Broken hearts and days

The mounting piles of notes and studying materials seem to weigh heavy, but less
than the cumulative stress
Bi-polar, Moody, Temperamental
they are words that almost tear
you                          a  p  a  r  t
or words that drive you up the wall
to the widths of in-               sanity

It feels strange raking up the past, today.
To verbalise thoughts in the mind that have grown so comfortable in its storage space it was almost reluctant to be spoken of. Old,
toxic friendships was almost history: yet this year godknowswho decided to wake them up from their slumber and take them out of their graves. But
they are almost-skeletons: they belong to the closet with the worn out, musky clothes.

There is so much more i would share, if i could – if only it were that easy for the words to conform to a structure and rule of sentences, grammar and punch-uations. And in doing so I leave myself a little more exposed each time; and i fear. for when you go away, the skin pieces would be gone, along with you. i have revealed a lot, and i… like a granite rock, don’t want to be susceptible to weathering and erosion. With time, with so much – one day it will all fall apart,
like
gruss.

Today. it’s been four years since the shots were called (or fired). is there regret? so fucking much. too excessively so, i haven’t come to terms with it. I don’t think i would ever be able to do so. It was an elite-school; but the question was, For better, or for worse?

Lighthearted conversations and random touch-and-gos on the topic with Ong Yi this afternoon, explaining how time and experience change and shape the environment left me almost wincing. cringing, internally. i guess it still hurts, if that is so. Friends, family, life, goals and memories: they’re common topics that have hung around for a bit now, and would probably do so for the next few years or something. As the days to departure draws nearer, the daily reminder of uncertainty is unnerving. What-ifs, so many things that could go wrong, countless insecurities, absurd concerns, and irrational fears. As each day passes, letting go and having grasp how to let go, is altogether a challenge. What i would give for one more day – more conversations, irrelevant banters, and a day more’s vulnerability. Strange logic huh, exchanging insecurities for insecurity.

Today. I learnt something new about the PHOend. In psychology class
they teach us that body language communicates
and Goffman briefly explained the expressions we give off – the ones we have less control of: micro-expressions.
Just before shock engulfed my face, a frown decided to plop itself in between for a brief split second, before fading out.
As I try to translate think-shapes into words, this is what I’ve made out of it so far: agony, i think. anguish. a pinch of melancholy.
As a friend, i have failed. i feel like i should and could’ve been more sensitive, more empathetic, more supportive, more more more.
“Life goes on” suddenly sheds light on so many other interpretations. three words, yet concise. I think it pains me most for not having value-add, or been a source of happiness. I blame myself: for having been so self-centered – and not having put enough effort to try to be more aware of the loved ones around me. Ultimately, i have been a source of unhappiness, toxic and negativity. And all i can give is not comfort, nor consolation, but a ‘sorry’ – five alphabets of no use to you.

And the nighttime was the worst
It shows you all the things you’ve lost

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