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 

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Not.


Reality seeps
through my fingers.
I am
not.

One foot, then another
moving but going nowhere.
Unseeing eyes
unsmiling smiles.
Pumping blood
without a heartbeat.

They’ve turned from
a misplaced reality
into fading memories
ashen grey and almost-but-can’t
forgotten

Reality was taken
but was not replaced.
I am
not.

Dreams and Reality


Nothing like dreaming about her all night to make me remember how much i miss her. I had already forgotten, already started to forget. (Or at least, had gotten very good at ignoring it, which is about the same thing.)

C’mon. You know that’s not her. It’s just an amalgamate of memories and imaginings, of memories and wistful thinking. That’s not her. It’s not her you miss.

Keep feeding yourself a lie, and eventually you’ll start to believe it too.

C’mon! Which is the lie here? When your reality tears and what you thought was truth turns out not to be truth, what you reconstruct over that torn reality… the new painting you paint over it to make sense of the mess it has become… that’s not the lie.

How do you know? Lies and truth depend on context. Truth is relative.

Brain on breakup; forgiveness, memories and betrayal


When we first decided to give it a go, there was one thing that I really wanted to make sure of, a promise I kept repeating in my head to myself that we have to keep: that no matter what happened, we would remain friends.

Our friendship was too important to me and the dynamics of our little clique too precious to me to risk. Besides, I really never understood how or why ex-partners could become enemies. It’s ridiculous and absurd! Surely if you’ve been that close, been that intimate and know each other that well… all that can’t just disappear! How can understanding and love flip 360 into irreconcilable differences and hate? So for whatever reasons you have to part, but surely you can stay friends. Chemistry between people (how well you click) doesn’t just vanish.

曾经心疼为何变成陌生?

Ha. ha. ha. This is irony laughing at my naive, foolish younger self.

For all of my previous convictions, all of my mental gymnastics trying to make sense of the chaos in my head, all of my musings and waxing lyrical about the nature of love, unconditional love and forgiveness… I realize that I’m hardly any closer at all to forgiving her, and I still have no idea how to be friends.

You think you’ve come so far, so far
But you’re not any closer, no you’re not any closer at all

I recently watched Tipping the Velvet, a 3-part BBC Tv series based on Sarah Water’s novel of the same name. When the main character found out that her first love was cheating on her, she literally ran down the streets shouting, “You said you loved me! You said we’d be together forever!” over and over and over. (Okay, on re-watching the scene, I see that I’m exaggerating a little, but that’s how I remembered it!) Even after so many month, I still find myself slipping back into that.

but you said…!
but you said…!
but you said…!
but you said…!

All those promises, both implicit and explicit.

Not just the promises, but words said during the break up. After the break up.

all the things she said, all the things she said, running through my head, running through my head, running through me head… 

And the memories. Memories that keep playing of their own accord, over and over.

I like how they did the constant flashbacks in Tipping the Velvet, with the most poignant memory replaying and persisting, a shorter and shorter snippet, while the rest fade. That’s exactly how it’s like. A few favourite memories play and replay, and soon those are all you can remember. You’d think that the more you recall something, the better you’d remember it, but each time you pull it from memory, it’s a brand new retelling. Little bits dropped, little bits added; it’s changed. It feels more vivid, yes. But at the price of accuracies in the details. It loses it’s nuances. It becomes exactly what you’re remembering it for. ‘Exaggerated’, more than ‘vivid’. If you remember it as Great, it slowly turns golden: the best example of great. Remembered for sorrow, it’ll take that shape.

I used to think that no matter what happens in the present or the future, at the very least the memories are yours to keep. No one can steal away the good times you’ve already had. You can cherish them always. I see I was wrong here too. Things that happen now, or in the future, can reach back into the past to colour and change the meanings of memories…

What am I supposed to make of them now? What am I supposed to do with them? How do I make sense of them? I really don’t know.

All those promises, implicit and explicit.

I guess you can’t trust words. You can’t trust people. If you can’t trust words from the one you trust the most… if you can’t trust words that are said with deepest sincerity and love… then what’s left that you can trust?

And I guess that’s why it’s so hard for ex-partners to remain friends, if the break up is not a mutual decision. That’s why it’s so difficult to forgive.

SHE BETRAYED ME.

the closest you can get
sticking the knife
the deepest it can get
and the most unexpected it can get.

It’s hard to get over betrayal.