The little pockets of feeling felt as I drag my feet from one place to another. Some days are okay, some days a little so-so, but then I have not set foot in the office for 5 days now. And then, I’ve counted, exactly 21 days of being an employee, and I look at it as a sense of dread and relief.
Afiqah got married last Friday, and boy I missed her. It seems hard, to patch up our feelings and to face a bit of parting as vows are exchanged and she belongs to another, but ah, sweet old nostalgia. There are so many pictures of us together, from our years in high school to Sydney days and boy, do I miss them. It made me realize how important she is to me and how one day all of this will slowly fade away in the background.
The Sydgong girls, six of us that night, slept in a cramped apartment in Cheras, arranging the mattress and duvets on the floor and talked until each fell asleep. I awoke with the feeling that we were somewhere foreign, glancing out of the window facing other blocks :- here we see an aunty watering her flowers, a cleaner dragging two mattresses across the street, a man at the far corner doing his weird exercise, and of course, other people’s living rooms. Min and I walked down to the main road to buy nasi lemak, and I tell her that it’s a nice feeling.
We are all growing up.
One being married off one month after another. Babies popping up here and there, people working and trying to make a living, boyfriend of ten years appearing at a wedding hesitant whether they are even getting married at all, and your high school or college friends that you say hi on very specific occasions but fail to ‘catch up’ when you say you want to do so.
Truthfully all I want to do in this world is to find meaning in what I do, but am faced with the conflict that I cannot be of service of everyone, being conceited and lazy that I am with talking and laughing and explaining what is in my head. I would like to hide myself, but even then I would like to appear as a certain I, a thing almost achieved but without anything to attach itself to. I would like to write, but write I cannot start because I cannot write in the presence of F looming around me unless he is asleep or not throwing judgement.
Excuses, all of this, but ones I hope to erase.
perkaraperkara 