Hey, Clythrin.

I wonder how you've been since the last time we talked. Before we parted ways, you were the one who told me to always keep in touch. It's really weird, though, how life tends to play out - now I am the one who is trying to keep in touch, and you in turn became the one who all of a sudden left without a trace.

There was once a time when I really did love you. Up until now I can say it was the purest form of love I have ever had for a woman. Maybe it was because you were the first woman who made me feel I was really special, and that I actually did matter within someone else's life. Maybe it was also because I was so much younger back then; and with that, came the innocence and simplicity of the matters of the heart. All the same, if someone were to ask me now what my definition of love would be, I would most certainly evoke the memories you've left me and use that as a point of reference.

Despite everything, you're still a part of the past; and you are to remain the same. I know I have completely moved on from you and everything we've shared - and mind you, it was one of the hardest things I have ever done in twenty-three years.

Even so, every now and then I think: what if we did not part ways in the midst of all the tears that quiet afternoon? It would have been so much easier, Clythrin. I would never have had to experience other forms of pain with other women. I would probably be only in love with you, regardless of what other people do or say. I would never have had to go through wave upon wave of loneliness, the intermittent need to stay away from people, and wishing I was alone every now and then so that people around me would leave me in my own desolate isolation.

I am not in any way wishing for you to come back and start the amorous things all over again with me. It would not be the best decision, and I am quite certain I do not love you in the same way that I have loved you before. Although, if I am to be honest with you, I would very much appreciate it if you come back and rekindle with me the friendship we once lost. I could use some of your wisdom right now. I sometimes feel lost, and at a loss of someone to talk to; and I know you could be the one who would speak some sense into me and take me away from the fiction I so oftentimes build around myself. You are one of the very few people who could pull that off, because you knew me so well. (It's a sad afterthought that I used the word knew instead of know.)

In the end, though, this will still be like whispering wishes to thin air; and you would probably never even read this, ever. Nevertheless, I sincerely hope you're doing fine. I haven't heard from you in years. I just hope everything is fine on your side of the line, even if it isn't in mine.         

 

I've been here before, and now I am back here yet again.

Once again I am at this point where I do not want to talk to and be with anybody.
 
Go away, everyone.


The image.

Here's one crazy idea.

Ever since I started working, most of my earnings have been piling up unused.

Before, the concept of this idea just comes and goes through my head, like a sudden feeling that goes away after a while.

That is, until now.

I am seriously considering it.

Those stockpiled untapped earnings of mine -

I want to use it.

I want to use it until its very last cent.

I want to use it to travel the world.

I want to use it to travel the world, from place to place, up to the extent of the farthest place that it could take me.

That would mean leaving everything behind while I breathe in new memories and people and moments and experiences.

There.

I have the crazy idea.

Now I just need the courage to actually do it.

Lately, I have been sharing a lot of stories to a close friend - a newfound, endearing female friend, and we had this one particular conversation where we were caught up in the middle of numbering out anecdotes about ourselves that the other didn't know just yet.

By that time I have just finished watching Begin Again. I was telling her how I really enjoyed the film; and that with it being centered around the music and all, I was very much moved by its score. She then told me that she also loved the movie, and furthermore, how by the time it was about to end, she was holding back her tears. It was when she said that that I remembered how I understood something about myself long ago: the fact that I didn't know how to cry properly, and how I was especially bothered by the thought that I would never learn how to.

I also remembered how I have been meaning to write about it again.

And I also thought, that after all I have been through.. I think, I already know how to cry - or, why I cry, for a better word.

There was one thing I have realized after all that has happened to me ever since - I will only sincerely cry for (or perhaps my tears will only choose to fall on) poignant happiness, or on some hopeful thought or feeling; bittersweet but magical moments; and beautiful, beautiful music. They do not come out of either sadness or grief anymore.

It was really weird, in a way, when it first made sense to me. I mean, people usually cry out of sadness and grief, right? I was really hesitant to believe this when I first began to actually recognize the way my tears behaved. But that was it, and it was something about myself that I just had to accept: my tears will only come when they need to, when they want to - and that they decided they were reserved for something other than pain and sorrow.

Somehow I feel extremely different because of this fact. On the other hand, though, I also feel very special - because when my tears do fall, I will surely know that I must be experiencing something that really stirs up my being.


I told all of this to her, to my female friend, as part of our ongoing lovely conversation. She agreed that I was weird, but she also said that she understood.

I love The Civil Wars. Joy and John Paul. Their Barton Hollow and The Civil Wars. I mean, I seriously, passionately do - sometimes, I love them even more than I love my self. And I am really saddened by the pain of the reality that they have decided to break up and part ways, permanently.

I will probably write something for them in the future, but for now - let me leave this here as a reminder that at some point, beautiful things really do end and go.

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are gray

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take

My sunshine away

Tonight was just another night, I guess. I have been working on night shift for a couple of months now (I think it's already been half-a-year since that started, on and off), and this night seemed to be of no difference from the others.

One particular thing that happened tonight, though, that does not always happen, is that we took quite a long break. After wolfing down some folded pizza, my three colleagues and I went to a coffee place and our (very pretty, I should say) female friend ordered her drink. I did not get anything for myself, as the beverages from that place is absurdly expensive (even though their stuff do taste good); still, we decided to park ourselves outside that coffee place and enjoy some chilly night air.

We sat around this round table with a huge umbrella. One of us leaned himself towards the table and directly went to take a nap. Our female friend went on to sip her coffee - iced and layered and all. The other guy entertained himself with funny jokes, and I raised my eyes towards the in-between-evening-and-dawn sky and relaxed my head.

There were ducks floating on the pond in front of us, and the lamps nearby flickered brightly. There were only a few visible stars on sight, and the moon was sliced. A spanish-y guitar acoustic was playing in the background, one of the many sounds that danced with the quiet reverie, and there were people around us - conversing, typing on their laptops, reciting office-related words and numbers.

Little conversations happened among the three of us, from pause to pause, seconds and minutes apart; though mostly, we were all just silent. I am not sure what was running through their heads that time, these three friends of mine (one of them asleep) - but I am certain that it's better than anything that they were thinking about before we took our time off there.

I strongly felt the happy, unblemished urge to smoke one cigarette again, after a long while. And also I thought, it's at times like these when you realize that we really are just passing through life, things, and moments.