the mechanical whirring on the other side sounds like the incessant firing of a machine gun. a million imaginary bullets later, i have finally realized that the tugging sense of deja vu is nostalgic of the afterschool sounds of Counterstrike in the dingy cybercafes of Pandan Perdana and Damansara Jaya. occasionally the whirring is punctuated by smooth swooshes of passing cars from beneath the windowsill where i used to place my glasses. i have a white rubbery lifeline through which i hear these things. i am grateful for it. and you snore. you snore like a bear and i can see in my mind the shadowy contours of your body as you lay sprawled and sweaty in the summer heat of your bedroom. memory and imagination are so crucial in states such as ours; otherwise, with what could i fill in the blanks? how could i feel like i am still relevant if i didnt help myself to copious amounts of self-implementation? teleportation seems so lofty and unnecessary; i dont want or need it right now. everything looks and sounds good from here as i sit back and admire the ease in which you sleep.

the boxed fan sat with us on the brick wall that hot sunday afternoon, quiet and unmoving. we were there at its inception, it was there at our conclusion. i recall thinking that our composition must look like a scene from a movie to the passerby — the air was heavy and sticky and i was perched on the wall swinging my legs while you paced the tired-out ground, and on the margins of it all a boxed fan hovered awkwardly as we fought. we are always fighting when we’re together. is this the thing about long distance relationships that seem to span a lifetime: that the distance is what holds the two people together because incompatibility becomes diluted by the continents and the seas? could it be that we trudge about and immerse ourselves in the pathos of our separation to forget that ultimately we are just not meant to be? but i love you most at night, like this, when you are sleeping and snoring like a bear would, and i can say all kinds of soothing things to you that you never hear because i always forget to unmute the microphone. love is so weird.

it was straight out of the books — sunshine, crisp grass, sweet strawberries, cheap wine drunk straight from the bottle, a funny blanket that i couldnt help but laugh at. as i recall, it was an afternoon brimming with pouts and angry glares, but lukewarm air and gusts of leaves take care of such things. i fell asleep briefly and i loved it. lucidity can be so awful, and it’s nice to escape it even if momentarily.

dedicated to kakicucuklangit!

forgiveness is a funny thing.

time traveling is over, kiddos. it’s back to earth and real timezones now, or more accurately, it’s back to a single timezone, where i alone reside. i left london prematurely. that means a lot of things are no longer happening, among which are the Britney concert i was going to attend on wednesday night, visits to Cambridge and Manchester to see Voon and Emily respectively, and a lifetime. but there will always be new lifetimes, hopefully happier ones.

i’m writing this on the plane. the flight is taking longer than it should be, and i have a feeling i’m going to miss my transit flight out of Singapore, but the bright side is that i can hang out around Changi for a bit. i’ve missed Changi — trees of many memories grow there for me. my favorite one is the memory of the airport clinic; that doctor was the brusque one who didnt nag. streams of sunlight are flooding the cabin right now. Lenny is bathed in a pool of that golden stuff but he remains fast asleep. he bared his tummy to me earlier as consolation, and i rubbed it, but it just wasnt the same.

i am confused at the lack of conflict i am feeling. i must have really psyched myself out to the point of numbness. but you see, the point here is that i am okay. i dont care what anybody says about the destruction that lies in the wake of always expecting the worst — the truth is that you always emerge prepared to handle the hardest of times. do you remember the time you weren’t prepared? do you remember how you felt like you wanted to die? see, right now, all i’m feeling is that i just had the wind knocked out off my stomach. this constant sinking feeling. shards of heart. dusty dreams. it’s still not a very pleasant combination, but at least it’s all physiological. and it’s a lot better than feeling like i want to die. it’s also better than a lifetime of dying bit by bit every day.

in two hours, i will be back in the arms of the people who truly love me and would never hurt me the way i’ve been hurt today.

edit: i am home now :) CALL ME, FOLKS.