is enough to make me squint in amusement, 'cause in my mind's eye you're wearing an apron and it's the most unmanly thing you've ever worn.
Imagine this happening every day with every saucer of chilli I push aside, every time I put on my contact lens and remember a broken promise, every custard concoction I see when I enter a bakery, every ...everything.






It's true that if a guy wants to find you, he will.
But it's also true that if a girl doesn't want to be found, she won't be.



I cried and cried. When I returned my father's call, I wasn't even coherent. Took an hour to get ready for supper with him. We talked about cares greater than my own, impending losses more calamitous than mine, and for a picture I remember the garlic naan that looked more like a pizza. Also, I learnt to never have garlic naan the last thing before going to bed, 'cause it stays in your throat and greets you first thing in the morning.




Still it drizzled heavily.
I came home in a quieter state of mind and read what Jaf had to say. And started crying again, not so much out of sadness this time but because I was deeply moved,
for he'd said everything I needed to hear. =')

Then my fairy godbrother called and for the second time that night I sobbed into the phone with a shocked man on the other side.
And these loving people, they picked up my shards and set me on my feet again.




You're like a disease that won't be cured. Luckily my best friend is a doctor-to-be.
Actually, that's not relevant. =P
I'm just glad to know (or rather, have known) you both.





P.s.


The card whose delivery made me go,
"I never want to do something so stupid for a long, long time."
Teehee.

Rev

Feeling achey all over, blue, and slightly fatigued.

A party period?
So not sexy.



I've tried to find a way around it,
tested to see if it would ring any less true, but

I know I cannot be happy being a scorer of mediocre grades.

Yes, I've outgrown the rigid Asian mentality of straight-A's defining my worth,
have shed most of the inhibition which once cloaked me in what the public called aloofness,
have gained also a greater measure of belief in pursuing my ideals
- even if it means going it alone.


I know what I want now.

And I won't let this happen again.

A Quietude In Passing

Another one gone, this same year.


There will be
the walking through space
wrestling belief that something will happen with the next step you take
something that will bring him back, closer to you
or you to him
whichever
anything to lessen the pain

the smelling of linens as you fold them away
preserving the all you felt for him
and he for you
before separation snatched him from your safe harbour
the inward strain of ears
to remember his voice
anything that used to be.


Of fathers and husbands
Every reminder that tells them he is no longer here, every glance that shows them the void he would otherwise now occupy, I know it,

I know it because I've been through a shade of it - once like a clouded daybreak, once again like a rainstorm that surges back and forth.

But these are living people I speak of. Theirs are not.

So how much more would their heart ache, to the very heartseams which I yet know not of - and pray it remain so for long enough a time.

Love is a frightening glory, as great and comforting as it is devastating. It can give you the world the very same time it can take it all away, because the moment you gain something, it's yours to lose.

* Title verb refers to the act of passing away, as well as the walking action of mourners paying last respects. And for this author, a reflective passing of thoughts.

Around The Corner

Elsewhere, the night air would be sweet.

Here, it is too, but only because it is scentless. Void of power to move me through the sense most evocative of memories.

Tonight I escape the captivity of scents which accompany stale textbooks, new paper, perfumed cards, corroding metal; no smell of black ink, oversized jackets, rose shampoos and apricot scrubs.

Some part of me wonders at my approval of this emptiness; why does it not alarm? why not overwhelm like the sense of loss it could represent?,

I think as I breathe in the clean scent of a hope without you.

After all that's happened, I'm living with the people in my mind - once again faceless, nameless; figures waiting to be brought to life, just like what happened
that day around the corner.

Out There

Step in time, love, step in time,
live inside the morning

- Susan Stewart -




First time in ages I've missed a whole month of blogging. There's been no time, and life after CAL is about to begin - I'm counting down the days on my fingers (and toes).

Amidst the hard work and days moving both fast and slow,
my perspective and viewpoint have undergone shifts;
some come in surges, others in gentle undertones which strengthen as life's events dictate conviction.

I'm on a learning streak, finding it in me to embrace life for its subtle joys, tantalising possibilities, and less subtle - but no less precious - growing pains.
Again I say, to embrace life for these, and not despite these.


Here's to living bigger, undiminished.
To the people I love, we've got a masterpiece to make of our lives.