When the Tears Run Dry

man: is your father a thief?
woman: no. why do you say that?
man: because he has stolen the shiniest diamonds, and put them into your eyes.
- anonymous -

closer. yes. come closer. closer.

you little minx.

closer. closer. closer.

and.... whoosp. got yer. at the rate i am killing the mosquitoes that have ever crosspathed in my life, the al qaeda is going to headhunt me for their next mission in line in london. much to my chagrin, i am not an aspirant woman. well. at least, for now. just give me a day off to patronise that world famous harrods store over at knightsbridge, i will burn every single ounce of my energy in my body to stage another crusade. i will be a war hero and my name will go down in history.

how lovely. if only life is simple like that.

it must be the dejection that desiccates the once glorious life out of my being. i am even focusing on the most trival issues that i will not give a hoot about in old times. sorrow is a glitch in the body after it has too much idling time for consumption. even my xanax is tasting too insipid nowadays which i kept it rolling under my tongue till it dissolves. the uncomfortable constriction in my throat is still there. and the heavy numbing pain on the chest is giving me dyspnea.

it is my fault that his ego has grown out of epic proportions. he is probably hugging his new love and laughing at this schmuck who is still whining at the other end of the globe.

like the novel, another chapter of my life has closed. too soon. and perhaps the ending is expected. the ending has been plotted ages back. sometimes in the back of my mind, i imagine that pen retracing back every single strokes of that aching writing till the pages are blank once more and refilling the pages with new stories. and this time it shall be my ending. the once upon a time, happy after ending that i want.

the new empty pages are waiting for my next chapter to begin. anticipating my new stories. my glass of chai left forgotten on the table, going back through times with me. there isn't much actually. and i left the previous chapter like the way i was asked to throw away my precious teddy bear when i was seven. i hugged it tenderly one last time against my bossom, stroking it dearly once more. rubbing it against my face to remember the feel of its fur against my cheek one last time. talking and cooing to it to tell the lifeless form know that i love it very much but i have not been given a choice to choose, before i gathered up all my courage and flunked it down the rubbish chute. painfully. and with no looking back.

life is a series of moments like that.

you found and lost something precious everyday. sometimes i wonder. if i am to pass away tomorrow, how many friends will bother to turn up at my funeral. will i be the dearly remembered woman like those i always read from the obituary columns of other strangers who have once roamed with us on this mother earth? i am this loony, always imagining myself penning a last note to all my love ones.

dear friends. can you hear me? can you feel me besides you? please don't feel sad. i am not gone completely. i am still besides you. sitting on the chair opposite you, smiling. when you are in the car along the road, i am standing under the trees. i am standing behind the bushes. watching out for you. i will be your guardian angel. helping you. protecting you. guiding you. when you see the sunshine, remember my smile. when you hear the breeze whispering to the leaves on the trees, i am singing to you softly. do not feel sad. can you hear me?

i am reciting the quote every day that i have once came across: i cried because i have no shoes till i saw a man with no feet.

i was the idiot who has sent him packing off to pursue his inspirations. and i was the same idiot who blew up his ego to the size of oz. sometimes an evil thought came into my mind. maybe today i should sent him a bottle of the tears i have shed.

it is time to let go.