Friday, August 23, 2013


I’ve rarely sent people off at the airport since childhood. We used to send relatives very often at the airport because my dad's offday was friday. #convenient. 

Lately I’ve always been the one who leave. Literally that is. And yet I still don’t feel like I’ve travelled enough.

Well today, for once, I was the one left behind. My housemate has left the company to go work somewhere nearer to his home. It was weird. At noon I was thinking he was probably having lunch alone some shit airport restaurant. At night i thought he was finally back home in Miri with his family.

I never really said goodbye privately to him. I don't know how to. 


I’ve been having these sleep troubles for the past week. Splitting my sleeps in two - going to bed early, rising for a couple of hours at midnight, and then going back to sleep again.

Back in university days, I had a few stretches like this. Slept, and then wake up at midnight to close the lights, and try very hard to go back to sleep. Or, wake up a couple of hours before I was supposed to, and hanged there until time. Even if I had managed to sleep it’d always be full of imaginations, dreams, like the stories just started from nowhere and keep going and going.

The last time I had this problem seriously was a couple of years ago. She filled my mind. I kept asking myself some questions. And I always, always thought of her no matter how long the day has just been or was going to be. Year 4 Second Semester.

I called granny the yesterday. Haven’t talked to her since I saw her two Saturdays ago.

I told her my half sleep problem. And she said I must be worrying about something. Well we all know the direction that she was thinking  - the desperate one. And I can’t say she was wrong.

So on the third midnight of the past working week, I woke up and couldn’t sleep. I played a baseball game first, and then wrote all this - some of them on the laptop and some of them on the phone while I was trying hard to sleep.

In most things, somewhere in between, there’s always a time, a moment, that one short moment, when everything was clear, we made a choice.

That people praised God for, that people also come to regret.

The fascination in my misery over her during the past two years, is that I still couldn’t point out the exact moment that changed everything. Maybe it was during the month that I was in Hsinchu, but what happened?
We were happily riding the waves, and then suddenly I was alone, trying to make ends meet all the time.

Whatever happened to you telling me that your mom said the one you were gonna be married to were better be a Christian, “at least a Methodist”?

Whatever happened to you telling me “next year”, and then “next year”, about visiting me?

Whatever happened to you accepting my proposal to dine at your home, your mom’s cooking?

Whatever happened to the pure joy of you telling me that you finally got to watch “Apple of My Eye”, that the queue was super long? Even though I had lost interest in the film because it was more than 3 months since its premiere in Taiwan?

I could still precisely remember the pure jubilation, when you gave me your address and home number for me to send you a birthday gift. It was like flying through a sea of asteroid rocks at hypersonic speed AND knowing you won’t hit them. That night, I remember where I was, and what I was doing. That night, I left my passport in Kahwai’s car, 3 days later, I had a flight to Taiwan. 

That singlemindedness on my 2nd day helping out at farmer’s place, when I showed you a purple morning glory and you told me you fainted in the bathroom and took the day off work.

Tiny details like these. Once in a while they come back to haunt me. It was not of happiness, for there wasn’t content. It was more of excitement, of what might, or could have come.

The feeling of invincibility. That you’re ready to conquer the world. That “就算天塌下來”. A bit of pride. The grandeur sense of feeling that I am larger than life.

Hours like these while waiting for daybreak, it doesn’t seem to matter.

Or has it ever?

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