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do you see what i see

in the solace of solitude and in the midst of the rain, the mind brings itself back to memories that you've been trying so hard to shove back under the carpet in the last three weeks. the mind's now flashed with the walk from whitefields to westwood. the grass, the water the trees. the cars and the little pathway next to university house. there was always this anticipation and excitement of knowing what was to come at the end of that little journey. it was you, and like a little child, i held on to my ipod and walked with my face in the wind knowing that a face as warm as yours would be there to take the chill away. there's no such walk now, and no such face to yearn for. i sneak peaks at your facebook profile like a relentless stalker. and it's as if all i want now is to be part of your life again, like i was back then. i wish this holiday was like easter, because it gave me something to look forward to everyday.

pushing the mind further back, there was a time when i said i wasn't ready, and you were disappointed. and so was i. and then there was this walk under the trees, near the lake, near a bridge, and i told you how the crowns of trees fascinated me, and how amazing it was that the night sky finds its way to peek at us through the canopy even as we took shade under it, attempting to hide from the steely gaze of the night. and in that moment, we were fearless. we knew what we wanted. and we did what we thought we weren't ready for. we were fearless.

and then this tenacity went away and you went away and i was left here all alone.

fearful.

tearful.

and perhaps all this longing and pain is a knee-jerk response to a loss so sudden and so unwilling, that one may never truly recover from it. time and distance cannot do its work because the heart is stubbornly unwilling and unfaithful. in the end, it's all about faith. a faith as strong as the belief i had in you and us, to believe that time and distance will steal the pain away, so suddenly and so silently you barely notice.



the song rattles my heart as strongly as it did in yours. and i know why now.

“do you see what i see”