Take it back
Category: Emotions, Relations
Why must you close your heart?
Why can’t you forgive?
I wish you’d talk it out.
I wish you wouldn’t just let it go.
—
I realize that you need someone to talk to.
I realize you need to get it off your chest.
But I wonder if you realize how this will scar.
—
I hate that you gave me this memory.
I want you to take it back.
Touch me not
Category: Oddity, Relations
I’m amused at my own antics.
Just a while ago, some people came to visit. I wasn’t really in a sociable mood at the moment, so I was already dreading to make pleasantries. Turns out, the people in question were ones I particularly disliked making physical contact with (read: shaking hands, hugging, air kissing - as is the custom).
And so, I took my book and ran into the bathroom, locked the door and waited. Waited until I heard that they were about to leave. Came out, and then risked a James Bond move to hide behind my bedroom door and watch them leave.
There’s only a handful of people that I know, that I feel this way for. Being in such close proximity with them no matter how transient, feels weird. Uncomfortable, even.
So yes. On certain days, I don’t want my personal space invaded every time I need to greet people - even if they are just being sociable.
Beating boredom
Category: Creative/Inspiration, Hobbies, Relations
Everyday, our state’s Central Power Distribution cuts off around 3 hours of power supply to our area. On one such day, during those three or so hours, my sister and I sat down and cut up old magazines. My idea, of course, but it suited us fine since we both were pretty bored.
The task was simple: Find something in the magazine that called out to us - be it words, pictures or phrases, it didn’t matter. We cut them out into rectangles and squares (at least the best we could’ve without using a ruler and under scant daylight) and then arranged them together on a page, mixing our cut outs together.
The end result: a combination of both our personalities.
“I’m living.”
Category: Relations, Studies, Walk of life
Yesterday, around this time or later, I got to meet my old professor at his home. He had helped my colleagues and I through out the whole course of our clinical rotations. I had heard he wasn’t feeling well but I did not expect it was this bad.
We asked if we could see him, not knowing truly how bad a condition he was in.
He was brought out by two young boys, walking ever so slowing, pausing for a bit and starting again. The moment we saw the sight of his frail, delicate profile, held up and being assisted to walk, we got up and helped him to his chair; the guilt of having made him go through all the trouble weighing heavily down on our hearts.
He looked at us, through those patient eyes, just as he had four years ago when he first met us; therein lay the evidence of the youth that was still him, despite the fact that the disease had weakened most of his body. When asked how he was doing, he smiled a shaky smile saying, “I’m living. A little painfully, but living just the same.”
It was heart-breaking.
We didn’t stay long, it was obvious he wasn’t at ease in the chair. We wished him well and thanked him for everything. As we were leaving, he turned to me, eyes glistening and smiled his shaky smile. “Good.”
I smiled back at him, knowing the significance of just that one word and knowing that it was enough to last a very long time.