The x-box

"Hey, I just wanted to return you some stuff." She says.

Suddenly I notice the box grasped in her hands. She catches me by surprise.

"What is it?" I retort, my hands reaching out.

"Just some things." She replies, almost sheepishly.

I work the lid off and in an instant my curiosity turns to confusion. Then rage.

The frown on my face says enough. My mouth is agape in silence. My eyes locked on her.

A few seconds pass by before I manage my words.

"What is this?" I say almost in disbelief.

My glance, focusing on the box in my hands. Everything I had ever given her, now staring back at me. My pulse picks up speed and my breathing grows heavy. I can't help but feel totally fucked.

Her feet shift uncomfortably but she doesn't say a word.

"Are you trying to hurt me?" I press on. My eyes shifting back and forth.

No answer.

"What are you trying to do to me?!" Anger seeping into my sentence.

I couldn't give a flying fuck what she had to say. But I needed a reason to argue. A reason to swear and a reason to be pissed off.

"Tell me what you are trying to do??!"

Her lips move but she is hesitant to answer. Clever girl. She's trying not to say the wrong thing and she's probably right to stay quiet. But I want to explode. I deserve to explode dammit.

I am John Cusack in High Fidelity.

"I just want."

"You want what??" I interrupt her mid sentence.

"I just want us to have a clean break." Her voice fading off. She knows instantly that she should have kept her mouth shut. And she should have.

"What???" I demanded. My blood now boiling as I give her no opportunity to reply.

"What do you mean by a clean break?"

"A clean break for you or for me?"

"What? you want don't want to be reminded of me ever? is that what this is?"

I am flustered at this point but my anger is just beginning. I grab the teddy bear resting in the box.

"What do you expect me to do with this???" I must look insane strangling the teddy bear in my grip.

"..I am sorry."

"You're sorry?" I say, exasperatedly.

"YOU'RE SORRY???" I repeat feeling very justified.

She doesn't know what to say and I want more. But there's nothing she can say that will douse the fire in me. And I stop. I will regret not saying more, but I refrain. I drop the bear in the box and turn around to leave. With box in tow I never look back. Not once.

I hope you're real fucking happy now.

What a difference

So you asked me, "What difference would it make if I was there?"

"A ton of difference." I said.

You didn't ask why.

If you did, I would have told that your presence makes the difference to my day.

that your presence changes my day from a 5 to a 10.

that your presence reminds me that my heart, still beats.

that your presence reminds me that I am still just a fool enchanted by hope.

that your presence reminds me just how much I enjoy spending time with you.

If only you knew.

That missing feeling

It's hard to describe the feeling of missing someone..

Missing somebody is always a difficult proposition to contemplate. On one hand, its an empty, lonely feeling, the irony is that this absence seems to be taking some solid form in the vacuum of your heart. On the other hand, is the fact that we have somebody to miss a better idea than not having anyone to miss at all? In a sense, its a rather different empty feeling that loiters around the recesses of the soul, so does one have to be thankful that instead of feeling shit about nothing, one has somebody to feel shitty about?

I've had my fair share of this missing feeling for the better part of the year, but none greater than the past few months. Sometimes I rationalise it this way; everybody's bound to miss something. I'm sure everybody in their heart is missing a certain thing, be it their childhood, or another person, or their old job, or a vacation, so you know on that level, I don't feel so bad? Because in the train of thought of missing things, I'm just another doe-eyed passenger riding on this track, with next train stop, mental oblivion!

Sometimes I feel missing someone is an exquisite and sweet pain.. think about it, when lets say you're lover leaves you for a period of time, and there's this absence. It's like, you'd do things A, B, and C with said lover, and now you've got to do them all on their own. Ain't that a funny feeling? And you'd be going through the A's and B's and be like, gosh I wish you were here so I could do all these things with, and you'd smile thinking "yeah, she'd say this about A, I know how she loves to do C before A sometimes when the mood strikes it", and its funny really, how sweet memories can become equally torturous at the same time? Such is the emotional magnitude that gravitates the surface of our hearts.

But if there's a more interesting metaphor for missing someone, it would be this;

The feeling of missing you, which has permeated me for what seems like a mental eternity, I've managed to relegate to a part of my mind which does not surface during normal activities. Meaning I can eat, sleep, and pee sometimes without thinking of you. I've tried my hardest to forget about you, or more aptly, to forget to remember you, but how I describe this unshakable feeling I may have about you?

I see your face in the shadow of every thought.. in the sunshine of happiness, a light pervasive shadow frames the moments and reminds me of how things used to be.. and you know my life can go fine for days at a stretch, but its like a busted car going at 60km/h down a freeway, you think everything is fine and then you hit a roadblock and the whole mental vehicle comes to a crashing halt. Or better yet, its like life is a short story, or a certain article, and you're happily writing, the letters are strung together to make sentences, and the sentences grow longer and longer as you try to fill your life with as much inane things to make you forget about everything, but then there has to be a full stop somewhere. And you to me are that full stop which brings the whole sentence to an end, and its like at the end of every future happy moment, there'll always be this full stop which infinitely always reminds me of you, this emotional punctuation which without, my life would make no metaphorical grammatical sense really.. and whatever that is that I do, I can't ever truly say that I'd stop missing you, because I'll always require that fractional moment to stop and wonder what it is you're doing right at this very moment? And if I punctuate your life the way that you've punctuated mine?

So yes missing someone is truly a blessing and a curse at the same time.. but right now, its alot more cursed than blessing... But it's late at night.. any excuse for a ramble I suppose..