This Ain't Goodbye by Train

I stare out of the panel windows with wonder. With the rain falling in soft slurries and gloomy skies, that feeling I get in the pit of my gut.. I don't feel quite right. There is a certain wrongness, I can't quite put a name to it. I question myself how can I release myself. As I continue to stare into my own reflection, I realise : I am not here.

Yeah I'm not quite here, really. Is it grief, regret, pain maybe? I honestly can't put a name to it. Some part of me is currently living on a different existential plane. Miles and miles away, in a completely different realm. Bereft. Fragments of my mind soul are somewhat, stolen.

I walk around, going through the notions and.. that's that. I'm numbed, robot-like. Its like, the very core and essential part of me were ripped out and I'm left in a place filled with confusion. My soul is an exile of my own body and mind.

* *

On the contradictory, I'm having the same reoccurence that I blogged about right after the job of taxing (http://www.everythingsporadical.blogspot.com/2010/03/death-by-white-lies.html).
Going back into studies, I'm moving forward far too much than the present lets me. Again, I can't put it into words to quite explain it right. I go through days feeling ten steps ahead than the current reality. Thankfully I talked to someone who went through the exact motions and she felt the same as well. So, toorah. It isn't just me. There are days where I hunger from something exhilarating, challenging and mind boggling task to be handed down, to be mentally challenged once again. The feeling.. is, quite remarkable. So here I am, trying my best to retract backwards? One of the many reasons I needed to get back into Ballet again, I yearn for growth and elevation too much. Being mentally and spirituality stagnant scares the crap out of me. Sometimes one has to wonder if this constant want of self-actualisation is an epidemic or a sick-twisty needy drug.

A quagmire of mental and spiritual elevation. I'm between battles on days like these.

Happy note, Stereophonics tonightttttt!

Sometime Around Midnight by The Airborne Toxic Event

Air was silent as I listened to his still breathings of deep sleep. I rolled over, my eyelids flutter before they fully opened. I jumped off the bed with the sight of a clock ticking at 8.05 am.

"I'm late for work. We're lateee!"

I frantically searched for my phone, pouncing around like a senile cat.

He gibbers something beyond comprehension and pulls me back sleepily.

Work's a block away. Let me fix breakfast first, he mumbles.

Curtly, I replied No.

"Stay in bed. I'll fix spinach ravioli for lunch?"

"My manager would kill if I'm late!"

"I'll bring your colleagues food for brunch"

"They'll loathe you for making me late"

"No, they won't. I'm their Food Jesus.."

*silence of contemplation*

"I'll stay awhile if you let me make pancakes"

"You mean, pannekoek?"

"Whatever. Can I make em?"

"No. Leave pannekoeks to the Germans.."

"You can't pronounce Nasi Lemak correctly, Hitler"

"Yes I can. Naksik Leemoak"

"^&*$%^#"

"That sounded like a woman's vagina. Did you just call me a cunt?"

"Shit. How'd you figure that one out?!"

He pinches my cheeks and rolls out of bed, "Looks like I'll be making pannekoeks..."

From The Inside Out by Hillsong United

Food changes over time. Things don't change, people do.

Egg tarts are funny, they are funny to me. Its strange how I perceived it to be.. mushy, slimy, gross back then. I tried it when during the younger primary school days and I didn't like it at all. NOT AT ALL. A few months back, I decided to try out the famous ones from Pudu out of curiousity, and it was real good.

It became an epidermic actually. Been nuts about egg tarts from that day on. Ironically, I used to date someone who was crazy about egg tarts. Occasionally after our heavy meals, he would drive to this old run-down bakery and eat half a dozen of it while watching tele, giving me the ear to ear grin of a small ten year ol boy. I might have passed out a disgusted look as he savoured his dessert (I'm not very supportive as you see). Funny, he never failed to offer me some despite my lack of.. enthusiasm heh. Highly claiming how delectable it was, I would pass on the offer. Pity we couldn't share the joy together at that moment in time. It struck me just last week about the bakery! See, I've been getting these tarts from either DJ or Pudu because well.. they tasted pretty grand enough. So I took a drive to the old bakery nearby last week and bought some tarts to try them out myself. It tasted real grand! It was certainly nostalgic revisiting the place.

I wanted to share my excitement in a new discovery and say out loud, ''Hey you're right. Its awfully good!". But I knew I was the last person on planet Earth you would ever want to hear from heh. The taste of egg tarts changed me. Oh and tomatoes too. I hope my durian story would not alter like egg tarts ugh. We used to have Japanese on most Sundays as tea and be seated at the exact same spot. You would order two plates of raw octopus and I would drum those wooden chopsticks in anticipation for my favourite Sushis on the conveyer belt. I miss the food there ever since.

You told me, It'll be okay. But you were the one crying.
You told me, Let go. But you were the one holding onto my shirt.

Things work out the opposite sometimes. I hope you accept, be okay with it and find peace in what you're searching for.

Be waiting for the day you learn to surpass the past and return as my good buddy again. I've missed you, friend.

Marking the one year aftermath in a few days time. I've never looked back :)