You know how that famous English Patient quote goes?
"I believe this. When we meet those we fall in love with, there is an aspect of our spirit that is historian, a bit of a pedant who reminisces or remembers a meeting when the other has passed by innocently…but all parts of the body must be ready for the other, all atoms must jump in one direction for desire to occur."
I've always imagined love (there is just no substitute for the word love) to be exactly like this. It recalibrates your entire system, from your heartbeat right down to your fingertips. Well, I imagined. But alas, the truth is, its better than that. Stronger, richer, and even more uncontrollable. So we have the highs, but we can never escape the lows.
Perhaps this is the very irony of life, the balance of it too, the yin & yang.
But as with this beautiful relationship I see an end (hopefully I'm wrong) of another important aspect of my life - friends. I feel people drifting away from me, taking on shapes and forms that I could have taken if I were still single. Time allocated for my atoms to jump at a love one proves to be bringing down other aspects of my life. And I wonder, friends at different stages of life, should we not get together and celebrate the diversity of our differences instead? Have I been neglecting that aspect?
But as we grew older, we all grew impatient (at least I did, and regretted). Stories that use to enrich your lives seems to no longer be the case. Everyone fights for the microphone, everyone fights to broadcast, and I wonder - so who's listening now? And yet when it got around to the most important conversations, those that require guts and risk, the microphone sits plugged in and untouched. Why do we not say the things that matter most to us? because we are afraid? because we dont want to gloat? or are we simply afraid of hurting one another?
Excited conversations have been reduced to one-liner messages, a bunch of missed calls (and unreturned calls too) and a bag of emotions put aside, waiting for their opportunity to see light. Meetings, once spontaneous, are now but a wait to get into schedule books. Now I play back the tapes of recorded stories from long ago, repeated stories of our lives and gossips, hoping to one day catch a "live" show again.
I sit amidst my unfinished research papers (yes, I know school works seems like a convenient excuse but it is valid), analysing why this open wound of friendship doesnt heal.
Guys, I miss you.
