Always Forever

"You are the love I need
You are the air I breathe
You are my love, my life, always forever." -Phil Wickham

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Accidental Minor Crisis

February 7, Midhour -- the day I crashed my spanking new motorcycle scooter...

Surprisingly, I've reached a kind of equilibrium.

At the edge of my bed, my left shin is swollen like the skin of a bruised grapefruit, underneath the ice pack interchanged every 1.5 hours, once again evidence to my being sick. And that, insignificant evidence has proved another seemingly irrelated point. Heartsick. My body of restless energy has been brought down from its physical high, to the utter reality of another reality. I don't even know how it started. What day it began. This heartsick. It's so beguiling. And I always self-diagnose late. I feel baka; bakayaro. That means fool. As if my life was just being swept along with the tide, never knowing where I was going to or from. I'm not the wind that moves the waves, but the shell in the waves. The ebbing tide... I forgot how I was ever found, and how I am lost again. Time is lost to me. The tide is ebbing, I must catch it before it returns.



I think it started with a disappointed, instance. Maybe it's someone left, more than one. The promise of a near future together slipped through my fingers, through my mind, until I forgot it was an actual breaking, promise breaking, heart breaking. I don't blame anyone. It's the orchids, the lake, the rain that leaves me with this eeriness of no one to share it with. I'd ride on the moped, taking it out for practice run 35mph down the lakeside road at night, and turn to crash myself onto the ground, just like how I crashed on my purple bike with wild pink breaks. I don't know why I did it. I wanted to break, but accelerated instead; I was nervous; I was absent-minded. I kept finding myself distracted. Maybe I'm just unconsciously thinking of this No One to share the crazy experience with. I'm not recognizing anyone, or anything, so that the horizon is finally blurred in my vision, I've confessed.

It's like having amnesia and starting at the end of your memory. I want to un-forget: to un-distract myself by thinking concentrated of this No One and who it could be, to un-break the future by painting solitude in real still-life of vivid colors, to un-disappoint by living together imaginary. It was no one but you. I remember how we started and started looking at each other in a sunlit classroom, saying words across coffee tables, lying close enough to the green grass for a massage by the tree's shadow... the nights and the days. I'm sure you remember the idiosyncrasies of oatmeal and rice and cheerios. I'm such a dork. I'm sure you remember that.

I'm sure that because of this, you would laugh at me falling off a moped, at my utterly naive and reckless Asian-ness. I hope you recognize the little fool. I wish you could. Then maybe I could recognize her too. And I wouldn't be such a stranger to myself.

Then Time starts coming back to me, searching for my home, here beside the bed, nourishing me back to health. Time is all that's needed. For equilibrium.

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