Tag Archives: memory

On the mend

25 Jul

bette-davis-heartbreak-love-pain-quote-text-Favim_com-60040
It has been a while since I last thought of you.
I like it this way.
I think maybe this time round, I really am over you.

Honestly, there was a point in time where I thought I would never get over you.
That was how intense my feelings were.

And then one fine day, you broke my heart.

Consciously or otherwise, it was a good thing for me.

Sure, it hurt.
I spent days typing messages to you, and then deleting them before I could hit the ‘Send’ button.
I spent nights crying in the shower, nights crying in bed whenever I thought of you.
There were days where I’d break down on my way to work because I saw someone who reminded me of you.
I cried watching White House Down because I knew if I was in that situation, I could never rely on you to save me (not that I’d ever be..).

But eventually, all that crying has to stop.
I can only afford so much tears.
I got tired of crying, and of being miserable.

The moment I decided not to cry anymore, my body started mending the broken parts.
It started looking for distractions that I never knew existed, or appealed to me.
I think its amazing how the human brain works.

Slowly, you started fading from my thoughts as it shifted to other things that made me happy instead.

I think of you occasionally.
I do.
I did.
I still do.

If you’ve ever really loved anyone before, you’d know that it it impossible to completely erase him or her from your memories.

Nor is it possible to completely forget the pain once the memories come back.

But its ok.

Pain changes people.

Outwardly everything is still the same but deep within, something is happening.
I’m not sure if its good or bad yet.

Either way, I’m not complaining.

I like changes.
Always did.

A conversation about Turkey

12 Jun

chickman
*This is a pretty long post, but just entertain me and read on..*

It started out as a very normal, post holiday conversation about my most recent trip to Turkey.

I usually call it the post holiday mortem report.

THe usual questions always pop up –
Q: How was the weather there?
A: Freaking awesome..! Nice sun, cold winds, low humidity, longer daytime.. simply gorgeous. I wish I had time to check out the coastal towns coz’ it would have been perfect.

Q: Picked up any cute guys?
A: Nope.. They did all the picking up instead.. Asians are like hot stuff there for some reason.

Q: How is the shopping?
A: The emptiness of my pockets and the heaviness of my bags are the best evidence to the shopping experience. I literally spent every single cent I had because I liked everything I saw.

Q: What’s interesting there?
A: Everything! I guess it really depends on what tickles your balls? But as usual, I found everything fascinating – the depth and mix of cultures as well as history in Turkey is not something one can fully appreciate or understand in 1 trip.

Q: Why do you go back so often??
A: Really? Very often meh? This is only my 2nd trip… (-_-)”

I answered them as diligently, dutifully, respectfully and honestly as I can.
Really.
I tried, unfortunately not all questions warrant in depth answers.

Now, because of all the unrest that have been erupting in various cities in Turkey, the conversation I had with this particular person took a more interesting (in my opinion at least) turn.

Q: Turkey is a Muslim country is it?
A: Nope. They are a secular state but a majority of its population are Muslims. They’ve been that way since the Ottoman Empire dissolved? The process to how it happened is pretty interesting, I’d suggest you go read up about since I am no expert in this area…

Q: Oh. Then what’s up with the protests and riots?
A: Umm.. The root of the resentments go way deeper than what is being told in the media I think.. Again, I’m no expert. You might have to go check it out yourself..

And the conversation goes on and on about the state that Turkey is in right now and blah blah blah..

I stopped listening after the last questions, and started planning my ‘escape’ from the conversation before I blew up in that little annoying piece of shit’s face.

Yes, I am actually exercising extreme self-control.

Little piece of shit then asked the killer question – Which side are you on? Will you go back again?

Which side am I on??
Am I even entitled to choose sides?
This isn’t my battle, I haven’t experienced what they have been experiencing.
What or who gives me the right to pick sides?

I am a bystander.
Watching the events unfold from what/ where ever I can glean information from, and the media hasn’t exactly been very helpful.
The information that was disseminated reflect their different interests in the country.

Most importantly, I believe a country should be defined by its people, and not by religion, politics or its politicians.

No offence intended but I think religions are just another political tool invented by power-hungry men as another form of control over the mass populous.

I refuse to pick a side because this is not my battle and it is not my right.
I did not see for myself if indeed the reports were true, that police violence against the protestors were what sparked the initial round of violence.

What I did encounter, however, were the people.

In the last 15 days that I’ve spent in the country, I have been constantly overwhelmed by their generosity with a complete stranger like myself. I have been overwhelmed by their generosity and willingness to share whatever they have, be it stories, shelter or food and drinks.

I did not witness the riots or violence, but I did witness the pride and passion the Turkish people have for their country.

Young and old, men and women.

There was an unmistakable pride and joy in their voice and twinkle in their eyes whenever they talk about their homeland.

I witnessed their excitement at meeting a stranger like myself being as in love with their country as they are. That unmistakable joy they have when introducing me to the different parts of their country, store and homes.

I will return because of these people I have met.

When I finally had access to international news, then did I realize how bad the situation had become.

I wanted to go to Taksim to see for myself; to understand the violence that the media was portraying.

I wasn’t looking for a thrill, an adventure or excitement.

The media was confusing me more instead of giving me the answers I needed.
I simply needed the truth, to understand and see for myself.

That night that I couldn’t sleep and decided to make my way towards Taksim.

The train services had stopped so I dropped at the furthest station I could go and decided to walk there. A dude dressed in slacks and with an Anonymous mask saw me and asked me if I knew where I was going.

Taksim. I need to see it for myself.

He didn’t say a 2nd thing and turned me around by the shoulders, and walked me back.
He told me it was getting ugly and that it wasn’t my battle.
I shouldn’t be there because I will get hurt.
To him, I was an innocent bystander and should not be involved.

Dude actually accompanied me all the way back to the hotel.

He told me what he was fighting for and why he fought.
And that sheer belief he had in his ideals touched me in a way that I could never have felt.

We grew up in a country that is clean and safe.
We grew up in a glided cage, with everything in black and white.
We were taught to pick sides a long long time ago and we no longer know how not to be that way anymore.

These protestors, they are different.

They are fighting for something they believe in, for a future they want to have.

We, as bystanders have no right to judge or choose sides.
No matter which side you choose, someone loses.

Right or wrong is matter of perspective.

Everyone that I have met on this trip were more than eager to help and keep me from harm.

You can say I’m naive or stupid for trusting strangers I’ve met so easily but I stand by my faith, that all men were born inherently good (except the dude who smacked my ass while I was shopping in Grand Bazaar..) and I have been very lucky and fortunate to have only experience the goodness of Turkey and its people.

So yes, I admit I may be biased.

But as I’ve said before.

A country should not be defined by its religion, politics or politicians but its people.

The Turkey I remember, will always be defined by the people I’ve met, by their generosity, pride and passion, and not the violence that has thrown it into international spotlight.

I understand that when I do go back again, it may be a completely different Turkey from what I remembered it as, but it remains to be seen if the change would be for worse or better.

I choose the latter.

I have faith in the people who I have met, that they would want to make their country, a country they love so much, better than it has ever been.

So yes, I will definitely go back to Turkey again for everything it has given and shown me.

Places and memories change, but I know the Turks won’t disappoint me.

I did not tell annoying little piece of shit all these in his face, or I might have slapped him instead,
I simply told him, with a big wide smile,

“Yes, of course! I’m not done with Turkey yet.”

He stared at me blankly and shook his head, repeating all that he said previously.

I continued smiling and switched off.

Some people are simply not worth my efforts.

Quiet nights and quiet stars

11 Mar

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She stares at the woman looking back at her in the mirror, and she realized she didn’t recognize that face anymore.

It’s grown wider, fine to be perfectly honest, fatter.

Lines were starting to show around her eyes.

And her eyes.

They used to look so bright and full of life but now, they reminded her of the fish she bought from the market yesterday.

Glassy, dull and lifeless.

It was only through the mirror that she was reminded of how much time has slipped by so quietly.
What terrible things time does to one.

She closed her eyes, and took in a deep breathe to shake off the memories that were starting to come back.

Time has taken away her youth, her litheness and her beauty but it hasn’t taken away her memories.

Memories.
Just as terrible as time.

She remembered a time when she was still young.
And he was still around.

How he would hold her hand as they strolled down the streets.
How he used to make her laugh so loud, the neighbours had to tell her to keep it down.

She remembered how they would climb up to the roof to watch stars on quiet nights.
Sitting next to each other, hand in hand.
Both saying nothing.
And they kissed.

It wasn’t anything spectacular, wasn’t even passionate.
It was an innocent, slightly awkward kiss that started it all.

That was more than sixty years ago

A smile came across her face as she gently touched her once supple lips.
It felt just like yesterday.

A certain sadness swept over her.

Wait for me, I’m coming…

She looked herself in the mirror one last time before leaving the washroom.

I’m coming.

She went into their bedroom and picked out his favourite yellow dress.
He called her his sunshine and loved her in yellow.
She lowered herself slowly on their bed to put on her shoes.
Tears started to fall as she remembered how he used to help her put on her shoes.

I’m coming.

She lifted her head and wiped away the tears.
She looked into the mirror on her way out rearranging her slivery hair, and took her coat with her.
The medication that she took was starting to kick in, so she took each step with extreme care as she went down the stairs into the waiting car downstairs.

Wait for me, I’m coming.

She sat quietly in the back of the car as children discussed the details.
Whenever they asked for her opinion, she gave a smile and said nothing.
The car quickly fell into an awkward silence.

She wound down the window to feel the cool night breeze.
The night was quiet and the stars bright.

Just like that night

She smiled again at the memories that came back and thanked the stars for letting her keep them.

They reached the hospital and walked her to his room and left them alone.

They looked at each other and smiled.

You look beautiful.
He said as she sat next to him on the bed.
You look just as dashing young man
Come lie next to me, I missed you so much.

She laid next to him, with his arms around her body.
Just like the way it used to be.
A certain smile came upon her face as she laid there.

I’m coming with you, don’t go too soon.

She knew it was it terribly selfish to leave their children like that but she couldn’t bear to live another day without him by her side.

She lifted her head and kissed him on his cheek.
His eyes were closed and he looked so peaceful.

Wait for me.

She held him closer and closed her eyes.
She could feel the medications’ full effects flowing through her body.

I’m coming.

If we ever meet again

8 Mar

winter_silhouette

How long has it been since we last met?
Was it just last spring that we went on our separate ways?
Has it been a year already? How fast time flies..

Do you still remember the summer we spent together?
We laid on the beach all day drinking beer and partied the night away.
It was the best summer I’ve ever had.
I think it was the memory of having had so much fun with you that made it so memorable.

I don’t think I’d ever be able to replicate that feeling ever again.

Winter is my favourite time of the year, you know how much I love having the cold biting wind against my face, my skin.
It wakes me up and clears my mind.
What was winter like this time?
Was it as cold as the last one we spent together, standing out in the cold watching in awe as snow fell and our faces froze?

autumn-central-park-couple-silhouette-Favim_com-198964

And autumn!
Oh how I always forget autumn..!
Autumn is transitional.
A movement from the sultry warm nights of summer to the delicate yet harsh nights of winter.
Autumn, has always been a season of change for me, of renewal – the start of a long wintery death (of sorts).
Autumn was pensive for both you and I, as though we were anticipating a certain end.

How have you been?
I heard you got married, I would never have thought you for one to marry this soon..
To the same girl you wanted freedom from no less!

I have so much to tell you, so much I want you to know.
But it all seems so inappropriate now.

If we ever meet again,
I’d like to wish you all the happiness I can give.
But I think perhaps, its better if we don’t.
At least that way, I’d get to keep the memories the way I want to remember them.

I hope you are happy.
Hopefully I’ll find my own happiness (without you) soon.

Sincerely.

Well done, you’ve pissed me off.

9 Jan

image

She sat in front of her computer and wondered where and how she should start.

Let’s start from the most basic then.
Let’s just say I’m pissed off, more so than I’ve ever been in my life.

Her fingers started gaining a life of their own once those words were written.

If zodiacs and horoscopes were anything to go by, she was the best (or worse, depending on how you look at it..) of the two worlds.

A rabbit ruled by the fire signs.

A quick temper that came and went like the wind, gently tempered by the sensibilities and mildness of a rabbit.

Also helps that she has the memory of a goldfish, nothing keeps her angry for long.

Not this time though.

She really didn’t know where to start.

HOW do I tell you how much I love you yet detest you at the same time?

You bring out the worse and the best in me. You show me beauty and the grotesque; how they could live side by side, complementing yet repelling each other.

I adore you for what you are – you were interesting, worldy, honest and true.

Yet you seem to be lost these days.

Half the time I don’t know what you are or where you are going.

Maybe that was where your mystery and intrigue laid.

I’ve always fancied myself a challenge, nothing gets me more excited than unraveling a mystery.

But you do realize that in order to do that I’d need clues right?

I’m starting to wonder if I’m imposing myself on you, because the weeks of talking to myself is slowly getting on my nerves.

It’s not that I haven’t tried reaching out yo you but nothing seems to work!

Hell! Even I’m starting to find myself annoying.

Maybe I am…

Sometimes I wonder if  I’m even that in love with you in the first place.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve played the part of a lover so well that I’ve begin to convince myself that the role I’m playing is true.

Like Shakespeare said –
All the world is a stage, and the men and women merely players with their entrance and exits.

Perhaps it’s time for my exit.

I’m done being angry, it’s making me tired and numbing my senses.

I’m angry because I feel like an idiot, listening to your lies and lofty ideals. I hate being treated like an idiot.

I hate being left wondering, with no conclusion or goal insight. That idleness kills me and you knew that.

So why do you still treat me so?

Her fingers flew off the keyboard, like a pianist on fire.

Yet, the more she typed, the more she felt like a loser and tears threatened to fall.

She got tired and began wondering if she was the one at fault, taking things too seriously.

Her anger was starting to dissipate, there was no need to continue her rant letter anymore.

Because at that moment she realized.

There really isn’t a point in getting angry, her anger meant nothing to them.

She meant nothing to them.

If she left, they could and would simply replace her.

So whats stopping me from leaving those jerks? From this shit of a mess??

Her fingers froze midair, she realized she didn’t have an answer to that question.

She stood up and began pacing the room.
Her thoughts running amok.
She couldn’t figure it out and it was killing her.
Her head was beginning to throb.

Well done! You’ve managed to fucking piss yourself off again.

Why do you always have to do this?

She saved the email, turned off her computer and went in search of some sleep.

Yes, sleep would do her good.

She will seek her conclusion tomorrow.

A fucking conclusion is what she needed.

Or wanted.

Not that it mattered anymore…