24 January 2016

Memories of Spring

My mind whirred – I might have imbibed too much earlier tonight. We spun and danced and remembered the good days of feeling as free and youthful. I remembered those days too well, I thought. Next thing we know, we were on top of our lungs singing and dancing to our usual jam. I might have forgotten about everything – forgotten that tomorrow was my last day in Melbourne, forgotten that I may have other responsibilities to take care of; and from then on, I felt my eyes lit up in elation, my blood rushed quicker and deeper and excitement surged in my system. I wanted it to last forever and a lifetime. 

I took my best friend by the hand, hugged her tight, unwilling to let go of her and the memories we’ve shared. Somewhere in between the happiness, I remembered we kissed and everything felt right. Maybe I wanted to let go; let go of the notion of time and reality and just let this moment be. My mind whirred but it was the good kind – the kind where it made me realise that life was more than control, than living past the now. I wanted to live and breathe. I wanted this to last and I wanted our moments to be photographed. I wanted every moment to be indelibly marked on our blood and veins and let it play over and over again whenever we feel and want it to.

My mind skipped – I could not remember what he said, honestly. All became nothing but a memory in my head but one thing I remembered was that I was verbally responding. That night, he took me by the hand and we went outside, away from where the crowd, noise and muffling sounds were. I remembered the thumping noises of music on the back of my head – they were inaudible but I just remember we were trying to escape them all. He took me outside in the cold and we sat down by the garbage bins and plastic carts. We sat there for a while, almost an hour, maybe. Nothing felt contrived – I thought it was real, maybe a little too raw for me to handle. I remembered feeling that this moment happened; I was a little too worried, a little too insecure. All that came out from my mouth that night was, “Why me?”

I deliberately and constantly asked him, challenging him a little bit. I bombarded him with my anxieties, with my insecurities, all the pieces of the layers that he might not want to see – ones that I was incapable of showing from the beginning – those that were imbued with pain, remorse and the bittersweet smears of my past. I wanted to let down my guard and I tried to but I was too worried of letting those tight grips loose because I was afraid. I told him how afraid I was of trusting love one more time – I was afraid of delving into the unimaginable, the uncertainty of who or what this is.

He wanted to be with me and that was all. He wanted to see me challenge him and vice versa; he wanted us to work out and he was convinced with all his heart that ‘we’ can happen. We kissed – not the aggressive, awkward kind of kiss. But the subtle, much more raw and genuine kind of kiss; I caressed his face for the first time; my thoughts moved in headwinds as he nuzzled against my face. I tired to open my eyes to see myself chuckling with the emanating warmth I felt on his embrace. I was bombarded, I was overwhelmed but from where I’ve been and where I’ve gone though, I know I can feel safe for once.

Somewhere in between the common euphoria and the incessant kisses and goodbyes, I was drawn into some kind of realness, like a thought where it kind of felt synchronised. My mind skipped, whirred and pranced – but I knew I had to calm myself down from those thoughts. I wanted to follow the current but I want to be mindful enough to not drown into the abyss. I want to learn to think for myself, but at the same time, be able to trust and jump into the waters and have faith. I was drawn into an oxymoron, a contradiction, and a mere juxtaposition.

“Why not you?” That’s all, nothing more.