You made the drawl of the clock so much bearable
You made my reality a bearable burden
You made my day beautiful like a sunset glow over the crashing waves
I love//hate my ugly and beautiful self
I'm the perfect dreamer
For the beautiful lies and rude awakenings spun off my fingers.
I'm the perfect dreamer
Lest the night passed I still dream on.
The only difference? I stop paying attention to the voices around, the shouts, the cars, the sweltering heat or my room of 23 years. I think it feels like sleepwalking, except my eyes are wide open and I talked and ate and drank. But when it was time to head me, and when the rain came pouring once more, just like the day when I left JB, I think I woke up.
Well, at least within that one week I had beautiful dreams of riding the ferry to Penang, pestering my loverly sister, sitting down having coffee with familiar faces. It was good while it lasted. It is nice to know that I have a bad habit to think of worse possible outcomes. Cause at the end of the day, I am blessed with amends, forgiveness and trust, despite the fact that I already persecuted myself. Maybe because I have nobody to challenge my negating habit.
And I have died too many times I forget how to feel fear. Today I was reminded that dying isn't just all about myself or yourself. It is always more than that. Funny, how your life is never really yours at the end of the day.
At the breaking of dawn
I will never look back
With the wind at my back
Don't give up on us now
Don't give up on us now
"Don't give up on us now"
The rain was pouring like any other day. I was stoning like every other day, thinking of all the bits and pieces in slow mo. The sun was setting like the other days.
But it wasn't like any other day where I would whip out a book or lay in bed dreaming of faces. No. It was a special day. It was special yet as good as it is surreal. It seems that the more your mind replays the memory, the more fake it becomes.
By norm, it should be the other way round. The mind registers events when it is being constantly reminded of it. And that is how grief and bereavement works. To get over things isn't about forgetting or pushing aside that very thought. It is about accepting it and addressing the loss. So, no folks.
You cannot not think of your loss. You cannot move on with distracting yourself. You can cope. But you won't be moving on. Not until you touch that face on the photograph, be reminded of their presence and perhaps, for a moment felt them beside you. Then you break down.
When you finally stop crying and realize they are finally definitely gone, you know now you can move on.
I don't even know why am I preaching on grief. I have yet to grief for anything definite. Regrets I have a-plenty. But grief, no.
I love being staged on such a grand piece of landscape with the Earth's symphony serenading the moment. Lying in the dampness of the sand, laughing out in generous company with a cuppa in hand. What else could I wish for?
More.
There were so many other things I wished for when I lie down looking at the million unblinking stars. Slowly drowning in the voices of reality, I want to sink into water and fairy tales. I want to be a chapter in your story book. I want so many many more.
I am greedy yes. But I gave up caring a long time back. I just want more what I have now. Sue me somebody.
(=