Cheating...

Can it be called cheating if you're not officially in a relationship? It still does not take away the shock and surprise, unpleasant surprise.

So eight weeks ago I met this really sweet guy, and we have been seeing each other every single week since. It became a sort of routine, every Thursday after my French class we would meet up and spend almost the whole weekend together. We'd have hours of fun chatting, watching series online, and sleeping next to one another... He liked  me, and I liked him.  A lot. For the first time in such a long time, I felt I found someone I could talk to, especially as he lost a parent recently as well. There was so much passion, and intimacy, and it felt beautiful...

The second week or so, just before he left, I asked him what we are... "We're dating..." he said, "exclusive with one another." and he said he'd be very jealous if I went to see someone else or slept with someone else. I'd pamper him with what he told me are his favourite foods, and treat him ever so dearly, the way I would a partner. He told me a couple of times I'm too nice to him, and that he doesn't deserve me... Last week again he told me how much he likes me, and how he is so attracted to me...

Tonight I found an ad online which sounded so similar to the one I responded to and which led to our meeting (yes, I was looking online because it's a turn on...). Curiously, I answered it (with a fake email and identity... I admit, my bad...) And within an hour or so came a reply, with the same guy's pictures. I was surprised. What made it worse was minutes before he replied to that email, he was still exchanging messages with me. I asked if he wanted to come over, like he'd done over the past few weeks. He said he was too tired, and that he wanted to stay home...

Stay home? More like hooking up online... 

I'm in shock... and very sad. Over the past few weeks I thought we've really bonded and perhaps I was a fool to dream and imagine that it was something really special. Maybe he's just one of those young guys looking for fun, moving from one to the next without commitment or thinking of tomorrow. Who can blame him, especially being younger and having so many years ahead of him still to figure out what he wants...? But I'm deeply disappointed and feel like I've lost a dear friend.
It doesn't help me to heal, but makes me want to withdraw more. Are all guys like this? Dishonest, two-faced and immaturely looking just for instantaneous fun without attachments...? It's scary to think that this is the way the world is...

Uselessness

What did I do today? Woke up at eleven, three hours later than the alarm rang for the first time. Skipped work, and was in no mood to study.

A friend dropped by and we went house hunting. Twelve hours later, after a few drinks in a bar and a few shooters at a club, I'm heading home. Tipsy, my head swaying, music in my ears, typing frantically on the iPhone.

How do I feel? Pensive. Exams due in two weeks. Unprepared. My mind is thinking of flying away, disappearing, hiding. My mind is imagining the bright lights of Las Vegas, the tranquility of the Grand Canyon. I dream of going somewhere to feed and nourish my broken and tired, tired soul. My mind drifts to Taiwan, to a trip I will be making in less than two months. It is as if I want to be anywhere but here... Anywhere but in this moment...

Overwhelmed I feel, by what I am not sure. Exhausted I feel, but I cannot say why or how I have become this way. All the time I think of the law exams I am planning to do that will eventually lead me to qualifying for the bar. All I feel inside is dread, fear, and absolutely can find no motivation or reason for doing them...

Guilt, I feel. I am as good as dead... Squandering away my days and youth, burdened by this heaviness I cannot seem escape from. Many have told me I must go through this before I can heal and before I can rise and soar again. But I am impatient. And it does not help when others look at me so critically and give me the feeling I have become so useless...

I feel this sense of isolation, of detachment. I feel so useless, as if I'm wasting my life away. Why do people look so happy? How can they dance so happily with friends, how can they easily hook up with another? Why do I feel such loneliness deep inside? Why do I have such difficulty finding someone who could recognise my feelings and who could hold my hand and tell me it'll all be alright...?

I so long for someone to sleep with me, to hold me and to show me the meaning of life, the purpose of living and giving once more...

readjustment

Night rider

Frustrated after a day of unproductivity, I grabbed my bike and my iPhone and rushed out the door. I feel like my head could explode, feel the loneliness grab at my heart and feel like I could stop breathing.

Biking helped. The release of adrenaline and sweat helped. I biked along the canal, to a point overlooking the city skyline.


Two summers ago, my ex and I biked here. We sat and chatted, and admired the city in the distance. I felt naughty and sat on a bench became very naughty. It was a warm and wonderful evening...

Tonight, I sit here alone, on a chilly night, watching the same city in the distance across the canal. How much has changed, how the city has changed!

I can barely contain my tears, it feels like. Yet I cannot cry... I cannot cry for my heart is dry, so drained and dry...

Slump

Inability to do anything, to feel motivated, to feel excited or to be productive...

It's not my fault.

And what a slap in my face when someone comes to tell me I have so much and should consider myself fortunate and (just shy of) telling me to get on and stop complaining...

Worthless feeling

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A friend came by last night, I've not seen her for around two weeks.

There were award silences because I did not feel I could tell her much. What I tell her will most likely be passed on elsewhere. This is sadly the nature of the closely knit friendship circle I am in.

And least of all I cannot tell her how I'm feeling, how I'm really feeling. Depression, therapy, tiredness and lethargy... I've tried to talk to her about it before. But the response I get from her makes me feel even worse. Worse, makes me feel worthless and like I'm a whiny sod who enjoys complaining when I have nothin to complain about.

So there was really little I could talk about. The conversations were forced, about very little. At one point I mentioned that I've been unproductive and very tired. I said I feel like I have so little purpose, that I have no motivation and no direction in life. Those were my true and honest feelings I've been wanting to share with someone, hoping someone will be able to understand and sympathize.

Well, that was a mistake on my half... my friend gave me a talk about how fortunate I am, about how I have so much and should really just get on with things. Maybe it was her way of encouraging me, her way of reminding me what I have and a way to push me forward. I imagine she means well, for why would she wish me ill?

But I felt horrible. As she spoke, I closed my eyes and shut out her words. I felt horrible. Horribly useless, as I were some spoiled brat who has it all and yet does nothing but complain. Her words ("People have to work! life goes on!") made me feel like I am a good-for-nothing layabout. Her tone made it sound as if I am making things difficult for myself, make it sound as if I am enjoying being depressed and unproductive.

At one point I really wanted to ask her to leave... But I kept my cool and just changed the topic.

The episode again showed me how and why I feel so distant from my friends. The episode showed again how very little people understand and how they cannot, cannot, cannot know what I feel like or why I feel like this these days. It just adds to salt to emotional injury I am trying to recover from.

And I am supposed to feel better? And I am supposed to be able to just shut away the pain, emptiness and loss inside and get on with things?


If there were a way, I would be dying to find out. If there were a way from this slump, this lethargy and indescribable emptiness I feel inside, I pray I could know.

Numbness

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Yes, I've not really written much of note these days. Nothing really inspires me, nothing really touches or affects me. It's as if I'm going about my life, moving from day to day, with a haze hanging over my brains and mind. It's as if I'm sleep walking, seemingly keeping busy but doing nothing.

Yesterday I went to pick up more things from the cargo shipment that arrived last week at the storage space. I opened all the boxes, dug through them all, as if digging in time and through layers and layers of memories. The brown blanket mum used at the hospital (and long before that...)... the blanket mum bought two of on the same day, one for me, one for my ex... clothes I wore and left behind at her place thinking I'd be back there soon to wear them again... Photo albums, stamp collections, books in English and Chinese she must have flipped through at some point in time... I was numb. Just numb...

Did I expect to cry? Did I want to cry? Perhaps in a way I did. Crying is so therapeutic, and it's been ages since I last "healed myself" by shedding tears. It's been ages, frustratingly long, since anyone or anything made me feel comfortable enough to cry and let my emotions out.

I dug and dug through the boxes. Found the lamps to the Buddha shrine I was looking for to complete the shrine I have placed in my living room... Found the bike helmet, front light and speedometer I was looking for... Found few items of clothing I have missed and would want to wear again... Found incense coils that mum used to lit as a ritual every morning, when she was still alive, before bowing respectfully at the feet of the Buddha... Found the mood lighting I bought mum last year in the hope she would sleep better. I do need some good sleep these days, even though I always feel like sleeping, always feel like I want to close my eyes and escape into a world where there are no thoughts, no feelings of numbness, where I feel no frustrations at the inability to cry...

I pulled down the metal gate of the 5x5 storage space, locked it and picked up the stuff strewn on the floor. I biked home, back to the mess of an apartment I left behind earlier in the morning.

And I went to lie down, to sleep and drown in the world where I do not feel, do not think, do not feel frustrated or sad...

Sleeping and dreaming

I dreamed of mum, and the dream filled me with such a profound, profound sense of loneliness. I cried from longing and pain...

It is sickening how lonely I feel, how somehow (strange as it may seem and sound...) I go to the office everyday and go about my daily business as if pretending all is well and dandy...

Sure, there are plenty of lonely people out there. Just go on Craigslist and you'll see all these men (and mostly men...) looking for company or a quick release. As exciting as those ads sound, reading them make me feel even more depressed.

The loneliness is eating me... It is affecting me deeply, preventing me from doing anything, preventing me from achieving anything. I sleep, sleep and sleep to escape. But I must wake up at some point, and these days it's close to noon before I can ply my body out of bed. I just wish there were a reason to wake up, a reason to stand and breathe and work.

Maybe I'm too comfortable. I don't really need to work for the sake of survival, I don't really need to do the exams I'm about to take. Nothing scares me, nothing pressures me, nothing really affects or interests me. Is this what death feels like..?

Another day, another day to face and get by...

Maiden voyage

I called her "Formosa One". A beautiful Giant road bike that's made in Taiwan, which I bought for my twenty-eighth birthday.

I intended to bike with her around the island. But my knee broke, and I was forced to stop at 140km... That was over 9 months ago.

The bike arrived in Canada and I picked it up a few days ago. Today I assembled her and rode her.

There's a strange sense of nostalgia I cannot describe. I feel so free sitting here on the riverside...

This is the bike I plan to use on a charity bike ride in three months time... It'll be a challenge, a challenge and a promise to mum.

Boxes

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I opened the box. There was mum's hand bag, the one that dad gave to mum once. It's a Prada shoulder bag, and mum suspects dad found it somewhere some six or seven years ago. She refused to use it for a while, but stillage kept it. And then one day, after dad passed, she took it out of the closet and showed it to me. She said even though she's angry at dad at times, she still cares about him deeply. Mum used that small shoulder bag with the thin straps for several years. She had it with her when she went to the hospital. She used (in a sense...) till she left this world.

Those memories flooded my mind as soon as I saw the shoulder bag immediately after lifting the flaps of the cardboard moving box I dug deeper, in search of the hifi system that was hidden in the belly of the box. The outside of the box said the stereo was inside. There was also a small Japanese kimono doll. My old navy blue track pants. A black shirt I have had for over five years (and which I forgot about...). There was also a framed certificate belonging to dad. Only after shifting through so many objects, so many memories, did I manage to find the stereo system. The one I bought mum this time last year to give her some form of entertainment while she is lying in bed in her room. There was a point when I knew she would be in bed for some time, perhaps for the rest of her life, however long that would be. Indeed the stereo system came in handy and have mum hours of listening pleasure...

I remember I got the stereo and set it up in time for come home from the hospital back in May last year. She was upset because I went out and spent money again, even thought to me it was money well spent if the money could give her a few moments of peace and calm and escape from her physical pain. She saw the stereo and complained, as expected, and said when she goes, I have to take the stereo with me. I asked her once, one day during my one month sojourn back in Canada during May-June 2012, whether she enjoys the music. She said she did, and that was enough to make it all worthwhile.

The stereo now sits in my living room. A year later, her words came true. Now she has gone, the stereo is with me.

That was just one box I opened. I opened another one, one with "Buddha statue" written on the front of the box. In a sense, it was another object "on loan" from me to mum, for the statue was given to me by the monk in the mountains. I said almost as soon as I received it that I was going to leave it to mum, for she needed it more than me. I remember having to insist, and mum only accepted it when I promised I'd take the statue with me when she is no longer around...

And now the statue stands in my living room as well, a hand of which snapped off during the long overseas trek...

12 more boxes remain unopened. And I do not have the strength, the necessary strength to open them by myself...

Flatness

Flatness

What is this flatness I feel? This strange flatness of emotions as if nothing is bothering me when something is bothering me? It's not agitation, even though there are emotions I wish to express but cannot. It's not anger or frustration, even though I feel something is dying to burst inside of me... What is it?

I cannot describe it. I cannot even talk about it with people who are my friends. Because they do not listen. Because they do not understand that sometimes all I need is someone to listen, Someone who will not trample all over my feelings but telling me how wrong it is to feel down and unmotivated, someone who will not dismiss my feelings and struggles to find myself with meaningless talk and soundbites of how things will be better (if I didn't know that, I wouldn't be trying so hard and doing all these things to be better...) all I need is someone who will listen and not just stare at me uncomfortably and quickly divert the conversation to latest gossip...

Today at therapy we got this beautiful piece written (it feels like) just for me. It was written by someone who was placed in different institutions over several years.

All he needed was someone who would actually listen to what he was saying.

Bread bar

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We were having dinner, at this restaurant with a "bread bar". What a novel concept, and it crossed my mind mum would have really enjoyed a place like this one...

My ex began to tear, and then cry. "Why are you crying?" I asked. He denied it, but his words were not true to his eyes.

He spoke softly and with a tinge of regret. He told me how lonely it is for him in Toronto, where he now lives and works. He said he could have had a cat, a dog... and me.
He could have had it all.

I wasn't sure what to say. I wanted all that, and was prepared to give my all. But he made a choice, pushed me away. How can you make a choice and settle for someone else and cry in front of me, who has nothing? No friend I can trust, no confidante I can confide in, and no longer a potential partner I saw myself building a life and home with?

I said I only hoped he is happy. And truly, as I have always hoped for him, even at moments when I feel so rotten and so betrayed, I hope he has found happiness, true peace and that he has someone in his life who can make him feel complete and loved. Because I could never give him that, because I have become such a terrible friend and the love who loved him in all the wrong, selfish weis...

It hurt to see him cry. Under the table, I stroked his leg. It seemed the only way I felt appropriate and able to express my feelings and care for him. Under the table, hidden, indirectly, subtly and unrequited. He seemed to cry even more.

Is this really the end of us? Did I kill us because I was too impatient and too pushy with my feelings?

Who knows what will happen and why. He knows how much he cares for me, he knows how special I am. He knows himself how much he loves me.

And I? I am lost and confused and left wanting, longing...

Dream of mum

I woke up crying, the first time in a long while.

I dreamt of mum, saw her pass away, saw her body being pushed away. But in the scene she returned. She was healthy and like her old self again. We smiled and had a good time together, we travelled all over the place.

But at one point, I broke down. I told her that she is no longer real, she is but a dream. "You died already, mum... You have to go now..." With tears, she disappeared.

I woke up. Alone, extremely shaken and with tears in my eyes. Mum came back in my dreams, but she's already long gone.

I could not get myself to get up and out of bed again. I felt so groggy, so horrible, so broken... It was long past noon before I could pry myself out and start the day...

Beneath the smile

Smile, because you have to. Smile, because people want to see the superficial.
Smile, not because you  want to, but you must prove to yourself, prove to others you are strong already.

But is it not just a charade? Is it not just pretend?
Behind the smile, do you not want to cry? Do you not want to burst out crying in front of those who make you feel safe and secure?

But who? Who?  Not my ex, who came to town this Easter weekend to relax and to... I'm not sure what for. He cried seeing me, he cried when we hugged. Crying because he can already feel that things are different now? Crying because he can feel I no longer hug him with the sense of dedication and commitment that I used to? Crying because he knows I am hurting inside, but I am too stubborn to let him grab me by the hand and let him help me, however much he tries?

I am broken inside, but who can see it? Who will and can I let inside my heart and soul to touch me, to heal me again?

Best friend?

It's bizarre. I suddenly wake up in the middle of the night and cannot sleep. I lie awake thinking, worrying, fretting.

A few days before Easter. My ex is due to return in the coming days. I long to get away, and have been looking at tickets and hotels to help me realise that.

How has it come to this? Before I used to so long for his presence and for his company... But now I dread seeing him. I feel frustration and this sense of alienation and resentment toward him. Is it because I've been hurt and disappointed too much? Because I (feel I) have been lied to once too many? Is it because at a time when I need someone the most, he of all people was the hardest on me and been dismissive of my attempts to get back on my feet and share what I am going through?

He says he cares, or at least there was a time he said he did. He said he loves me so, or at least said and wrote he did. But for me, I can no longer place any trust or confidence in him. I can find no safety and comfort in him or his embrace. I have lost him, and through his attempts to keep me on the side while pursuing his love interest he has lost all credibility and squandered every faith and hope I have placed in his arms and in heart. The whole episode between my ex and me is a laughable drama and source of ridicule and entertainment. And I let it perpetuate longer than necessary.

I so want to believe, so want to trust that one day we would be together and that this all is just what we need to clear the negativity and misunderstandings between my ex and me. But more and more I feel (and have been told) that I'm too dreamy, too naive! I should get on with my life, stop wasting my energies and youth with someone who tells you what you want to hear but does something to the contrary of what he says.

Too often I have been told by others to be very careful, to be very wary of his intentions.And perhaps only I now am realising what they mean and how I should have insulated myself through unnecessary pain and heartbreak, especially at times when I am most vulnerable. Otherwise why would people now give me that "I told you so" speech and remind me how long ago they have warned me about getting too deeply involved and foolishly waiting for my ex to return? Broken promises, promises made lacking any sincerity or truthfulness.

How did it get this way? I love him so... I care about him so... I gave myself to him, made myself available and vulnerable to him... We had so much! We slept so beautifully in each other's embrace... We traveled together and felt like the word was ours to explore and to own... But that is all some fantasy now. Fantasy turned so sour and relegated to memories... I am so saddened and so bitter by this, and feel I am to blame for much of how things have so soured...

Was I not good enough? Did I not give enough? Did I not love or care about someone the way he needed or deserved to be loved and cared about? Or was it really, as people have told me, that I fell in love and gave myself to someone who does not really care about other people's emotions or lives?

I am the one who is withdrawing and who now treads ever so carefully around him. Despite his attempts to reach me, to open me up, I am the one now who is unwilling to share anything private or personal with him and all around. I have lost that sense of security and trust, and I am closing up. I am turning cold, turning unfeeling.

I just feel nowadays everything I do or say is being scrutinised, spied upon and reported back to my ex who wishes to know every single detail of my life and wellbeing. This incident the other day proved again whatever I do and whoever I am with somehow manages to get back to him hundreds of kilometers away. Is that not creepy? What did I do to feel like I cannot do anything without being watched and without my life being talked about? So I stop sharing. I stop talking. I stop and hold back when I feel or hurt because I feel I am no longer at liberty to be vulnerable as that vulnerability will expose me to hurt and pain. I stop being myself in front of friends because I cannot be myself.

It is sad that I have to defend myself and put on my amour around people I have come to care about and trust. Saddest when the person I must and have been repeatedly warned I must guard against is the very person who once called himself my best friend and soul mate.

I don't feel like being here, hanging around and putting up this pretense in front of friends that all's well and dandy.
I am sick of putting up a show as if these friends of mine are so close when they have become so distant. In past years, I would think of what to do for Easter and try to get the gang together, but now I just want to get away and let the holiday pass.

This is causing me grief, keeping me wide awake...


(funnily enough, the other day my ex asked me the song of this song we both enjoyed so much when it came out.

The words are so powerful now that I hear them again.)

Why are you so hard on yourself?

I have been in touch with this girl my age, a volunteer from the organisation I have been going to to help me process my pain and grief. She lost her mum when she was twenty. It has been over seven years.

Recent experiences with friends make me wonder if I really have friends. I cannot describe how much it hurts when as you describe your feelings, and how to cope and accept them, your friend cuts you off and tells you to just "get on with things". I cannot say how it hurts to hear your best friend, as I am trying to share experiences from my latest counseling session, reject out right the method of dealing with grief that I have been advised. When your own friends, your best friend even, sit there quietly and give you a blank expression as you try to express your emotions, then what is the point of sharing or talking at all?

So I've stopped sharing, I've stopped talking. I've chosen to keep the emotions inside, to keep quiet and pretend that all is well and dandy. That is what people expect from you, is it not? That, sadly,  seems to be what people uncomfortable with death, who have not really seen death, are best at doing. Ignoring death, ignoring there is such a thing as a right to mourn, right to grief, right to take time, right to support... Perhaps it sounds crude how one person put it, but one day when they loose someone so dear to them, they will feel, they will hurt, they too will cry...

So for several weeks now, I've stopped sharing, stopped talking about my emotions with all except  the people I meet at the biweekly counseling sessions and this one girl I have been in touch with. I finally met her in person today.


For almost two hours, we sat at a cafe and shared our experiences. Shared stories, the pain we experienced, the emptiness and loneliness that "get" to us and the roller coaster ride we have no control over. After seven or so years, she said she feels "numb" now... But for a year or two, she lost all interest, all motivation.

I am being too hard on myself, she told me after listening to me talk about my feelings and how I'm trying to cope. I teared as I said to her I just don't want to "disappoint" my parents. My dead parents. Parents who are not even here (physically) to disappoint!

I just hurt when I see myself down and sad. And I hurt even more when most (not all) of who I thought were my closest friends tell me I should just be getting on with life and stop whining. As if I like to whine, as if I enjoy feeling down and sad...

 The girl told me to be patient, to take it easy and go with the flow. It took time for her to heal. It took her years before she could dispose of her mother's belongings ( I have no choice... next week, a shipment of my family possessions is arriving...). It took her time to find herself, to process her emotions and adjust to the new life after her mother's departure.

For me, it has only been 9 months.

What is the hurry? Why am I forcing myself to heal, why should I place myself in situations that make me uncomfortable and be with people who are not helpful at all to my attempts to find myself? I need to be selfish, I need to protect myself. I need to love myself and give myself affection and care that I have for so long been deprived of during all those months and years when my focus was just mum (and all these close ones that slowly disappeared from my life...)

It takes time. It takes time. And I need to be with people who will give me time to heal.

Where to?

Where are you going from here? What are you doing? These are the questions we must constantly ask ourselves throughout our lives...

While studying late at my office today, my colleague walked into my office. We began chatting and the chat lasted almost three hours.

In various ways we are similar. Born on the same day (at least according to the lunar calendar...), lost in life, and both struggling with depression and trying to find our way to happiness. Both Pisces, both from similar social and racial backgrounds. Both working at the institute and finding ourselves at the crossroads of our respective lives. The only difference is that she is several years older than me.

What now? Where to? And how? We both studied law but don't want practise law. I'm studying to eventually take the bar exam, but for what purpose? Why if I never intended to work in a law firm? Why am I stressing myself and spending so much money on exams when in the end it'll just be another degree I'll not likely use?

She spoke to me like an older sister I never had. She kept telling me if she were younger, if she were my age, she would go out and explore what it is that drives her, what it is that motivates her and makes her want to get up in the morning. I'm searching for that still... And all I know is that it's not found at the work place where I work now, definitely when oftentimes I must force myself out of bed and out the door-- not because I need to work, because I feel like I should show y face at my desk and give the impression I'm working.

We spoke about relationships, about life experiences, about parents we lost, about expectations and dreams. Are we not all looking for happiness? Are we not all searching for belonging and for our own place in the world?

"Find what you want... Go find who you are..." was the bottom line.

I am fortunate that I have no real fetters, at least not for the time being. No parents to take care of or worry about, no partner I am really attached to... I can go anywhere, do anything and I will be fine and free to do so. I can wander the world for weeks, months, or a year, and not really have to worry about means or how...

So what's stopping me? What's holding me back? What's preventing me from getting away from it all and giving myself time and space to discover and explore?

Where am I going?
What am I doing?
What does this world mean to me?

I do not know. But I would like to find out.

Seeing mum again

I saw mum again. She was laughing, smiling, talking on the phone, so fun and cheerful as I remembered her.

She came to visit me on Canada. I pleaded her to stay and stay for a while. I said we could go biking, go to restaurants and have a wonderful time. She was on the phone to an old friend, telling her how she's been these days...

For those brief moments, it felt like she was here with me...

I miss her, miss her so terribly...

Down time

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Second day I stayed home. I couldn't bring myself to go to work, to go to the office and pretend to work. Something is wrong again, I feel it.

What is it? Why do I feel so teary again? Why do I feel so emotional and so lonely? Is it because after a long weekend spent with someone, I feel low and empty not seeing him? Or is the sunshine and energized feelings I gathered in st Maarten there weeks ago wearing off? I feel myself falling into another rut. A terrible danger.

Nobody asks about it.
Nobody knows about it.

Should I be the one to tell people? Shouldn't friends, if they truly are such dear and close friends, not ask me how I am? Should they not detect, especially in the way I have been acting this past week, sense that I am struggling?

I need to pull myself together again. And I'm scared. I need help, I really do.

Touching words

Rusty: “I thought she loved me. And letting go of that is what’s hard.”
Raydor: “But holding on to someone when they’re gone is even harder. ”

Monday blues

Woke up after a terrible night of sleep and headed to the office relatively early. I tried to do work, tried to focus, tried to apply my mind. Reading is so difficult, I find my mind being so distracted and being pulled between sadness and longings for this guy I just met...

What is wrong now, I wonder. Life seems to be going well, for a change I do not feel as sad or depressed. Yet there is a nascent feeling of discontent and emptiness within...


Maybe I am just tired... I sure could use somebody...

Sunday night

At the end of the day, when friends go home, when I come home, the quietness settles. And so do the memories...

It has been a fun-filled few days, since Thursday night. I've been extremely social and lined up the evenings with friends. It's nice to catch up, to sit around the dinner and have dinner like old time's sake. It's fun and distracting for as long as it lasted...

I took the metro home, and out of boredom I browsed through pictures on my phone. Pictures I dare not delete, but probably should soon. I saw pictures of this time last year... How difficult those days were, how heavy and depressing those days were. How did I get through those days? How...?

I almost cried on the metro seeing mum's face on the pictures. So thin and so frail she was... Now she is gone. Nobody knows what it's like. Nobody asks anymore how I am feeling. It's as if with the passage of nine months or so, to others all the memories have been erased. It's as if with the passage of time, the trauma and pain can quickly subside.

But in truth, hiding behind every goofy and playful pose, lurking behind the smiles I display so beautifully on my face, are lingering sentiments of sadness and longing. Who can understand or fully know how I still long for company, why I crave being in the arms of someone close and why I so much long for affection, love and intimacy...?

Dreams of mum

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Twice I dreamed of mum. Both times they were agonising dreams.

I can't remember what happened, I just can't anymore. But I remember seeing mum's face, and then being so shaken by the sight that I woke up feeling such intense pain, feeling like I was bursting into tears ("dry crying" as I like to call it...)

Was mum trying to tell me something? Have I been too lazy, too unproductive, too complacent with money and not doing anything worthy of mention?

I've been trying to get myself better... I've been trying to "cure" myself of this "illness" by going out, doing new things and meeting new people-- all in the hope that by placing myself outside of my comfort zone, I can find my spirit again.

Isn't that what I learned this weekend? That there's a spirit in all of us, that we need to be in tune with nature and that we need to nurture our spirit, let it grow and develop?

There's a spirit in me, I feel it... It is trying to break free... Break free from death, from anger, from fear, from abandonment and trying to energise itself again...

Gathering

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Am I insane? Am I perpetually dissatisfied with life and what it has to offer me?

As a friend of mine sat there and narrated the misfortunes he went through missing a flight, losing his phone (temporarily), losing his key and being generally very scatter headed, I zoned out...

Other friends sat around and listened and for however long the narration of all these misfortunes appeared to be the greatest and most important thing in the world...

I zoned out. Why is that any important? Have they seen illness? Have they experienced death close up? If they have, all these things would appear so insignificant.

I quietly left the room to be by myself for a while. I've not some of these friends for ages, for ages, and no one asked me how I am doing. Everyone seems to take the smile on my face and the generally youthful and seemingly happy complexion on my face as a given reflection of how I'm feeling.

Little do they know at night I cry at times... Little do they know at night I get so scared and so lonely...

And little do they ask.

Moments

There are moments you are fine. Just fine. Fine like the day is clear and sunny, fine like fine silk, flawless and smooth.

In these moments, you believe you have already overcome, you have already left the dark shadows of grief and pain.

But then the moments disappears, like morning mist in the dawning sun, like bubbles on a vast, vast oceans...

And I break down. I cry like a baby, cry like I've never cried before. Do they understand? Does anyone know what happens in between the silence of the walls of my little empty home? Does it matter at all whether these tears were shed? Do they look at me like I'm a freak and offer me merely pity?

Let me mourn in my own way, let me cry, let me sleep, let me be alone if I choose to be. For I was deeply injured, in my heart, in my soul, and I need to heal.

I need the time and the space to heal and grow and find the "new normal".

Weekend in the wilderness.

Weekend in the wilderness.
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It's been beautiful being out in the wilderness, being in tune with nature and surrounded by strangers. I signed up for this weekend get away, partly to immerse myself in a French speaking environment, partly to get out and force myself to meet new people, and hopefully make new friends. And a large part, to finally leave how to cross country ski and snowshoe. Four years in Canada, and I still don't know how to do these quietessential  Canadian activities, still don't fully appreciate winter for what it is.

We hiked around the forest and lake Tamaracousa for hours, learned how to build a "Quincy" and make shift teepee, and I huddled the whole evening around a fire a bunch of us built and maintained for hours. I felt so calm, so peaceful watching the fire burn and dance, crackle and jump. Again, I was swimming in this romantic mood i often get when I am outdoors. Somehow nature brings us home, brings us calm and brings us all closer together...

And I thought about the guy I met two days earlier. How is that possible? Why do I daydream about him, about seeing him again? I hardly know him, let alone what he feels and how he thinks. Maybe I'm just another fling and sex partner in the eyes of his youthful stage of discovery. But why did we kiss on the lips as we parted? Why did he tell me to let him know as soon as I'm back in Montreal?

 Does he feel something too? What is there, if anything, when we're separated by so many years? Age is just a number, he told me, and reminded me... But I feel it's something in the way, as much as I have grown fond of him within just days of meeting. I want to see him again, if possible as soon as I get back home tomorrow. But is that not too much? Is it not being too impatient and pushy? Perhaps it'll drive him away and make me look like such a desperate old fool...

New friend

I woke up next to him, a sweet beautiful boy. I felt bad having to wake him, but we were up all night, just chatting and lying next to one another.

When did I last do that? I do not remember. I can no longer remember. It's been too long, far too long since I felt such connection, such light and joyous feelings with someone.

He is beautiful, young, and sweet. He's smart, eloquent, and has gone through so much in life already. We hit it off as soon as we exchanged numbers and started to exchange text messages. The first night we must have sent one another over a hundred. Back and forth, exchanging lived and notes, travels, likes and getting to know one another. I felt something there. He felt it too, I feel.

We had dinner, we walked home from downtown almost, and we headed to my place. I asked if he wanted to stay over. I was afraid he would say no. But my fears were unfounded.

Both of us were afraid, shy, unsure how to proceed. But we both knew what we wanted. We chatted, the conversation knew no end-- places we've been, places we want to go, coping with the loss of a parent, outlook on life and having children... The conversation  seemed to know no end, at least not till it was past two in the morning.

Then the awkward moment. Where to sleep. I said there's a spare bedroom. We decided to sleep together in one bed. Our skin touched. I felt his arm, his hand, and I held it. We lay staring at one another in the eyes. I stroked his face.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, softly.
We did. Later I learned he wanted to kiss me as soon as he saw me. I think I wanted to kiss him as soon as i saw the picture he sent me... He kept kissing me, wanting to kiss me. At one point he said he hoped he was not "smothering" with his signs of affection.

It was a beautiful night. He touched my body, and I did his. We kissed, and kissed again. he said my tongue, the touch of it, aroused him so, drove him wild. I could not believe here was such a beautiful boy lying next to me, and that we were intimately getting to know one another. We explored each other's bodies and minds, pasts and likes. More and more I liked him, and hoped he liked me. What was happening? What were we doing or becoming, if anything at all?

"All things will come together... All things fall apart... Things will be the way they are, just as they are. Enjoy the moment..."

I savoured his touch, his company, and for the first time in so long, I finally felt loved and fulfilled...

Commemration ceremony

It's been over two since since the start of the lunar new year, and only managed to find time today to make offerings to mum and dad.

I woke up early and cooked. In fact the preparations began yesterday already, when I went to Chinatown after work to buy ingredients and vegetables. I was in luck, for it was late and I needed to have a whole chicken (per tradition) and wanted to get some duck, which was dad's favourite. The store was about to close. And there, hanging over the counter was the last duck and last chicken of the day. To borrow from Ang Lee's Oscar Best Director acceptance speech, "Thank you, Food God".

It was a solemn ceremony. I made several vegetables, bought egg tarts and made a red bean soup with glutinous rice balls (sesame filling) as dessert. I bought a bottle of Evian mineral water, and some fermented tofu for mum. I got out the cups mum and dad used often when they were still around, and poured freshly made green tea.

I kneeled on my knees, and closed my eyes. My eyes began to tear. The first time ever I worshiped to them both. First time is the most difficult time...

I welcomed them home, and apologized that I could not be there this year, in Taiwan, to see them personally. But I hoped, as i told them, the table-ful of offerings could make up for my absence. I went sat on the floor for a while, watched the Almond Roccas, the nougat sweets, the canned beverages, offerings of assorted fruits, including dad's favourite mangoes, bananas and mum's favourite berries. Little things that I know will speak to their hearts, that I hope can tell them, if they are around, that I think of them still, and that I still remember them and their favourite things...

On the floor I sat, and recalled the other day I was at the store buying something in preparation for this event. I tried to picture dad's face, tried to conjure the sound of his voice, but I could not. At least not immeditately And with mum... for a split second, I also forgot what she looked like, sounded and how the touch of her skin felt... A sense of panic overcame me. Am I forgetting already? Am I such a "bad" son to forget (even if temporarily) the faces of the people who gave birth to me?

At the end of the ceremony, I threw coins to ask whether my parents had finished. In one go, I got my answer. I bowed with deep reverence, and thanked them. I asked for their blessings, asked them to watch over brother, my nephew and sister-in-law. I also asked them to watch over me, to give me a bit of strength and help me find my motivation again. For truly the past two three months have been extremely difficult and lonely.

I went to lie down, exhausted from the ceremony, exhausted from the flood of emotions, and with moist eyes, I slept...

SXM-PHL

SXM-PHL

The clouds below are so beautiful, fluffy, white splashed with a hint of orange and gold. We're flying into the sunset, northward back to the cold temperatures of the American continent. Goodbye Caribbean warmth, goodbye cloudless blue skies... Soon I'll be back in the big city, back to life and work and all that.

It's been a really refreshing and relaxing few days. I am surprised by how much I enjoyed myself, even if most of the time was alone. I regained confidence in my ability to bike, and the much feared knee pains did not return. I enjoyed the sun, playing in the ocean, walking on the sand and listening to the waves... It was truly beautiful and I let go of myself, let myself just be with the moment (at least at most moments...)

Life could be like this. Just being, just going outdoors, exploring and letting yourself be amazed and awed by all that there is to discover and do...

Call from SXM

Phone call from SXM

I called just a little before ten in brother's local time. I guess I should have factored in the fact that they had jetlag and were probably in bed. They were in fact in bed.

It was the first time we spoke in over a week. I've been trying to call, but could not get through. Then I left on holiday, and my phone was acting funny (especially, for some reason, when I moved to the French side of the island...). I saw several missed calls, I tried calling back.

Only today did I manage to get through. He was groggy when he answered. The first thing he talked about was whether I got the money he transferred. That seemed to be more important. I texted two day earlier to say acknowledge that. Several times he asked if I got the money, and then he said there's mail for me and told me to check my email.

"Where are you?"

I told him a few days ago that I went to Sint Maarten.

"What are you doing going there? Who did you go with?"

"It's my birthday. I just wanted to go somewhere..." And who would I go with? My stuffed monkey and two inanimate bears-- one from the ex who smiles all the time, the other was given to me by my dead mother. Who else would I be with?

There was no birthday wish. Maybe he tried to call me on that day to wish me something. But certainly there wasn't even a message to that effect. And he didn't even ask me how I'm doing, how I've been.

He said he has to work in the morning. I said I'm sorry to have disturbed him from his sleep. I said goodbye and hoped he can sleep again.

That was that.