Yearn


and we yearn

to be thought of
to be cared for
to be loved
to matter

we yearn

to make a difference
to have some significance
to have meaning
to be real

we yearn

for so much
but actually, really, the simplest of things

which are the hardest to achieve .

Just one person, just one. To make it real.
Suddenly, it seems the saddest thing to know
That no one is thinking of you at this moment.

How can you be so silly?

Always yearning for more
more than most can give
When?

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Nope, still addicted


Let me put this idea to you:

All that anyone in the whole world throughout all of history ever does… is chase emotions.

We may do it in countless different ways, we may do it with the help of rationalizing and intellect, but at the end of the day, are we not all struggling to find out exactly what will bring us that sense of… happiness? of contentment? of satisfaction? of meaning? of peace?

Chasing emotions.

In secondary school, we studied 12th night for literature and our teacher told us that Orisino was more in love with love than with anyone. He’d put his object of affection up on a pedestal and worshiped it from there. That image and idea struck me and stuck with me, and often I would see myself in a similar light; at that age, I loved getting into crushes. It didn’t matter how improbable my crushes were, how little I actually knew about them or how little interaction I had with them. I enjoyed admiring them from afar and I immensely enjoyed the emotional highs (and lows) that took place only in my own head and heart.

In love with love. To be even more specific– in love with the emotional highs associated with love? Love is a drug, an addiction.

When fans go crazy over their idols, when fandom obsesses over characters and pairings… If you’re not a part of it, it may look crazy to you. But it’s the same for everyone– you have your own method of chasing that emotional high, I’m sure you do. Be it through a sport, a art, your career, shopping, clubbing, alcohol… Intellectually, you may think your method is superior– more meaningful?– but emotionally its similar, is it not?

When I say I’m addicted to escapism, part of it comes from needing that high, and not finding it in real life, and so you run elsewhere in search of it.

When I had my first super-serious crush, my first infatuation, my first ‘love’, when I moved beyond being happy with fangirl-ing people from afar to genuinely wanting more, I think that upped the ante of emotional high enough to end all frivolous crushes.

When I had my first relationship… well. That emotional high, that fulfillment, felt like all I would ever need. As much as the intellectual side of me cringes and rolls its eyes at this naivety and superficiality… being in love made my world realer than real, it gave my days meaning and added colour everywhere.

To me, being able to share my life with someone else and share their world in turn compound the joy of everything beauty in life and made every pain bearable.

To me, a relationship is something I can pour my heart and soul into, make a deep emotional investment and get back exponentially high returns.

I got home today badly craving another shot of escapism.

What I really want is to have something really mesmerizing, something really captivating. A really good story (or something, anything) that will pull me in, and consume my world, at least for a while. Something touching, something moving, something that will tug on all your heartstrings and make you go awwww!!!<333 ;_; something that makes the world feel more real, more saturated, have more kick.

I search for that high in stories because there is nothing in real life right now, nothing that I can go awwww<333 over.

But stories, in whatever form they take, can no longer deliver the high I crave…
They just can’t. I just can’t. I can’t get emotionally invested enough. Stories don’t cut it anymore. How could they? You need a higher and higher dosage each time…

Even so, I still can’t stop chasing the little highs, just for a taste, a drop…

It’s been almost two years. I stare at the date and realize with a start that our anniversary date, which was yesterday, has faded in my mind and replaced with our break-up date, which I had been unconsciously counting down towards.

It’s truly amazing how time passes; I can’t believe it’s been this long. I still think of her just about everyday. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I think of a time, of a feeling, of an emotional high.

Everyday I miss it, and most days I seem to chase after it in all the wrong places for lack of knowing what else to do…

Windy Sunsets


I love walking home in the evenings, before the sun sets on a day with nice weather like today. There’s always something so poignant and emotional and beautiful about the times of dawn and dusk.

The blue sky and it’s puffy white clouds, so beautiful, so beautiful.
We spend too much of the day indoors.
Want to just spend all my time sitting by the beach, staring into the horizon.
And feel the wind embrace you.

I love the wind, I really do. When it blows, it feels all encompassing, going around, over and, it seems, almost through you. I close my eyes as it roars past my ears and whistles through my hair. It makes me think and feel of carefree days, of freedom, of love and joy, of simple pleasures and happiness. It stirs up vagues wisps of emotion-memories of being overseas, on holiday, relaxing. It stirs up vague wisps of feeling-memories of the beach, of Bishan park, of Changi beach club, of childhood memories and being much younger. Perhaps it even reaches further back than that to the memories of childhood dreams and desires to fly.

The blue sky and white clouds and trees and wind also call up memories of Jalan Bangket. Of MacRitchie Reservoir. Of taking walks in her estate…of relationship memories.

It’s a taste. Of openness, freedom, carefreeness, contentment, peace and a simple joy… But also of days gone by. Of past simplicities and securities. Of being young, when everything was always alright. Of a happiness, light-heartedness and optimism that I no longer possess… it makes me melancholy.

The wind always fills me with emotion. If a were a theist I’d say that’s when I feel closest to God, when I can almost literally feel His embrace, his reassurance, his love. Yes, I feel so loved. But I’m not a theist.

Instead, I’d say its when I feel most alive, most aware of the beauty of life and living, most in awe and appreciation, most at one and almost at peace with the world.

The most beautiful things in life are often bittersweet, like the sunset at dusk.

Related:
I Think I Love the Wind the Best 

Changing Partners


I stay me. And you stay you.

The things I would do stay the same even if it’s someone else beside me.
Like spazzing out over furry plants and cactuses or pointing out eagles in the sky, I guess.

The things you would do stay the same even if it’s someone else beside you.
Like dressing up in yukatas and having lunch at sakae sushi, eating salmon and amaebi sushi.

It feels disconcerting– I used to do that with you, and now you’re doing it with someone else? But it’s inevitable, just the way it necessarily is. I shared myself with you, and now you’re gone, but I’m still here. I’m still me, and the things I share are still those things.

I’ve always wondered, for people who’ve had multiple bfs or gfs… what do you call them? Does the name stay the same? Isn’t strange though, if you called boyfriend A ‘baby’ and you call boyfriend B ‘baby’ as well?

And yet, how many terms of endearment can you cycle, huh? Besides, what if it’s a personal preference, it’s a term you like. You stay you. And the other person just changes and swops and cycles. The term you use is a part of who you are, and not an identity of the other.

I wonder if there are things that aren’t just you (with me tagging along) and aren’t just me (with you tagging along) but are us. Things unique to us. Things that can’t be cycled, can’t just swop in and out someone new. Things that we only did together, that we wouldn’t do with anyone else.

There must be, for surely a relationship is greater than the sum of its parts? For surely there is ‘you’, there is ‘me’, but there was also ‘us’?

I can’t remember, I”ve forgotten, I am forgetting.

When I look at our ‘things to do before we die!’ list, the items seem to fall neatly into the things you wanted to do, and the things I wanted to do. Of course, we’d thought we’d do them together, but you would still fly in a hot air balloon without me, and I am still set on climbing mountains and seeing the northern lights with or without you, or anyone else. Was there anything on the list that was truly something for us to do before we die?

We were waltzin’ together to a dreamy melody
When they called out “Change partners”
And you waltzed away from me
Now my arms feel so empty as I gaze around the floor
And I’ll keep on changing partners
Till I hold you once more

When was the last time you took the time to watch the changing clouds?


Sometimes
The things left un-said
Clang louder than the things that are.

But it’s okay.

I promise to take some time to watch the changing clouds.
I promise to come back and comb the library.
I promise to take a stroll down the beach.

I promise to touch as many of those millions of point of light as I can.
Touch, touch, touch. And paint my picture, an explosion of fireworks.

Can you see what I see?

Two one-way streets


To know and be known
To forgive and be forgiven
To love and be loved

When music is played but not heard
When music is heard but not played
Music (and colour, and sound and more) are mere perceptions;
They take place only in your head?
When a tree falls but no one is around
You know that one.

Can you forgive, if none wants to be forgiven?
Can you love, if none receives your love?
Can you be forgiven, if no one forgives?
Can you be loved, if no one loves?

What if; lost in translation? miscommunication? lack of a medium?
One loves but the disgruntled husband does not feel it.
A love-struck teenager interprets love when no such love exists.

Three parts to every communication: the source (the production), the transmission (the medium) and the recipient (the perceiver). What’s one without the others? Sufficient but not necessary? Necessary but not sufficient  Two out of three?

Blogging can be like shouting into an abyss. Sometimes you pretend there’s a receiver, and that’s enough to satisfy. Other times you yearn for a connection that’s more real…

We think of many things as two way streets.
It takes two hands to clap, we take turns to give and receive and we meet each other half way.
In truth perhaps they are merely two one way streets
With an illusion of connection.

We are necessarily alone in our own heads. Nothing we know or can know that doesn’t pass through the murky filter of perception and our limited understanding.

Consensus. We agree that they meet, so we can act like they meet, and for all purposes they do. Until your perspective changes (and all the misunderstandings crawl out of the woodwork) and you realize it was an illusion all along.

Previous posts where similar ideas were explored that possibly led to this post:
Forgiveness
Sending and Receiving the Message of Love

What makes a relationship


Is it stupid that what I want more than anything in the world is a romantic companion?

It is stupid; I was horrified to realize it and I’m embarrassed to have admitted it. I’ve become what I hate: one of those women who are constantly obsessed with wanting to find a boyfriend, wanting to find a husband, wanting to get married and settle down as soon as possible.

I would roll my eyes and scoff: there’s more to life than that, c’mon, does it really matter that much? When it happens, it happens. In the meantime, live your life, please!

And yet… I don’t think it’s that uncommon a desire. In fact, I think it’s a pretty common desire, based on what the majority of our music, movies and books are about and on the fact that people pair up more often than they don’t.

I was watching Juno for the first time recently, and the following quote from the father made me cry (I was also slightly drunk, that’s my excuse): “The best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person is still going to think the sun shines out your ass. That’s the kind of person that’s worth sticking with.”

I cried because I know I’m capable of that. Is that really so hard to do? I cried because real life is never that simple. Why are there so many things that get in the way? Why do we let them get in the way?

I recently got the feeling that… I think I could love just about anyone. I don’t know how true that is and I certainly don’t want to test it (how, by randomly picking a person in my vicinity and attempt to cultivate a crush on that person??), but that’s how I felt.

That made me think that perhaps our parents’ and grandparents’ generations got it right: just pick one or have one picked for you and that’s it. You learn to live with the person. You learn to take care of the person. You learn to love them, you grow to love each other. Isn’t there a kind of love that grows naturally from spending time with a person and getting to know them?

I guess that isn’t enough though. I should have seen enough rubbish marriages to know this…

I never liked the idea of having a list of criteria for your significant other, choosing mechanically by ticking off a checklist. Every time I re-vist the idea, I find myself mocking it. He has to be taller than you… really? Has to have certain qualifications, have certain amount of money… really?

Well, I guess it would be good if she likes the outdoors, like me. I guess it would be fantastic if she liked rock-climbing too, then we could go together! She must like animals, she must care for the environment. Singing and music. Those are very important too. And art! We could draw things for each other and visit art exhibitions together. Oh, preferably a Terry Pratchett fan c’mon how can one not like Terry Pratchett? It would be good if our socio-economical backgrounds are similar too, and if she can speak or understand hokkien, that’d make integration into my extended family much easier. Oh, she should be a science person, because I’m a science person. And wouldn’t it be cool if we could have pointless philosophical discussions that last forever? 

… And wouldn’t that be just like dating myself and wouldn’t that be a whole bunch of EXTREMELY BORING.

Honestly, I think one of the best parts about being in a relationship– the most fresh, exciting and meaningful parts– is seeing through some one else’s eye. Having the scope of your world open up and expand, being introduced to a whole new world you weren’t privy to before. Learning more about things you never knew about, never thought about, never saw in that way before and having yourself changed by that experience.

Where would all that be if the other person were exactly like you?

It’s of course good and sound advice that certain compatibilities should be present. If you have no common interests, what are you going to do together or talk about? If your backgrounds and perspectives are too different, misunderstandings would occur easily. And more importantly, if your priorities in life and in the relationship clash, it would be hard to make it last.

I made a list (similar to the one above) of all the things that were important to me. Must like animals and nature. Must value friends and family highly. I made a list, and then I dismissed it. These sort of things really aren’t what’s important in a relationship, it’s not what you should be looking out or on your guard for.

Yet such a list is important– not as a criteria list but as a list of knowing what’s important to you. Which are the most important values to you, which are the lines you won’t cross? Which are the essential characteristic, which define what you want from the relationship? And which define your dreams and what you want from life?

And that’s what makes or breaks a relationship, I think. Each knowing the their own general answers to these questions and being able to talk openly and successfully arrive at common answers as a couple.

Dear you, I will always love you.


Dear baby,
Dear you,

It’s your birthday soon. And also the one year mark of our breakup; my time is almost up. Although I guess I’ve come to realize that I’ve been playing this game by myself.

Dear you,

I want to wish you happy birthday. How have you been doing? I hope you’re doing well. …or perhaps I don’t mean that fully?

Dear you,

I heard you’re in UK on exchange. Jealous, much! And here I am, rotting away in this miserable place. All that time together, not even a chance to go to Malaysia and now you’re in the UK.

Dear you,

I no longer think of you everyday—well, I still think of you often, but the thoughts are much, much less loaded. More matter of fact. They come and go and I don’t pay particular notice to them.

Dear you.

Sometimes I still think negative thoughts—it’s really beyond my comprehension and it really hurts me to think that— you seem to have no inclinations whatsoever to reach out to me. That it’s fine with you if we never speak or meet again, or if I never forgive you. Like you have genuinely successfully earased me completely from your consciousness, and you’re fine with that. Don’t you at least want to be friends? You’re okay with leaving things in this state?

Dear you.

Sometimes, when I think those thoughts, I get angry. Why should I always be the one bothering? Why should I always be the one reaching out? If you don’t care enough even to give me proper replies or return me my stuff even though you promised to, why should I bother? I should just write you off the way you seem to have written me off.

Dear you.

I try to remind myself that… we shouldn’t fixate on the actions of others. We can’t control those. And you’ll never know the full story. Instead, concentrate more on our own actions—the ones we can control. So it doesn’t matter what you do, I should care about what I want to do. What do I want to do?

Dear you.

I thought I was ready, but when I found out that you’re in the UK—when I imagined you having the time of your life, without me–it was an unexpected blow. Maybe I’m not as ready as I thought I was…

Dear you.

Sometimes I wonder, if reaching out to you—wanting to be friends again—is the ‘Right’ thing to do. Even if this, “We must remain friends no matter what happens.”, was my first promise to you and me, said with the greatest conviction. If it’s so difficult for me, maybe I should just forget it. Who says that’s the ‘Right’ thing to do anyway? People move on, move away. It doesn’t matter. And isn’t it possible that my desire to meet up isn’t entirely innocent, doesn’t stem solely from ‘wanting to be friends’? Should I forget it?

Dear you,

I miss you. Do you miss me? Do you think of me?

Dear you,

It’s been nearly a year. Am I ready?

I guess it doesn’t matter so much if it’s the ‘Right’ thing to do (afterall, there’s no such thing) as much as… it’s what I think I should do. I can’t picture any other path that wouldn’t feel… wrong. Like I’m running away.

Dear you,

I’ll going to have to keep my promise to myself, regardless of what you do or don’t do.

Dear you,

I miss you. I hope you’re doing well.

Dear you,

I will always, always love you.

And I have been learning to be okay with that.