Being a friend

If a friend did something wrong, if a friend were depressed and down, were feeling upset and telling you he feels like he is a failure, would you be unkind to him? Would you scold him, give him more pressure, blame him? Would you make him feel worse by telling him not to be so dramatic, by telling him he's insane or indeed a terrible person? Why would you do anything to make him feel worse when he's already down hearted?

Would you not remind him of how good he can be, how kind and gentle he is, and how much potential he has? Would you not remind him he is loved and that there is so much to live for in life? Would you not be there for him, be patient with him? Would you not hug him tightly, hold him, and reassure him "everything will be alright"?

If you can do that to a friend, why can't you do it to yourself? Why be so hard on yourself? Why do we have such a difficult time with ourselves and make our own lives tougher than it already is?

Need to hug myself, once in a while, hold myself, and remind myself to love myself more and more...

Things will be alright.

Struggle

Past eleven at night, alone at the office still, trying to study. But it is such a struggle. I read, and I forget. I lack motivation, lack interest, and most of all, lack the concentration to focus on what I am doing. My mind is such a mess, scattered like leaves at the end of Autumn all over the place, and my heart feels like it is balancing  on the edge of breaking down and crying. Crying because I feel so weak, so vulnerable... (I really should stop listening to the radio and to all these songs that mean so much to me...)

It is such a struggle, such a painful struggle to ground myself, to find joy in anything. Such a struggle alone to find meaning or purpose in what I am doing (what AM I doing...?) and not feel like I am useless and wasting my breath and life.

Something has to change. Dramatically. I cannot go on feeling ugly and negative. I cannot go on like this indefinitely.
For I am killing myself, killing my own soul and every single dream and ambition I have ever held...

And it aches to imagine my parents watching over me and seeing me in this completely depressed and unproductive state of being... I imagine they must weep seeing me like this, and yet being unable to hold me, encourage me or show me love however much they would want to...

Underclass

From the cover of Maclean's this week.

How true...

Friend

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I suddenly received a call from a friend who I've not seen in months. Over the past year or so we've grown closer with our shared interest in biking, traveling and also the growing bond in both our attractions to Buddhism. We are both looking for similar things in life: companionship, love, and a career. We are lost and frustrated at times...

Today she called to tell me she found an ideal job in Europe. Her dream position at a famous law firm. I was happy for her, because I know how much she's been trying and waiting for something. Finally, hard work and patience paid off.

But at the same time, I felt a tinge of sadness. I've grown close to her, enjoyed our conversations and dinners together, enjoyed the company of someone who is in a similar situation, who lost a parent not long ago so knows what it feels like. I felt sad, because soon I will no longer be able to just call her up and go for a walk or bike ride together, or go for long talks over cups of hot tea...

I feel the missing already. Another friend moving on, moving away.
But it happens.
People come and go, even those you feel close too must one day leave.

Thank you for the wonderful moments and intimate personal talks we shared...
Thank you...

Bursting with tears

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One moment you're fine, and the next just bursting out in tears... I am reminded of that movie I watched a few months back, where out of nowhere the daughter in the movie suddenly breaks down and cries over the loss of her remaining parent... Who would have known, I am at that stage now.

Second time today, just sitting and crying. Unable to control the tears, unable to still the pain. Where does it all come from? Where am I going with all this...? I can't keep on breaking down and crying alone at night. I can't...

It began as soon as I was searching through my emails for some information. I came across an email mum sent me, back in September 2008. I just moved to Canada, she was planning to visit me. Her email detailed her itinerary, flying in from Boston Logan to Pierre Trudeau Airport. The plan was to visit me, and then we would fly together to Europe. She ended her email with:

 "I'm going to the community college now for lessons. If there is anything, contact me. Good luck with everything, hope all goes well... Mama 0909"

9 September  2008.   I just began my life here, just had a week or so of school, just found and moved into an apartment, my very first apartment on my own. I moved here not knowing what to expect, and feeling somewhat excited about the unknowns to come, but also reeling from the (then) recent loss of my dad. I was lost, confused, lonely, and longing for someone by my side. Funny, four years on, and the same feelings of loss, longing and loneliness have not much changed. Perhaps they have only intensified now that my mother has also gone.

But four years on, I will no longer get an email or touching message from mum  again. 

Call from brother

The last time brother and I spoke was two weeks ago, when I called him on new year's eve from some obscure location. It only struck me when I looked at the date that two weeks have  already gone by, and I realise again what a waste of time and my life to be so unproductive and so down...

The beginning of the conversation was about (family) business, which I just dread talking about, even though it must be dealt with. What to do with my mum's house, what to do with her belongings (chuck them or donate them...), and so on. He wants me to be available online in the coming period so he can skype with me and show me things to decide what to do with every single item in mum's house. It will be a very tough process, especially from afar...

It depresses me even more to think of all these things, especially knowing that for the first time in five years, I cannot be there for the lunar new year celebrations. When my brother mentioned what he plans to do to commemorate my parents on this special occasion (specifically for my dad, the anniversary of whose passing falls on lunar new year's eve...), I just cried. When he mentioned that he will not be spending new year's at home, but instead will go to stay with his mother in-law, I cried even more... Cried quietly of course. Thank goodness the office door was closed.

Just the image of my mum's home being empty for the first time ever is heart-wrenching. To think, only last year we were all together. Mum was still there, though sickly and weak, but we were together. We shared a meal, even though she ate very little. Mum, brother, his wife, my nephew, and I, all of us together. I could still hold her hand then, I could lie next to her and fall asleep imagining I'm a baby next to his mother. That's all in the past now... no more, no more... Momentarily, the past and all those beautiful memories saddened me.

"Are you alright? How are you doing nowadays?" he asked I think he could hear from the sound of my voice that I am really deflated and unmotivated (I imagine anyone can...). In a rare moment of bonding and care, I felt he was genuinely concerned, perhaps more so because when I visited three weeks ago I told him I have been terribly lonely and often sad these few months since mum left-- a feeling that intensified only after my return to Canada and as I began to pick up my life. I told him then about how lost I feel, so uncertain I am where to start and what to do with myself.

On the phone today, he encouraged me, told me to do things to distract myself and feel less lonely. "You just have to go on... what else can you do?"

Yes, go on, swallow the unpleasant feelings and debilitating emotions that leave your mind and soul so weak and tired, and you must try not let the loneliness and feelings of loss get to you and affect you. Or at least try not let it all affect you too much.

Coming from my brother, it was rare, and heart warming.

Dream: denial

I was back home in the Netherlands, sitting in the living room. Out of nowhere mum appeared and sat by the sofa. I looked at her, admired her from a distance. She looked so beautiful, and i wanted to go and touch her, but I did not (I could not?)

Mum looked so... "normal". She was reading something, moving her body freely in ways she could not months before the surgeries and before she passed. She did not seem to notice me at all.

Then a number of her closest friends appeared. One by one they came to me and spoke to me. I forget exactly want was said, but they were trying to calm me down and reassure me for some reason.
A phone call came. Then a text message. Grandmother passed away.

I was distraught. By that point mum vanished from sight. I heard myself shouting and crying: "Mum's dead! Mum's dead! Dead! Dead!" Dead!"

The power of the heart and mind is strong. I'm caught up in negativities and fear, and will not be able to escape this vicious cycle of nightmares and clouded mindlessness if I do not open my eyes to seeing the world in more positive light...

http://mirror1.birken.ca/dhamma_talks/indiv/Mun/02/01_Just_Leave_It_Over_There.mp3

Dream: Arguments

Fell asleep eventually close to five in the morning, with my laptop on my bed, with a series running in the background. It feels somehow comforting and reassuring to hear voices and to have the make-believe presence of people in around me...

Dreams woke me up. Disturbing dreams of intense arguments and people wandering around in my house. They were such familiar faces. Friends? There was such anger and shouting, misunderstanding and heated exchanges, especially with this one person. There was such desperation, such pain and longing for escape. Familiar feelings I have in my waking moments.

The feeling of being suddenly "shocked" awake by a bad dream, and by the intensity of arguing with someone, is a horrible way to start the day. A day that's almost half gone...

Sleeplessness

Almost three in the morning, all is so quiet, all is so still. It is as if the world is asleep, and I am the only person still awake. Lying in bed and still awake. My mind is anything but quiet, anything but still...

When was the last time I really slept "normally"? When was the last time I did not dream or lie in bed feeling so cold and alone? It's nights like this when I feel like my house is too big, too empty. I can fill it with personal things, personalise it with pictures and my favourite things. But it will still feel cold and empty. And pictures can fall and break and shatter. I found out the hard way last night when a glass picture frame containing a picture of mum and a special teddy bear fell to the ground and shattered. It broke my heart.

I look over and the bear my mother gave me lies there inanimate next to me. He smells of me, and a bit of the smells from my travels. I hug him, but he cannot hug back. There's a familiar scent in the pillow case, and on the blanket. But that scent is fading, and with time I will forget how it smells like. It's sad perhaps, but there are moments I wrap my arms around myself and imagine I'm being hugged.

How I wish I could fall asleep... fall asleep in the arms of another human being, and feel safe and loved again.

Vast

I stepped onto the ice. Before me was the river that always looked so vast and formidable. But today, it was frozen and still.

I trudged through the slush. Perhaps it's not the wisest thing to do to stand on the river when the temperature has been hovering above zero Celsius for the past two days. But maybe I'm foolhardy and somehow not afraid. Besides, there were people ice fishing even further out than where I was standing. In the distance, I could hear the rumbling of the rapids, and  a thin veil of mist forming on the horizon. Winter makes everything so desolate, so cold, feel so lonely, but there is a certain beauty to be found in all these extremes.

To think, just a few months ago, the day after I returned from a "mission" lasting almost eight months, I sat on this very river bank and sobbed by myself between the bushes. A few months on, so many more tears have been shed, so much distance traveled, so many words, some unkind, spoken... I could not but wonder, as I stood on the surface of the river stared into the distance, whether I am feeling better or worse than before, and how much longer it will be till I can really smile again. "Any day now, any day now..." I must keep reminding myself, just as I reminded myself all those days and nights I spent by mum's side and gritted my teeth to bravely face it all.

A gust of wind blew and disturbed the tranquility and my thoughts. I trudged back to the bank, slipped and fell into the soft cushion of slush and snow.




(I often played this piece of music at home and at the hospital, especially before bedtime. Somehow, the music can send mum to sleep, and in a way, take away her pains...)

Mother and son

I watched as the boy zipped up his mother's winter coat, watched as he walked slowly behind her and carried her two big bags down the winding stair case. I watched, with a sense of reminiscing and envy, the beautiful, beautiful bond between a mother and child. She grabbed him by the hand, and slowly, slowly they made their way down the snow-lined pavement...

I could not take my eyes off of them. How inspiring, how beautiful and genuine the love between them. Their chatter and laughter faded as they disappeared into the distance...

Come back to me

The Letter

I must seem a distant memory
Which is probably a good thing
And it will have been a long, long time
And I will have missed you growing,
And I'll have missed you crying
And I'll have missed you laugh.
Missed your stomping and your shouting,
I'll have missed telling you off,
But please Billy,
Know that I was always there.
I was with you through everything.
And please, Billy...

But please, Billy
know that I will always be
Proud to have known you
Proud that you were mine
Proud in everything
And you must promise me this, Billy

In everything you do
Always be yourself, Billy
And you always will be true...
Love you forever
Love you forever
Mam

I will try, mama... 
I will try to be myself, and to be true.

I will try so hard.

Leaving

I looked up and saw him rub his eyes, his reddened and moist eyes. Momentarily, he buried his face with his hands. The  metro pulled onto the platform, a gush of wind nearly swept me off of my feet. Dizzy, feeling nauseous and the saltiness of recently dried tears on my cheeks, I watched him stand there overlooking the crowd and tracks below. Perhaps from high up there, one gets a better perspective of people and circumstances.

I hoped he would see me, see me gently wave and smile at him. My hope was realised when he lifted his head and looked my way, waving too. I waved goodbye, quietly wished his pain, tears and hurt can be washed away, quietly wished that he could forget me so that he will no longer hurt, no longer cry. All anyone ever wants is to be loved, to be wish someone who brings happiness and lightness into our lives.

Quickly I disappeared into the metro, so I do not have to cry...

Billy Elliot the Musical

I loved the movie Billy Elliot, and have watched it twice before. And tonight, I went to the musical adaptation of the movie.

A special little boy with a talent for dancing set against the backdrop of the mine strikes of 1980s Britain. While the adults argued and struggled to get by, while the Margret Thatcher sent in the police and strikers were pitted against "scabs", a boy just wants to dance! Dance to get his emotions and frustrations out, dance because he feels like dancing, dance because he feels free and hears music even when no music is playing.

But dancing for a boy is reason for ridicule. "Poof", "fruit", they called him because he wanted to dance the ballet. His dad and brother were dead set against it, but soon they realise that though their livelihoods and dreams are over, they cannot stand in the way of a boy with dreams and hopes. And how much the boy has gone through, having already lost his mother at the young age of 11.

It's a beautiful story about hope and hard work, striving and gain. It's also partly about loss and letting go. There is a scene in which  a letter from his late mother is read out (see other post). I could not keep from sobbing. The words reached deep inside me and wrenched my heart and caused a flood of tears:

And it will have been a long, long time
And I will have missed you growing,
And I'll have missed you crying
And I'll have missed you laugh.
Missed your stomping and your shouting,
I'll have missed telling you off,
But please Billy,
Know that I was always there.
I was with you through everything.

I enjoyed the musical, I really did. It was beautiful production, perhaps the most animated and well choreographed musical I've seen to date. It was  comical and extremely, extremely moving. And amazing what this scrawny little kid could do with his voice and feet on stage. But for me, personally, and a reason why I dreaded going to see the performance in a way, the most touching was that moment when the words and love of a late mother were transported into the present. Love, beautiful love, never dies...

Sick

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I threw up again. Terribly. Everything inside emptied out. Last time it was a month or so ago, in India, but that was due to something I ate, I imagine. This time... I don't know why.

Is it my body trying to tell me something? Am I ill? Is something wrong with my digestive system? Or is it all mental? Caused by stress, anxiety,and such fears of the world and all its people? I feel such fear, fear of waking up, fear of falling asleep... Just beset by fears and paining from the inability to find some kind of security and certainty.

I threw up just as I was heading out the door. As bizarre as it may seem, to meet up with my ex. He bought tickets to a musical he wanted to watch with me. We spoke for over an hour on the phone earlier, I spoke most of the time, voicing my opinions and frustrations about the way we are and how we got to this. It was the same conversation about our relationship and how we've seemingly grown so sour and tired of one another, the same conversation which never has an end, which doesn't resolve anything.

He said very little, and just said there are three choices. Be stuck in this ugly cycle of misunderstanding and hurting, cut off all ties, or try to start afresh, "get to know one another". I'm not sure what the last sentence even means, for do we not know one another already? Have we not known one another for over four years? I don't understand, but
perhaps against my better (or worse) judgment, I agreed to go to the show. One chance at salvaging something that was once so strong and so beautiful and carefree. Perhaps I am still imagining and dreaming of the impossible.

Why did I throw up? I still feel the uneasiness inside. I feel horrible, and to be honest am not in the mood to sit through a show. But I make myself stand up and clean myself up, and I go anyway.

Persevere

Another night disturbed by dreams and images of my ex and my parents. Somehow, and especially these days,  the most important people in my life who are no longer around, appear in my dreams and waking moments a lot. I often wonder why my mind punishes me so, why I'm causing my own suffering, when other people seem to have an easier time to move on, to put things on the side, or to even just forget.

It was another struggle to drag myself out of bed and to work. A colleague saw me this morning and was very concerned. For almost an hour we chatted and she tried to console me and remind me again that what I've gone through over the past years is not been easy for anyone.

Her voice was so calming, so motherly. "You seem to forget it's only been a few months..." A couple of times I had to blink hard and wipe the corners of my eyes. My colleague said she cannot imagine going through what I went through, especially at my age. Her words hit me as she pointed out how lonely and empty I must feel. And for some reason, ever since the long trip to India/Nepal that was supposed to bring me some closure and perspective (at least I thought so when the trip concluded...) the void has been growing ever emptier and ever deeper.

Later, in my boss' office, my boss sat me down and asked me how things have been with me. Even he could see through me and see how disturbed I have been. He encouraged me again, and like a father-figure told me to hang on there and be strong. Father figure... that is what I miss.

Though my boss is much older, he's not lost a parent yet. He admitted to  that seeing me venture off to India all on my own, partly on my mother's behalf, inspires him. Again, he explained his reason to keep me by his side, because he sees something in me, and "You deserve it!"

What is it that people see? Perhaps I am just blind and too weighed down by pain and the past.

I must somehow try to persevere, try to hold myself together and not break apart so easily...

Middlewei

 Long project to retrace my footsteps through the "Middle Land" with words and pictures before they are lost...


http://middlewei.blogspot.ca/

Coping

Being down, I went to the movies. Just like that, on the spur of the moment, thought it would cheer me up a little. Little was I prepared for moments of crying.

As a side character, and sort of as a comic relief, we are introduced to a young guy with a rare form of cancer. He knows he's dying, because as he put it all the relatives are visiting. His impending death allows him to see the world with such wonder and amazement, to enjoy every breath. He meets one of the main characters in the movie, who happens to be at the hospital after a serious overdose. She is a heroine addict and alcoholic. In several scenes, you see the girl, a very pretty young girl, shoot and sniff cocaine, and drink herself out of consciousness. She wants to stop, but cannot. An addiction is too hard to kick. But the alternative of not drinking or abusing substances feel much worse.

Around her apartment of pictures of her and mother, in one her mother, whose cheeks looked so thin and sunken, is wearing a woolen hat, one that covered her head completely. From that one picture I understood why the girl hurts, why she drinks and shoots. Why she has even had to prostitute herself so she can drown in the painlessness.

It's cancer, cancer took her mother away. Later in the movie she explains how she spent so much time with her mother, trying to taking care of her, trying to pray for a miracle, giving herself completely to her mother. But her mother died anyways.

As she described her ordeal, shedding light as to why she is destroying her own body and her own life, I empathised with her... After the loss of a dear, dear one, there is such void, pain, loneliness and such deep, deep longing to belong, to be with someone... How can you get rid of all that pain? Can anyone really understand or feel the depth of the pain? It is no wonder (but no excuse either...) she sought escape in drugs and drink. How else can you drown out the emotions and rawness of it all without driving yourself crazy from despair and feeling like you cannot breathe, cannot do anything right? How else can you get rid of the feelings of being abandoned and so worthless in world?

I'm not saying I'll go seize the bottle now or start tracking down dealers on the streets. But I understand, and maybe in understanding I can cope and be a little stronger. Any little bit of self-help helps now.

Any little bit...

Call

One phone call, and I am left crying again, at the office of all places. Call from my ex.
Why am I so fragile, so tormented inside? Why am I shaking and unable to pick up my work again?

I was lost as to what to say to him... lost for words, lost in a mess of thoughts. I want to tell him I care about him so much, still do after all we have gone through, after all those arguments and tears... But those feelings are so misplaced, so wrong! Feelings I feel but do not seem to be shared as strongly. Deep down inside there are so many things I want him to understand, so many things I feel he must know. But what? How?

And what is the point, really? What is going to change, when for two years almost we have been dealing with the same issues of torn feelings and love triangle? What is going to change anything at all?
Powerful what a disappointed and broken heart can do to you. Unimaginable how one person can affect your life so much...

And who is suffering here most of all? Is it not me, stuck in this mindset dominated by loss and pain and disbelief? Is it not me who is so miserable, so utterly demotivated and lacking any joy and inspiration to do anything, while other people do not understand why I am this way? Is it not me who is crying and becoming ever stressed about work I cannot continue to do because I am so distraught and unfocused?

Call

One phone call, and I am left crying again, at the office of all places. Call from my ex.
Why am I so fragile, so tormented inside? Why am I shaking and unable to pick up my work again?

Dream

Attempts to leave country thwarted again and again.
Detained at airport, begging and crying to no avail/.

Mum and dad appeared, seemingly upset and distressed.
Tortured dreams and images , all too real.

Attempt to tidy up

There's a reason why I've not unpacked certain things I brought back from home almost five months ago. Several folders full of papers, documents and pictures. Friends who visit my place tell me how messy my place is, and wonder why there are so many things on the floor of my room.

Well, I can say it's because there's not much shelf space, which is true. And i can say I'm just messy by nature and a hoarder. But deep down, there is a deeper reason. These papers, documents and pictures are difficult to touch and more difficult to look at. I asked myself as I flipped through the papers why I keep all these things... Aren't these pieces of paper going to go yellow and fade one day? Will they not in ten, twenty years' time be as good as rubbish? To anyone else, they're just pieces of paper, but to me they are part of me.

The papers range from certificates issued by the hospital to official notification from the city hall that my mum has been "deregistered" from the national census, the documents are in folders dealing with the estate and the family home I'm on the verge of losing, and the pictures are those I put up on the wall of the hospice room to make the drab place feel more "homely" for mum's sake and everyone's sake.

I had to sort through some of them tonight, in search of something I need for work. I grabbed a folder, flipped through it, and then set it down. I know what I'm getting myself into, but I cannot stop until I find what I'm looking for. Then came a point when I needed to stop, for I could no longer see... My vision became blurred and watery. Then sitting on the floor, I began to sob again.

Amid bank statements and passport pictures of mum, I saw the envelop again. On it mum wrote my name, the name she has always used to call me, a cute version of my real name that makes me sound like I'm a little kid, who is full of wonder, full of joy and a bundle of cuteness. I guess for her, I've always been, and will always be, her little kid.

Inside was a note bearing her pen marks, and a bit of money. More symbolic than anything else, for the money cannot be used and must be kept forever. It's symbolically the very last thing she is leaving behind in this world and giving me to keep.

She told me one day, days before she left, where she left this very envelop bearing my name, and to only open it after she has......

I opened it only once, after she passed, and quickly put it away. I could put it away then, and move on to busy myself with others things that needed taking care of back in July. Opening it again today, and seeing her handwriting wrenched my heart.

I am still not ready, at least not ready by myself to deal with the things lying on the floor. Not ready... Not ready.

Reading

Goodness... I'm not really into fortune telling, but this one strikes a deep chord and seems to sum up my past and present very well...

"[...] since your 13th anniversary your personality has changed. Today you are a different person than before that evil incident. Anxiety has taken the upper hand in your soul, once filled with energy and joy. Your passionate nature, your immense sensitivity have been impounding on your relationships with the others. Some people know your weak points all too well, they often use them and sometimes abuse them.

[...] your behavior today is full of contrasts. You easily slip from calm to impulsive behavior, your sharp reactions are followed by moments of great sorrow. When this happens, it seriously affects you and you think no one can truly understand you.

Moreover, today I sense that you are even more vulnerable and isolated from everyone. I perceive a high level of stress and a lot of apathy. You are filled with doubts and you are convinced you will never find a way out.

[...] All these negative thoughts are your worst enemies, as they quietly maintain this unhealthy climate that is corroding your existence minute after minute and chokes one after another your every chance of success."

Of course, as much as the above reflects my emotional set of mind and the "evil incident[s]" before my 13th birthday, if you do a google search of these words, you will come across forums on fraud schemes online.

Move

When life throws you down and circumstances choke you and make you feel like you cannot take it any longer, perhaps it is time to move on.

Move on, pack up my bags and move to a new place. Start life fresh, away from the  people and places that carry so many memories that haunt me so and make me so afraid to face on a daily basis. I am so scared to even step out of the house, to meet people. Why, I cannot understand. What have I done to feel such shame?

Family visit to grandpa

I got an email just now from my relatives (dad's side of the family...) It was an invitation for me to join them on a family trip to Hainan Island... China.

For personal and political reasons, I've long resisted any reason to visit China. But this trip is different, and something my dad's side of the family has been talking about for over a decade. I did express my interest to go many times to pay respects to my late granpa, who passed away when I was only two. I don't remember much, but I recently saw the little red bike that he gave first to my brother and then to me. The bike has since been restored and repainted, and is now being used by my second cousin...

My grandpa served as a soldier of the Japanese Empire during the Second World War and was for many years stationed on Hainan Island. He was cannon fodder, literally the the foot soldiers who were sent  toward enemy lines, the enemy then being the Chinese... He came back shellshocked, lost his mind, and was very abusive, my aunt told me, and it took a long while till he became "normal" again. My dad was born a year or so after my grandpa returned from the war.

In November, my grandpa was unearthed from his tomb after 25 years, and was finally cremated and put to rest next to my grandma. It marked a milestone in my family, and I imagine it was the trigger to organise this family trip to visit a place where grandpa once fought and lived...

But I can't go. I had to decline, as much as it tempted me... I just cannot think of  a trip anymore, even if it's such an important one.

Dreams...

060113.0722

It was all so real, and again so torturous for my mind that I shook awake...

I saw mum, on the back of the motorcycle I was riding. I took her around town, Rodin carefully from place to place, riding very slowly so she wouldn't fall off. I did used to do that with her, often in the weekend, taking her for a spin and breath of fresh air. But in the dream, she sat in the back, grabbed onto my body tightly and said nothing. I felt tense, felt responsible for her safety, and all around us were so much traffic and so many people...

Then dad appeared in another dream. He was getting ready for bed, and I was lying down on the floor next to him. He asked me how I was doing, asked me why I looked so sad and upset... I ran out of the room, crying...

Suddenly, my ex's father appeared out of nowhere. (He is such a lovely man in real life, and both the father and mother seem to care and ask about me a lot...) He questioned me on what is going on between my ex and me. I felt so uncomfortable, but he kept on asking for an explanation, insisting I tell him so he can understand and try to do something... I felt so desperate and trapped, for who was I to tell his parents about complications between their son and me..?

What a way to start the day...

How...?

How do I keep from crying?  How do I pry myself out of bed and force myself to work and study?
I feel so drained, so empty, so depressed, so very tired even though I sleep and sleep and sleep some more. And for several days now, there is a sharp pain in my chest that is making me feel even worse.
I've returned home, but still unable to muster the energy to see friends or do anything constructive. The suitcases are still unpacked, the washing undone, clothes and things strewn all over the floor...

I need some kind of hope, something, someone, to grab me by the hand and pull me out of this terrible low I've suddenly descended into. It is at times like this that my mother's kind, kind face, and the face of the dearest friend and soulmate I thought I had, appear before me, making me cry even more...

Gone, gone, sadness, Be gone!
 Leave me alone, do not torture me any longer. Gone, gone, pain! Let  me smile, for once smile and remind me what it feels like not to feel pain, not to feel loss... what it feels like not to feel at all...

Only love

 I heard this song in my head when I was drifting in and out of consciousness... The last time I played the song was the day before mum's funeral. I never played it since. The memories of those days, preparing for mum's funeral and the visit of my ex, I seem to have left behind me...

Until this afternoon, when my own mind conjured up the tune and the lyrics...
Then, listening to the words again on the internet, I realised the "other" meaning of the song. It reflects not just the loss of a dear one, but the also a loss of a lover.

Here, I am, sitting here , longing and thinking of two people who have been in my life... Where are they now...? Where are they now?


"Only love can make a memory
Only love can make a moment last.
You were there
And all the world was young
And all its songs unsung,
And I remember you then,
When love was all,
All you were living for,
And how you gave that love to me.

Only then I felt my heart was free,
I was part of you and you were all of me.
Warm were the days and the nights of those years,
Painted in colors to outshine the sun.
All of the words and the dreams and the tears
Live in my remembrance. "

No hiding forever

I dread going home... I dread having to face all these things at home and face all these friends. I'm sure they'll ask, out of concern, perhaps out of an attraction for gossip and entertainment, where I have been and what happened. I dread getting that "I-told-you-so" look and the same old speech of "things will pass"...

But I can't just hide, I can't cut off communication with the outside world and have my phone switched off forever. I can't just hide and sleep, and sleep some more, to rid myself of the dread and the pain of being awake. Even sleep isn't helping, not when I am beset my nightmares of death, fear and abandonment (in the latest, I was standing dangerously close to a leaking gas cannister trying to turn it off... in another last night, I was walking down the street and saw some friends. I tried to get close to hug them, they ran away...)

My god, just as I thought I have finally come to terms with mum's passing after my trip to India/Nepal, images and thoughts seem to be returning with a vengeance. Makes me feel like such a failure, especially after telling my parents, telling myself, I'd begin to let go now and start my life afresh.

I can't hide forever. But I feel so vulnerable going out there in the bitter, bitter cold, and feel like any little thing can make me break down and rcry .