Apologise

Lyrics speak to me, for the simple reason that they say what you feel in beautiful beautiful ways.

Lately I have been dreaming, I always do. It tells me that my soul is ok. I worry when I do not. 

In my dreams of late, people from my past pop up in unusual places and situations. Last night it was a dream of Hitman and bumping into him at my friend's (who has superhero powers) wedding. He was a friend of the bride. I miss you Hitman. Pat your self on the back for me *grin*

But, I digress. There is one character that appears in my dreams every so often. The dreamer in me wants to believe that this happens when we both feel the loss of that friendship. The realist in me realises that it's probably just me and the fact that grudges are not my natural state of being.

There was a time when this song was indeed true of this relationship of mine. I did love this person with a fire red and it did turn blue. And no I would not take another chance, take a fall, take a shot for you. No longer, not any more. It really is too late to apologise.

Apologise or not though, I forgive you. As Ghandi once said- If we practice and eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, soon the whole world will be blind and toothless. The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is an attribute of the Strong.

So really, there is no shame in saying it would be nice to one day, once again, be able to take a fall for you. There is no shame in saying I miss you.

of pyjamas and things

I slipped into my pyjamas last night and curled into bed with my favourite pillow and a good book.

then the edges of my consciousness were awakened to a different time by the scent that wafted up from this old pair of PJ's.

they smelt of a different life and many many moons ago. the smelt of my apartment in Toronto, the bed I hardly slept in, the couch i spent far too many nights on, the kitchen and dining room I was proud of. they smelt of my first real taste of being a grown up.

a lot changed for me that year. i had a complete life earthquake. it was a year of many many firsts. in one flight, my whole world had turned on its head. i left my first grown up relationship (i came back to it and left it again many times that year which probably didn't help any), started my first job and started living alone in my own apartment in one fell swoop. i also decided to do it in a new city on a new continent.

*grin* I never was one for doing anything by halves.

it was the year i discovered a love for hiking and learnt to knit and sail. the year i fell in love with good photography. it was the year dance was rekindled in the form of Lindy hop. the year i realised who my friends really were. the year of devouring books by the harbour in the midst of a hot T.O. summer's day with a delicious ice- cream cone.

it was a growing year that i loved and abhorred in equal measure and i would never want to relive it that exact same way again.

it's perhaps the only year i harbour any regrets from. i was so caught up in trying to survive that i forgot to live. so intent on keeping afloat that i forgot i could swim. i spent too much time in bed, afraid of the world and not enough time living in it.

and though perhaps i could blame someone else for that, at the end of the day to use a ridiculously cliched phrase, no one is the captain of my own destiny but me. but you get through the darkness in your own time, in your own way.

No.

I wouldn't relive it the exact same way.

I would relive it and do it very very differently.

In the hopes of taking away more than I did the first time around.

Image courtesy of getthebubbles on Flickr.

a million little pieces

she has had her fair share of heart struggles this girl. they have almost always had to do with boys.

but this heart struggle is different. it has nothing to do with boys, but it goes to the very centre of her being.

and she is scared this girl. scared in a way she only remembers being once before. because this is the very essence of her.

the research terrifies her more and more. she wonders if she has said goodbye to something without even knowing. without even appreciating it. she wonders if she was to blame in some way.

and she feels helpless. completely and utterly useless. she has no plan. she doesn't understand. all she can do it sit here and be scared.

so no, there are no pretty pictures to this post. because with what she saw today her heart broke.

and now all she sees are the million little pieces.

yet another little piece

as i start to let go of this lifetime

piece by piece

i am reminded everyday

of the things i will leave behind

and i know i will yearn

for the beauty in these Brunei skies


Photo Courtesy of Jasmine Wong.

on being daddy's girl

There is a story that people tell me. Apparently when I was born, Abah took me out into the garden, held me out to the sky and said that everything could be taken away from him but this.

It's a notion that appeals to the melodrama in me. Whether it's true or not, it doesn't really matter I suppose because it's a sentiment that Abah has echoed throughout my life.

We fight. We're similar in that we have strong opinions, stubborn and proud. But he's always hated seeing me cry and I remember many moments in my childhood when he would gather me in his arms after yelling at me and remind me that he only got upset because he loved me. And in those arms, I knew I was safe and I knew that his love was there to stay.

I remember when he went away to study and how I used to climb into the wardrobe where all his clothes were kept when I missed him. Just to pretend that he was around. The songs I made up for him that Mama would record and send over for him to listen to, because phone calls were just too expensive.

And how now, well into my 20's, he's still the first person I call when I'm scared and I need saving.

I came home a few days ago and found Abah asleep on the couch as he is most evenings. I realised that when i leave, I will miss seeing him asleep on the couch. I realised that soon Abah really cannot be the first man in my life.

I wonder how much longer I'm allowed to be Daddy's girl. And how I can even come close to letting him know just how much he means to me.

Photo courtesy of 62Lofu on Flickr.

because losers don't necessarily weep

lost

Pronunciation: \ˈlȯst\
Function: adjective
Etymology: past participle of lose
Date: 15th century

1: not made use of, won, or claimed
2 a: no longer possessed b: no longer known
3: ruined or destroyed physically or morally
4: taken away or beyond reach or attainment
5 a: unable to find the way b: no longer visible c: lacking assurance or self-confidence

Perhaps for something to be lost to you, it also denotes a sense of wanting to find it.

It is for this reason that Lost One will no longer be called that in this blog. He will simply be known as Nomad if at all he ever appears here again. For that is no more than merely descriptive of what he is.

In his aftermath, she was angry, lost, hurt.

She very slowly became comfortable with the new circumstances. She still however wondered how he was occasionally and pondered if she would ever have him back in her life. In a different capacity, but back. She wondered how it would happen and how she would react to it if it ever did happen.

And now, with another lifetime looming in her horizon. She's realised that she's stopped looking.

He was lost one to her at some point. Because he was the one she lost. Because he was the one that she, at that point, felt had gotten away. Because she felt that he was lost in life, didn't know what he wanted from it.

But he's not lost to her anymore, because she has lost interest in finding him... *smile*

Image courtesy of jez_zimbo on Flickr.

in a steaming mug of tea

Ali my love,

It’s been over two years now.

And I still think of you with every cup of tea I make. Because I remember you coming over to ours on Warwick Street and drinking jugs of the stuff. This was when you decided it was scandalous that I hadn’t been to Durham and we made plans to go that very week.

I remember the last time I saw you up and about. We watched the then new Harry Potter film. It was one of my last few nights in the Toon. I needed to rush off straight after to catch the RSC doing a Midsummer Night's Dream at the Theatre Royal. There was a sense of urgency which I should have recognised in your embrace that night. You were never one to make a big deal of things. I should’ve known.

At what point do I take your number off my phone, your name from my birthday calendar and your email address from my book?

I miss you…

Photo courtesy of Yoshiko314 on Flickr.

on letting go

it's a sad fact of life that as you grow you have to let go of certain people and certain things.

the recent episode with adopted Bruneian is a prime example of why you really should do this. there if nothing else was a prime example of someone who just couldn't let go. couldn't see that it had nothing to do with him. in not letting go he lost things. perhaps he would have lost them anyway, but it would have been done better. less hurt. more dignity.

Rapunzel came to mind this morning. She was such a big part of my teenage years. i remember the one fight we had back then and how it ended with both of us in tears telling the other how hurt we were but how much we loved and missed the other. if only it were now so easy.

Rapunzel had a hard time adjusting to being home. I called regularly, checked up on her regularly. I remember this because I regularly felt hurt by the refusal to see me when she was so happy to see everyone else. I tried asking her what was wrong, if she wanted to talk about it, if she was upset with me. I received no response.

in January just gone it was the 2nd Muskateer wedding. Nut of all people *grin* and i thought we were on our way to making up. despite the distance to her i felt that night i thought it was a start. i have since sent her messages to get her to meet me to talk it out. again no response.

the truth is different to everyone, and i wonder what the truth of this whole matter is to her. perhaps it is simply that we grew apart. i couldn't give her what she needed and in her hurt at this, she hurt me.

i don't harbour resentment. i miss her. i wonder what she's up to. but i've also come to terms with the fact that perhaps i'll never understand. i can't understand without her and she doesn't want me to.

so i let go.

there is more grace in this than in kicking and screaming for an answer.

you just got to hope that for every thing you let go of something else comes along to take it's place.

Photo courtesy of Emerging Design & Photography on Flickr.

on loss

grief

noun

Mental anguish or pain caused by loss or despair: heartache, heartbreak, sorrow

But yet can such a simple sentence really relay the true meaning and depth of this emotion. As I sat in the church today I couldn't help but wonder how deep the well of grief really is.

Have I grieved?

Yes, undoubtedly, but on the periphery of my consciousness I am also aware that I've merely scratched the surface of it all.

As I watched Artemis say goodbye to her father today, I couldn't help but to cry with her. How can one possibly look at another, whose heart is clearing breaking before your very eyes and not grieve? How could I possibly stare into the eyes of this woman, whose 8 year old face I remember, and not want to somehow make it all better?

And yet you know you can't, and perhaps a part of you grieves for that. For knowing that no matter how much this person matters, there really is nothing you can do.

And I wondered if it was my place to feel for her in her grief. After all I did not know the man, I simply had vague memories. Is it not a feeling so intensely private that my tears may be seem to be a mockery of the other, stronger memories of the people who clearly had the right?

Rightly or wrongly, I empathised, I held her and hoped she knew the millions of things I couldn't and didn't know how to say...

on being the crazy cat lady

maybe it's just me?

*sigh*

can it be parrots and chinchillas and my tortoise instead of cats though?

Picture courtesy of AraiGordai on Flickr.

the bruneian goldfish bowl

a month on and people still talk.

amazing

i'm strangely flattered

but really, ask... don't assume


"Breakups are awful, and they are private. And they are not necessarily symptomatic of what two people had together."


Carrie Bradshaw

Confessions

And there it was, this picture. Of him. That face. That beautiful decent face.

And in that instant, I was reminded of the future I lost when I lost him.

Being with him, a Malay Muslim man, the first, the only, changed me in so many ways. With him I saw a path I'd never seen before and I realised how badly I wanted to go down that path holding his hand. How, finally, spiritually I understood how much I longed to have a companion on that road to faith. How, I must confess, that parts of me never really want to go down any other path from this point forth.

He was like slipping on an old pair of trousers that I always knew I had, but had forgotten how comfortable they were. With him I had allowed myself to fully indulge in that dream of the future.

I worry about him, about the fact that the company he keeps now is company he always despised before. I wonder why the sudden about face. I wonder which him was the act. And it hurts to know it's none of my business. Not anymore.

And I know it's not fair to miss him. To want him back. And logically I know it cannot work at this point in time and knowing him and how his psyche works I know it may never work again. Perhaps at the demise of it, it's easier to remember what I loved about us. What I adored about him. And what in many ways I still do. Perhaps at the demise of it all it's easier to see la vie en rose.

Whatever the reason, despite the justifications, I must confess...

i miss you

And I wonder how you are and I hate that people know more about you now than I do and I wonder if thoughts of me cross your mind and what those thoughts are.

i miss you

it's that simple. but it's really not. it's that easy but oh so complex

i miss you

i miss you

perhaps if i say it enough and click my heels together...

i miss you

i watch too many fairytales

and i miss you...

Image courtesy of ®°ôn|y Gôd Knôw§°® on Flickr.

it hurts that this may be the only way

Buddy,

In the aftermath...

May God hold you in the palm of His hand

as was sung that one stormy night when Jazz echoed in the halls of a careworn hotel...

I wish you nothing but love


Maroon 5 Lyrics
Nothing Lasts Forever Lyrics

that island

and suddenly I realise that I do so miss it

more than i care to say

The Picture

If a picture paints a thousand words, I can't help but wonder what this one would whisper...

I'm sorry...

I think I may love you....

Perhaps....

In another lifetime....

What if....

If only...

Goodbye...

...

This
...
I will never really know.


This
...
will probably always be the big question.


This bittersweet longing.


This is how a heart breaks.

Sometimes love just ain't enough

Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough
Patty Smyth

Now, I don't want to lose you, but I don't want to use you
just to have somebody by my side.
And I don't want to hate you,
I don't want to take you, but I don't
want to be the one to cry.
And that don't really matter to anyone anymore.
But like a fool I keep losing my place
and I keep seeing you walk through that door.

But there's a danger in loving somebody too much,
and it's sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust.
There's a reason why people don't stay where they are.
Baby, sometimes, love just aint enough.

Now, I could never change you, I don't want to blame you.
Baby, you don't have to take the fall.
Yes, I may have hurt you, but I did not desert you.
Maybe I just want to have it all.

It makes a sound like thunder, it makes me feel like rain.
And like a fool who will never see the truth,
I keep thinking something's gonna change.

And there's no way home, when it's late at
night and you're all alone.
Are there things that you wanted to say?
And do you feel me beside you in your bed,
there beside you, where I used to lay?

And there's a danger in loving somebody too much,
and it's sad when you know it's your heart they can't touch.
There's a reason why people don't stay who they are.
Baby, sometimes, love just ain't enough.
Baby, sometimes, love... it just ain't enough.

Time and time again this is brought home.

But really, shouldn't it? Shouldn't it be enough?

Every new beginning

Yes, yet again that sentence rings true. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. And my goodness, what an end indeed.

I was hesitant to write about this end, I didn't know how. I still don't know how but with the ebbing of the intense emotions, I felt somehow that I should give it a whirl. So here it is, simple, inadequate but from the heart.

For me joining the programme was the realisation of a dream. From the moment the parentals took their first foster children in when I was 8, I knew it was something I had to do. Funny, the realisations I had when I was 8, for it was then that I decided the career path I would take too. Tangent, I apologise.

In many ways I saw the countless hours spent in practice as the penance I had to pay for what I expected to be an astounding experience. It was in these hours however that I discovered the meaning of patriotism. Being a child of two nations, I guess I always felt in some way misplaced all my life. The night before our pre departure performance was when it hit me. The first time in my life I felt truly Bruneian. And all because of the words to a song...

"Wahai anak Brunei, warisan bersejarah. Keturunan mu panglima, perwira, perkasa. Satu zaman dahulu di kota dan di desa. Kau membina Negara Brunei Darussalam"

To paraphrase, it reminds the children of Brunei of the vast history they are descended from. That the blood that runs through their veins is that of warriors and nobleman. And i finally got it. And I wept at the enormity of the realisation.

The programme was eye opening, challenging, frustrating and more than I could ever ask for.

Almost 2 weeks after the end of it all, I have gained a little perspective. In my mind's eye I see still photographs of various moments and people, sound bites of silliness and laughter and an overriding feeling of warmth and connection.

The feeling of being lost has abated somewhat, the problems associated with the real world have taken precedence. At times driving home from work I wonder if the experience was in fact nothing more than a fantastical dream. Seeing the photographs and videos is bittersweet but in the end, I feel privileged.

The reason for all the tears at the end, other than the fact that I knew just how much I would miss everyone, was because I wondered if I would see these people again. Intentions are all very well and good, but having left too many people in my short life I know many intentions amount to nothing more than that. Now, I realise it doesn't matter.

"If i never see you again
Think of me now and then
Though it hurts so deeply
They say all good things come to an end
You changed my life completely
I'm touched by your love
If I never see you again"

At the end, I'm standing at the beginning. New friendships, new mindsets, new opportunities. And I am blessed.

spiderwebs

Stranger,

How conflicted I feel towards you.

I understand the position you're in. I just don't understand why it seems so complicated to you when it is definitely not. To me it looks like sheer cowardice on your part. And it's SO unflattering and SO out of character and I am SO disappointed in you, yet I empathise and wonder how you are.

When perhaps my feelings towards the situation we found ourselves in should have mattered and made a difference, you took matters into your own hands. This was perhaps due to your own feelings of guilt. However, you refused to see that those actions had repercussions on me.

And in this clash of bumbling elephants I feel very much like collateral damage. Uncalled for and highly unnecessary.

Feeling lost and powerless, it frustrates me that this situation could be so easily resolved if you two elephants would sit and talk. Honestly, frankly with mutual love and respect. You would think that two with such a seemingly close bond could do this. Are you scared? Because it's easier to forgive a total stranger than it is to forgive a friend?

And now I've lost the pair of you, and there's not a darned thing i can do about it.

My what a tangled web we weave...

kaleidoscope

To You,

Because I miss you but I hate you.

Because I want you to fall flat on your face and be lonely and depressed and alone, like how I was when you were so willing to leave, But I want things to work out for you and I want the sun to shine on your path.

Because I'm very much over you but still can't forgive the hurt.

You are to me a kaleidoscope, that i pick up in fear and fascination.

Too many facets, just too many.

what i hate about you

you'll never read this because i'll never send it but here's what I hate about you:-

i. i don't hate that you betrayed my trust the way you did that summer. everyone makes mistakes. what i hate about the happenings of that summer is how you behaved after. i hate that you couldn't forgive yourself for it and ended up hurting me again by this inability.

ii. i hate that having betrayed my trust, you did not do all you could to rebuild it.

iii. i hate the way you gave up, just when there was a break in the clouds.

iv. i hate that when you decided to end it, you didn't have the respect or the love to put a real full stop on it. you wanted to end it, you should have had the courtesy to stick to that decision. not change your mind every two weeks the way you did. i loved you still, i was going to cling to every hope and every scrap you gave me. it was your responsibility. you failed.

v. i hate that when i was clearly not in a position to take care of myself, you, instead of taking care of me, were upset that i was not taking your feelings into consideration.

vi. i hate that you lapped up my forgiveness, but gave none in return. i hate that you messed up in ways at least equal, if not more, to how i messed up, but yet i am apparently the bigger baddie.

vii. i hate that after i left you decided to have your cake and eat it too.

viii. i hate that when i initially refused to lean on you after i left, you coaxed me into it, only to drop me when it got too hard.

ix. i hate that having betrayed my trust in that way the first time, for all intents and purposes you did it again 2 years after. i hate how having done so, you stick by the belief that you did nothing wrong. but you refuse to tell people what you did for shame of being judged. i hate how in the lead up to your doing it again you allowed me to believe that i was the insane one.

x. i hate how you put her on a pedestal and refused to see that she gave up on you. it was not and is not just the distance. she just didn't want to try. i hate how because of this, you were so happy to lose me.

xi. i hate the selfish way in which you handled the very end, when i tried to consider you every step of the way.

xii. i hate that you made promises at that end, of which you have broken each and every one.

xiii. i hate that you want me to think we can be friends in the future, but you burn every bridge in the present.

xiv. i hate that i wonder how you are and what you're up to. i hate that i wonder if and how you think of me. i hate that this probably means that i don't really hate you.