Loving Like Never Before

I might as well be sleeping.

I might as well be sleeping this one out.
I don't intend to dream of this. Or in any other case, think of it, more than this one chance.
This one chance to let it go. Just to let it all out.
But I know I may not be giving you the exact promise you hear from a typical broken hearted, that this might as well be the last time I will be feeling ultimately sad. And lonely.
I know this will go on for days. Or months. Or years. Or maybe a lifetime.

If you're expecting to read something ultimately new, renaissance, or a remarkable story, you might as well do something else, shut your computer, turn on the tv, listen to your ipod, or whatever. Just do something else. Because this is just a typical heart break. The ones you get from loving. As if there are other means to get your heart broken other than to love.

I never thought of it this way. Not until I realized I needed to do something. Something that will take my mind out of the thought or the feeling that I am in deep painful shit. So I ran a few things in my mind. What can I do? To keep me pre-occupied. A lot of things actually ran in my head. There's harmonica practice. There's dvd marathon of asian scary movies. There's to paint or draw or write. But what really struck me was the urge to grab hold of a book. Fast.

I have books. Fiction, non, inspirational. Some read, some unfinished. So I grab hold of the nearest, which is One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Unfinished. I badly want to read something else. I don't like this one. It's too mature for me. But I had no choice. I badly want this. To read. A book. I want to dive in to another world. Leave this one behind, even for a brief moment. That's what struck me. I obsess to read a book because that's what I do everytime I read a book. I dive in to this world. A world totally different from mine. Or similar. Just a world to go to, leaving this one right now, even for a fleeting moment. Of desperation. I submerge myself into something foreign. Just something to take me away. This is why I read a lot. This is my oasis.

And this one right now, is a desert. The longing and the waiting and the feeling afloat is the vast, never ending sand dunes. The conversations we share, how you embrace me and whisper in my ears and the sweet soft kisses you make, these are the wind that brushes through my hair amidst the scorching heat of the sun, the palms, a sign of life amidst the slow death, heat plummeting from the east.

And you. You are the life in me. The one that actually gives me the courage to put my feet forward, one after the other. Life is the very reason to live. And you are my only reason.

As the sands of time give in to gravity, I know that every second brings me closer to loss. To actually be left in a sand storm all by myself. But I know I won't actually lose you. You're here. Just deep in the abyss of what they usually call heart. Forgive me for speaking so cynical, it's just that I can't contemplate on being vulnerable right now. I might end up doing something I might embarass myself with after some time. Or I might just, end up.

This is something I ought to have slept out. I will read this after some time, a day, a week, a month, a year or so, and just laugh at how impeccably ridiculous I have felt or thought. I might end up thinking how much of a cry baby I was. I might end up laughing at this one particular time, a time I felt like the world's closing in on me.

But today, as I think of these very words, as I come up with these particular words to describe a typical heart break, I struggle to keep up with time, to keep my chin above the water, to keep my tears from ruining my pale blue shirt, to keep denying how I badly want to keep you, and to just accept the fact that this is how life goes. This is how you go.

Things might bring me down to my knees in the middle of a sand storm, or alone in the vast sand dunes of the desert, and still I am alive. I breathe the cold wind blowing from the south.

I keep my life. I keep my life and let go of you.

I don't know how long will this go on. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. Or maybe a lifetime. I never thought of this this much. I even intend to just sleep on it. But right now. At this very moment. At this very second. As the aircon breathes out cold industrial air. As the Christmas gifts lie peacefully in the foot of my bed. As people dream in their little dream houses in this busy bustling city. As the world finds its way to just cynically go by. I love you. I love you more than anything or anyone in this whole fucking world. I might just as well be a kid. But I intend to give up recess just to make sure you have lunch.