going away

Riding on high tide

Posted on by TheMX

Woke up teary today, as how I was when i crashed to sleep last night: incredibly drained, as if the energy’s been sucked out forcefully with a vacuum.

It wasn’t so much a TGIF; been a long time since I went to bed at 10 pm, and I wouldn’t if my conscious was awake enough to resist. The past week feels as if it were a wave, itself. Honestly, I didn’t want it to end. And now the time has come: for departures, returns, and these meanders of rationales seem to have to come to a concluding delta: dealing with reality.

I’m afraid that what has been a constant routine I’ve attuned myself so comfortably to over the past two months has now come to an abrupt halt: usual hangs, spontaneous gatherings, deep meaningful conversations, and having both my best friends going away again. I don’t remember the Goodbyes said to December and January were this painful. Agony, if measured by the amount of tears, the reasons for their flowing, sums up to be so great a concentration gradient internally and externally, that it floods in tsunamial waves.

Perhaps it is good they go away too, albeit it being a little too overwhelming to handle. Filters the distractions out – to gear up for the coming exams and prelims. What do I do then, after? That would be best thought when it is all over. 10 months would fly by soon enough, surely, aye?

if you’ve been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you – you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing is ever going to happen again.

Any less a constant

Posted on by TheMX

The series of incidents last night are sinking in, slowly but surely. Is it more painful that getting a tattoo? Emotionally and mentally, perhaps. Weaving in and out of reality throughout the whole of today: it’s like having to get used to people leaving and settling some place far away from here all over again. It’s like a raw… cut, torn open by a wrench driven into the heart. When I think of the numbers, the time difference, the continents that we’re in – it altogether seems overwhelming. Especially so at this period: it exposes the vulnerability and fragility to the very depth of my soul. It invades the mind, and the thoughts are broken in to. And it seems like each time this robbery happens it just activates the tear glands … and then it overflows. I can’t help the tears that keep coming, and i can’t rationalise it, honestly. There’s nothing for me to be sad about, really. We’ve set a date to meet in January 2016; and it isn’t going to be the last time I will see him. Perhaps it could be the selfishness taking control: it is frightening to think of how far we are, and the insecurity is jarring, as if the void is left exposed, simply because what once used to fill it is now gone. I am afraid. Does that make me any less strong? Does it render me dispensable, for not being able to keep someone by my side? Does that make me any less whole of a person that I used to be? Quite possibly, and as a very matter of fact-ly, yes. It feels a little like some part of me’s torn apart, and that is what it is.

Externally, I am terrified – an abundance of memories and a reserve of words: I see this happening to a few others already. We are… slowly running out of words. Distance defeated supposedly strong friendships, and our conversations are reduced into awkward bits and pieces of silence. Frequencies awfully distorted, and the stinging truth forces itself down your throat, the friendship is already at a point of no return: and slowly, start to let go because there’s no salvation, no heaven in it, and sanctuary no more.

Gavin, would that ever happen to our friendship? If this were to be the case, how wrong I was to bid you farewell.