Bee Gees, amirite?

I realize I've spent a lot of time missing people.
I don't do anything about it.
Not because I don't want to,
A lot of times I would have almost made up my mind
and then, I remember that I couldn't afford to.
It was a bitter moment
because I was limited and there was nothing I could do.
So I settled,
Settled with just missing them.
Maybe that's why I remember the small moments, the small things.
My brain was getting all these information ready
for a rainy day, which was almost everyday.

The things I remember are odd:
the twinkle in my best friend's eye
the way lips felt
the deep sighs that my little brother could make
the way my family harmonizes at the dinner table
cold beer on lonely nights
cigarettes in a loud club
warm hands in mine when my insides felt like pitch black
sharp pain on the insides of wrists

I think I've spent a lot of time missing sensations
In these sensations, there were heights of emotions.
In these emotions, there was a fight to staying alive.
I think I miss being alive.

Things that I know to be true:

1. I cannot play games from the first person's point of view for long periods of time because it gives me vertigo and makes me puke.
2. I write better when I am in pain.
3. I don't like being in pain.
4. I am good at putting abstract ideas and thoughts into visual metaphors.
5. I am a better version of myself when I am with someone.
6. My level of compassion is entirely proportional to my level of feeling loved.
7. It's been 10 years.
8. I am good with words when my emotions are not in the way.
9. The idea that my future has no boundaries and I can literally be anywhere now is terrifyingly overwhelming.
10. I am utterly obsessed with the possibility that I will end up in North America.
11. I have a love for cooking. It is one of the three things that gives me peace.
12. Do not run back to the ones who broke you. Don't even check up on them. Stop.
13. I embrace change now. I am that person that supports it and will go for it while whining how inconvenient it is.
14. I might be overcompensating for the belief that I will die alone with my career ambitions. If I'm gonna die alone, might as well be something for myself first.
15. I am terrified that I will really be alone for the rest of my life.
16. When the future terrifies me, the only solution that my brain can conjure up is to kill myself because by doing that, I avoided facing the future.

How to be brave.

Whenever my mum kisses me goodbye before going off in the morning, I want to tell her to take her with me. I will leave behind my life here in city and go home.

I will go back to hot dinner with my family every day. Back to my childhood best friend calling me to hang out at a place that I have went to for the last 24 years of my life. I will go back to a place where I know that the traffic light at the crossroad will take about 30 seconds before it's my turn to turn left or right. I will go back to the sea side that I grew up watching plane landings and horse races at, back to excruciatingly slow drivers on the right lane and all the lanes and food that is the epitome of home.

But I don't.

Instead, I tell her goodbye, closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

Sensations that I miss.

1. Holding a pencil and feeling it glide across good 70gsm paper.
2. Fingers interlacing together.
3. The warmth that you feel when something good happens.
4. Hands that don't belong to you running through your hair
5. The warmth you get after swallowing warm tea in a cold place
6. Hands moving in water
7. My body just floating in water and feeling like I'm floating in nothing.
8. Cold air gently blowing in my face
9. Warm hands on the side of my face, stroking my cheek
10. The relief that you should feel when you sigh
11. Peace

On nights alone

It's been days since I was able to feel my world return to normal speed. My mind has been hazy from lack of sleep. My body finally aches for the comfort of my bed. Finally, sleep is for the weary. I am the weary. I am the weary of many days, many sleepless night. I get to sleep.

However, with the lack of sleep, comes the weakening of mental walls. My chest begins to ache for the warmth of being loved. I used to curl up with her. I would feel her head tucked safely on the nook of my chest as her arm wrapped around my waist. She always felt so small, even more so when we are like this: My hand tangled in the hair on back of her head. Lips on top of her forehead and my nose resting just on her frontal, inhaling her scent in her hair. My favorite was her hand gently stroking the small of my back and just us breathing, existing at the same time in that very moment.

Now, all I feel is the ghost of being loved. A ghost that continues to haunt me on nights when I can't defend myself. Sometimes, I felt her arms wrap around me as I slept. It was such a good dream. There was peace, peace that I have long forgotten and have not found since she left. I still remember the way her fingers interlaced with mine and the kisses she planted on my back. You don't just forget about the way you were loved, especially when it was physically here and alive and incredibly overwhelming. You don't just forget, you can't.

Now I ache to have warm arms around me, light kisses planted on my forehead and have my body relax into someone else's. I want my fingers interlocking with someone else's. I want their scent on my pillow, my shirts, me. I want to wake up in their arms, to them planting kisses on my collarbone, them tracing the bridge of my nose gently with the tip of their finger. I want to be able to sigh in relief, in peace, in joy, not in pain.

I just don't want to be alone right now but I don't really have a choice in that.

From Friend Requests and Obligations

It started off with a friend request, or rather an obligation to someone who was important to us. Neither one of us wanted or needed this friendship. Again, obligation fueled the conversations and replies. I remember my introduction went along the lines of mentioning my dislike for peas. She replied very quickly and I wasn't expecting that. Small talk became even smaller and naturally the conversation ended.

The next time I started talking to her, it felt like a well oiled engine being put to work again. Replies were falling in place and I believe this is when the friendship really began. We met for the first time when I went to visit her. She was smaller than I imagined, kinder with a much bigger heart than what she gives herself credit for. I remember the experience to be surreal and I had a small moment of depersonalization because she didn't feel real - none of it felt real.

I couldn't write about her more than I would like to. I am a visual person. I notice the creases on people's face when they laugh, the vein bulging out when they are stressed, the way their eyes light up when they are surprised or happy. I don't remember the details of how her expression looks like. However, I'd recognize her voice anywhere.

I didn't think it was possible to care someone you have not met. I didn't believe simply trusting someone was good enough to build a proper friendship even when you have not met them. I was wrong. I learn to build a safe house, a bomb shelter with the thousands and thousands of messages and voice clips we have exchanged. I memorized her laughter, her groans and sometimes, her nothings. I have seen her hesitation, confusion, worry and joy hidden behind in ellipses, commas and exclamation marks. I have interpreted internal conflicts and contradicting paradoxes in different wavelengths. Sometimes I see her pain and her desperation to make sense of the circumstances of her life in between sentences of rage and anguish.

In a sea of inside jokes and harmless flirting, there is a mutual understanding and respect. It is the tone of the entire relationship. There is also a love that I did not expect to develop. It is behind every cracked hello when the other is crying, every "why are you so far away" and every "you bitch". I didn't expect the joy that came with talking to her even though most of the conversations start with her being sleepy. 

It is hard to find friends who consistently care about you during all of the times. She is Patience herself when it came to dealing my inability to think rationally when it came to Cassandra, even when it was (unconsciously on my side) at her expense. She is Peace when I was crippled in bed, sobbing and in pain. She is Hope when taking my own life seemed like the better option. I have done nothing to deserve of all these. There's a quote by Graham Greene that says,

"It's a strange thing to discover and to believe that you are loved when you know that there is nothing in you for anybody but a parent or a God to love."

I have so much love for this human being. It is puzzling to feel something as overwhelming as this, especially when it's not romantic but I do. There is a joy that I can't explain when I think of her company. I am entirely grateful for her and I can't wait to see her again in a month.

Good night kisses.

I have always kissed my pillow good night every night before I went to sleep. I imagined I was kissing you good night.You'd stir slightly before wrapping your arm around my waist and making yourself comfortable on my arm. I'd use my fingertips to trace the bridge of your nose, cheekbones, jawline, your eyelashes, your eyebrows- God, your eyebrows were my favorite. I'd lean in to kiss you lightly on the nose, then carefully on the forehead. Kisses like these became a prayer, a promise that I'll love you forever. I would hold you close, place kisses after kisses just to make sure that I get to wake up next to you the next morning.

It turns out kisses weren't promises. Ever since you left, I have never stop telling you good night. Every time after I said good night, I would bundle myself up in blankets. I feel cold when I miss you. It's like my body feels the absence of you. I miss interlacing our fingers together. I miss you sleeping on the nook of my armpit. I miss being woken up by you trying to curl up closer to me. The pain became bearable, humming in the background but I have never stopped missing you every night.

Anywhere but here.

Sometimes I have a feeling that I am not where I am supposed to be.
I feel like I should be miles and miles away from where I am right now.
I should be in a tent in the forest, camping with the love of my life
I should be half way across the world, studying or
walking to work, thinking about what to have for dinner.

It's not like I don't plan my life.
I think that was the mistake, planning my life.
When things don't follow "the plan",
everything else falls apart and I am now sitting here,
trying to use the pieces to make a new plan.
I feel like a spider that is only trying to make its web.
I spent time making the strands even,
making sure it's long enough to stretch from this beam to the next.
One more strand, one more and I'm done.
Then, rain poured.
Itsy bitsy spider went out the water spout,
down came the rain and washed the spider out.
That bitsy is me.

I wonder if it is human instinct to keep wanting a better place for yourself.
I keep thinking that I am better than what I am giving myself credit for.
Maybe, maybe I believe if things were different,
I wouldn't be in this much pain.
If I could be anywhere but here,
the timelines could be different then.
If the timelines were different,
I could be walking home,
thinking what I'm going to have for dinner with the love of my life.

10 things I found to be true after 23 years of living.

1. God is good.

2. Too much cheese will give you gas.

3, When you are in that "headspace", every hello will sound like a different version of "I'm sorry" and goodbye's, they'll sound like "Take care, I love you so much".

4. Sometimes "I love you" isn't enough. "I love you" does not make acceptance rain down from heaven. I learn that "I love you" na matter how many times it is said, it does not make people stay.

5. Heartbreaks are shit. Even after a million times. They will still feel like drowning, in a storm with crashing waves that keep you underwater. They will leave you cold, crying and broken. I learn that it hurts even more when you begged them to stay.

6.   There is always something calming about sipping drinks with straws. I like holding my drink with both hands. It makes me feel content.

7. You are loved even if you don't believe it. People will give you their jackets. They will call. They let you stay with them because you couldn't do anything else but stay in bed. They will knock on your door and let themselves in because they know you won't get the door. You are loved. You just need to choose to see that they are there because people cannot save you if you keep jumping into the hole that you got pull out of.

8. Pain is gift to writers. With pain, comes the romanticization of heartbreak and letting go. Pain will be given a face, a personality. Sometimes pain will feel sorry that he or she is visiting. In some stories, pain is a long lost friend, accompanied by anxiety and depression. Writers often paint pain in black and white and call it "colorful". I picture pain as red. I guess it's supposed to mean "Stop", "Danger", "Run" but guess who ran head first and got the wind knocked out of her? Me

9. It does make a difference when someone loves you. Someone wise once said, "Being loved is not the same thing as loving." When you are loved, you become a manifestation of calm waters and late nights. Being loved releases you from the cage that you build around yourself. Being loved reminds you that love is a real thing even if you cannot see it.

10. When I was 21, I wrote about not understanding the concept of happiness and love. I also wrote that I don't like birthdays. I am 23 this year. I have had a brief meeting with happiness and love. I like birthdays now. Two years, so much has changed and happened. Despite all the changes, God is still good.

20 seconds of insane courage.

They say sometimes it takes only twenty seconds of insane courage to do something outrageous. It takes 10 seconds for you to change your life. You could turn your life around or make a step so big that it's a leap. You could save someone's life or take your own. In April, I gave you my heart. It took me one second to make that leap. It took me one second of insane courage and loss of all common sense to kiss you.

Questions that I want to ask you but never will.

There are so many questions that I want to ask when you told me you were meeting him.

Do you think of me when you hold his hand?
Is mine smaller than his?
Does he know or remember how your skin is smooth like marble,
as if the marble itself were hand picked by Gods himself.
Does his hand feel any different than mine?
Does his feel rough like all the work that he says he is supposedly doing
or is mine rougher from all walls that I had to climb through to get to you.
Does it feel like you're holding onto him or
does it feel like he doesn't want to let you go?
Does he look at your hands when you're holding his?
Does he hold onto your hands so tightly
that he feels like you might slip away and never come back?
Does he feel as lucky as I do when I am with you?

Then, I realize that you always hug him.
Does he smell of cologne?
Do you feel like your problems are fading away when you bury yourself in his arms?
Do you remember me?
Do you ever compare the way we held you?
Was I ever too tight? Or too eager? Were my shoulders broad enough for you?
Am I at the back of your head as he wraps his arms around you?
Does he ever realize when you are slipping away?
I remember, the way you turn your head sidewards
while you put your hands against my chest to pull away.
I remember how your eyes were dead.
I remember how you talked to everything around you but me,
and I had to play it off like I didn't mind.
Does he try to make any hug last longer? Does he try like I do?
Does he feel as happy when he is with you as I do?

And you cautiously told me that you kiss him.
Do you look at him the way you look at me?
Does he notice how your eyes can sparkle in low light?
Does he notice how you laugh when he pulls you in for another kiss?
Do you remember me when his lips grazed across yours?
Kissing you felt like kissing flower petals.
I wonder if you ever felt the exact way for him before you did for me.
Do you look at him the way you still looked at me?
Does it feel wrong to kiss two people the way that you do?

And when you told me, you still tell him that you love him..
Shit, that sucked.
It really did.
I felt that my chest was ripped open, my heart taken out,
only to have it shoved back in through my ribcage.
Do you tell him those three words before you go to sleep?
Does he say it back?
Do you mean it when you say it to him?
Do you think of me every time you say it to him?
You have deemed him worthy of those words.
Was I not enough to be more than a secret?
Do you think about the last time that you will say it to him?
What about me?
Have you ever meant it when you told me you love me?

Autumns and him.

I have never met you.
When I think of you,
I think of autumn,
breezy afternoons and chilly winds.

I was told that autumn can be quite cold
and somehow,
I can imagine us taking a walk in the park.
Hand in hand,
fingers interlocked.
I don't know how cold I'd be but
in this imagination of mine,
your hands were warm.

In my mind,
we were wearing scarfs of the same color.
In my mind,
 we are walking hand in hand in the same park.

Enormous Idiot.

I am an enormous idiot. I knew I would love your hands as they trace my jawline, my lips and then, then the scars that cover so many areas of my body. I knew I would love your lips as they kissed bruised knuckles and tear stained faces with no judgement. I knew I would love those eyes as they look at me with such conviction to prove that I am worthy enough to be happy in this life. I knew I would fall in love with you.

So, if falling in love with you makes me an idiot, then I am an enormous idiot.

Eyelashes.

I have a problem these days. I realize I have a hard time writing. I used to be able to write about the difference between black and white, justifications on why I should eat more french fries. Now, when I write, I write about you.

My pen glides across the paper, trying commemorate everything that I could about you. For example, my favorite feature of yours is your eyebrows. I find them adorable. Whenever you look down, I like taking a peep at you because your eyelashes will be so obvious then. Unlike most, you don't need mascara to make them "stand". They do that on their own. I will be smiling to myself when you don't notice and you'll give me a "what" look.

Stars, parks and possibilities.

I want to watch the stars with you. I want to lie on top of a cheap blanket, in a park with you. We can complain about the amount of bugs that will be feasting on our very limited but tasty blood. We can also get annoyed at the possibly wet and prickly grass underneath the cheap blanket. Then, I know we'd probably agree unanimously that we'll never do that again.

However, in spite of how much we suffered, I think we'll keep going back to that spot to look at stars. We'll be smart. This time, the blankets will be around us. We'll probably be on a bench, with a blanket to keep us warm and protected, under a blanket of stars, The funny thing is that I'll probably be the one to plan this and it'll either be adorably romantic or horribly miscalculated.

Either way, I'll still want to watch the stars with you. If you'd let me, we could forget the stars for while.

I love you.

Those three words are said too much,
they're not enough.
They became merely words,
with no promises, no hope, empty.

Then,
there was you.
I'd regret it if I didn't tell you that enough.

Birthdays.

There's a reason why I love birthdays. It is another beginning, another point of life where you are reminded that you have another chance. I will celebrate your birthdays, I will be happy for you that you have another chance at everything in life. I will be happy that you are still alive, even if there are days where you wish you weren't.

For someone who suffers from depression, I am sure optimistic about having hope especially when it is about someone else.

Eavesdropping Series: Love Edition

Since I always eat on my own, I get to be more aware of my environment and the people in it. I realize that people tend to have very interesting things to talk about and I will hear because I am sitting next to them. They are not shy about it so I sometimes just listen to their conversations. Sometimes, I get to have a few chuckles about it. I thought that it'd be nice to share it with my friends on snapchat.

So, I started my own series which includes my selfies captioned with information from the conversations I overhear. I never take pictures of the people that I eavesdrop on. No names are included either.

So here's the set that just happened 15 minutes ago.

Love in Slow Motion.

I like watching people who are in love. I like how they light up at the name of the other. I like how they unconsciously break into a smile when they talk about this significant person. I like the way they blush and get gibberish. It is as if they're trying to squeeze all the sunshine, rainbows and good intentions of this person into one sentence. Obviously, you cannot contain a person's being into a sentence. So, they morph paragraphs and paragraphs of adoration into a never ending sentence, stitched together with commas and hyphens.

I have a friend who recently fell in love. I spend a lot of time listening to her talk about the details of her relationship. I didn't mind. I understand that she couldn't help it so I never stopped her from talking about it. Slowly, I found out that I learnt a lot about this guy that I only spoke to for about four times. I learnt that he likes to write letters. I learnt that he is very patient. I learnt that he likes burgers. I learnt that he was in love with her.

Maybe it's the way that his name rolls off her tongue like sweet honey. Maybe it's the way he purses his lips together and smiles after he says her name. Maybe it's the way both their gazes are so gentle but sure that it makes you want to look away. I asked her if she loves him. She hesitantly said yes, as if admitting would put her at a losing side. She always had doubt perched on her shoulders, feeding her the tale that she wasn't good enough. Sometimes I do wonder why people run from the things that they want. I also realize that they run faster when it is within reach or when they are already holding it.

She doesn't see the way that he looks at her, especially when she is embarrassed. I think that was the look of amusement and fondness. She is going to kill me for using the word "fond". She doesn't know about the way that he talks about her when she's not around. She doesn't know about the way that he waits for her. I saw him sitting on the sideway from the side of the road. His silhouette showed his hunched body and both his hands are clasped together with his elbows resting on his knees. He would turn to look if someone came down the stairs. He was a manifestation of calm waters and swooshing sea waves on a Saturday night. He simply sat there and waited, without any sign of impatience and anxiousness.

I believe that it is very beautiful to fall in love slowly. It is like reading a book. You get to slowly uncover secrets and stories that only that book can tell. The best part about reading a book that you already like is that you accept everything that the book throws at you. Just like everything else, you will always get one part that you don't particularly like. The most amazing thing about loving someone is that you don't try to fix them. You either readjust yourself to them or you both compromise.

I am not the best person to discuss what love is or what it is supposed to be. I have a very pessimistic view on things as vague and abstract as this. Maybe because of this, I am not often very happy. However, despite the fact that I refuse to open myself up to emotions, I am particularly drawn to genuine interactions and "in the moment" reactions. I remember how she hunches her shoulder and hides behind her left hand when she first talked about him. I remember how he panicked when "I" asked him why he didn't celebrate her birthday with her.

I am not a happy person because of the things that I refuse to believe in but I believe that it is possible to love and be loved, because I have seen it.

Reasons to get out of bed.

I haven't written in a while, which explains why I feel like I am going crazy. Since my days recently, have been bad or worse, I feel like I need to remind myself why I get out of bed. Hence, this list happened.

1. There's lunch somewhere out there.
2. You paid 9K this semester so you need to go to class.
3. You get to go to Muay Thai if it's the weekend and you enjoy it.
4. They make you happy, even if it's a little while.
5. It hurts less when you go out.
6. There is a possibility of fried chicken and cheesecake.
7. That person.
8. You get to laugh at other people.
9. Because you have to.
10. You can always come back to your bed when it's really that bad out there.