Christmas trees are abit like relationships. The real thing is certainly more beautiful, but it's just too much fuss, too much mess. You can say what you like about fake ones. But you can't deny they are alot less troublesome. Alot less stressful. And who is to say these relationships are meaningless. No strings attach. No lose ends to tie or to burn. Just a thinning web of deceit, vulnerable but easy to be spun again even if destroyed. We are there because we want to be there. A thousand death cuts you get in real relationship - there's none of that.
I like you - you are nice.
Is that really so meaningless? Or is that all the meaning you need?
I see him almost everday after 6pm. I watch him talking about the day to day life thrown at him. The situation seems to change daily. Phrases that meant nothing to us awhile ago - words like love, seperation, and heart breaks- are now charged with meaning, coming home to us in all their awful reality.
Do we both deserve all these? The sneakaround. The constant watch on the time. The emotional exhaustion. The abiding contempt in my heart? Just for wanting one more go at getting it right?
We laugh but there is no longer warmth or humour in our laughters that night. Fear and worry has crept into our conversation. Hijacked our contemporary happiness. I caught myself wondering what am I doing in this place with him? Stuck in a tricky and sticky situation. Is it because I don've anyone else to go to? Or have my heart secretly fell in love without consulting me first? To have someone to call my own and to chat and laugh mindlessly under the starlight. Perhaps I shouldn't be so scared of caring. Perhaps I was reckless with me heart. I was too lenient perhaps?
This is not me. I tell myself over and over again. The whimpers of fear. The silent rhythmic thumps of my heart accelerating by the moment. Although I knew these are the things are unseen. The emotions I can never show to him. I still feel I have to be truly myself till the final goodbye. Brave. Selfless and funny. Concerned about everyone except myself. The things you will never hear or see. The despair and the cries. The welling tears and the tear-stained face. Ignorance is bliss.
I had love in mind. You have too much overspilling at the brink. Soon the excitement will die down. The smiles will fade and only silence will fill the night air. I cannot love you. The words poked at me. Snigger. Kept repeating like a broken record. prodding and prodding until it tore right through into my heart. The place where it hurts most. The wind blew and stung at the open flesh wound. I shut my eyes tightly. Wishing then, it will shut down the flood gates. They all eventually leave one day, darling. Every single one of them. Every person that ever succeeded in brightening my day and cheering my heart disappeared as quickly as a cat in the night. As though happiness was only supposed to be some kind of weekend ice cream treat. It was always the good people that left. The ones who weren't afraid to love or to smile. But the love and the smile never belong eternally to me. It was always someone's else love or smile that I could only borrowed for a season. For a short period.
I wish for the Astronomist to take me in his arms. The one who truly love unconditionally. The smiles and the love was never for loan. It was for mine to have forever. For the Astronomist to take me his arms, so big that I am dwarfed in his embrace. I wish to be surrounded by his love as he rock me softly and slowly whenever I went running to him to plaster my wounds. Funny how I only remember him when in pain. Funny how I never saw pass the medical badge on him. His whispers of assurance in my ears and his fingers running through my hair as he hush my cries and dry my tears. He made me believe that everything would be ok and lying in his arms, I knew it would and it felt like it could. He showed me the lavender fields that I could roll in. Lavenders are theuraptic. He used to pick bunches of lavenders to place in my room, calm my soul and pillow the screaming hurt.
Underneath it all, you never felt the uneven bumps of scars. You never hear the silent prayer of hope. you never know a heart that is broken...If only you could see me now. I am like a dandelion. Fragile and easily blown away by strong winds.
