Again, it seems like a
broken record, playing the same track over and over again. A short day that seemed like it spanned ages. Mentally tiring, physically draining, overall nonchalant. I find myself devoid of all conscious thought and worthwhile memories. It's a sort of peace I suppose but it's not particularly the most appealing feeling.
A lot of people today have been asking me "
How are you?". How does one answer that? I've been debating that recently. Should I answer politely and let the innane
small talk continue on? Should I answer truthfully and scare them to the
point of no return? While I sincerely appreciate the concern that my friends and acquaintances show towards me, it simply disturbs me. It disturbs me because they're concerned for me. I never did like others caring for me in that fashion, thinking that it is a sign of weakness. I'm a nurturing guy that hates being nurtured. I'm a living
paradox. I'm starting to feel that I don't know myself anymore.
Work was long, tiring and like a leech, sucked the life I had out of me. It was only four hours but seemed like eight. They kept on moving me around from my home department. While I didn't want to leave the tasks behind to my co-worker, I took pleasure in knowing that I am doing something new. Redundancy breeds boredom. When a guy who is deathly afraid of change takes pleasure in doing something new, that must give one a great idea on how boringly repetitive my job has become. There was a lovely young lady that kept on looking at me as well. That was definitely pleasant, as I stared back. It was one of those moments where we passed each other and we both looked back and each other. The smile that she gave me seemed to infuse my body with adolescent joy even for that moment. I quickly ran to my terminal and gulfed down some water. Before I knew it, I was off work.
My mom gets me and we head home. I turn on my computer, and I immediately bombarded with questions by my sister who
Fin.K.L was. I showed her and at least she agreed that the ones I thought were cute were actually cute. Then, we started eating dinner and again, they were trying to find out what type of girls I liked. I stayed silent, then my sister and mother started comparing my ex-girlfriends, at least the ones they knew about. I stared at my food, and for that moment, my heart started beating faster and faster. I ate quickly and left the room, facing the possibility of facing questions that I was either not willing to answer or not able to answer.
Myself,
MrFurious, and our friends Mike and Kev went out to go play some ball. It's becoming pathetic actually, four grown men trying to play a game that we know we cannot.
MrFurious is the master of the everlasting endurance. Kev is the master of
trick shots. Mike is the master of the most unusual crossover in the game where he literally waves before he tries to pass you. Quite funny actually. Myself, being the largest in mass, which I always tell myself is due to the higher muscle composition I have whether it was true or not, am the runaway truck. We played some games and finally went inside to the gym. Kev left us behind. I predict him leaving us for his other friends but that's okay.
I've known Mike for the longest time and we've been through so much that I always thought that he never wanted to know what was up with me. I never did tell him what was wrong with me. Besides, the possibility that his liberal ways might slip some sort of information about myself that I rather not reveal to the public. He's also never mentioned the name of a lost love to me simply because he knew it is a sore spot. It has almost been three years since he has. He did today. I was speechless. It felt like my eyes dilated, with eyeballs popping out of the socket and all. I held the weights in the air, feeling the blood flow up my arm into my elevated wrists. I close my eyes, and bite down hard and start grinding teeth. I say nothing and I concentrate on the weights. Finally, we leave for some food.
We head over to Wendy's but it's closed so we went to
McDonald's instead. Bad service of course, even from a former employee like myself or Mike. At the tills, we got onto the topic of jilted lovers, simply because of the indiscretions of the lady. I understood both sides, and unknowingly, I blurted out to Mike that how I did so. I think I hurt him that I didn't tell him, but I had my own reasons. While telling people is usually therapy, telling the wrong people would lead to more questions, and more time thinking than necessary. I avoided the subject and finally, we dropped off Mike to his home in
New Westminster.
On the way back to
Richmond,
MrFurious and I have a deep conversation. It's nice to talk to people who have a different perspective but what was said has already been considered by myself already. Simply, while knowing that one will not make the same mistake again, the lesson learned will not make the past go away.
We go to the arcade and play some
Strikers and
DDR and again,
MrFurious is on his way home. Now I'm here alone, on my chair, the chair that is my friend and my second home within my home. I came in from sitting outside on my balcony for two hours. It was nice seeing the full moon, overshadowed by the fast moving clouds. The silence, interrupted by occasional sounds from the wind chime, calmed my nerves. Now I'm ready to sleep, deeply awaiting the cold embrace of the darkness. Let my beating heart slow down enough so that my eyes may lead me to dream.