I recently went out with the bitch club. The level of closeness and honesty that we've reached with each other has accorded us the ability to have the strangest of conversations, from the deepest and the saddest, to the most absurd. With JJ's booming voice, I believe at least a good quarter of Starbucks' clientele that night (/morning - we stayed till the wee hours of the morning) had their ears tuned in into our conversations, which jumped from people whom we knew from junior college, choir activities, to travels, relationships, work situations, to oddly, finance and trading, and then took a sexual turn leading to how boys in some parts of Columbia fuck donkeys as a rite of passage to manhood (VICE, and Reddit. Don't ask.).
I miss having conversations with people, that aren't about work, that aren't about being angry.
I haven't really dealt with it, but being away for one week, for that short holiday in Hong Kong, I came back feeling really disposable and inadequate. I think it's just the truth. No one's indispensable when it comes to work, but it doesn't mean that feeling replaceable doesn't suck.
Maybe I'm overreacting, or maybe I shouldn't be looking to one source for validation; or even, just to make sense of life - but what is life but floundering and denying certain aspects and certain people and bashing through blindly with what you think you supposedly know?
Maybe I ought to be home just a little bit more, so I could hug my mom while braless, and she can nag at me for being braless, then get reminded of this anecdote about how she saw a woman in a really sheer dress at the bus interchange, but said woman was also wearing really small panties, and she appeared to have a lot of pubic hair spouting out from the small triangular piece of cloth that really wasn't doing its job. Maybe I can witness my mom giggling away on more occasions, when she tells me silly things like this.
I don't even really know what my brain is dealing with anymore because I feel really stressed out. Or depressed. Or both.
I recently met someone who has a quiet demeanour. I apologised for saying too much, for talking too much, because as opposed to what he says, the output is definitely more on my end. But he said he enjoys listening to what I have to say.
It's the small things you miss the most. Starting off the morning with a "Hey", a thought of the way you'd pronounce the word "Hey", that makes it yours; the thought as a trigger for fond memories associated with you, flooding your brain, gushing through every single cell; a longing of wanting to hold your hand again, of wanting to fall asleep with you... I'm not sure if a part of my brain/heart has died.
I write about my everyday experiences & pen down my thoughts in this lil' space.
I read, listen to music, have a passion in language, love makeup and most of all, I observe. I really like learning.
I love making a difference.
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