Thursday, July 06, 2006

But when I woke the birds had flown and it was gone

It shouldn't still affect me the way it does. But we all know I hold on to the past for dear life, don't we. I didn't dream a beautiful song last night. I wish I did. Instead, I lay awake in the sterile cot set out for me in the midst of tired souls. With an IV in the back of my left hand, a pillow under my feet and the stark white ceiling returning my unwavering gaze.

In Royston Tan's words, 4:30 a.m. is the scariest, loneliest time. 2 a.m. is just about as bad. So is any other time, any other second spent valiantly trying to patch that gaping void.

Can't say I don't know what's going on in my life right now. I'm old enough to know I shouldn't be running anymore. What do you do when banging your head time and again against the same solid brick does nothing but make you bleed? What do you do when that strange innocent belief that the brick will some day give way, itself gives way instead?

I originally typed a whole paragraph of cliches. Cliches seem to be the only way to describe emotions indescribable.

He says his motivation in life and support pillar have both disappeared. My safety bubble, my north star, they're gone too. Perhaps the couples have eloped.

You took my love for granted. Why? The show is over; Say goodbye.

This time it wasn't indifference. Perhaps it was the same solid brick. One I could find no fault in, one I had no way to crack. One that refused to give way, to surrender and reciprocate.

I want to believe you, but it's difficult. So many things don't make sense. I wonder if it was a lie from the beginning; all those rough patches that went unexplained. I wonder if you ever knew. I wonder if you ever understood. I wonder, mostly, if it was ever intentional.

I'll pack you up in a pretty box, put you away in a corner, till time passes and dust collects and maturity lifts my rose-tinted glasses; till naivety gives way to disillusionment; till i can face this with my poker face and find my emotions separate from my memories.

Till a time I can say, perhaps to an unworthy audience, that I loved you but never will again.


AnRu reminisced at 10:31:00 PM.


what do you do, when the person who can stop your tears is the person who makes you cry?

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