I should not be writing right now as I have tests and presentations to ready, but being me, I care the least about them. I do give a damn about them, they are still top of my priority (always get your priorities straight!), and although I don’t really like marks and the current education system based solely on it, I do want them, mind you. However, since writing eases my mind and heart, might as well I write before I study. Or so I say, haha.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me these past few months. Because I have been down memory lane once too often, I get the feeling that I’m dying soon. But who doesn’t, right? Everyone dies, and everyone is nearing their death, or so to speak. So it may as well be my imagination that I’m at death’s doorstep, but it may also be not. I don’t know. I can’t look into the future. I did get a feeling that death was near me a few times prior, so this may be a false alarm too. Once typed, I realize the irony of the sentence before this one. There is never a false alarm for death. Death is certain. A reminder every now and then is good. It brings you back to your senses, anchors you to the reality that life is not all of it and we still have the afterlife to think about. I do realize that I have sentimental values on peculiar memories, and I like to delve into nostalgia, but these past months have been an outburst in reminiscence, something that is over the norm, even for me.

Tonight, I once again fall into the depths of nostalgia. I don’t know how I got here, but I did. A sudden remembrance of a past quite distant, it made me rethink my actions and the consequences of it. Tonight, I revisit an old friend and the memories we had. Where is she right now? What’s she doing? Is she okay? I don’t know. I don’t have the answers, except for the first question. I do roughly know her whereabouts, but the details were left ambiguous. I don’t have a means of contact, nor do I feel a need to do so. But it still lingers in my mind. Out of nowhere, like rain on a sunny day.

We were enemies before being friends. Even after being friends, we had a love-hate relationship. Thinking back on it, I can’t justify it any other way than both of us wanting the attention of the other. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps puberty struck, and we were trying out the waters of opposite sex relationship. Perhaps we were just complete opposites of each other in terms of personality, and like cations and anions attracted to each other, we tried to find the perfect harmony between us. Nothing romantic happened between us. That I would like to clarify in earnest. We were kids growing up in a world where social networking and mobile phones are strange unheard terms to us. Do I like her? I can’t say for sure that I do, and I for sure in my complete arrogance would say she can’t say it either. Do we have feelings for each other? Yes, for sure. But was it love? No. We do have feelings of admiration towards each other. That, we admitted. But was it love? That we admit was not the case. Maybe it was just a surge of emotion and curiosity to get to know something that is completely unlike our selves, which to me is her, and her, me. Since the confession of having mutual unexplained uncertain feelings towards each other, I kept asking myself, what actually is it that we’re feeling? But as time went by, I’d forgotten about the question and her existence altogether.

But the memories suddenly sprung up tonight. Out of all the nights where I have nothing to do, nothing on my mind, it picked this night where I have tons to do. I have a lot on my mind, and this particular set of memories picked this night to bother me. So I was faced with the long forgotten question once again. A question that may not have any value to my current self. That said, I still thought that after all these years, after growing up, after legitimately being labelled an adult (although admittedly not ready for the title), I would have the answer to the question; what was that feeling between us? But alas, I am left in the darkness, still wondering what it was. It was a strong feeling. That I admit openly. But it wasn’t love. I’ve never loved before, though I do care about many. Maybe old age will bring forth wisdom to answer the question, or maybe I’ll die before that, still left in ambiguity. I don’t know.

However, I do hope she’s living her life well, wherever she is, whatever she’s doing. I doubt that my existence still exist in the crevices of her mind and heart, but I wish her the best of life and the hereafter.

This is to you Meibelle. Friend. Enemy. Ambiguity.


17th December 2015


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