Hook, Line & Sinker.

"电话响起了, 你要说话了. 还以为你心里 对我又想念了..."

A tune has significant bearing as it evokes images that have otherwise been tucked away into the recesses of one's mind.

As such, by the time this song had tapered off, my vision was clouded with tears.

"电话响起了
你要说话了
还以为你心里
对我又想念了...

灯光熄灭了
音乐静止了
滴下的眼泪已停不住了

天下起雨了
人是不快乐

我的心真的受伤了"

I shouldn't love You.
I mustn't.
But I do.
I still do.
And I know that You do too.

Each day is a struggle as I try to repress my emotions and picture a sledgehammer pounding incessantly at the heart to quell its fervent yearning for The Boy whom I cannot have.

Being Chided.

"If you don't want what you have right now, give it to somebody else."
~ Friend B

Ready, Steady...Go?

Would it be better to be direct with each other instead of relying on what is the purported Ping-Pong on Facebook?

I guess so but fear breeds avoidance. At least on my part.

I don't understand.

This falls squarely on our shoulders.

Maybe I'll weep and you'll be grim.

Maybe the night of Devonshire would transpire once again, when we knew its finality and talked for a long time as each did not want to say goodbye

Maybe it'll hurt us.

But greater is the agony of not knowing how nor why nor if nor when.

That is what festers within.

Let's come clean

And if need be, we'll bury the past together; it'll be closure for us.

If not, let's hop on the ride together.

Let's find a direction for each other.

Let's not pretend that avoidance is for the good of the other party.

Had it worked, 9 years would not have gone by with bouts of disappearing and reappearing acts on both sides.

You promised that You wouldn't disappear in December 2012.

I believed You.

I still do.

I trust that You must have had your reasons, for You have always been protective of me and I've felt safe with You.

Dear You, I'm ready whenever You are.

Bedtime Stories.

She stares into the distance.

And there lies the oblique horizon.

It is there, yet it is not.

For as far as her eyes can see, it tapers sharply into oblivion.

Gingerly, she makes her way towards what she believes is tangible.

But it is for nought -

An infinite loop spawns nothing but a mangled mess.

The Gordian knot is weathered and frayed.

Yet she, with all her naivete, looks toward the goal,

And presses on.

Wait and Wade.

I could type a long narrative here, but I shan't.

Dear You,

Do you fight the pain each day?

Do you ruminate on the What Ifs and If Onlys?

I miss You.

And somewhere, somehow,

I know that You miss me too,

For the culmination of gestures and words have long cemented that.

However, recent weeks have yielded nought.

As each day passes, our salient silence is broken only by what we post on Facebook.

But for some reason, You just wouldn't say.

I've been walking in circles, trying to pull away but each time I do, things would go askew and I'd come running right back to You.

The reverse is true as You'd get me lil gifts or find a reason to surprise me though I'd tried to run away from You time and time again.

It is why we've been on this carousel for almost a decade.

Dear You,

If You are doing this for my own good or because of _________,

Know that it isn't so.

Know that by protecting me in this manner, it actually gnaws away at my frail frame.

Don't protect me by building a wall.

We cannot go on like this.

Each night, we wallow in our pain and Facebook is our only outlet of covert communication via cryptic posts. It is our haven of escapism.

= Aug 2013 (Whatsapp) =
Me : Swim back to me and take me to where You are!
You : Swim, Swim, Swim....

Dear You,

I cannot swim,

But I can learn to Wade.

Of Food, Time and Aunt.

Time -

The Pavlovian conditioning has somewhat culminated in a propensity towards anticipating crumbles.

Let's put You out of the way for today.

Aunt's been fighting for her life for the last 3 weeks.

Critically ill, she had been in mICU where countless tubes adorned her flesh involuntarily. Breathing was a gift, for with each audible gasp of air that the machines had granted, it meant that life continued to course through her veins. Her mouth had been forcibly widened to allow copius amounts of oxygen in.

Last Sunday, she was asleep when I arrived. A gentle shake woke her up. As our eyes met, she broke into loud wails and would not stop bawling. When our helper (God's gift to our family, for she has taken care of each one like her own) asked why Aunt had burst into tears, she sputtered through gasps,
"Michelle....Michelle...Cook whatever Michelle wants to eat."

That is Aunt. I'm very blessed when it comes to my maternal family. While Uncle had been my sole influence in academics and had showered me with every educational tool or book that I had ever wanted, Aunt was the tour de force when it came to the palate. She ruled the kitchen and every meal was a banquet of sorts.

To give you a clearer picture, a typical meal I had as a 7-year-old included
• Two plates of rice
• 1-2 whole fish (catfish, pomfret, garoupa or otherwise)
• A bowl of 6-7 chilli prawns
• A bowl of sambal kangkong or cabbage
• A large bowl of pork rib soup
• 1-2 fried eggs

Yup, that was my daily ingestion. It sure explains my insatiable appetite in adulthood!

Food, in our Peranakan culture, is crucial. It is the epitome of love and family bonding. Hence, Aunt would ply me with every possible yummy dish that she could whip up. All I had to do was ask.

From the day I could speak as a toddler, I had been given a choice as to what I'd like to have for every meal. This holds true till today, at this given moment. There was an unspoken rule which Uncle & Aunt had enforced - that everyone had/has to eat whatever I wanted.

When Aunt was struck with gout, she continued to labour in the kitchen with Mum to feed the family.

When she needed a walking stick because a leg had been distorted as a result of said gout, pots and pans continued to clang in the kitchen.

Consequently, both legs gave way and she was confined to a wheelchair. Mum assumed the role of being the family chef but Aunt remained at helm and acted as the commander over recipes. It was hilarious as both would bicker about inane ingredients and such but this would dissipate once the edibles met our palates. Grunts of approval amongst family banter meant that the meal was up to standard.

That is why Food is incredibly important to me, for it is a reminder of the immense amount of love I had been gifted with since birth.

Today, Aunt quivered violently but tests showed that nothing was out of the ordinary. She remarked weakly that she wanted to 'go home' (read: Heaven) and meet my deceased Uncle. Then, she muttered my name over and over again throughout the day.

Dear God, she has suffered much over the last 15 years. Yet, time and time again, she has always miraculously pulled through and acted as if nothing had ever happened. It was bizarre as we were baffled but it was certainly a happy miracle.

Dear God, please sustain Aunt. We would love the bizarre miracle once more.

In Jesus' Name I pray,
Amen.

Wanderful.

I circle my jar of spiders. Out of sheer exhaustion, I take off the lid and slide in. I tell them to go ahead, eat me alive.

Still, I’m haunted by implications. Something whispers that I’m only living half a life. And the half I’m living is coming way too fast. I’m on the down escalator trying to run up, but no matter how fast I run, I stay in the same spot — always a little agitated, a little lost, a little hungry.

Me, I’m the emptiness inside the jar, though the jar itself has vanished. I’m spacious and peaceful and vast. I like this place. As always, I resolve to remember what a relief this is.

As usual, I forget and get trapped outside again. Circling the jar.

~ Margit Hesthammar, New York Times
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