Backdated this post.
There I was, with a Malaysian, South African and an Irish, eating Peking duck and other delicious Chinese dishes in a Chinese restaurant, located in the most populous Muslim country in the world. Chatting, joking, and generally having a good time.
On 9/11 no less.
We all will be so much happier if we humans can coexist peacefully with each other.
So if there is one wish I get to make, I would wish for peace on earth.
I have been having this recurring dream pretty often recently. I have it so often that I instantly recognise it in my dream, and even telling myself that it is only a dream, and I have nothing to be afraid of. Really weird.
In the dream, I was about to graduate. In the last instant, I realised I actually forgot that I failed one subject, and I need to retake it before I can graduate. Worst, I realised the subject that I need to retake was not offered in this semester, but the next. This is when I will tell myself that I have already graduated, and that this is only a dream.
I do not usually remember my dreams, but this one has been recurring so often, I can still remember it very vividly. I wonder what this dream is trying to tell me. That I am unprepared? For what? Or that it is telling me something else?
Or it is just a dream, nothing more.
Little Fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?For I dance
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.If thought is life
And strength and breath
And the want
Of thought is death;Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
– William Blake, Songs of Innocence and of Experience
It came as a shock when news of his passing reached me. Here was a man who was always nice to those around him, and who worked for him. Here was a man who had so much passion in sports, in living a healthy lifestyle. Here was a man who was capable, and thus was a rising star in the company. Here was a man, with a family, and another kid on the way.
Sometimes, life really isn’t fair.
Many years ago, you and I stood here.
Years later, I stood at the exact same spot. Alone.
Top of the world – that is how I felt when I was here:
I think I finally understand why you like to bake so much.
I am sorry it took me so long to understand. I am sorry I didn’t try my best to find out why the last time. I am sorry I finally understand when it is too late.
I am really sorry.
Why is the price of my short term happiness getting higher and higher? Why are the reasons justifying purchasing short term happiness getting more and more ridiculous?
And why do I still need short term happiness?
Questions which I do not have any answers to.
Sometimes, usually at night, when I pause for a while, some parts of my past catches up with me. And I just fall apart.
I had this thought recently. What if sadness had embed itself so deeply into my life, latched onto my soul, and reverberates into the core of my being that it became the norm? What if I went through life without any expectations, or dreams, or aspirations, because I do not realistically expect any after years of dashed hopes and dreams?
What if one day I found happiness, will I still be able to recognise it? Will I still remember how it taste and smell like, feel like? What if I had completely forgotten what it feels like to be happy and let it slip past me unnoticed?
I need to remember how it feels like to be happy. I need to recognise happiness, again.
Through the myriad clouds of emotions, I could detect a tinge of regret. On both sides. We both are turning our heads, trying to steal a last glance of each other, even though we are already on separate paths. With each step, our lives moves further from each other, yet there is this nagging thought of ‘what if’.
When you open your heart willingly and without any reservations, you run the risk of forever stuck in the bottomless pit that is created. On quiet nights, you find yourself trying to answer the question ‘what if’, trying to find some sense and purpose as to why it happened, trying to make yourself feel better, trying to hold back the tears, trying to forget. And you realise the harder that you try, the worst it becomes.
Years may have dulled the pain, years may have clouded the memories, but it certainly doesn’t make it easier to go through such nights.
A tinge of regret? No. The amount of regret in this myriad of emotions is enough to, if stacked, go all the way to the moon. And back. Twice.