Old diaries read, sweaty fingers flipping through the pages. Hoping, hoping to find pieces of my old self between the neatly written notes. Anecdotes, horoscopes. Green, red, black and blue ink. I have always been fickle minded. Printed email threads. Long lost, forlorn and rejected. I've never experienced heart break ever. Heart ache a plenty. I wiped the sweat off my forehead. Slowly, I tell myself. What is the rush if the game is already over? Laughter.
I've reached out and gotten some help along the way. Various friends, offering their advice and some shutting the door even before I got there. My logic-set mind still could not compute. Why did You put these thoughts in my mind? There must be a reason. Love Me Butch's Hollywood Holiday does not seem to be so light anymore. My balcony saw confessions, and more tears than I could ever imagine. Never in a million years would I have seen it coming, poor balcony. You are now officially a stimuli for sad thoughts, vulnerability and damp morale. Friends open up to me, shared their weaknesses, their flaws and fears, all in effort to make me feel better, not alone in this winding road to self discovery. I began to wonder why songs seem to be oriented around similar themes.
Disco. Disco. Disconnect.
I do not want to die, with regret. Neither do I want to die, holding on to something that is not mine. Nothing is mine, actually. But how do you continue living, one side of you completely cut-off and the other, flourishing. Indahnya hidup aku.. I began to google things like letting go, being grateful, and started to spring clean the house. Re-arranging all the Polaroids neatly, discarding old mail, junk, mopping around the house, with a wet rag and a vacuum. It does your soul wonders. Some people took time off, to do some soul searching. My friend told me to go back to my roots. Check out what He has to say to you since the day you were born. Al-Baqi. Do You hear me now?
F has been all but kind and loving. I noticed I have pushed him out of my mind of recent. To make way for new thoughts? I don't want to get them mixed up. The words that come out of your mouth when you are angry and frustrated. Can be so dangerous. I speak less, and I've eaten less. Stick to the usual routine. Keep yourself busy. Ironic but that is what he probably did some good years back. Do I confuse you? F knows, how broken I am now. He has been too kind, to let me say the things I did. Did God intentionally make you an occurrence, and not a constant?
Here's a toast.
To the rekindled friendship - those who know me since school, keep reminding me who I truly am;
the ones going strong - and have kindly observed me since back then;
the new ones that came out of nowhere - you keep me sane, and human.
Till death do us part.
Which, after, I hope I get to meet each one of you in the promised Garden of Eden.
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