Saturday, September 22, 2012

Sun at the Corner of the Page

Ever since we were seven years old, or maybe even younger than that, we were taught the importance of having friends. Parents told us to share an already way too small lunch if someone forgot theirs. Teachers asked us to use each other's Crayola crayons during art class, knowing very well that it takes more than just the sharing of sticks of coloured wax to build a friendship.

Back then, naive as we were, we didn't stop to question their teaching methods. We just nodded, pretended we knew what they were talking about, and merely played along. Now, seventeen years away from drawing stick figures and a quarter of the sun at the corner of the page, I find myself at a loss trying to understand this relationship, based solely on the give-and-take premise, they were trying to shove down our throats. Because yes, sharing of goods is, well, good, but then again I don't consider the homeless person I shared a sandwich with the other day my friend either.

True friendship requires so much more than that. Actually, it doesn't really require that much, just the little things. Things like consistency, effort, patience and heart. To find that in a person, in a place so big so chaotic so unpredictable, is as rare as finding a quiet unlit spot in the city centre. So when you meet someone who's willing to open up to you, share with you their hopes and dreams without any hidden agendas, someone whose colours are more genuine than the sixty-four pack of crayons from Crayola, you take that and you cherish it.

To have someone in your life who can brighten up your day just by being in it is pretty much the equivalent of drawing a quarter of the sun at the corner of a blank white page. You don't have to have it but it's so much better if you do.

Non-Profit Disclaimer: No immediate profits were made from mentioning the Crayola brand of crayons. Thank you.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Temporary Home

For a whole year I called this my home. Mine. But now, as I find myself surrounded by the emptiness of these four walls, overshadowed by these overpacked luggages, I realise that it was never mine to begin with. Yes, I may have tried to make it look like it's mine, but when push came to shove, when every little thing was packed or carefully thrown away, that 'mine' became nothing but a distant memory. My home, this room, is now just a vacant space ready for the next oversensitive tenant to turn it into a temporary home.

However, even though it's no longer mine, in my heart, in my emotionally-attached heart, it will always be a little bit mine. Just because something is no longer within your reach doesn't mean it's no longer yours. Moving on without the engraved beautiful memories is like eating a new flavour of ice cream in the rain. You do it because you enjoy doing it, maybe even because you want to, but it would mean nothing if you constantly complain about the dreadful weather without appreciating the unfamiliar watering taste in your mouth.

And the truth is, as scared as we are of change and moving ons, what we sometimes fail to realise is that life has a habit of opening up doors we never even thought existed. So today, as I take one last good look around this room, as I close the door of my temporary home, somewhere deep down I know that even though this door is closing for good, another one, which may not even exist yet, will open up eventually. After all, things always happen as they should.

And as they should we should let them happen.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Cheap Getaway Car

Dance with me like you would with an elephant's nose.
On a beach, just you and me, with sand in between our toes.
Fill me up like you would fill an empty sky with stars.
Underneath this well lit moon, bigger than the one on Mars.
Look at me like the sea looks at its shore.
Because tonight I just want you and nothing more.
Open up to me like a fish to its bait.
Oh dear me, how I wish I stayed.
Sing to me melodies I never thought I'd hear.
Never in a million years did I want you so near.
Tuck me in the back of your cheap getaway car.
Take me to that place, that one, the one that's far.
And then, as I fall asleep, whisper in my ear those three little words I hold dear.