Sunday, January 13, 2019

When the sun has long retired but the moon is not yet up, the streets glow yellow and everything is colored a shade of blue. The air is cold and someone is sitting alone, face illuminated by his phone. I feel melancholic, but I feel alive.

.

When she took my hand in both of hers, and said, thank you. She's lost so much weight, I feel her bones. And I know I don't deserve her thanks.

We don't have as long as we think we do, sometimes.

Her skin was yellow, her eyes tired and sad, and her husband looked on with an expression that said 'I love you' and 'goodbye' at the same time.

Someone once asked me, if we had the option to know how long we will live, would you choose to know? And I said, no. Absolutely not.

.

My parents brought me up to be independent and to survive. They told me struggles lie ahead, and I had to make my way myself. And for a long time, all I saw were struggles, when the books I read showed heroes and soul-crushing battles and...

All these months I've watched many people face the most terrifying kind of battle, and they all have a certain air about them, not entirely defeat nor acceptance, but just the atmosphere of someone who sees the end at last.

I don't know if we're here for a reason, or no reason at all. But I think it is okay to seek our own joy. It is alright to find our own path. It is not quite blasphemous to believe that with the struggles come joy...in the ugliness, somewhere someone is cultivating beauty. For all the pain I've had, there were many good moments and many great people. I will always try to believe the same for whatever lies before me.

Thursday, January 10, 2019

There was a quote from Light Years, that's stuck with me for a long time. It was,
"The freedom she meant was self-conquest. It was not a natural state. It was meant only for those who would risk everything for it, who were aware that without it life is only appetites until the teeth are gone." 

It resurfaces occasionally, before retreating quietly back to itself. Obliquely it's connected to something else that I've been thinking about, which is the much-heard advice that in order to grow, we have to be uncomfortable.

The idea that in order to improve, we have to do things we find challenging, until one day we don't find it difficult any more - and then we find something harder, reach higher. And in that way we grow.

But is the only way to grow, to be uncomfortable? And is this discomfort any different from pain and suffering? 

Some people might say it's a matter of perspective, whether something is discomfort, or if it's pain. 

But pain is pain, isn't it? Running sure is painful. 

I remember once I said, the only difference between a goal and a punishment, is one is pain with meaning, and the other is pain without. 

I guess I don't bother too much, because I've learnt that leaving it as a background hum is enough for life to - eventually - show us the answer. As years pass, we'll even get to see different facets of the answer...or what we think the answer is anyway. I guess that's alright. That's fine. 

Thursday, January 3, 2019

My friends are all leaving to a different posting.

I had the opportunity to appreciate so many things. I can't even find the words. All I have are scattered bits, like newspaper cut-outs, when what I want is a song, a score, because words aren't doing me much good.

The past seven months I learned to appreciate
- raised eyebrows and a smile that couldn't be hidden
- hugs
- post-call milo/starbucks
- random waffles
- random stories
- meals together

etc

the courage to stand up for what you believe is right
the strength to keep smiling even through impossible times
resilience

so, I know life changes like the turn of a tide
and that people come and go
which has always kind of caused me a lot of pain
but what is true now is that I am very thankful
really

And does the 'now' lessen my feelings' value?
Nah. I won't always feel the way I do now (thank goodness for that...) but I will always keep your names in a special place in my heart.

Friday, November 30, 2018

'I can't do this anymore' - is what I've been thinking every morning at 4 when I wake up. At around 12-3 when inevitably some emergency happens. At 3 during exits. At 8pm when we still have work to do. At 11 when I look at my socks and wonder if it's worth it to bathe.

What could possibly justify...?

I'm so tired. I might not be safe any more. I'm scared I'll make an irretrievable mistake.

Sunday, November 25, 2018

Kick off my socks. Start some music. Read some manga.

These are the balms to cover up the cracks from the day.

Because, some things are so gross they make my fingers curl

Some things, so sad I have to look away.

Some things so scary, now I know my voice can tremble like a leaf in the wind. Watching blood pressure drop from 80 to unrecordable in five minutes.

Some things make me so angry, I want to hurt something. Hurt someone. This always ends up making me feel dirty.


Is there anything good about this? Anything?

Maybe seeing people not panic in the face of death - literally - and learning from that?

Maybe becoming someone who can be of use in certain types of emergencies?

Maybe learning about the various aspects of life in this weird, protected bubble.

Maybe just, I don't know. Maybe there's no real need to force a positive out at the moment.

Maybe I just need to go to sleep, wake up tomorrow, and try to survive


Wednesday, October 31, 2018

It suddenly occurred to me,

is this also a part of my job?

Sunday, October 28, 2018

If there's types of love, then there should be types of happiness.

There's a kind of happiness that is sharp and - for lack of a better word now - a little...mean? It's the happiness when I find a lipstick that I've been keeping an eye out for months. The kind of happiness when you say something and people laugh, and you don't know why. The kind of happiness when I get praised for something. Maybe, a slightly anxious happiness.

Then there's the happiness when you walk out and experience sunshine, or some kind of natural weather, for the first time in weeks. It's a little past mid-afternoon, a short while to dusk. It's a very gentle blue sky that isn't night, isn't twilight, but close. The clouds are fat, the air damp, and the sun gives a watery glow. Sounds terrible, but the sunshine is so gentle and the leaves so green and the air nice and cool; it's a very contented happiness. Like how I imagine cats feel when they curl up in a ball somewhere warm and soft. This is the happiness when a good song plays in the background and my veins seem to run something other than blood. The kind of happiness when I've been cold for hours and I have a long hot shower.

Maybe it's a little sad that I'm this happy over getting a day off. But boy am I happy.