Saturday, April 08, 2006
so tell me this

it isn't that we'll stop being friends, or we won't keep in touch, or anything like that. that isn't what bothers me. what bothers me is losing what we have right now. i'll miss the way things are, i'll miss us, i'll miss you the way you are, right here and right now. the you i know. the you before you grow older and wiser and more cynical. it isn't that i won't love the new yous. it's just that the way you are right now is perfect to me, and i don't want to believe that we aren't going to grow up together, that we'll have to do our growing separately. this is the 12th year i've known you. we've only had a worthwhile friendship for the last 5 1/2, but it feels like you've always been there. i'm scared to grow up by myself. i'm scared there won't be any sensible person by my side, keeping me rooted to God. i'm scared i won't know how to love myself. i'll have to keep making friends with you, over and over again, as we change and grow. not in the gradual, unnoticable way that we do, staying side by side, but in awkward leaps and bounds, when we meet face to face after months and years apart, and realise that phonecalls and emails only cover so much distance. you'll find new friends. get used to new weather. shop at different stores, eat different food, drink tea in a different way. would i have found someone by the time we meet again? would i even be here still? i know that i won't be. the i i am now, this half-changing hybrid of child and grownup. i hate angsting. i want to stab myself and fade away. i wish i were invisible. blend into the background, go unnoticed, let you walk right through me and never feel a thing. it seems that all i have to do is love someone to lose her. i've become so paranoid. chris was just the first of many. or maybe it's just a more obvious losing. we would have lost each other anyway, the individuals we used to be. i imagine with my rose-tinted glasses that i used to be happy. but then it's all comparative, isn't it?

the air-con is leaking behind me. i find the sound of droplets hitting the water surface very soothing. my mother looked at me like i was crazy when i said that. an identical look appeared on her face when i said that painting helps me to focus my thoughts. it's too overwhelming to just let the thoughts flood your mind, uncontrolled. i can channel them better when i'm doing something with my hands, imagine them flowing like paint down the brush, marking the white cardboard. irreversibly. on second thoughts, that's kinda scary.

i remember that red door and handle from my childhood. how is it that i hate it so much now?
8:07 PM ; 0 comments