Running with Wolves

"...you will become increasingly aware that all the truly important events in your life occur without your conscious intervention. This will help you to act with more calm and composure in those areas where you had difficulties in the past or found it hard to make any headway. You should now find it easier to deal with things in a relaxed manner, not brooding so morosely over your own failings and inadequacies. This will also help you to be more understanding when others make mistakes, making you more forgiving."

It does not feel so much as being buried - which would imply paralysis - in work and all that other stuff that life is made of.

It feels more like I am running... and running... the irony of which does not escape me since I doubt I would even last 200m in real life.

Through a forest. Towering trees. Old. Very old. No - ageless. Trees. Everywhere. I look up - the trees are patterned intricacies of greens and browns against the undifferentiated blue. So many, many different paths; going everywhere and nowhere at the same time; and yet, not so different after all. (Sometimes, it is only months, or even years later, that you realise that there was NO CHOICE to be made. You only have to understand why things were; and why things are. And then, you move on.) Where does it all begin? (November? The good-looking stranger with the beautiful brown eyes; whose photo now adorns my workspace; and at least two other besotted women? Heh. Heh. Heh. June 2002? Or even earlier? Before Time?) Where does it all end? (Will it end? Will I fall?) I cannot see where I am going - not because it is dark. I can see - but I only know that it is not dark where I am. Running. With the wind. Amongst unseen... things. Pacing me. In my head. "Keep up. Don't stop. Keep running. Just a little further."

But these are not their words.

There are no words.

Only mine.


Left. Right. Centre.

Monday.

Another attempt to meet up (I guess I cannot run forever - but he may wish he had run sooner...) and two offers of coffee - all within a day. Raise eyebrow. They say three is a magic number. Well. Nothing "magical" here. Hardly.

And then, the short thing followed me around the classroom, which was not as unnerving as him getting in my face - literally - because he was always so close; his face talking to mine, while we were all just standing around, leaning over the counter, sitting at the coffee table; sometimes, he would come over and... just look. If I were not as mentally numbed as I was from sleep deprivation and a long work day, I would have snapped off his head. (Hint: Women do not like to have their faces scrutinised at close quarters, especially when they are having a massive outbreak.) The homicidal part of me wants to push him overboard on the boat ride to Pulau Dayang. It will be almost pitch dark - we board past midnight - save for the silent stars. The engines will be loud, reverberating through the entire boat. Everyone will be fast asleep in various corners - getting as much rest as we can in preparation for the hellish weekend of rescue drills (and near-drowning) in open sea. No one will notice... until it is to late...


Tales from the Crypt

"You ok with the colour of orange? Hints of orange in colour."

?????

So sleepy... so tired...

The days are too short.

I have been sleeping like the dead the past few nights...

The nights are not long enough. (I do not want the night to end - because then, you have to leave.)

Each moment passes by too quickly; before I even realise what has just happened. There is simply not enough physical time to behold the entire significance of each little action and utterance - sometimes so small as to be almost imperceptible, and hence, so easily missed; and only realised later; too late - crystallised into these fleeting moments; these millions and millions of moments that make the whole of life; that make our lives complete.

I can only re-live the memories of these moments in my head; each time a little differently; each time unfolding a little more; each time seeing more in its entirety. Thought. Emotion. Doubt. Fear. Desire. Hope. The Past. The Present - of the moment. The Future. All come together in this little action and utterance. Perfection.

And then, there is the rest of life. Waiting to be experienced.

It is beginning to feel as if this one life is not enough.


Don't ask

I write for myself.

I write to be read.

But I don't write for you.