What's the point of having an iPod, when there's only one song on repeat?
3 am. It's dark, but not quite. Light from the neighbour's widow spills carelessly through mine, casting indifferent oblong shapes onto my wall.
Hello.
A trolley bus drags through the night, whistling. I've stopped worrying about the sleep that evades me, secretly enjoying the time to myself: a warm bed, a cozy comforter, and all the time in the world. After all, I can sneak a quick nap during constitutional. A mile a minute - thoughts with neither head nor tail come racing in. Barely looking me in the face, they take up space in my already crowded spirit, occasionally possessing an arm or a leg to direct a toss or deal a turn. I can't tell if my eyes are open or shut, or trapped somewhere in the world between worlds - feels like it. Feels like I've been lying here forever.
I wonder why I try so hard to find meaning, or to keep a hold on myself. I am afraid that all this here will be my undoing. Maybe one day I'll wake up, and see with eyes that are no longer mine and find my mouth filled with strange words. Why do I care so much? I come from a region that has not known substantive freedom for over four centuries.
A prayer rumbles meaninglessly from the hollow in my pillow. And somehow, it's morning. And it's a beautiful day. Glen's right. I heal fast.
Hello.
A trolley bus drags through the night, whistling. I've stopped worrying about the sleep that evades me, secretly enjoying the time to myself: a warm bed, a cozy comforter, and all the time in the world. After all, I can sneak a quick nap during constitutional. A mile a minute - thoughts with neither head nor tail come racing in. Barely looking me in the face, they take up space in my already crowded spirit, occasionally possessing an arm or a leg to direct a toss or deal a turn. I can't tell if my eyes are open or shut, or trapped somewhere in the world between worlds - feels like it. Feels like I've been lying here forever.
I wonder why I try so hard to find meaning, or to keep a hold on myself. I am afraid that all this here will be my undoing. Maybe one day I'll wake up, and see with eyes that are no longer mine and find my mouth filled with strange words. Why do I care so much? I come from a region that has not known substantive freedom for over four centuries.
A prayer rumbles meaninglessly from the hollow in my pillow. And somehow, it's morning. And it's a beautiful day. Glen's right. I heal fast.
5 comments:
beautifully said, like a process of rejuvenation, dying and birth. 'if you're not changing, you're dead' - remember who said that?
uh... was it me?
OH WAIT! It was lauryn!
Pfffft... same thing.
You yearn for sleep. I, on the other hand, press on awake til the moment comes when I feel that I'll slip into somnolence the minute I curl up under the sheets. I don't like the thought that with each passing day, a day of our lives has ended, gone. Unretrievevable. Another day gone by without a sense of purpose.
I heal fast too, but somewhere beneath the scar tissue, you wonder if there's still deep nervous damage that hasn't healed that you can't see, til the next time you rip it apart, and the wound gaps like an earthquake tear in the earth, threatening to swallow you whole.
There's you, me with this problem. And a mate of mine's facing this too. And lo and behold, I'm not into mumbo-jumbo astrological stuff, but we're all Aquarians. Ha. I think it's this massive dichotomy of dominant elements within us that brings about our slow and suffocating crawl towards our liberation/downfall.
I never thought water was a dominant element of mine. I always thought I was a fire/air person. Til yesterday whilst running along the river, it hit me that I love running by the water. It just soothes me. The beach in S'pore, and the river in Melb. Maybe I do have a bit of a dominant water element in me. And water's always the hardest to pin down in a person. I wonder.
Deeq, this was a message of HOPE. I'll see you in singapore? :)
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