That I miss


Dreamt of you.

It’s that familiarity
comforting familiarity
warm security
and quiet contentment

where and when
no words are needed
for that quiet glow
of happiness.

I wonder how you think of me.

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Tiredness without the satisfaction


There’s this little piece of feeling, it should be here but it’s missing.

I ran my first half-marathon this morning; It was a night run starting at 12:30am. Slightly more than half-way through my knee started hurting and I had trouble walking, never mind running. About 3/4 way through, it started pouring. Tropical torrential downpour compete with thunder, lighting and strong winds. Nonetheless, I managed to complete the run without dying. Needless to say, I’m suitably drained and exhausted after that ‘ordeal’.

There’s this little piece of feeling missing.

It’s like the feeling after a day of swimming? Well, I don’t know if others experience it this way but I’d always feel really drained after swimming. Especially those times when we were younger and used to go swimming regularly. We didn’t just swim though; It was a club by the beach and as kids we’d of course be running around, sitting on the slide, moving from the baby pool to the big pool, playing in the sand, playing in the sea… There’d always be this characteristic physically drained feeling, with the lingering coldness of the water on your skin, sapping your body’s energy as you slowly get warm again.

But you’re tired in a good way. You’re happy. And, after everyone gets washed up, we’d usually go as a family for a really good and yummy dinner. Perhaps at the club’s restaurant, or, as I remember on some occasions, having a home-made picnic on the benches in the ‘park’ that overlooked the seaside. And it was precisely because you felt so drained and hungry that that meal and the down time with family really, really hits the spot. It was some good icing on an already good cake, transforming it into a perfect cake.

Or… it’s like the feeling of coming home from overseas after a holiday. You had fun, but after the last few hours in the plane you’re also exhausted from flying and waiting in airports and lugging luggages around. Not to mention, maybe you’ve had enough of a constant onslaught of the unfamiliar for a while. When you touch down and when you finally step back into your own house, there’s a deep sense of comfort, of satisfaction, of belonging, of… well, of homecoming. Of coming home.

Or… it’s like the feeling of coming home after a long day to a warm smile and a warmer, tight and loving hug. It transforms your day, but it does that by transforming you. Warms you from the inside out.

Simple things that rejuvenate. Simple things that add the final cherry on the cake, the dot in the dragon’s eye. Simple things that seem an after-thought to the main event, but actually are the most important. Simple things that can affect the colour and mood and final telling of the story. Simple things that can turn the entire situation around in your head.

Something sweet enough to delight, yet substantial enough to make you full and satisfied. You feel contented, but it goes a step further than that; you feel happiness. A sprinkling of glitter rainbow.

That’s the feeling that’s almost here, but isn’t.

It’s like missing the climax but you’re not quite sure why. It’s like almost reaching, but deflating just a tad too soon. Missed the sweet spot.

A feeling is missing, that final cherry on the cake that would make everything worth it, make everything perfect. Change the story.

Home is where the heart is, but where is my heart?


Home is where the heart is, but where is my heart?
Not here, but far, far away.
Somehow a large part of me seems convinced that you are home.
Have you not given me back my heart yet?

Sometimes that feeling comes back still– that confident, reassured feeling. That I have faith feeling. When I’m sure that we’ll get back together, I know you’ll come back to me. Just because. Because there’s no other possible possibility, because I can’t imagine it being any other way.

It doesn’t matter how desperately i try to tell myself how delusional I’m being, I don’t buy it. It’s not even an antagonistic feeling, like Ha! Call me delusional, I’ll show you! It’s completely calm and detached. It truly does not care that you think it’s delusional, it truly does is not affected by what you say or think, because what you say or think  has no consequence on its truth value. It knows. It has faith.

No wonder religions still exist; nothing you say or do has effect. My faith is unshakable. I believe, because. If even I cannot convince myself, what more other people?

Somehow a significant part of me is (still) convinced that you are home. Are you my home?
Somehow a significant part of me is (still) convinced that you will come back. Will you?

I guess we’ll find out soon enough.
If that part is wrong, I’m not sure what I’d have to do to hammer that truth home to myself. Emotion speaks louder than intellect.