03/07/18

I’m either losing my mind or I’m feeling shaky as of late.

Now that I’m forcing myself to return to writing, my head keeps thinking of that specific person. I don’t know what it signifies or why my subconscious is doing that, but one thing’s for sure. We’ve not been in continuous contact with each other. In fact, we’ve not been on speaking terms for years now. It’s not that we had a falling out; we were carried away by life’s responsibilities.

It also doesn’t help that I’m forever reminded of the polar bear statue on the rooftop of the foreign company. It was my landmark every time we drove past the Shah Alam toll in my childhood. It signified so much yet so little to the younger me yet I find myself being comforted by that memory.

Maybe there was a reason why I destroyed all of the documents evidencing that period of my life. I didn’t want anyone to stumble upon it and steal a glance into my past. It’s not that I’ve a shadowy past; it’s just that it’s something that I prefer to keep it private. It should remain with me and only me, where I can bring it up in my mind whenever I’m down. Plus, I can’t forget my past because it’s the foundation of my identity. I’ll just have to accept it and let the feelings wash over me whenever it arises. Sure, we all have our happier moments in life devoid of all complications, but it’s not called life without those mishaps.

I’d like to chalk my sleepless nights to insomnia and the copious amount of caffeine I’ve taken. Believe me when I confess that I’ve taken coffee for dinner. But I know that’s not the only reason. It’s evident that the hidden side of me - the one where only I myself know - wants to rebel against the stereotype. It shows up in the form of those energy-zapping thoughts. And boy, can those thoughts keep my mind active when I’m supposed to be catching up on sleep. Troubled thoughts have kept my mind racing, but no one can understand it until they are in the same boat.

My body has felt weird for the entire week, as if I’m in a dissociative state. Truth be told, I don’t blame him for what he did. Although it left me in a state of daze in the days leading up to my exams, and the witnesses in a state of shock, I empathize with him. He must’ve felt that he was pushed to the edge without an escape route to break his fall or an encouragement that there was more to life outside of the abyss. He must’ve wanted to drastically end the pain that he lived with in exchange for some much-needed peace.

Up until today, none of us know his identity. Only bits and pieces of it.

Up until today, I still remember the fright swimming in her eyes when we caught each other’s glance.