Mess

What a mess the room is

Paintings strewn all across the floor

Bed sheets tossed aside un-ceremonially

Chairs not in their proper places

Documents with neat handwriting in disarray

Curtain billowing from the gentle wind

Wrinkled clothes abandoned in the basket

Boots and stockings unattended

Outside, the brown rustle and fly around at random

Pleased to just run aimlessly

To laugh unrestrained

We roll in the meadow

Not worrying about the dirt

Nor minding the grass stuck in our hair

As long as we can hold each other

In our arms

Our lips touch gently

We blush and you giggle bashfully

Who cares

Let this mess

Be the evidence

It's been awhile.

Looking back 20 years later, it's amazing to note how life turned out the way it did. No, “amazing” isn’t the right word. At that very moment, it was devastating – so utterly crushed was my bright, hopeful heart, so utterly razed to the ground the dreams built on youthful idealism. They say time heals. Perhaps, but I prefer to believe that time numbs. Some scars don’t fade – they manifest themselves in the form of a crooked smile in memory of events. You know, the kind that doesn’t make it to your eyes. So yeah, perhaps a better word than “amazing” would be…mind-blowing. It wasn’t entirely terrible, because fatalism, which set in after a while, dictated that I see the best in everything. When you learn to watch for the slightest hint of beauty in the midst of murky darkness, you tend to notice so much more. Life wasn’t always painful, it was seldom totally bad, it was never without that glimmer of hope.

I don’t remember every single detail of what took place, but when I try to, the familiar feelings flood over me with overwhelming intricacy, leaving me descending into what seems to be the cellar of my heart. Over the years, the door hinges have rusted. I gradually stopped reliving the heartbreak and heartache. I have stopped feeling sorry for myself. It was easier to march forward mechanically, holding back the tears till an opportune time when no one was watching. There were times I second-guessed my choices. I was proud and young then. I took matters into my own hands with the detached pragmatism I so prized. No one knew the pretzel my heart had twisted into, and I didn’t want their pity anyway. No, I didn’t want their wisdom, I wanted to take full responsibility for our mistake. My mistake. I wanted to do what was noble, forgetting in youthful pride that my judgement of what was best could be clouded. I don’t believe what I did was noble anymore, but I don’t know if I would have wanted it any other way either.

I’m sorry for everything you didn’t have a say in. Life would have been different (though not necessarily better) if you did. I thought it was best that you didn’t know anything – it might have made moving on easier. You had such a bright future and it would have devastated me much more to destroy your dreams, more than it did when my dreams came crashing down on me. I did what I thought was best for you. Even though I am content where I am now, it was still unfair to you. I know, and I'm truly sorry. I hope this brings closure, if you ever still wonder what happened. It’s been 20 years, I’ve moved on, and I hope that you have, too. I apologize that it took me this long to pen you these words. I wish you well.

Just so you know, he knows your name.

What is Love?

What is love, I asked

A little boy of seven

“When she lends you her favourite pen,

and smiles like an angel from heaven.”

What is love, again I asked

This time a spunky young maiden

“Oh, when he sends you flowers and gifts,

and phones you twenty-four seven.”

What is love, I questioned

The middle-aged man on the street

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m running late. I can’t

lose this job, I have mouths to feed.”

What is love, I wondered aloud

Old Grandma passing by heard

“It’s hearing tenderness in the gruff,

forgiving seventy times seven past hurts."

What is love indeed?

What Is This Feeling - So Sudden and Foreign?

"Come, I'll walk you home," he says to me, concern lingering in his voice.
I ignore him.
"It's raining..." he holds out an umbrella and follows me, shielding me from the rain.
I duck out from underneath the cover, letting the raindrops fall on me. 
I hear him sigh behind me. 
"Fine, take this then," he hands me the umbrella and hurries across the street before I could refuse him yet again. 
I stare at the handle, unsure of this gesture of kindness. 
I was tempted to squash the very show of genorisity, and throw the evidence of it on the ground.
I didn't though, I walked home with the umbrella in my hand, as if nothing was amiss. 

As I was busy drying my hair, my glance went back to the soggy umbrella, sitting by my door.
"Damn it," I said aloud.
I made plans to leave it by his desk tomorrow.

I couldn't understand him. I couldn't understand why he bothered. Especially when I have been nothing but cold. Cold wasn't even the word. I was, quite frankly, a bitch.

My mind involuntarily flashed back to a scene I would rather just forget. He had the misfortune of having me as a lab partner. I kind of pitied him, I wasn't much of a team player.

"Here, I got a band-aid from the TA,"
"I'm fine. Let's just finish this experiment, I want to get out of here," I muttered.
I had my fingers wrapped around a small cut on my palm, plugging the wound.
I stared up at him and was surprised to be met with his eyes. He gawked at me as if I had slapped him. 
"Why do you always assume the worst in people? And here, just take the stupid bandage." He said with a scowl on his face.
I was a little taken aback, I did not expect such an interrogation coming from him.
"Because they have never given me any reason to assume otherwise," I challenged. I still ignored the flesh-colored bandage he was holding out to me. He finally gave up and just placed the thing on my side of the counter.
He was trying to read me further, but it was too late, my face was back to being painted a nice neutral.

Somewhere along the line, I had stopped caring and started being indifferent. It made life simpler, less stressful. In doing so, I had forgotten how it feels like to care for someone else.

I was a coward, still am a coward. I play it safe, never daring to take risks. My comfort zone is my shell.

I would hold myself back, hold myself at a distance. I was deathly afraid of peering over my carefully built barrier. So fearful of putting myself out there, to form actual human relationships. I decided that temporary happiness was not worth a moment's vulnerability.

Thinking of him, the stubborn guy with the umbrella and the band-aid. My insides are at once, raw and numb, begging for relief yet unsure of where to start treating it.

Am I possibly feeling moved? Touched?

Oh, you know me?

I seem perfectly composed. You hear my laughter, you can even sense my radiating joy. You tell me to slow down, I'm way too hyper. People around me laugh at me and with me. I don't seem to have a care in the world, at least, none significant enough to leave lasting scars.

You might even admire my exuberance. My seeming detachment, my efficiency, my skill in emotional adjustment.

What you don't see is as equal a part of me as what you see.

There are times when blazing words get caught between my constricted throat and clenched jaws, and holding them back requires back-breaking effort.

There are times when I am overwhelmed with despair, helplessness and frustration.

There are times when words sound empty and inadequate.

These are times when the tears surface. Those tiny drops of humanity, the ones I often keep back in order to maintain a perfect composure. Hugging myself and rocking myself to sleep only keeps the tears in. As much as I don't want to admit it, I do need someone to hold me and assure me that everything's going to be okay. Someone who knows me well enough to be a comforting presence.

Then I would, for once, cry my heart out.

[Written in 2007 - never published, kept as a draft in my blog]

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully around with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness...The only place outside heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers...of love is hell."

- C.S. Lewis -

Yet

All attempts have failed

All my heads are tails

She's got teary eyes

I've got reasons why

I'm losing ground and gaining speed

I've lost myself or most of me

I'm heading for the final precipice

But you haven't lost me yet

You haven't lost me yet

I'll sing until my heart caves in

You haven't lost me yet

These days pass me by

I dream with open eyes

Nightmares haunt my days

Visions blur my night

I'm so confused

What's true or false?

Fact or fiction after all

I feel like I'm an apparition's pet

But you haven't lost me yet

You haven't lost me yet

I'll run until my heart caves in

No you haven't lost me yet

If it doesn't break

If it doesn't break

If it doesn't break

If it doesn't break your heart

It isn't love

If it doesn't break your heart

It's not enough

It's when you're breaking down

With your insides coming out

That's when you find out what your heart's made of

***

Yet by Switchfoot from the album "Hello Hurricane"