It is better to have love and lost than to have never loved at all. Paraphrased (as close to the statement in my memory as possible) of course, but no less true.
Today, I woke up with a realisation that to lose love is to lose heart. The illustrations of many a publication should have given me this cathartic conclusion but idly, my mind ignored the subtleties of the images. When someone leaves you, be it a relative, a spouse or just a significant other, they take a piece of you with them. Neither gray matter nor osseous tissue, but an unseen muscle.
The heart is hidden and protected via wondrous designs - the thick flesh of the pectoralis major, the flexible yet strong ribcage. Yet, the metaphorical heart can be lost so... easily.
Given and never reclaimed.
When you love someone, you will never stop loving them. How else can you love? To lose love is to lose heart: to lose the faith that the world is not such a cruel place, the belief that there can be some purpose for existing other than to survive and procreate, the strength to strive on to be a better man.
Carry on then, as an empty husk of a human being. For without heart, there can be no living.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
Bookmarks
I have not been on this blog for a very long time. A long break from the monotony of work should have fixed that, but when things like this fall out of habit, it is not something that comes to mind.
The impetus for this post stems from a friend leaving Singapore today and from another friend's writing sometime back. Of course since today is a no work, lazy afternoon expanse of time, mass media has its hand in it too. What else can fiction do except mirror real life?
It will be another year before I follow the footsteps of many a Singaporean student. Taking a flight that lasts 6 to 24 hours may seem a necessary evil for a temporary stay. Make that stay more permanent and a flight becomes more than just stepping on a plane.
I am not one to use bookmarks - the physical piece of card, often with a frilly tail - to remind myself where I have stopped in a book. I rely on memory (I am on page 142 in "Kidnapped" by Robert Louis Stevenson) or in most cases, reading the book till the very end before putting in down.
Chapter is to book as ________ is to life. Word associations aside, I can only fill that blank with a single word. A flight next year would change that altogether, flipping the page to a new chapter. Thinking about it now, I am desperately looking for something, somewhere, some-when or someone (a combination of everything listed would be nice).
Just to be a bookmark, to be here unchanged and unrelenting, tucked between the pages to let me know that I still have something left behind that I have to come back to. No matter how deeply in love I fall with London.
And I looked over my shoulder at the people still standing there. I wave my goodbyes; they can't hear me anymore.
The impetus for this post stems from a friend leaving Singapore today and from another friend's writing sometime back. Of course since today is a no work, lazy afternoon expanse of time, mass media has its hand in it too. What else can fiction do except mirror real life?
It will be another year before I follow the footsteps of many a Singaporean student. Taking a flight that lasts 6 to 24 hours may seem a necessary evil for a temporary stay. Make that stay more permanent and a flight becomes more than just stepping on a plane.
I am not one to use bookmarks - the physical piece of card, often with a frilly tail - to remind myself where I have stopped in a book. I rely on memory (I am on page 142 in "Kidnapped" by Robert Louis Stevenson) or in most cases, reading the book till the very end before putting in down.
Chapter is to book as ________ is to life. Word associations aside, I can only fill that blank with a single word. A flight next year would change that altogether, flipping the page to a new chapter. Thinking about it now, I am desperately looking for something, somewhere, some-when or someone (a combination of everything listed would be nice).
Just to be a bookmark, to be here unchanged and unrelenting, tucked between the pages to let me know that I still have something left behind that I have to come back to. No matter how deeply in love I fall with London.
And I looked over my shoulder at the people still standing there. I wave my goodbyes; they can't hear me anymore.
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