Rock climb

I strained hard, so very hard I felt large, warm sweat beads escape from my pores. My muscles ached, my resolve and will was being tested. I felt dizzy, and gravity pulled on me, wanting me to fall. It is a long, long way down to fall...

But I fought and I fought, told myself I could do this, told myself I will do this. My fingers ached, as if the skin were being torn and my nails being stretched. My body was burning, but I had one thing in my mind: 

"For mum... I can do this for mum... This is nothing compared to the struggle she has to face against the cancer that is eating her from the inside..." I told myself, however much it hurt, however painful my muscles were, nothing, nothing can compare to mum's pain... 

I pulled myself up, leapt with faith in my own ability to grab on and hang onto the little holes on the vertical wall. I could do it, I knew I could do it. and I did do it.

I hung on the railing close to the ceiling and looked down at the great distance upward I had just conquered. What a feat, what a rush, what a relief it was...

 "For mum... I did it for mum..." For her health, for her well-being, for her happiness, for her peace of mind. As silly as it may be, it is so naive and so childish to think that my rock climbing has anything remotely related with her illness or recovery...

But deep inside I so wished that every success I have, every bit of personal triumph I achieve, can somehow reflect back to mum, and make her stronger, and make her better...

new day

Struggling hard to contain myself and my emotions, I pick myself up and brace myself for the day ahead. Put on a brave face, i tell
myself, and it'll soon all pass....

I head into metro and I see... A crippled man on crutches struggling hard up the stairs... A woman wearing a thin head scarf in the middle of a hot day. She had such a pale, pale complexion, her face was so thinned and fragile, her hairline nowhere to be seen, her arms brittle and bony... And across from me is an elderly woman with deep imprints of life on her face, wrinkles and sadness scrawled all over her face... Three different lives, but in common is their 'shared' sense of loneliness, suffering

I turn away and close my eyes, and swallow the pain of seeing people in pain, and my mind drifts, drifts to my mother far, far away...

Treatment

Warms tears rolled down my cheeks almost immediately.

She could not see them, and for the next ten minutes or so, she could not hear them. Mum could not see her child was crying as he spoke to her on the phone.

She was hesitant to tell me at first. And I had to ask to find out. If I didn't ask, she would have just told me how a friend came by to visit and how they had a lovely dinner and walk afterwards together. The fact that she went into the hospital to see her main physician and that she immediately went to do chemotherapy would have gone unmentioned if I didn't ask...

The latest scan revealed the tumour on the spine has grown only bigger. "Cancer cells are so scary," she said, "They're growing..." She needs to restart chemo, and five, six sessions are planned ahead.


"Please, focus on your future..." she said, "Do what you need to do..." She said she can't go to Europe as planned to see her grandchild. Chemotherapy is planned for the next ten weeks. It's best, according to the doctor. Will she even see her grandchild in person, ever...?


I could not contain my tears, just as I cannot control them now. Warm, blinding, comforting and yet painfully they escaped my eyes so naturally... But I could contain my whimpers, my sounds of grief, suppress them, silence them until I pressed "End Conversation" on Skype and put down my phone. Then the sounds of grief, of sadness came pouring out... Luckily I was alone at home. The sighing, gasping, the pain, the loneliness, the sense of having lost all control is so immense, so overwheliming.


I wished I could comfort her... hold her and reassure her. But I am so powerless, so very, very powerless... I feel drained already by the latest news, so sapped of all energy to even eat, to even get out of bed. Mentally, I see myself packing, jumping on a plane and returning home. 

Was I crying for her, or for myself? Was I crying because she has to once again face the treatments, the hospital visits and the side-effects all by herself? Was I crying because I am again so very, very torn by what I should do, need to do...? I just began to tie up the loose ends of my thesis... I just enrolled in a language course, I had set myself to starting preparations for my equivalency exams... Again and again, it seems every time I try, every time I want to do something for myself, something pulls me away...

All I can say is that my fears, my worries and anxieties, already rising after our brief conversation last night and which made me sleep so badly, are surfacing and taking over my mind like a violent, violent storm.

How much more can I take...?

strange mood

I reached mum finally after a long time trying. Eventually I got a hold of her at the hospital. She was waiting for the doctor, her main physician. But there was something in her voice...

I can't tell what, and she wouldn't tell me what. I could hear from the background noise she was at the hospital. Was it for her return visit? Is not today the day she'd get her results?  Or is something happening...?

"I need to go," she said, and there ended our  brief conversation.

Something is up...

Changes

I notice little things. Changes, displacements, disappearances. I can sit in a room, look around and notice the little things, the little details.

I stayed over at the ex's place last night. Under the pretext of wanting to dissect the movie we had just watched together. But as so often, we ended up in bed, and I succumbed to the the intoxicating lure of his body and warmth.

At breakfast, we sat in the living room. And I noticed. A calendar- poster I had once scribbled and drawn on with unerasable marker that had been placed behind the tv was now gone. Gone, put away like the rest of the little notes I had once written and left behind. Little marks, little reminders of me, of us, mostly gone, hidden away from sight. Even permanent markings can be removed.

Again, I don't blame him. Move on, I had said to him. And what better way to do that than hide memories of the past? Especially if he is going to have the boy he feels for in his apartment. Perhaps soon enough, the gifts, soft animals and mementos I once gave him will also vanish from the shelves and bookcases. All those trips, moments together, hapiness shared commitments made... They will slowly fade with time and fading memories and make room for new ones, and I do hope for his sake, for his wellbeing and happiness, much happier and more memorable ones. The apartment  will be emptier, emptier of a past gone by, and of the presence and role I once had in his life.

There was an awkward silence.
"I'll be leaving soon," I said, breaking the silence. I was on my way to a lecture. But that phrase had another meaning too.

I'll walk out that door, the door will shut behind mere. And I will be gone.

Hospital visit

It started a few days ago, when a friend (and former flatmate) was admitted into the hospital. Ever since she moved out, we've not had much contact but are on friendly terms.

I wrote her a message hoping her a speedy recovery and let her know that if she needs anything I can help.

Yesterday, after a series of tests, she was admitted into the emergency ward. I just finished watching a movie with my friend, and she had asked to have contact lens solution delivered. This was minutes before midnight, closing time, so I ran and ran and was so out of breath by the time I arrived, and was lucky enough to have a minute to spare before they announced the pharmacy was closing. I picked up what she needed and a little card with flowers. Not much choice, but it had orchids on the front, her favourite. And quickly, briefly I scribbled a little message inside.

Originally I didn't want to go visit her, but accompanied my friend anyways. She looked so pale and frail when I saw her, and she was shivering. From the cold, or from fear? I wasn't sure. I hugged her and told her again if she needs anything.... she needed to be in hospital for observation and more tests. More tests and waiting...

It was already after midnight, yet the emergency ward was busy. A young girl in tears wiped her eyes as a nurse spoke to her quietly. A few were asleep in armchairs, a lady had red, red eyes, moist from tears. A man sat forlorn and looked out the window. And elderly man, unshaven, with a wrinkled face and pale, pale hair sat up on his hospital bed and reached his arm out, as if in need, as wanting help or company.

 They were all waiting, waiting... Just waiting, for how long already I don't know. For how much  longer perhaps they don't know either. Strangers brought together in a bright  place that smells of medicine in the middle of the night   The tv was silent, but showed a late night talk show,  the host of which made funny faces and was surrounded by colourful, big captions.

I found myself surrounded by patients, and reminded of the drab and dreariness of hospitals. It was a reason why I was hesitant to go inside and would have preferred to stay by the door.

In truth, I did not want to see patients lying around with tubes attached to their arms... I did not want to see the sadness, the tears and hurt of family and relatives and witness unnecessarily the fragility of health and being human. It reminds me too much of... Of what I don't want to be reminded of.

I went out to buy something for my friend, who had not eaten much for the day. I ran and ran up and down the steep hill leading to the hospital. Despite the running and the sweat running down my cheeks,  for some reason I smiled. Not at the situation, but what little I could do to make the situation a little better, just a little better. Even if it's just  getting a small slice of pizza in the middle of the night,  or giving my friend a little card or warm hug... A little gesture says a lot.

Once again, it is what I do "best", what allows me to shine and show care and compassion. Not to boost my own ego, but to let people around me be touched in little ways.

 And I like that.

One (more) day

After the movie I turned to my friend and kissed him on the cheeks. He returned the gesture with a kiss on his fingers and placed them on my neck. Was it because he was uncomfortable, feeling awkward about kissing in front of a cinema of people? Or was he just uncomfortable, feeling awkward to kiss me, period? I don't know. I know I gave him that kiss and meant it.

I invited him to the movie, partly because the last time we watched something it had been a terribly long and growling film, and I wanted to make it up in a way. I had mentioned the movie to him earlier, when I first saw the ad. Two people,  in the middle of the street, in the middle of what seems like a long, intense and passionate kiss. The French title is "Vingt ans" ( Twenty Years), the English one is "One day".

I had guessed what the movie was generally about before going, but it was in no way predictable. I wanted to go alone at first, but the movie seemed something  "perfect" for us to watch, especially because (or despite?) of our break up. And I was glad he came in the end.

Two people meet in university, have a passionate night together, and they keep in touch. The movie moves forward with scenes from 15 July of (almost) every year that passes by over the span of some twenty (?) years- the date of their first night spent together.

 We see how their lives progress or descend into chaos, see how they lives diverge and change, how their personalities and feelings for one another wane and change. Many things in life change, people come and go, people move around, people grow older, and perhaps more bitter and cynical, and people realise what is really important to them an to their lives, realise what or who it is that makes them happy, genuinely happy. Though feelings for one another may change, the deep connection and emotional bond that was somehow forged, even so long ago, still was alive and passionate.

Throughout  the years the two manage to stay friends, or delude themselves that they are mere friends. They talk often, and write long letters to one another. When one is having a crisis, the other person is the first person who comes to mind and who is contacted.

 After so many years, and numerous failed relationships, the two meet again and realise they are meant for one another. They stay together, promise each other to be true, to not let anything stand in their way again. Both are older now, with graying hair, and both may have lost that vitality and carefreeness of their youth, but the emotional connection, the physical attraction and  unexplainable depth of connection between their hearts and minds has remained constant, and perhaps grew even stronger.

But happiness, genuine happiness, does not, and never does, last forever. However deep the devotion, however precious the relationship,  somehow, sometime one person leaves first. All too abruptly perhaps, and in ways beyond our control. And as for the main characters, the period of time it took them to finally get together was too long, and the time they were together was much too short.

The movie touched me, and personally spoke to me. It made me cry, partly because the mother of one of the characters is taken away by cancer, leaving behind a lonely husband and son who was never really able to reconcile with how he behaved as she became weaker and weaker. One particular scene, when the son had to carry his frail, pale-looking mother up the stairs, left a lump in my throat. I swallowed deep, swallowing away most of my tears and the pangs of pain.

The movie touched me too, because I find myself in a similar situation, a tragedy even, with my ex.  We both know (at least I think so...) deep down how much we mean to one another. We both reminisce how beautiful, how compatible we were when we were together. But because of circumstances beyond our control, undesired even, we simply cannot be.

The movie also left on me, and echoed, this glimmer of hope that perhaps, perhaps, if we are meant to be, we may still meet again and come together somewhere down our lives. But it also left that question, that annoying little rhetoric of why wait?  Why torture the hearts and lives of two people who deep down knowingly feel so strongly for one another any longer? For what? Happiness, genuine love and the beauty of two people meeting and falling in love, should be treasured and held onto, for as long as you can, whenever you can.

After the movie I turned to kiss my friend on the cheek. We walked quietly away, and I reflected on the movie somewhat as my salty tears dried on the corners of my eyes and cheeks. 


Maybe one day we will wake up from this all, and live, and love, and be happy, truly happy. 

Sushi

 I just came out of the  French language course I started. it was late and I was hungry. Quickly I went to pick up sushi from a place that was closing and made my way to the cinema where I was supposed to meet my friend.

I walked and walked, and by the bright shop window of a high end fashion store, saw a bearded homeless man begging. His face was soiled, but he had a warm smile. Before him, in a blue upturned cap, were a few meager coins. I smiled at him, and he smiled even more back. I gestured with my sushi, wanting to offer it to him.

But selfishness and my own hunger took over me, and I stopped my gesturing before he really noticed and quickly walked on by. I walked quickly and left the man behind me.

But though i had left him behind, his image did not escape me  as I hungrily devoured my sushi.

I felt terrible, however hungry I was, he must have been hungrier. I ate a few pieces out the box and quickly walked back. I saw him and approached slowly.

I felt terribly embarrassed. perhaps he recognized me. I bent down and handed him the remaining five pieces cucumber rolls. Not much, really not much, perhaps even too little. He could have had a whole box when i walked by him the first time. But despite my embarrassment and shame, he greeted me again with a smile, and as he took the box with both hands and sincere gratitude, a "Thank you".

"Have a good night" I wished him He certainly made mine, and I left him feeling warmed inside.

Olivia Chow interview

Last night, I watched her on the giving the first personal interview since her husband passed away. Dressed in black, a mourning widow who had just lost her rock and soulmate, she was however elegant, composed and bravely answered questions.

Even the difficult ones. About Jack Layton's illness, final days, about what was most memorable in their marriage of over twenty-five years. At one point she shed a tear, and the sky too was crying. My heart ached and went out to her...

She talked about the cancer that took Jack's life, even though he fought so hard. She explained why she and the family didn't want to reveal what cancer he had or what treatment he underwent, despite  the media's obsession and probing:

"For what purpose? We know what cancer do to people. The majority of people who have cancer are fine, are able to continue […] We all die one way or another. Let’s live in that moment of hope and optimism, the kind of love he talked about."

And reading a magazine article about Jack and Olivia Chow together brought me again to tears. A chance meeting, at a fundraiser... two people from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds, connecting so deeply on so many levels, sharing their passion of politics and community involvement together with their passion for life and one another... "It is a uniquely Canadian, multicultural, inclusive love story". As Jack himself once put it, "I fell in love with Olivia in four nano seconds [...] I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into, but I was smitten from day one..."

How very beautiful, how very romantic....


 Video tribute to Jack Layton from the Celebration of Life gathering at Roy Thomson Hall

Gifts

I got emotional when she mentioned what she had done. "There are two boxes... one for your colleagues at work, one for your friends. Please thank them again for taking care of you..." Doing so much, doing too much. For me...

Mum spent a whole afternoon going around town to buy pineapple cakes, a delicacy from Taiwan, and she just mailed them over. She went out of her way to go to a shop which sells the 'best' (award winning) pineapple cakes, and bought dozens of them. She was very happy with her purchase, and in the same box slipped in other things she wanted to give to me... tea, seaweed, and other tastes of home. I was extremely touched, and had to lie down. At one point maybe because of the tears, she asked me what was wrong. The love and care of a mother toward her child is immensely powerful. I felt it, just by her recounting what she had done and went through. Imagine when I receive the gift box...

I called her as promised... after that initial talk, there was something else on my mind. It is always awkward to ask and begin the conversation... "How was it today?"

She went in and spoke to her neurosurgeon. Whereas before, he recommended surgery as soon as possible, today he said perhaps it's best to wait until we cannot wait any longer. He is worried if he operates now, the tumour growing near the spine will, instead of being under removed and control, spread dramatically. At least for now, the situation is more or less stable. And it's best to keep it that way.

Mum says she has pains in her left arm. How much it affects her, how painful it is, I do not know. I cannot see her face when she groans in pain. I can no longer see the beads of sweat forming on her forehead when the pain comes and seizes her senses. She said she was drowsy and going to sleep soon. The doctor prescribed more painkillers, and she is taking them at regular intervals.

At one point during her appointment, the doctor asked whether she has anyone to take care of her at home. I know the answer to that, she knows the answer to that. If need be, she will hire someone to take care of her. "Please," mum said, "don't come rushing back again. I'll be fine."

I say that often sometimes, even when I'm not. It's not a lie, not really, especially expressed in the future tense, because one day, I will be fine. But of course it does not mean that "I am fine" at this very moment. But when all's said and done, this moment will disappear into the next, and whatever I am feeling, whatever is bothering me, will most likely also disappear.

"Don't base your treatments on me. If you need surgery, if it is urgent, do it. Don't stop your treatments because you are afraid I might come back again", I said.

I don't like to talk about her illness every time we talk, because I can only imagine how sensitive it is for her, and how after a long afternoon waiting at the hospital, she just wants to unwind and forget. But I want to know, I need to know. Because I care, I really do care. More than most other things...

Appointments

"How do you know?" she asked.

Of course I know. I remember it, every detail when she tells me about her condition. I know and remember when she has to go into the hospital again for check up. I write it down in my agenda, and a reminded just before the day comes.

There's an appointment with the neurosurgeon today, and another with her main physician. She will get her results and a diagnosis. And then soon enough, a decision will be made. More painful, grueling treatments? More hospital visits? More waiting and waiting until no more? A life-threatening major surgery? Or just let things be... let the cancer grow and grow and spread until one day, until one moment her body or mind, whichever first, cannot take it anymore...? A decision will be made, and once more my life will most likely be influenced by it.

Mum told me not to worry or think too much. "Just focus on your work..."

 Was it me or did she sound down? Did I hear hesitation and perhaps fear in her voice? I wished I could see her face when she spoke to me. I wish I could see the expression on her face. Her appointment is number 93 today, which means most likely she'll be waiting till the afternoon... waiting, waiting... waiting, waiting... sitting and being surrounded by other patients, by cancer survivors, by nurses and doctors rushing to and fro....

"Are you going to be alright?" I asked.  What kind of question is that...? What weak attempt at showing care or compassion is that? What could I do if she were not alright? So very, very little...

I'll call again, I said.I'll call again in the morning (my time) to see how today went.

In the mean time, while I try to sleep, my thoughts and my warmest wishes are with mum far, far away...

Goodbyes

Our eyes were red and moist. There was a chill in the air, and I longed for his arms around him to keep me warm. Later when we hugged goodbye, he said my body was very warm.

We spent a couple of hours talking. Work we wanted to, but I for some reason needed, wanted to see him. Perhaps it was against my better judgement, and actually I didn't know why I wanted to see him. Maybe find that reassurance, or offer him reassurance, that despite all odds, despite all uncertainties, we can still talk, cry and laugh...

We spoke about goodbyes. Childhood goodbyes... how he always, since he was a kid, looks back when saying goodbye. I recounted the difficult, difficult and teary goodbyes, the many goodbyes I have had since my parents left me in Europe.

He cried as he listened to me recount vivid memories of my childhood. He cried because he loves me, he says. He cried also, at one point, because I said something that had been on my mind for so long but never had the courage to say... How I wish to find stability... how I sometimes wish mum would just pass away, quietly, peacefully, so I don't have to worry, so I don't have to always have the suitcase half prepared in the event that I need to buy a ticket and hop on a plane the next day. Such a terrible and selfish though that is... how can I even think of that at all? How can I place my own future and happiness before the wellbeing of my very mother who is unwell and afraid? I burst out in tears as I said those words... however much I want her to be around and to make the most of her life, sometimes I do think it would be easier if she just quietly left...

He cried because I cried. He cried because he cares so very much and wants to see me happy and have a stable life, without having to think of the next plane journey... But how can he feel so deeply for me, love me so much, when he wants to be with someone else? How can he say that we are so compatible in so many ways, and yet have doubts of us together? Deep down inside, he knows and he admits I am the 'best' person he has encountered. Yet how painful it is to hear that when he for some reason still clings on hope and feelings for another person... When I hear those things, when I hear him say "what if..." or "if only", I go quiet. It is all in the past now... 

I'm not bitter and angry at him, but instinctively I want to stay away from him for my own benefit. When he asked me whether I still love him, I said at first, less and less... But truth be told, perhaps I am just convincing myself of that, telling myself that if I could say that, then I feel it too. But no, I still care about him, think about him, lie in bed missing him and his body next to mine... I wonder what he is worrying about, what is weighing him down, and what I could possibly do to take his burden and worries away so that he may smile that beautiful smile of his again. Truly, I think about him, care about him the way I care about my own mother, and nobody has able to make me feel that way, ever. 

But perhaps that is the problem... We have become too close, to intertwined in one another's lives that it is hard to let go. I told him, again and again, I want to 'disappear', be on the margins, especially as his heart is set on being together with the other guy. I am ready, however difficult it may be, however irresistible the temptation is to go see him or want to talk to him, to slowly fade away from his life. Because that is the only way I can think of that will make him think of me less (and make me think less of him...) But he said he cannot stop caring, cannot stop loving... and he will never stop caring or loving me...

We hugged just before parting ways and exchanged silent goodbyes with shallow nods and deep gazes into one another's eyes. I walked away, slowly to my own desk on the third floor of the library.

And contrary to what I have always done, I did not look back... Consciously or not, I am not sure.
But look back I did not...

I heard
That your dreams came true.
Guess she gave you things
I didn't give to you

Old friend
Why are you so shy?
Ain't like you to hold back
Or hide from the light

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.
I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over

Love drug

This friend I met recently told me that love is like a drug. It induces chemical reactions that make you addicted and yearning for more. It's more than just a feeling, an emotion, but when you're lacking it,  changes in your brain and body actually occur that make you experience a "low"... You become agitated, impatient, and look for ways to satisfy your needs and desires.

The point is, after a breakup and you're still hanging around the ex, the same sense of familiarity and comfort and all that is related to what we call 'love' is triggered. But it's not healthy. Imagine an addict trying to wane off a drug, and then being exposed to it now and then. How is he going to recover if the addictive substance is dangled in front of his face from time to time? The recovery and rehab will no doubt be more painful, and take much longer.






So cut the source of the addiction. At least for a while.

But I do miss him deeply... his presence as a rock in my life, as the source warmth and light that keeps me safe at night. If anything, he is the best friend I have ever had. And how do I let go of that so easily?

Retreat

Who would have thought that as I was sitting in that library and missing what we had together earlier tonight, my ex was spending time with the guy he is so infatuated with...? And how very bizarre that I had a nightmare about this very thing happening the night before...?

How painful it is to find out about that...
My head hurts terribly, and I cannot sleep... I lie awake so hurt, so hurt, so disturbed...

Time to enter a new era of isolation and retreat.

Longings

Sometimes the longing is so strong it is difficult to overcome... I know if I just close my eyes and meditate, the feelings, the urges will go away. Since I have met my friend and till recently, the desire for physical and emotional contact has been more than fully satisfied. And now, after promising to myself and to him to keep some distance, I find myself wanting, and feeling empty without... I know if I want to talk, if I want a hug, he is just a phone call or a text away.

But I cannot do that, I cannot keep on running to him, especially as he is trying to forget about me, trying to move on and pursue the boy he feels so deeply for. And  I cannot keep on running toward him in search of comfort and assurance when I am trying to build a life without him being there all the time when I need someone to hold and to listen to me.




I have to admit, there is an emptiness inside that is eating me, even as I sit here in the empty library on a rainy Sunday evening... I long for that intimacy again, that human contact, that human feel and warmth, that connection which makes me feel whole, even if only temporarily. And I'm so scared of going out there, just hooking up and descending into a world where I seek out people just for pleasure. Because I know I am not like that. Because I know I deserve and want so much more than just the physical...

If I close my eyes, meditate for a while, the urges, the feelings, the longings will go away.

I must tell myself that, and resist...

Surprise

Out of nowhere I received an email asking me to go.
I gladly accepted, and will leave in about two weeks' time.
I will not tell any one until the day before I leave. And then I will just leave. No looking back, no regrets. And I will be away for some time.

There is a part of me that is hesitant, as the timing is difficult, especially with equivalency exams I had registered for at the beginning of October. Hesitant too because I am afraid of what I may be coming back to when I eventually return. But life continues, even when you hide yourself in the seclusion of somewhere, life continues. And I will just have to deal with things when I eventually return. 

But now is a better time than ever to go away, to get away from things here. I need the time alone, to reflect, to escape and to realise myself rediscover what is more important in life...

Change

The days roll by, one after another, and it is suddenly already September. The summer is officially over.

Went on a walk with friends yesterday, and I noticed a change. Most trees had green, thick foliage still, but bits of the forest was changing in colour. Ever so slightly, and perhaps unnoticeable to most people, especially under the blaring sun. But there were hints of red and yellow, forespelling the arrival of another season...

I look forward to cooler temperatures, to the changing of the coats, to the colours that will brighten up the world a little more. Change is a good thing, as it shows life is moving forward and onward...

Restless night

I went to sleep soon after coming home.

I remember waking up often, my head disturbed by strange dreams and images.
Strange, because it was of this person I've never met before--- the person my ex is so infatuated with. Why was I dreaming of him? I don't fully recall shat happened in the dream, just that he was there and it caused some discomfort... I think my ex and he were in the same room, but I'm not sure what they were doing. They were just both in my dream.

What's happening between him and my ex, I'm not sure, and I'm afraid to ask too. They were supposed to go away this weekend, on a trip that's supposed to make clear what their relationship is. But it got cancelled.

I'm not sure what to make of this all, as whenever he mentions the other person or is tapping away on the phone with him, i get apprehensive and wonder what I'm still doing hanging around my ex so much...

Quiet

I woke up after a few hours of disturbed sleep, and took myself to the library in an attempt to get some work done. There is little progress, but at least there is progress. Every word, every sentence one step closer to the end of this long and seemingly endless journey to finish my thesis, finish something I began two years ago, but only made halting progress.

In the evening, I got together with friends I had not seen for a while. It feels like forever, especially as a friend was away for a number of weeks. I missed the evenings chatting away and laughing, sharing our lives over drinks and bags of chips when we would ask one another about going-ons in our lives.

"How is your mother?" I froze, and went quiet. I stared into the distance, eyes watering, knowing full well what had been asked but not knowing what I should reply. Do I lie or do I just answer with a simple "alright" and let the difficult, difficult question pass? My eyes became a little moist and I looked away. My friends understood from my silence that something was not well. They extended their toes to touch me, to comfort me. I withdraw and went quiet. The quiet, the silence, not having to think about things, not having to talk about things do not make things go away. They do make things disappear from my mind temporarily so I can fill my mind with distractions and make myself believe that things are alright.

A friend asked about plans in the coming period, whether my mum is going to go visit the baby in Europe. There is an open ticket for her return, but who knows whether she can make the trip... who knows what treatments she may have to undergo... who knows what her health or condition will be tomorrow, next week, let alone next month or next year?

I changed the subject, smiled, and let the topic drop. My ex offered to talk and spend the night together. But I was not in the mood, and quietly left...