26 August 2011
Ich bin ich
What am I doing? Rewarding my friend with my body, my time listening to his pursuit of a love affair?
He stayed the night, and told me the latest developments between him and the boy. In a way I don't want to hear details, but in a masochistic way, I want to know too... To know where they are, how my friend is coping or feeling. Or perhaps I just want to confirm or deny whether there is still a chance between us, somehow.
And again, we ended up in bed. Sex has never been anything short of phenomenal, and yesterday we went further than before, even though it caused me some pain and bleeding.
But we were caught up in lust, longed for one anothers bodies, longed for climax and that comfort of sleeping next to one another and hugging. So I gave in to my desires, against my better judgment perhaps. At one point i asked him to look at me in the eyes...
We looked deeply into one another's eyes, and in my mind I asked myself whether he saw me, whether he was really fully there with me at that very moment. "Ich bin ich" (I am I) I said, referring to the lyrics of a German song I let him listen to. the night was so very intense, our bodies vibrating in sync, connecting on a physical and metaphysical level like they have not for a long, long time. It was so very intimate, and I savored the moments, the touch and warmth of his arms, his breath on my face, the groans of wild pleasure and ecstasy...
We fell asleep together, I put my arms around him, spooned him like so many times before till he began to twitch a little, a sign I know that he is close if not already sleeping. I rolled back to my side of the bed, pulled my blanket over me, but felt a little empty inside...
25 August 2011
Strange mood
Something is up. A bunch of us are having dinner at my place, and he suddenly had to leave. "I'll tell you later," he said as he hurried off. He would bot return until half an hour later.
I tried hard to muster a smile and chat with my other friends. But deep down, I imagined him communicating with the boy he feels so deeply for. Are they together now? Are they sweet talking and whispering as they video chat? I don't know. But the thought is eating me inside. So soon after we broke up, and he can just move into another relationship? And he got so upset the other day when I went to see a couchsurfer I met a month ago and who happened to be in town for the night again. He got so upset he even asked whether I was going home with the guy, who I only met and spoke to for a couple of hours!
I don't know what's happening, he's just in my bed trying to compose himself, an waiting for me to go back and chat.
I don't know what will be said, what else will be revealed but I feel nauseated already and fear it will be another long, sleepless and restless night....
I tried hard to muster a smile and chat with my other friends. But deep down, I imagined him communicating with the boy he feels so deeply for. Are they together now? Are they sweet talking and whispering as they video chat? I don't know. But the thought is eating me inside. So soon after we broke up, and he can just move into another relationship? And he got so upset the other day when I went to see a couchsurfer I met a month ago and who happened to be in town for the night again. He got so upset he even asked whether I was going home with the guy, who I only met and spoke to for a couple of hours!
I don't know what's happening, he's just in my bed trying to compose himself, an waiting for me to go back and chat.
I don't know what will be said, what else will be revealed but I feel nauseated already and fear it will be another long, sleepless and restless night....
24 August 2011
Lag
In an effort to shield myself, I decided to stop publishing my blog entries immediately. I'm still writing, but I'm saving the drafts for publication until a week or two later.
One reason to do this is because before, my ex would often read my blog and if something is bothering me or if I'm feeling down or upset, he would immediately call or rush over to comfort me. I appreciated that greatly, because nobody has ever done anything as touching and caring for me, especially in my time of need. But since we broke up and since I wanted to keep some distance from him, at least for the coming period, I don't think it's healthy for either of us to be so involved in one another's lives so much.
I told him I still care deeply about him and his wellbeing, and I know he cares deeply about my life and what is affecting me emotionally, especially surrounding the condition of my mother. But I just don't feel right or comfortable being so dependent on him for support, for comfort, especially if he is to go into a new relationship. Imagine what the other person would think if my ex is constantly reading my blog and getting worried and wanting to come comfort me whenever I am down and upset by something (which seems to be often)! It's not fair... it's not right. I don't want to distract him and keep part of his heart and mind with me and make him feel divided and conflicted when he enters into another relationship. That was what tortured him the most, and he does not need to go through that again. Best is if can let go of me, be less concerned about me so that we have the time and space to adjust to the new relationship we find ourselves in.
It's not that I want a clean break and to start hiding news of my life. I still very much want him to be around, and I think he wants me to be around too... but I just feel we can no longer have that instant care and provision of care and support like we used to at this moment.
Maybe it will change one day soon... but when he is trying to move on and so desperately wants to start a relationship with someone else, the last thing he should be thinking of and worrying about is my feelings and my wellbeing.
So this blog will continue, but there will just be a little delay in the updates.
One reason to do this is because before, my ex would often read my blog and if something is bothering me or if I'm feeling down or upset, he would immediately call or rush over to comfort me. I appreciated that greatly, because nobody has ever done anything as touching and caring for me, especially in my time of need. But since we broke up and since I wanted to keep some distance from him, at least for the coming period, I don't think it's healthy for either of us to be so involved in one another's lives so much.
I told him I still care deeply about him and his wellbeing, and I know he cares deeply about my life and what is affecting me emotionally, especially surrounding the condition of my mother. But I just don't feel right or comfortable being so dependent on him for support, for comfort, especially if he is to go into a new relationship. Imagine what the other person would think if my ex is constantly reading my blog and getting worried and wanting to come comfort me whenever I am down and upset by something (which seems to be often)! It's not fair... it's not right. I don't want to distract him and keep part of his heart and mind with me and make him feel divided and conflicted when he enters into another relationship. That was what tortured him the most, and he does not need to go through that again. Best is if can let go of me, be less concerned about me so that we have the time and space to adjust to the new relationship we find ourselves in.
It's not that I want a clean break and to start hiding news of my life. I still very much want him to be around, and I think he wants me to be around too... but I just feel we can no longer have that instant care and provision of care and support like we used to at this moment.
Maybe it will change one day soon... but when he is trying to move on and so desperately wants to start a relationship with someone else, the last thing he should be thinking of and worrying about is my feelings and my wellbeing.
So this blog will continue, but there will just be a little delay in the updates.
Looking back
So I started recalling the names of all the places I have visited... Berlin, Barcelona, Taipei (numerous, numerous times...), Tel Aviv, Singapore, Bangkok, Prague... the list goes on and on. I've had to look back at the stamped pages of my passport, and also revisit some of my earlier blogs to remember where I have been, and what I have done.
I became nostalgic... I was young then, or at least younger. I was untouched, inexperienced and still discovering myself and the world. Those seemed like such carefree days. Traveling, visiting places, excited and spurred on by the sense of adventure and discovery which I seem to have lost.
I was lonely, sure, and I had family problems and my parents' health issues to deal with, of course... But life seemed to be so simple back then, back then when I was longing for love, and yet unsure what it all meant... back then when I had such a beautiful image and dreams of being in love, and did not realise what it feels to be heartbroken and to miss that sense connection and closeness you share with someone you have grown accustomed to over time.
And then I read up how my friend and I first met and connected, how I first started to have feelings for him, and how that developed further through our trips and adventures together. Sweet memories, sweet sweet smiles and laughter.
When you look back, life seems always to be so rosy. But of course it wasn't all that rosy, and my writings from five, six years ago can attest to that. The insecurities, the fears, the longings are still around, perhaps more ingrained today then before with the passage of time, or perhaps less burdensome now because I have grown used to it all. But every stage in life, every period is a process of learning, of living. And it amazes me when I look / read back and realise, and remind, myself how far I have come, and what I have really accomplished in in my life.
That means I can go on and do even more.
Time...
We hugged, hold one another tightly. I lost myself in the scent of his body, stroked the back of his head, his hair, and I could hear him groan in pleasure, and feel my bulge against his.
We hugged, I closed my eyes and wished that moment would last, would come as naturally as it always has felt... There is nothing more addictive, nothing more empowering to be in his embrace, to feel his hands and arm wrapped around my body. I may hug other people, for I love hugs and giving them, but hugging him is different. It draws out feelings, memories, and even tears. It fills me with such strength, such courage, and brings me to the here and now as well as a deep meditation could.
We stood in the office, arms locked around one another for several minutes. I felt him smell me, pull me in close and hold me closer. With eyes closed, I felt his breathing, smelt his breath. suddenly, admittedly though half expecting it, wanting it, I felt his lips on mine. Ever so gently, ever so softly, our lips touched and there was a spark of electricity. It felt like the first kiss, soft, true, intimate.
Earlier he had written to me, about how he broke into tears alone when he discovered a card I had written to him. Not just cards, but there are many notes, messages, scribbles and smileys I have left behind at his place. He wrote how much he appreciated them, appreciated my presence in his life, and how he is confused why he could not want to have something so special. It is frustrating, he said, to know that there is so much potential between us, but the timing and the circumstances are all wrong...
I was touched by his message, and later was touched by how he had bought a lovely teddy bear for me accompanied with lovely messages inside.
I wrote back, have been wanting to do that since I had that chance to get away and be not around him. As much as I don't want to, my mind tells me I need some time and distance from him. It's best for him, especially as he wants to resolve his feelings for the other person, to move on and to forget about me and what we had. It's best for me, because I'm afraid of being more hurt...
I said i don't know now how I should behave and interact with him, now that we are broken up. What do you do when you were first friends who became lovers an then break up? Do you go back to being friends, just friends just like that? I don't know, I've never had to deal with it, and I may be so naive in this way...
I would like that closeness, that friendship, that intimacy. But it hurts us both, hinders both our abilities to move on. And I told him I am not sure, at least in the near future, whether I can face him should he and the other boy get back together. I do wish he can rediscover the happiness and purity of emotions he found with the other person, because he deserves that after what I have put him through... But for my own (selfish!) sake, I'm not sure if I can deal with that, at least not at this moment. Especially with my tight schedules for the coming months, and the lingering troubles surrounding mum's health.
Am I such a terrible friend because I want distance, because I want time and space to protect my own skin and salvage every bit of my being I'm struggling to hold together? I don't know, and I don't know what he felt after reading my message. Was he disappointed in me, because he has always been able to differentiate being friends and being in love with me? He has always been there for me first an foremost as a friend, and he has alwad wished me happiness despite it being painful for him to see me go on dates. Why am I unable to do that? is it because i'm so petty and so concerned about my own feelings above all else? Is it because I don't want to feel that pain, that dee deep cut when he told me how much he feels for the other person, how much he wants to be with him, even during the time we were together?
I need to heal, to mourn, to get past all this, but I do not wish to push him away, do not wish to create unnecessary distance between us or put our strong, beautiful friendship into jeopardy... I love him still, care about him much, and cannot easily get him out of my mind, even though I am unsure at times whether these feelings are mutual. If they aren't, I must dilute them, make them fade and eventually disappear. If all that remains out of all this is a solid, solid friendship for life, then so be it. And if we are really meant to be together, if we are really so compatible and feel so deeply for one another, then one day perhaps we will come together again.
But I need time, I need space. And we both need the time and space apart to perhaps realise how much we mean for one another, how much we care about and love one another, if that.
We hugged, I closed my eyes and wished that moment would last, would come as naturally as it always has felt... There is nothing more addictive, nothing more empowering to be in his embrace, to feel his hands and arm wrapped around my body. I may hug other people, for I love hugs and giving them, but hugging him is different. It draws out feelings, memories, and even tears. It fills me with such strength, such courage, and brings me to the here and now as well as a deep meditation could.
We stood in the office, arms locked around one another for several minutes. I felt him smell me, pull me in close and hold me closer. With eyes closed, I felt his breathing, smelt his breath. suddenly, admittedly though half expecting it, wanting it, I felt his lips on mine. Ever so gently, ever so softly, our lips touched and there was a spark of electricity. It felt like the first kiss, soft, true, intimate.
Earlier he had written to me, about how he broke into tears alone when he discovered a card I had written to him. Not just cards, but there are many notes, messages, scribbles and smileys I have left behind at his place. He wrote how much he appreciated them, appreciated my presence in his life, and how he is confused why he could not want to have something so special. It is frustrating, he said, to know that there is so much potential between us, but the timing and the circumstances are all wrong...
I was touched by his message, and later was touched by how he had bought a lovely teddy bear for me accompanied with lovely messages inside.
I wrote back, have been wanting to do that since I had that chance to get away and be not around him. As much as I don't want to, my mind tells me I need some time and distance from him. It's best for him, especially as he wants to resolve his feelings for the other person, to move on and to forget about me and what we had. It's best for me, because I'm afraid of being more hurt...
I said i don't know now how I should behave and interact with him, now that we are broken up. What do you do when you were first friends who became lovers an then break up? Do you go back to being friends, just friends just like that? I don't know, I've never had to deal with it, and I may be so naive in this way...
I would like that closeness, that friendship, that intimacy. But it hurts us both, hinders both our abilities to move on. And I told him I am not sure, at least in the near future, whether I can face him should he and the other boy get back together. I do wish he can rediscover the happiness and purity of emotions he found with the other person, because he deserves that after what I have put him through... But for my own (selfish!) sake, I'm not sure if I can deal with that, at least not at this moment. Especially with my tight schedules for the coming months, and the lingering troubles surrounding mum's health.
Am I such a terrible friend because I want distance, because I want time and space to protect my own skin and salvage every bit of my being I'm struggling to hold together? I don't know, and I don't know what he felt after reading my message. Was he disappointed in me, because he has always been able to differentiate being friends and being in love with me? He has always been there for me first an foremost as a friend, and he has alwad wished me happiness despite it being painful for him to see me go on dates. Why am I unable to do that? is it because i'm so petty and so concerned about my own feelings above all else? Is it because I don't want to feel that pain, that dee deep cut when he told me how much he feels for the other person, how much he wants to be with him, even during the time we were together?
I need to heal, to mourn, to get past all this, but I do not wish to push him away, do not wish to create unnecessary distance between us or put our strong, beautiful friendship into jeopardy... I love him still, care about him much, and cannot easily get him out of my mind, even though I am unsure at times whether these feelings are mutual. If they aren't, I must dilute them, make them fade and eventually disappear. If all that remains out of all this is a solid, solid friendship for life, then so be it. And if we are really meant to be together, if we are really so compatible and feel so deeply for one another, then one day perhaps we will come together again.
But I need time, I need space. And we both need the time and space apart to perhaps realise how much we mean for one another, how much we care about and love one another, if that.
23 August 2011
Rest in Peace, Jack
I was still half asleep when the news broke. "Jack Layton, the leader of the opposition, has died".
Shock and surprise overcame me. So soon, so abrupt. Just a month ago, he announced he would retreat for a while to continue his struggle for life. He promised to return to Parliament in Autumn. But he lost that fight... Another victim of cancer-- that cruel, blind and crippling, crippling illness...
My thoughts went to his family, his wife, who is of Chinese descent. I didn't know him personally, but his energy, his smile, his being "Just Jack", his politics, and the clean way he conducted it, appealed to me, and appealed to so many millions of Canadians.
And there was the cancer that connected me to him even more. Despite his illness, he had faith in life. He campaigned hard, he believed in and stood for change and hope and optimism. He led his party to an unprecedented victory with a belief greater social justice and equality in Canada.
And all that ended. A cancer of unknown origin took that all away. I can only imagine what he and his family went through during the treatment... The hard prayers, the elevated hopes, the consuming fears, and the pain of realising at one point there is nothing more that can be done...
Even so, despite his own pain and suffering, in his last letter to Canadians, he wrote:
Though i never met him, never spoke to him, and can hardly do justice to all the things he has done and said for people around him, for this country, to me he was a courageous person, with conviction and determiation till the very end.
Rest in peace, Mr Layton...
Shock and surprise overcame me. So soon, so abrupt. Just a month ago, he announced he would retreat for a while to continue his struggle for life. He promised to return to Parliament in Autumn. But he lost that fight... Another victim of cancer-- that cruel, blind and crippling, crippling illness...
My thoughts went to his family, his wife, who is of Chinese descent. I didn't know him personally, but his energy, his smile, his being "Just Jack", his politics, and the clean way he conducted it, appealed to me, and appealed to so many millions of Canadians.
And there was the cancer that connected me to him even more. Despite his illness, he had faith in life. He campaigned hard, he believed in and stood for change and hope and optimism. He led his party to an unprecedented victory with a belief greater social justice and equality in Canada.
And all that ended. A cancer of unknown origin took that all away. I can only imagine what he and his family went through during the treatment... The hard prayers, the elevated hopes, the consuming fears, and the pain of realising at one point there is nothing more that can be done...
Even so, despite his own pain and suffering, in his last letter to Canadians, he wrote:
"To other Canadians who are on journeys to defeat cancer and to live their lives, I say this: please don’t be discouraged that my own journey hasn’t gone as well as I had hoped. You must not lose your own hope. Treatments and therapies have never been better in the face of this disease. You have every reason to be optimistic, determined, and focused on the future. My only other advice is to cherish every moment with those you love at every stage of your journey, as I have done this summer."
Though i never met him, never spoke to him, and can hardly do justice to all the things he has done and said for people around him, for this country, to me he was a courageous person, with conviction and determiation till the very end.
Rest in peace, Mr Layton...
21 August 2011
Almost home
Why is it that the closer I get to home, the more clouded and distracted my mind becomes? While I was biking over the weekend, it was so easily to forget, so easily to just be in the moment.
Yet now I feel the doubts, the fears, the speculation and annoyances creep up and subsume my mind slowly....
And I am not even home yet!
Yet now I feel the doubts, the fears, the speculation and annoyances creep up and subsume my mind slowly....
And I am not even home yet!
20 August 2011
Lingering troubles
It's been a few days since I last spoke to mum, and I finally managed to reach her, despite the poor connection and having to call back many times because the call kept disconnecting (what do you expect being out in the woods of Peribonka?)
I sensed something was wrong, for mum was short in her response and kept on wanting to hang up quickly. Then she finally admitted two things on her mind...
First of all, her arm aches are returning again, and it feels now as if she never went through the radiotherapy. That distresses her, and really pulls me down, but there's little I can do about it but worry and wish she would not feel so much pain. Imagine that pain, that constant source of discomfort an having to live with it every waking moment of the day (and night)... She's going to consult the neurosurgeon, but that could potential point to just one solution: life risking surgery that will take months of recovery...
I do not want to think of that now, and I am sure she no more than o don't want to...
Then, she detailed her latest argument on the phone with my brother just yesterday. She wanted to let him/ them know how she felt really marginalized and neglected while she was staying with them in Europe, but brother apparently struck back and said that it's all because mum is so difficult to please and serve. That caused her so much anger and sent her blood pressure soaring (that's how she described it).
How disappointed I was listening to this all, and even in the tranquility of the forest, I felt my mind and mood cloud over.
Even after a week or so of being at home, mum still cannot let go of how she felt she was treated, and brother seems to have so little thought for her, who really cannot, should not, for the sake of her health and not aggravating her illness, have any unnecessary stress or tension.
"Please, mum" i said, "Just live your life and take care of yourself. Please don't let the past linger..." I said what I could say, I showed her the care and love I could offer from this distance, and I need to make peace with that, however inadequate what i have said or done may feel like.
I sensed something was wrong, for mum was short in her response and kept on wanting to hang up quickly. Then she finally admitted two things on her mind...
First of all, her arm aches are returning again, and it feels now as if she never went through the radiotherapy. That distresses her, and really pulls me down, but there's little I can do about it but worry and wish she would not feel so much pain. Imagine that pain, that constant source of discomfort an having to live with it every waking moment of the day (and night)... She's going to consult the neurosurgeon, but that could potential point to just one solution: life risking surgery that will take months of recovery...
I do not want to think of that now, and I am sure she no more than o don't want to...
Then, she detailed her latest argument on the phone with my brother just yesterday. She wanted to let him/ them know how she felt really marginalized and neglected while she was staying with them in Europe, but brother apparently struck back and said that it's all because mum is so difficult to please and serve. That caused her so much anger and sent her blood pressure soaring (that's how she described it).
How disappointed I was listening to this all, and even in the tranquility of the forest, I felt my mind and mood cloud over.
Even after a week or so of being at home, mum still cannot let go of how she felt she was treated, and brother seems to have so little thought for her, who really cannot, should not, for the sake of her health and not aggravating her illness, have any unnecessary stress or tension.
"Please, mum" i said, "Just live your life and take care of yourself. Please don't let the past linger..." I said what I could say, I showed her the care and love I could offer from this distance, and I need to make peace with that, however inadequate what i have said or done may feel like.
Sudden change
It all came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, and I felt so miserable and unprepared. I let out a load groan, and felt like things were turning so sour because it was all so rough and painful to deal with.
But at moments when you are thrown in a sticky situation, you adapt, you change, you mend your plans and desires to accommodate a new reality you did not forsee. And at times, it turns out to be a pleasant surprise, and you enjoy the process at the end of the day.
The rain came so quickly we were all unprepared. Though we had seen the signs, seen the dense dark clouds looming tall and approaching fast, we thought we could outrun and outsmart nature. But no, the rain bombarded us like pellets, and soon we were drenched, and had to hide to protect ourselves from the rain, the thunder and lightning, and from the frightening blowing wind.
Originally we wanted to head to a camp site deep inside a scenic national park, but the rain dampened our hopes and spirits, and we just decided to call it a day and find anywhere to rest for the night. Keeping warm and keeping dry was our priority, and we sought hard for a place to stay.
Upon a little town we stumbled, and we rode into the camping ground and inquired about the availability of a "deluxe" tent. We were in luck, ad soon we dried ourselves (and our luggage) inside the cosy tent for four which had its own little kitchen.
We settled in, and with a fellow traveller I went to pick up groceries from a local convent store. There was very little choice except for canned veggies and pasta, but with some garlic and butter, we soon fixed up an amazing dinner and sat down to enjoy the cool evening over ases of wine. The food was so simple, yet perhaps the hunger and tiredness, it felt and tasted like it was a luxurious meal at a fancy restaurant, and we chatted and laughed into the night.
Such simple surroundings, in the middle of the woods, the rain splashing on our roof, the sounds of crickets calling and/or laughter. Such simple joy and fun there is to be had.
And all this because, or in spite, of a sudden change in our plans, and a dramatic change in the weather.
But at moments when you are thrown in a sticky situation, you adapt, you change, you mend your plans and desires to accommodate a new reality you did not forsee. And at times, it turns out to be a pleasant surprise, and you enjoy the process at the end of the day.
The rain came so quickly we were all unprepared. Though we had seen the signs, seen the dense dark clouds looming tall and approaching fast, we thought we could outrun and outsmart nature. But no, the rain bombarded us like pellets, and soon we were drenched, and had to hide to protect ourselves from the rain, the thunder and lightning, and from the frightening blowing wind.
Originally we wanted to head to a camp site deep inside a scenic national park, but the rain dampened our hopes and spirits, and we just decided to call it a day and find anywhere to rest for the night. Keeping warm and keeping dry was our priority, and we sought hard for a place to stay.
Upon a little town we stumbled, and we rode into the camping ground and inquired about the availability of a "deluxe" tent. We were in luck, ad soon we dried ourselves (and our luggage) inside the cosy tent for four which had its own little kitchen.
We settled in, and with a fellow traveller I went to pick up groceries from a local convent store. There was very little choice except for canned veggies and pasta, but with some garlic and butter, we soon fixed up an amazing dinner and sat down to enjoy the cool evening over ases of wine. The food was so simple, yet perhaps the hunger and tiredness, it felt and tasted like it was a luxurious meal at a fancy restaurant, and we chatted and laughed into the night.
Such simple surroundings, in the middle of the woods, the rain splashing on our roof, the sounds of crickets calling and/or laughter. Such simple joy and fun there is to be had.
And all this because, or in spite, of a sudden change in our plans, and a dramatic change in the weather.
19 August 2011
long bike ride
I only learned about this trip a few days ago. A 256km ride around Lac St Jean, in central Quebec, on a bike route known as Route des Bluets, due to te abundance of blueberries in this region, especially at this time o the year.
I was a little hesitant at first, afraid to be imposing on the plans of someone I had just met and who happened to share my love of biking. But she insisted it would be no trouble at all , and as they say, the more the merrier.
So with three others, we sped through the night to the area and checked in late at a B&B. The next morning, we started biking toward our destination some 90km further north.
The scenery is beautiful, with rolling hills and valleys, and at times the broad, inviting blur surface of Lac St Jean itself in the not so far away distance. We went at a steady pace, paused here and there for photo ops and to visit historic sites, but generally we are a fun and friendly bunch of people who, though some of us have never met before, are fast beginning good biking buddies.
Again, being on a bike and going the long distance made me feel so alive and invigorated. Initially I was afraid of the distance, but really going at a steady pace you hardly feel or notice.
Of course, there are moments when i think of my friend and imagine how great it would be to do this long bike ride together, for we've so often talked about going here and there... And at times, I was reminded of the charity bike ride we did last year, our longest together yet, when we just felt so happy and trouble free being next to one another.
But I could forget, at least temporarily anyways. Forget what had pulled me down for so long, and I could feel myself, my body be so strong and so determined to continue. Forget, and leave all the noises and troubles that has so disturbed me for the last few weeks, months, and just focus on the road, on the peddling, on getting to where we are headed. It is wonderful to distract yourself and to remind yourself that beyond your worries, fears and attachments, is a world so vast, so beautiful and all of it waiting to be explored and taken in with the mind and eyes.
Tonight we are camping outdoors, merely a few steps from a broad river of rough rapids. I can hear the water, crashing and tumbling, I can smell the scent of an open campfire, and I can feel the romance I always feel wing outdoors and being with nature (less bugs would be nice though...).
Time for a good rest, relax my body, to enjoy that momentary peace of mind and resting of my soul.
I was a little hesitant at first, afraid to be imposing on the plans of someone I had just met and who happened to share my love of biking. But she insisted it would be no trouble at all , and as they say, the more the merrier.
So with three others, we sped through the night to the area and checked in late at a B&B. The next morning, we started biking toward our destination some 90km further north.
The scenery is beautiful, with rolling hills and valleys, and at times the broad, inviting blur surface of Lac St Jean itself in the not so far away distance. We went at a steady pace, paused here and there for photo ops and to visit historic sites, but generally we are a fun and friendly bunch of people who, though some of us have never met before, are fast beginning good biking buddies.
Again, being on a bike and going the long distance made me feel so alive and invigorated. Initially I was afraid of the distance, but really going at a steady pace you hardly feel or notice.
Of course, there are moments when i think of my friend and imagine how great it would be to do this long bike ride together, for we've so often talked about going here and there... And at times, I was reminded of the charity bike ride we did last year, our longest together yet, when we just felt so happy and trouble free being next to one another.
But I could forget, at least temporarily anyways. Forget what had pulled me down for so long, and I could feel myself, my body be so strong and so determined to continue. Forget, and leave all the noises and troubles that has so disturbed me for the last few weeks, months, and just focus on the road, on the peddling, on getting to where we are headed. It is wonderful to distract yourself and to remind yourself that beyond your worries, fears and attachments, is a world so vast, so beautiful and all of it waiting to be explored and taken in with the mind and eyes.
Tonight we are camping outdoors, merely a few steps from a broad river of rough rapids. I can hear the water, crashing and tumbling, I can smell the scent of an open campfire, and I can feel the romance I always feel wing outdoors and being with nature (less bugs would be nice though...).
Time for a good rest, relax my body, to enjoy that momentary peace of mind and resting of my soul.
leaving town
It was an abrupt goodbye, but sometimes that is what is needed. A hug, rushed, a kiss, a whisper in the ear: "Take care..."
Though we were at the office, though I was rushing to proofread something I promised someone, we spent a good two hours talking. About him, about his confusions, about him been so torn and having such strong feelings toward the other boy. We talked, about where we are going, where we have come from, and what we mean to one another, if anything now after such a long time and becoming so deeply ingrained in one another's lives and thoughts....
I told him how much he means to me, what happiness he brought me, not just in our period together as a real couple, but from the day we first met, from that night we first connected deep into the night... Even if I'm hurting and struggling hard with heartbreak and pain to a degree Ive never before felt, he taught me I can love, and be loved in return
I wished him, perhaps for the first time, without any pain or regret, at least not at that moment when the words escaped my mouth, that he can one day find someone who will give him happiness, care and love more than i ever could. Because I'm not sure if i ever lived up to what is expected of a boyfriend, and i know i have at times disappointed him even as a friend.
He deserves to be happy, we all do. And if I cannot offer that to him any more, I hope someone else can do that, can give him butterflies, give him smiles when he wales up everyday and give him a reason to work, to dream and to live for another day, and so much more.
At one point he broke down and cried and cried. I wanted to hold him, comfort him but all I could offer was a cloth to wipe his snot and tears...
Then we kissed. It's been such a long time since we last kissed, and perhaps it would our last kiss. The passion was still there, the lips still felt so sort, the arousal so overwhelming and additive. His scent, his beautiful eyes, the stubble of his face, the touch of his soft fingers and strong arms. It felt like the first time we were intimate, like there was no one else and everything in the world just stopped, stopped like my heart beat. And there in the office, Wight the door locked, and our colleagues steps away, we had sex yet again, and it felt wrong; it felt so naughty, but oh it felt so relieving and so good.
A rushed goodbye, a quick kiss on the lips, and we parted ways. I'm headed out of town to escape, to get away, and he to the gym to distract himself and to find temporary peace and sanity.
We will meet again, I'm sure of that. Under what circumstances, under what mindset, I'm not sure. but meet again we shall, because after all the tears, talks, tensions, let downs, we are special to one another, we mean something to one another. He knows it, i know it.
Meet again we shall, and I look forward to that.
18 August 2011
Going away
Time to get away, get away from it all. Time to lose myself in nature, disappear into the wild, allow my mind and thoughts to drift with the breeze and shivering leaves.
17 August 2011
Remembering the ancestors
The other day was the biggest celebration during the Ghost Month, a day when people in Taiwan commemorate their ancestors and worship "wandering ghosts". Originally, I wanted to throw a party, but I was stressed about my immigration interview, and I was also an emotional wreck after a few difficult days of talking and reconciling with my friend, so I needed to postpone. As a temporary tribute, I laid out a few fruits and invited my members of my family who have long passed away, invited my dad, to come, and promised that I would prepare something more sumptuous later in the month.
Mum today went to the temple to pay respects to dad's remains, and she took with her a number of dishes for him and our ancestors, and plenty of fruits as well as paper money to be burnt as an offering. It went well, she said, and she also took the opportunity to stand before dad's urn and tell him about her trip to see my brother and I. That was very touching to hear, especially as I know she goes through a lot of trouble, all on her, and has to travel a great distance to complete the commemoration ceremony. I wished I could have been there, to help her, and to 'see' my dad and ancestors in person...
I will have to do something soon, as I promised I would.
Mum today went to the temple to pay respects to dad's remains, and she took with her a number of dishes for him and our ancestors, and plenty of fruits as well as paper money to be burnt as an offering. It went well, she said, and she also took the opportunity to stand before dad's urn and tell him about her trip to see my brother and I. That was very touching to hear, especially as I know she goes through a lot of trouble, all on her, and has to travel a great distance to complete the commemoration ceremony. I wished I could have been there, to help her, and to 'see' my dad and ancestors in person...
I will have to do something soon, as I promised I would.
one last time?
A few days ago he wrote to me after a night of intense passion, in which he made a commitment to himself. He has an objective in mind, to try and try again to be with the boy he fell for back in November... and unless there is some kind of resolution, whether they get back together or he is turned away cold, he cannot let this go. In the mean time, he cannot have any more physical relations with me... for his own sake, for my sake, so as not to mislead me or hurt me, and for our sake...
But since, we broken that promise, tried to convince ourselves that what we were doing (pleasuring one another) was not fully sex. The temptation of each other's bodies is just too much, too much to bear and resist. And today again we broke that commitment. Was it me, did I push the boundaries? Did I tempt him lying next to him after a game of sweaty tennis on such a beautiful day? But he wanted it as much as I did, or so was the impression.
Afterwards as we were healing, hugging one another, he suddenly told me the latest update between him and the boy he cannot let go of or stop thinking about. I turned away, cold, and got up. I was not angry, but the timing was just so misplaced... We were just intimate, and almost immediately afterwards, he began to tell me about the other person.
It was just poor timing, for which he did apologise. From the look on his face he was again heavy and glum, even though it had been a wonderful day so far.
But for a many moments, I felt like I did not exist. I felt like i was so easily dispensable, so forgettable, so easily forgettable and could easily disappear from his life in the blink of an eye. Even though I was physically next to him, even though I was looking at his face, feeling his body, he did not seem to see my face, did not seem to see me. After being a couple, after our shortlived relationship, it feels like we were now back to those heydays when sex was just... sex, and nothing else. Is it this way? How disappointing it felt reaching that conclusion, knowing that after all we have gone through, the many beautiful moments we have shared in so many places, I am just an aside on his life stage.
I guess I have only myself to blame, and I am not upset at him. I have myself to blame for not being able to let go of his body, for being so caught up with sexual and physical satisfaction... I have only myself to blame for wanting to lie next to him, for wanting to stroke his skin ever so softly and for wanting to feel his breath and smell his scent... Who am I to him now, really, who am I to him now, when so soon after sex he could start thinking and talking about the boy he is so into and cannot let go of?
I have somehow lost my touch on my friend, lost my appeal on him, and his mind, his feelings are set on someone else. That cannot change, unless he finds some kind of resolution for his feelings. I knew that, and I guess I've known that since he began to slowly, slowly reveal the truth of what happened between them, and why things broke down and why we broke up back in May. The feelings of romance, of love between us must be suppressed and buried.
Sex with him has always been so intoxicating, but it seems to become more and more poisonous. But is that poison why it feels so good, so naughty, so desirable? I need to really let go of that longing, let go of that physical desire, however ovewhelming and magical it can be. I need also to let go of wanting to be with my friend, of longing to see him when I am lonely and upset. It is best for everyone, and best for my own protection...
But since, we broken that promise, tried to convince ourselves that what we were doing (pleasuring one another) was not fully sex. The temptation of each other's bodies is just too much, too much to bear and resist. And today again we broke that commitment. Was it me, did I push the boundaries? Did I tempt him lying next to him after a game of sweaty tennis on such a beautiful day? But he wanted it as much as I did, or so was the impression.
Afterwards as we were healing, hugging one another, he suddenly told me the latest update between him and the boy he cannot let go of or stop thinking about. I turned away, cold, and got up. I was not angry, but the timing was just so misplaced... We were just intimate, and almost immediately afterwards, he began to tell me about the other person.
It was just poor timing, for which he did apologise. From the look on his face he was again heavy and glum, even though it had been a wonderful day so far.
But for a many moments, I felt like I did not exist. I felt like i was so easily dispensable, so forgettable, so easily forgettable and could easily disappear from his life in the blink of an eye. Even though I was physically next to him, even though I was looking at his face, feeling his body, he did not seem to see my face, did not seem to see me. After being a couple, after our shortlived relationship, it feels like we were now back to those heydays when sex was just... sex, and nothing else. Is it this way? How disappointing it felt reaching that conclusion, knowing that after all we have gone through, the many beautiful moments we have shared in so many places, I am just an aside on his life stage.
I guess I have only myself to blame, and I am not upset at him. I have myself to blame for not being able to let go of his body, for being so caught up with sexual and physical satisfaction... I have only myself to blame for wanting to lie next to him, for wanting to stroke his skin ever so softly and for wanting to feel his breath and smell his scent... Who am I to him now, really, who am I to him now, when so soon after sex he could start thinking and talking about the boy he is so into and cannot let go of?
I have somehow lost my touch on my friend, lost my appeal on him, and his mind, his feelings are set on someone else. That cannot change, unless he finds some kind of resolution for his feelings. I knew that, and I guess I've known that since he began to slowly, slowly reveal the truth of what happened between them, and why things broke down and why we broke up back in May. The feelings of romance, of love between us must be suppressed and buried.
Sex with him has always been so intoxicating, but it seems to become more and more poisonous. But is that poison why it feels so good, so naughty, so desirable? I need to really let go of that longing, let go of that physical desire, however ovewhelming and magical it can be. I need also to let go of wanting to be with my friend, of longing to see him when I am lonely and upset. It is best for everyone, and best for my own protection...
16 August 2011
Talked out
My friend was there as I came out of the immigration interview. He had beautiful flowers in his hand, blue (violet) and white, symbolic of my new adoptive homeland's national colours. I pretended at first that I had not succeed, but could not contain my happiness that I finally secured the first step towards permanent residence here in Canada. I kissed him on the cheeks, and hugged him many times, thanking him over and over again. He was also very happy for me, and smiled so many times so beautifully at me.
We went out to lunch, and I excitedly told him about how the interview went. We met other friends who were all sent me wellwished and congratulations. It was a generally happy evening, despite my fatigue from the stress and sleeping only a few hours.
Then he came home with me, and that was when the mood suddenly, unexpectedly changed. It began with him snooping around my email inbox, one thing led to another, and we were up till late again having difficult discussions about his feelings and confusions, about our former relationship, deciphering our minds and the past. It is good to get all the thoughts and words out into the open, good for my friend to vent all the bottled emotions and frustrations. All of what was said seems now like a blur, (or perhaps I am just too tired to be able to digest them and coherently put them into words...?) At one point, it felt all a bit much, with my long and stressful day and interview, and then having to sort through emotional luggage which is not getting any lighter.
Even so, I promised my friend I would be there to listen, that I would be there to support and comfort him when he needed. I think I did that, even though at times it was very heavy and difficult to listen and not be affected deep down. I sat, and I listened, because that is what friends do for one another... that is what he has done for me on numerous occasions, and my friend deserves, needs nothing less from me.
By the end of it all, we were all talked out, and we lay next to one another in bed, trying to, pretending to fall asleep. I felt his breath, the warmth of his body, felt the softness of his skin, the sensuality of his touch. I can only imagine how the smell and warmth and touch of my body aroused him too. And again, like so often in the past, after long, difficult and painful talks, we began to explore each other's bodies. Did it feel good? Was it so intoxicating and so damned arousing? Yes, it was, yes it was... Did we both need relief, and did we succumb to our desires and simple, carnal pleasures? Yes, we did, yes, we did.
But the questions, the doubts, the confusions are still lingering and lurking around in the background...
We went out to lunch, and I excitedly told him about how the interview went. We met other friends who were all sent me wellwished and congratulations. It was a generally happy evening, despite my fatigue from the stress and sleeping only a few hours.
Then he came home with me, and that was when the mood suddenly, unexpectedly changed. It began with him snooping around my email inbox, one thing led to another, and we were up till late again having difficult discussions about his feelings and confusions, about our former relationship, deciphering our minds and the past. It is good to get all the thoughts and words out into the open, good for my friend to vent all the bottled emotions and frustrations. All of what was said seems now like a blur, (or perhaps I am just too tired to be able to digest them and coherently put them into words...?) At one point, it felt all a bit much, with my long and stressful day and interview, and then having to sort through emotional luggage which is not getting any lighter.
Even so, I promised my friend I would be there to listen, that I would be there to support and comfort him when he needed. I think I did that, even though at times it was very heavy and difficult to listen and not be affected deep down. I sat, and I listened, because that is what friends do for one another... that is what he has done for me on numerous occasions, and my friend deserves, needs nothing less from me.
By the end of it all, we were all talked out, and we lay next to one another in bed, trying to, pretending to fall asleep. I felt his breath, the warmth of his body, felt the softness of his skin, the sensuality of his touch. I can only imagine how the smell and warmth and touch of my body aroused him too. And again, like so often in the past, after long, difficult and painful talks, we began to explore each other's bodies. Did it feel good? Was it so intoxicating and so damned arousing? Yes, it was, yes it was... Did we both need relief, and did we succumb to our desires and simple, carnal pleasures? Yes, we did, yes, we did.
But the questions, the doubts, the confusions are still lingering and lurking around in the background...
one small step
I was nervous, stressed as the minutes ticked toward 1330hrs, 15 August 2011. I rushed to my office to get a last minute documentation from my professor, and received many hugs and pats on the back from my friend, and many "you'll be just fine"s from my colleagues.
Even so, sitting in that waiting room waiting doe my name to be called seemed to take forever.
Eventually, a lady called my name, and our eyes met, and we would sit across each other from a desk for the next 40min or so, with a colleague of hers sitting in the back, watching the whole interview take place.
She began. From the first impression, she didn't have the friendliest of face or make a very warm impression. But she was articulate and spoke French clearly and slowly so even I could understand, which allayed my fears. Most questions were about my education and work experience, as well as work prospects here in Quebec. I answered her, telling her all my experiences, and showed her letters of recommendation, one of which was written by my former boss, who was a Quebecoise. That made a positive impression indeed.
I had expected questions on Quebec culture, history or even being asked my opinion of the thorny issue of independence... but none of those came up. Instead, she asked me about the topic of my thesis, and what I find difficult most of all in my research, which I was unprepared for, especially in language I have only a basic command of. Even so, I explained (or tried to at least...) in French, and she somehow understood.
At one point she typed on her computer for a good few minutes. That didn't look right, I thought, but then she turned around and began to compliment me on my level of French (she said it was very "fluide", which as a friend later would say is not proper French, but I guess means "flowing", or fluent). Of course I need to improve my French skills, and learn more vocabulary, but the basic grammar and pronunciation is sound, and she was very surprised. As was I, and I smiled when she said that.
From one moment complimenting me on my level of French, came the next moment. "Congratulations," she said with a smile, "You have successfully obtained your CSQ" (Quebec Selection Certificate). I smiled, and smiled, "Merci infiniment," I said, "Merci, merci, merci..."
I left the interview with a piece of paper in my hand. A piece of paper with my name on it. A moment of pride it was, a moment of happiness and sense of achievement I have not felt in a long, long time. I needed that, needed to feel and savour that, even if that were to disappear quickly. But I needed that to remind myself that I still have it within me... to work hard, to put effort into something, and to succeed.
It was not as if I spent a lot of time preparing for the interview, but over the last week or so, I have been reviewing my documents, and with the help of two friends, I have been jotting down on paper and mentally sentences in simple French to introduce myself and 'sell' myself.
I guess deep down inside, I somehow knew I would obtain the right to stay on in the country as a skilled worker. But I needed to prove myself, and to show myself that I could do it. All my experiences, all my diplomas, all those years spent living in different countries, all those languages I speak... it is as if I have spent my whole life preparing for this moment, to be assessed and scrutinised by a society, by a country, with its own rules and regulations, with its needs and demands of what it means to play a role here.
And how wonderful it is to know that I am welcome in this country. How wonderful it is to know that this country values my skills and talents and welcomes me to be a part of this society based on immigrants and tolerance and equality.
It feels wonderful to belong, as I said during my interview... to belong, and to feel at home. And the piece of paper with my name of it is a small step to securing my sense of belonging, to permanently building my home here in Canada.
Even so, sitting in that waiting room waiting doe my name to be called seemed to take forever.
Eventually, a lady called my name, and our eyes met, and we would sit across each other from a desk for the next 40min or so, with a colleague of hers sitting in the back, watching the whole interview take place.
She began. From the first impression, she didn't have the friendliest of face or make a very warm impression. But she was articulate and spoke French clearly and slowly so even I could understand, which allayed my fears. Most questions were about my education and work experience, as well as work prospects here in Quebec. I answered her, telling her all my experiences, and showed her letters of recommendation, one of which was written by my former boss, who was a Quebecoise. That made a positive impression indeed.
At one point she typed on her computer for a good few minutes. That didn't look right, I thought, but then she turned around and began to compliment me on my level of French (she said it was very "fluide", which as a friend later would say is not proper French, but I guess means "flowing", or fluent). Of course I need to improve my French skills, and learn more vocabulary, but the basic grammar and pronunciation is sound, and she was very surprised. As was I, and I smiled when she said that.
From one moment complimenting me on my level of French, came the next moment. "Congratulations," she said with a smile, "You have successfully obtained your CSQ" (Quebec Selection Certificate). I smiled, and smiled, "Merci infiniment," I said, "Merci, merci, merci..."
I left the interview with a piece of paper in my hand. A piece of paper with my name on it. A moment of pride it was, a moment of happiness and sense of achievement I have not felt in a long, long time. I needed that, needed to feel and savour that, even if that were to disappear quickly. But I needed that to remind myself that I still have it within me... to work hard, to put effort into something, and to succeed.
It was not as if I spent a lot of time preparing for the interview, but over the last week or so, I have been reviewing my documents, and with the help of two friends, I have been jotting down on paper and mentally sentences in simple French to introduce myself and 'sell' myself.
I guess deep down inside, I somehow knew I would obtain the right to stay on in the country as a skilled worker. But I needed to prove myself, and to show myself that I could do it. All my experiences, all my diplomas, all those years spent living in different countries, all those languages I speak... it is as if I have spent my whole life preparing for this moment, to be assessed and scrutinised by a society, by a country, with its own rules and regulations, with its needs and demands of what it means to play a role here.
And how wonderful it is to know that I am welcome in this country. How wonderful it is to know that this country values my skills and talents and welcomes me to be a part of this society based on immigrants and tolerance and equality.
It feels wonderful to belong, as I said during my interview... to belong, and to feel at home. And the piece of paper with my name of it is a small step to securing my sense of belonging, to permanently building my home here in Canada.
14 August 2011
entrevue
After almost three years here in Quebec, tomorrow will be a decisive day. The day which will more or less decide whether I continue staying here.
Probably it's not as dramatic as that, but it'll be a first step toward receiving permanent residence.
I've been dragging my feet on applying, and finally took the bold step last year October. Now, almost ten months later, I've been called to an interview (though, I was first contacted back in May for an interview, which was supposed to take place while I was in Taiwan with mum).
People who have gone through it tell me it's not as difficult as I imagine it. Most of all, they want to know whether I have a foundation in French ( which I do, albeit very basic and conversational), and to know why I want to stay here. And from online forums, the immigration officer would want to see and verify all my documents. At the end of the 30-60min interview my "fate" will be decided with either a success or failure.
If I fail I can apply again after I polish my language skills... My friend has said numerous times he'd willingly sponsor me so I can stay in the country... But, as much I appreciate the selfless offer, it is too much to accept, and I would feel depreciated as a person if I cannot even make it past immigration based on my own skills and abilities. If I succeed, it'll be perhaps the single greatest personal achievement in the last two, three years.
After a lot of downs lately, I more than ever i need something to make me feel accomplished and alive again. It will be a very big boost of confidence and prompt me to start my life with a new beginning, with more certainty and determination.
Tomorrow this time, I will know the answer.
Probably it's not as dramatic as that, but it'll be a first step toward receiving permanent residence.
I've been dragging my feet on applying, and finally took the bold step last year October. Now, almost ten months later, I've been called to an interview (though, I was first contacted back in May for an interview, which was supposed to take place while I was in Taiwan with mum).
People who have gone through it tell me it's not as difficult as I imagine it. Most of all, they want to know whether I have a foundation in French ( which I do, albeit very basic and conversational), and to know why I want to stay here. And from online forums, the immigration officer would want to see and verify all my documents. At the end of the 30-60min interview my "fate" will be decided with either a success or failure.
If I fail I can apply again after I polish my language skills... My friend has said numerous times he'd willingly sponsor me so I can stay in the country... But, as much I appreciate the selfless offer, it is too much to accept, and I would feel depreciated as a person if I cannot even make it past immigration based on my own skills and abilities. If I succeed, it'll be perhaps the single greatest personal achievement in the last two, three years.
After a lot of downs lately, I more than ever i need something to make me feel accomplished and alive again. It will be a very big boost of confidence and prompt me to start my life with a new beginning, with more certainty and determination.
Tomorrow this time, I will know the answer.
Words
There had been a build up, an accumulation of tears and words, confusion, hurt and misunderstanding. It's been going on since the end of November last year, it has been dissected and cried over over many waking moments and sleepless nights. It has consumed the lives of my friend, me and another.
The spread of pain and silence is infectious. And the silence, the untold stories and truths has been churning inside, unable to be digested, and unsettled on all of our minds and souls for over half a year.
And today, perhaps as part of what you could call a week of truth (-and-reconciliation?), whereby he told me bit by bit what he felt went wrong with our relationship, and about his desire for the other person, he said to me what had so often crossed his mind. It filled him with such resentment and bitterness. He paused before he said it, with such quiet calm and resolve. "Why did you do this to me?" he asked... why did I stand in the way of his happiness? Why did I keep him away from that special, special happiness he finally found? He lamented, and told me outright that back then, in November last year when he was started to date the new guy, it would have been so wonderful, so much less complicated if I could have said to him "it is nice to see you happy" and to give me my blessings. But instead I stood in the way... I put him in a difficult position. And everything is soured now as a result, everyone is hurting, everyone is alone and lost and confused.
He sobbed in my bed, over the happiness, that pure and simple happiness he had tasted and was lost because I got in the way, because I turned to him one day after he started seeing someone else and made him choose. He sobbed, perhaps hurting so deeply inside about whether he can ever find that happiness he experienced with the other boy.
What he said was so painful, so indicting I wondered how we had come to this... How did our relationship end like this, how can all those beautiful moments we had over the last two years, and the wonderful three months we had together as a 'real' couple, be so blighted by such a conclusion?
I admit I have my failings, that for a long time I treated him poorly and never saw (or wanted to see...) the care and love he was showering me. I admit I took his care and love for granted, and rarely returned it. And I broke his heart so many times when he tried to be with me, and I broke his heart again when he was finally getting over me and getting together with someone else. But did I really not want to see him happy? Was I really so jealous and so cruel that I did not care about his happiness?
I do not know the answer to that... but all I know for sure is that when we were together, I swear I tried, tried and tried so hard to make him smile and be happy, to make him feel like he is special and beautiful, to make him realise how happy he makes me feel, what light he has brought into my life ever since the day we met... yet deep down inside, he could not get over the fact that I stole and trampled on the one true happiness he found. All I could do was apologise again and again for my wrong doing. I accept the blame... I accept the resentment, I accept my faults and wrongs.
By the end of it, we hugged and made peace, held hands, I kissed him on the cheeks, he me on the forehead. Even though he said we should not dwell on the past any more and move on, I was left with lingering feelings of remorse and guilt...
13 August 2011
"Tonight, love is in your eyes"
We went to an open air concert together, a cool evening in the middle of Summer, stood on a grass field surrounded by a faceless crowd. The singer, a renowned Quebecois singer from the eighties, sang...
For a few moments, there was but the singer on stage, the music, and my friend next to me.
As rudimentary as my French is, I could understand the lyrics. The words spoke to me, and my body swayed with the melody.
"Tonight love is in your eyes,
But tomorrow morning will you love me a little?
Tonight love is in your voice,
But tomorrow morning will you think of me? "
I stole a glance at him, and wondered whether the words too spoke to him. There was an awkward silence, or so it felt, as we both stood and swayed our bodies slowly to the sweet, bitter, bitter sweet, melody and words. He turned to me and said that the song was sombre. I smiled lightly, and said nothing.
The very night, we made passionate love, and were so into one another's bodies. He even whispered to me that everytime touching me feels like the first time... The passion, the dizzying romance, the slow yet building climax was so intense, so difficult, so very difficult to resist...
For a few moments, there was but the singer on stage, the music, and my friend next to me.
As rudimentary as my French is, I could understand the lyrics. The words spoke to me, and my body swayed with the melody.
"Tonight love is in your eyes,
But tomorrow morning will you love me a little?
Tonight love is in your voice,
But tomorrow morning will you think of me? "
I stole a glance at him, and wondered whether the words too spoke to him. There was an awkward silence, or so it felt, as we both stood and swayed our bodies slowly to the sweet, bitter, bitter sweet, melody and words. He turned to me and said that the song was sombre. I smiled lightly, and said nothing.
The very night, we made passionate love, and were so into one another's bodies. He even whispered to me that everytime touching me feels like the first time... The passion, the dizzying romance, the slow yet building climax was so intense, so difficult, so very difficult to resist...
12 August 2011
note to self
...and yet, the mind cannot be quietened, the thoughts keep on drifting, longings and loss keep on returning.
11 August 2011
Something inside
Something died inside me. Was that hope? Was that a dream? Was that a temporary longing and sense of belonging?
Something died inside me. Now it is clear: we are just friends now. Friends in the most encompassing sense of the world, friends who know so much, perhaps too much about one another... friends who feel so deeply for one another... Friends who have brought so much joy and pain and anger and longing into one another's lives. The kind of friends who seem unable to hate one another despite what we have put one another through. The kind of friends who love one another, but short of being lovers. Maybe that day may still come... I do not know, but now it is clear we are no more than just friends.
I can sit and listen, sit and hear him pour his heart out. For I am his friend, and he is mine. I can hug him, stroke his back, rub his face in a signal of my care and my concern for his wellbeing. And he can do the same too me. But te sexual tensions must die, must be suppressed.
I told him how much I love him, how I care about him so deeply. I have never ere felt this way about anyone. It is true. I have felt this way for such a long time.
But he loves another, he has ever since they first met. even though he chose to be with me at one point, he never could forget, he never could let go of the other person.
How deep is that love? How does that love he feels compare to the love he says he feels toward me? There are so many kinds of love. Love cannot be compared, cannot be measured.
However much it pains me, I let my friend go. As they say, you love someone so much you can only wish them happiness, wherever, with whomever he may find it. I have to bolden myself, strengthen my weak heart and mind and be strong... I wished him happiness, true happiness and freedom from all the complications we find ourselves entangled in...
I wish him that, even though it is hard, even though it hurts. And I know he once had to bear all that hurt and pain when I was not ready, not willing to be with him...
He too wished me so many times in the past genuine happiness and finding true love, even though deep down inside, in his throat, in his heart he hurt so much saying it, thinking it. And now I think I feel what he must have felt.
I kissed his tears, his salty, his sweet tears, looked into his beautiful eyes, felt his beautiful face with my fingers. One last look, one last feel to remember him by... I will remember, and I will treasure our beautiful moments together, throughout these past three years.
I'll be around, I said. And I promised to be there to hold him, to comfort him should he need me. I told him to call, to text, to write when he wants to, when he needs to. Because I want to e there for him, be there for him as he has been there for me for so long, so often.
And deep down I felt I could do that. Though time will tell how strong i truly am and whether I am truly capable.
You are in my heart...
You are on my mind...
breaking through
There are moments in life when you suddenly realise things and you break through... Break through the mysteries, the unanswered questions, break through the lies and hiding, break through those lingering feelings and longings.
Perhaps you don't break through completely, but you know you are taking the necessary steps to doing so. However much it hurts, however much your affection is for the comfort and familiarity of being with someone, you must let go. And i feel it, or perhaps I am concubcing myself that I feel that letting go, even though perhaps tonight, tomorrow or the year after I may be so filled and so exhausted by regret and guilt...
I dread to sleep alone tonight... I dread the dreams and the waking thoughts... I dread having to smile and put on a mask to the outside world and say that things are ok whenpeople ask how I'm doing.
But after the break through, it is time to collect yourself, to nurse yourself so that one day when I am ready, I can keep on walking...
Perhaps you don't break through completely, but you know you are taking the necessary steps to doing so. However much it hurts, however much your affection is for the comfort and familiarity of being with someone, you must let go. And i feel it, or perhaps I am concubcing myself that I feel that letting go, even though perhaps tonight, tomorrow or the year after I may be so filled and so exhausted by regret and guilt...
I dread to sleep alone tonight... I dread the dreams and the waking thoughts... I dread having to smile and put on a mask to the outside world and say that things are ok whenpeople ask how I'm doing.
But after the break through, it is time to collect yourself, to nurse yourself so that one day when I am ready, I can keep on walking...
10 August 2011
Mum home again
I cannot conceive, cannot imagine exactly went 'wrong', if anything. Mum spoke to me for over half an hour, telling me her side of the story. How they would cook such meagre portions that she was afraid to eat... how eventually they did not want to cook for her, and on various occasions told her to cook whatever she wants to eat... how, when brother is at work, my sister-in-law avoids mum and hides in her room... how sometimes they would go out in the weekend, and leave mum at home... She told me how on some days she would leave the house and stay out till the evening, coming home only when she had finished eating just to avoid the trouble of who will cook for whom.
Of course, it is all one side of the story. But I can imagine it happening, though I cannot comprehend how it can happen. I cannot comprehend how is it that only on the very last day, when they were taking mum to the airport, did they realise mum's arm is in a constant state of pain? Do they not see her discomfort? Do they not hear her moans if she does not take her six-hourly dosage of pain killers? Do they not care? Or are they just not as caring?
Mum is glad to leave Europe, she said, glad to be back in her own home. This trip made her realise many things, about herself, about my brother and the sister-in-law. And she said, which made me tear, how she appreciates how attentive and caring I was when she was with me... She still remembers how I used to buy so much fresh fruits and organic products and would make sure she eats and eats and eats.
Perhaps I do not know the dynamics of a married couple. And of course I do not know what it feels like to be caught in between your own mother and your wife. Sure, my brother works all day long, and is probably too tired most of the time to spend much time with mum... And to be fair, my sister in law is heavily pregnant, and I can only imagine that she's probably moody and insensitive these days.
...yet, how can mum feel so uncomfortable and disappointed being there? Sure she can be critical, maybe even overbearing at times that after a while it can get on your nerves. But she is our mother, and who knows when or if there will be a next visit...?
I would like to imagine, if one day I were to have a partner and a beautiful little home, I will continue to warmly open my home to my mother and try to make her as comfortable as she can be, just as I have done recently. I would do that all again, and not think it as too much trouble.
Despite all her complaints, mum sounded cheerful, and genuinely happy to be in the comfort of her own home, "without having to look at other people's faces" (meaning, not having to adjust to other people's moods or tempers).
"I'm glad you made it home safely," I said, "Now you can take care of yourself, eat whatever you like, do whatever you want."
And she promised me she will.
Homo@LV
I was surprised by the degree of intolerance and prejudice that still exists. Shocked at times even by the profanities and, literally, shit thrown at gays and lesbians as they attempt to march under heavy protection of the police. The situation was so severe during the first event in 2005 that they had to, like in the Middle Ages when people were facing persecution, seek refuge in a church.
But the documentary on Latvia's gay rights movement of the past five years or so shows how behind the country is compared to other parts of the world, yet also shows the promises of little steps of progress that are being made.
Barely a year after joining he European Union, the bloc which champions liberties, human rights and the protection of minorities, Latvia's first pride event would unveil a deep, deep divide in society. The opposing voices and opinions are like everywhere else: staunch supporters of traditional family values pitted against gays and lesbians who simply want to be accepted and recognised as equal members of the same society. A secular State by name, it is hinted, is perhaps not so secular after all, when the cardinal and priests attend political rallies.
One scene that was extremely moving was the marriage between a couple. Their love looks so genuine, their vows are the same sworn by any other couple before God. Yet, there are many who will quickly jump up and condemn their despicable 'behaviour'. Who has the right to come between two people and sour their relationship by denying them the right to be together? Why does it matter what one does in the privacy of their own homes and private lives? Fundamentally, why does it matter to anyone who you love, even if it is a person of the same sex? Yet, somehow, even in this day there are so many who cannot accept, cannot tolerate difference.
The struggle of the LGBT movement reveals an interesting social and political phenomenon, especially for a little nation where, having emerged from the clout of Communism and the Soviet Union two decades ago, national unity and identity building is still very much a predominant political agenda.
Yet, having overcome the threat from the "East", the political elite and clergy to drum up fears of national division by depicting homosexuality as an evil spreading in from the "West". Playing on people's ignorance and strong hold to tradition, homosexuality is portrayed as an ideology,the tide of which if not stemmed, will with the support of the European Union and its older, more liberal (and predominantly western) members, infiltrate and threaten to corrupt Latvian family values, social cohesion and children. The words that come out of anti-gay protesters are vile, coarse, and full of prejudice. To which gay activists and marchers respond by spreading happy greetings and love. Which will ultimately triumph in the end...?
The struggles of the gay community in Latvia are the the only ones in the world, for there are many places, in Asia, in Africa, and even in communities of supposed advanced and developed democracies of North America and Europe, where homosexuals must live in hiding or in shame. A member of the audience, a spokesperson of sorts who originally hails from Cameroon, gave a moving and inspiring speech... Love, be proud, celebrate, and remember. Think of those who day in, and day out, do not enjoy the same privileges and benefits of being able to openly love, of being proud of who they are, and who must deny an intrinsic sense of their humanity.
But the documentary on Latvia's gay rights movement of the past five years or so shows how behind the country is compared to other parts of the world, yet also shows the promises of little steps of progress that are being made.
Barely a year after joining he European Union, the bloc which champions liberties, human rights and the protection of minorities, Latvia's first pride event would unveil a deep, deep divide in society. The opposing voices and opinions are like everywhere else: staunch supporters of traditional family values pitted against gays and lesbians who simply want to be accepted and recognised as equal members of the same society. A secular State by name, it is hinted, is perhaps not so secular after all, when the cardinal and priests attend political rallies.
One scene that was extremely moving was the marriage between a couple. Their love looks so genuine, their vows are the same sworn by any other couple before God. Yet, there are many who will quickly jump up and condemn their despicable 'behaviour'. Who has the right to come between two people and sour their relationship by denying them the right to be together? Why does it matter what one does in the privacy of their own homes and private lives? Fundamentally, why does it matter to anyone who you love, even if it is a person of the same sex? Yet, somehow, even in this day there are so many who cannot accept, cannot tolerate difference.
The struggle of the LGBT movement reveals an interesting social and political phenomenon, especially for a little nation where, having emerged from the clout of Communism and the Soviet Union two decades ago, national unity and identity building is still very much a predominant political agenda.
Yet, having overcome the threat from the "East", the political elite and clergy to drum up fears of national division by depicting homosexuality as an evil spreading in from the "West". Playing on people's ignorance and strong hold to tradition, homosexuality is portrayed as an ideology,the tide of which if not stemmed, will with the support of the European Union and its older, more liberal (and predominantly western) members, infiltrate and threaten to corrupt Latvian family values, social cohesion and children. The words that come out of anti-gay protesters are vile, coarse, and full of prejudice. To which gay activists and marchers respond by spreading happy greetings and love. Which will ultimately triumph in the end...?
The struggles of the gay community in Latvia are the the only ones in the world, for there are many places, in Asia, in Africa, and even in communities of supposed advanced and developed democracies of North America and Europe, where homosexuals must live in hiding or in shame. A member of the audience, a spokesperson of sorts who originally hails from Cameroon, gave a moving and inspiring speech... Love, be proud, celebrate, and remember. Think of those who day in, and day out, do not enjoy the same privileges and benefits of being able to openly love, of being proud of who they are, and who must deny an intrinsic sense of their humanity.
09 August 2011
abuse of his care?
I just wanted to talk, really, just talk when he called just as I was ready to retire for the night. I just wanted to get my feelings and that sense of emptiness out of me.
But he insisted on coming over, in keeping me company, despite my protests not to. It's pouring rain out there, so heavy I can hardly see the houses across the street. But he insisted.
"You're my best friend!" he said. Best friends, ex-boyfriends, "special" friends... What we are are all these things, and much more. His insistence on seeing me was more than I could receive from anyone, more than i feel i deserve, more than I have ever received from anyone.
Touched, I truly am, yet I am also scared that I am abusing his care, exploiting his care and attention for my own benefit. Whatever we are to one another, he cannot always and forever be there to comfort me, to hug me when i'm feeling down. How far can I take and take without giving back?
And... And I have told myself so many times in the past: be strong, be independent, don't let others into my heart; don't let others make me feel vulnerable. But his care (and dare i say love) defies all that.
I told him I'll be alright, I just need some time alone, just need to sleep on my feelings, and they will go away. But he insisted on either coming over or me going to see him.
So I compromised, I gave into his care and eagerness to make me feel better, cheer me up and to make me feel less lonely.
Is it right?
But he insisted on coming over, in keeping me company, despite my protests not to. It's pouring rain out there, so heavy I can hardly see the houses across the street. But he insisted.
"You're my best friend!" he said. Best friends, ex-boyfriends, "special" friends... What we are are all these things, and much more. His insistence on seeing me was more than I could receive from anyone, more than i feel i deserve, more than I have ever received from anyone.
Touched, I truly am, yet I am also scared that I am abusing his care, exploiting his care and attention for my own benefit. Whatever we are to one another, he cannot always and forever be there to comfort me, to hug me when i'm feeling down. How far can I take and take without giving back?
And... And I have told myself so many times in the past: be strong, be independent, don't let others into my heart; don't let others make me feel vulnerable. But his care (and dare i say love) defies all that.
I told him I'll be alright, I just need some time alone, just need to sleep on my feelings, and they will go away. But he insisted on either coming over or me going to see him.
So I compromised, I gave into his care and eagerness to make me feel better, cheer me up and to make me feel less lonely.
Is it right?
Home again
Just came home, back to my little home, back to my little cat. It felt so quiet, so still...
Fixing myself a meal, I find myself wondering what I should eat. There is plenty of food in the fridge, but I just feel like throwing everything in one big pot and cooking it, regardless of whether it tastes good or not. It is hard sometimes to get the energy to do something for yourself.
Somehow, I just feel so fatigued. The feelings will go away, they sure will. I guess there are a combination of reasons for my fatigue... the day began with a long (and difficult) chat with a colleague about health and life, worked a bit on my thesis, long walk with friends. And then late afternoon, I saw mum leave on the plane (indirectly, on a picture)....
Now that I'm home, the first thing I had to do was turn on the radio. In this somewhat vulnerable frame of mind, I cannot stand the silence, for it eats my mind, draws out the loneliness and emptiness that is brewing. The music, the songs and lyrics will hopefully fight those creeping feelings (this one happens to be playing now...).
I hope I can sleep well tonight, and not be disturbed by dreams and my overwhelming, restless and overactive mind again...
Fixing myself a meal, I find myself wondering what I should eat. There is plenty of food in the fridge, but I just feel like throwing everything in one big pot and cooking it, regardless of whether it tastes good or not. It is hard sometimes to get the energy to do something for yourself.
Somehow, I just feel so fatigued. The feelings will go away, they sure will. I guess there are a combination of reasons for my fatigue... the day began with a long (and difficult) chat with a colleague about health and life, worked a bit on my thesis, long walk with friends. And then late afternoon, I saw mum leave on the plane (indirectly, on a picture)....
Now that I'm home, the first thing I had to do was turn on the radio. In this somewhat vulnerable frame of mind, I cannot stand the silence, for it eats my mind, draws out the loneliness and emptiness that is brewing. The music, the songs and lyrics will hopefully fight those creeping feelings (this one happens to be playing now...).
I hope I can sleep well tonight, and not be disturbed by dreams and my overwhelming, restless and overactive mind again...
Farewell, mum
I didn't hear from her again before her flight, but from the picture brother posted on facebook, I knew she had checked in and was about to board. Now, she must be wandering around the terminal building at Schiphol.
When I spoke to her earlier today, she said she was glad to go home. Some tensions developed during her stay in Europe, and she says she is glad to leave. I don't know whether it is on a bad note, but she did mention that she was disappointed somewhat by the way she was treated (or felt she was treated...)
I do not know why seeing this picture suddenly triggered tears in my eyes, why there is again this overwhelming sadness in me, even as I am sitting here at the office, that makes me feel so weak...
It reminds me of that feeling when I was sitting on the park bench as mum's plane took off and flew further and further away... Where, again I ask, are these tears coming from...?
Looking at her slim, frail figure, she looks so vulnerable, so alone. She will be going home to her own home. An empty nest, as she once called it.
And she will be going home to medical check ups, to appointments, and to the reality of her state of health after these two months. She will have to go through all this alone from now, for there is little I can do, little comfort I can offer except words on the other end of the line.
She told me earlier she read the card I had written her and clandestinely placed in her suitcase just before she left Canada. She said it touched her reading it again. In it, I hoped she can be happy. In it, I wished that she can find her own life, stand up on her own and find new purpose and meaning in life after all these travels.
I truly, truly hope so.
Bon voyage, mum...
I do not know why seeing this picture suddenly triggered tears in my eyes, why there is again this overwhelming sadness in me, even as I am sitting here at the office, that makes me feel so weak...
It reminds me of that feeling when I was sitting on the park bench as mum's plane took off and flew further and further away... Where, again I ask, are these tears coming from...?
Looking at her slim, frail figure, she looks so vulnerable, so alone. She will be going home to her own home. An empty nest, as she once called it.
And she will be going home to medical check ups, to appointments, and to the reality of her state of health after these two months. She will have to go through all this alone from now, for there is little I can do, little comfort I can offer except words on the other end of the line.
She told me earlier she read the card I had written her and clandestinely placed in her suitcase just before she left Canada. She said it touched her reading it again. In it, I hoped she can be happy. In it, I wished that she can find her own life, stand up on her own and find new purpose and meaning in life after all these travels.
I truly, truly hope so.
Bon voyage, mum...
08 August 2011
Father's Day
While working today, I glanced at the calendar and realised: it's the 8th of August, or "Ba-ba Day" (Father's Day).
For a moment, I remembered what I used to do since my childhood, but stopped doing three years ago. I used to write to dad every year. Little cards, little messages telling him how much I appreciate him, how much I appreciate his presence in my life. Little cards, little messages that told him I care about his wellbeing, and that I love him for all that he has done, for all the sacrifices he has made throughout the years.
Then, I could not control my tears. I could not control the sudden sadness that welled up within me...
I looked back, and saw a beautiful text I found online a couple of years ago. I read it again, and was overwhelmed that dad is no longer around, saddened I cannot give him the love and care I have received from him in so many ways.
I miss you still very deeply, dad...
I really do.
(Afscheid nemen bestaat niet...)
"Come as the wind that you feel, and the rain,
Follow what you do as the light of the moon,
Find me in everything then you will come across me.
Whisper my name,
And I will be there...
See, what is invisible,
What you believe is true,
Just open your eyes,
And I will be with you.
All you have to do
Is believe my word
...Bidding farewell does not exist.
Look in the sky,
Look to the sea,
Wherever you shall walk, yes, I walk with you.
Every step and every moment,
Wherever you may be!"
For a moment, I remembered what I used to do since my childhood, but stopped doing three years ago. I used to write to dad every year. Little cards, little messages telling him how much I appreciate him, how much I appreciate his presence in my life. Little cards, little messages that told him I care about his wellbeing, and that I love him for all that he has done, for all the sacrifices he has made throughout the years.
Then, I could not control my tears. I could not control the sudden sadness that welled up within me...
I looked back, and saw a beautiful text I found online a couple of years ago. I read it again, and was overwhelmed that dad is no longer around, saddened I cannot give him the love and care I have received from him in so many ways.
I miss you still very deeply, dad...
I really do.
(Afscheid nemen bestaat niet...)
"Come as the wind that you feel, and the rain,
Follow what you do as the light of the moon,
Find me in everything then you will come across me.
Whisper my name,
And I will be there...
See, what is invisible,
What you believe is true,
Just open your eyes,
And I will be with you.
All you have to do
Is believe my word
...Bidding farewell does not exist.
Look in the sky,
Look to the sea,
Wherever you shall walk, yes, I walk with you.
Every step and every moment,
Wherever you may be!"
Picture and a thousand words
Take a look at the picture... Three children in the foreground, smiling, carrying roses they are trying to sell.
One child, a girl, has a closed smile, yet her face looks peaceful, calm almost. Another child has a smile revealing all her teeth, a genuine smile. Perhaps excitement at having her picture taken by a stranger with a fancy camera. They are walking dangerously on the narrow strip right on the traffic island. What is on their mind at such a tender age? Are they hungry, are they bemoaning what terrible conditions life has given them? Or are they just living from moment to the next, trying to earn their next meal by being exposed to the dangers of the traffic, the soot, the heat and the absence of a childhood of play and being care-free?
A flashy white car zooms past without stopping. Perhaps the driver and the passengers did not even blink at the children, because there are far too many of them to care. Or perhaps the hearts of those inside car, for a split moment just before their minds become again reabsorbed by the mundaneness of their daily life and routine, were so pained by what they saw, by the sense of hopelessness and powerlessness they felt at being unable to change what they see...
It is a very simple picture, yet underneath is the description that in parts of India, people survive on three times less than the global poverty according to the World Bank.
A picture can paint more than a thousand words. It can capture the life of others that we so easily forget. It can capture the suffering, bliss, pain and joy of others and remind us what simple joy there is to be had, lest we forget, or remind us of what real suffering means, also lest we forget...
One child, a girl, has a closed smile, yet her face looks peaceful, calm almost. Another child has a smile revealing all her teeth, a genuine smile. Perhaps excitement at having her picture taken by a stranger with a fancy camera. They are walking dangerously on the narrow strip right on the traffic island. What is on their mind at such a tender age? Are they hungry, are they bemoaning what terrible conditions life has given them? Or are they just living from moment to the next, trying to earn their next meal by being exposed to the dangers of the traffic, the soot, the heat and the absence of a childhood of play and being care-free?
A flashy white car zooms past without stopping. Perhaps the driver and the passengers did not even blink at the children, because there are far too many of them to care. Or perhaps the hearts of those inside car, for a split moment just before their minds become again reabsorbed by the mundaneness of their daily life and routine, were so pained by what they saw, by the sense of hopelessness and powerlessness they felt at being unable to change what they see...
It is a very simple picture, yet underneath is the description that in parts of India, people survive on three times less than the global poverty according to the World Bank.
A picture can paint more than a thousand words. It can capture the life of others that we so easily forget. It can capture the suffering, bliss, pain and joy of others and remind us what simple joy there is to be had, lest we forget, or remind us of what real suffering means, also lest we forget...
07 August 2011
The day after
After the long talks over the past two days, my friend and I (together with another friend) went on a long bike ride. Biking is like our therapy. As usual, when we are on our bikes, there is this free, (and as he put it) "unpressured" feeling. That freedom comes from having the wind, the speed, the open air (and late in the afternoon insects flying) on your face. At times we would race one another, go for speed down a stretch of open road, play a game where he chases me, or I chase him.
But the best is when we are biking next to one another, chit-chatting, giving one another little pokes here and there ( something 'fun' that we have come to do to each other). Then we are going at the same speed, in the same direction, and it is beautiful to turn to him and smile, and see that he is also smiling back at you. That is genuine happiness, unfettered, real and warming, however shortlived it may be.
Arriving home last night, it felt somewhat empty and quiet, and that feeling would only grow as the night wore on. After spending almost every single day of the past week with my friend, last night was one of the few nights I spent by myself. For a moment, I was unsure what I should do... then I decided to study a bit, and meditate before retiring to bed. Though I fell asleep quickly, I woke up many times during the night, all sweaty and disturbed by images, persons, events that have been revealed to me over the past few days...
There is a heavy, guilty conscience weighing down on my mind... For the first time, my friend described in detail how wonderful it was to have met the boy he met back at the end of November, and how quickly a romance developed. But I came in the way, I broke off something that was budding and never had a chance to bloom. It was cruel, selfish, and it was wrong, but I did that... Now everyone is hurting, everyone is unhappy, and nobody has anything... In the end, I come home, and there is this emptiness that grows and grows inside which I have difficulty getting rid of, and which I can no longer just pick up the phone and ask my friend to talk or spend time with me.
I must be strong again... must learn to be alone, and detach from the (over)dependance and reliance on my friend for happiness and for comfort. I must again build up my life, as I promised myself to do earlier.
But the best is when we are biking next to one another, chit-chatting, giving one another little pokes here and there ( something 'fun' that we have come to do to each other). Then we are going at the same speed, in the same direction, and it is beautiful to turn to him and smile, and see that he is also smiling back at you. That is genuine happiness, unfettered, real and warming, however shortlived it may be.
Arriving home last night, it felt somewhat empty and quiet, and that feeling would only grow as the night wore on. After spending almost every single day of the past week with my friend, last night was one of the few nights I spent by myself. For a moment, I was unsure what I should do... then I decided to study a bit, and meditate before retiring to bed. Though I fell asleep quickly, I woke up many times during the night, all sweaty and disturbed by images, persons, events that have been revealed to me over the past few days...
There is a heavy, guilty conscience weighing down on my mind... For the first time, my friend described in detail how wonderful it was to have met the boy he met back at the end of November, and how quickly a romance developed. But I came in the way, I broke off something that was budding and never had a chance to bloom. It was cruel, selfish, and it was wrong, but I did that... Now everyone is hurting, everyone is unhappy, and nobody has anything... In the end, I come home, and there is this emptiness that grows and grows inside which I have difficulty getting rid of, and which I can no longer just pick up the phone and ask my friend to talk or spend time with me.
I must be strong again... must learn to be alone, and detach from the (over)dependance and reliance on my friend for happiness and for comfort. I must again build up my life, as I promised myself to do earlier.
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