Tipsy and thinking of you
I miss you. So,so much. I miss you when I am sober, I miss you when I am drunk. You've ruined 'getting drunk' for me, because you're the only thing I can think about when I have a bit of wine in my body. Remember when you were at that basketball/netball game and I drank a bit and I called you? When I was wearing that purple vest top thing which was a bit low cut but I felt safe with you to the point that I didn't care? But you did tell me to cover up playfully. I am drunk again tonight, and I am wearing THAT red inside dress which you like/d. I am thinking of you, but not sure you even remember all our moments at this point. I am drunk, but my brain is not here. It wanders and visits all our beautiful moments, all the moments which felt so unbelievably perfect. I miss all our moments, all the time spent together. You made life so fun, so easy, so.. not impossible. I really, really miss you, but I know that if you ever come back it won't be the same.
I miss you
Why won't you leave my mind :(
I have been trying so hard... I think. But you're always there, sometimes at the back; most times at the front. Everything I do, I know would be more fun with you; especially when there's cooking involved.
The words for writing this are not available to me right now, but just know I miss you.
Beautiful full moon.
Hey you, it's been a while!
A week and a half since I last properly thought of you. Since I last gave you more than five, ten minutes of my brain space. Then on that random morning after that brunch with Clair, a notification popped up. You had checked my profile... the previous night at 1 am. And all my self-discipline crumbled. Why did you do that? You knew I would know. I wish I never saw that notification - did you go on my profile to keep me hanging, because you knew I'd know? Since then, you've started peppering my thoughts again. I hope you're doing well - that's always my first thought when you go through my mind. I hope your upcoming court date goes well; I would have loved to be there for you, to have a coffee afterwards as you tell me about how you felt seeing him in court. And then I would remind you how far you've come and the huge strides you've made in life after what happened. And I'd be grateful, because I was there to see it happen.
And then I thought of you again last night. Did you see the moon? You were camping - I knew that much. I knew you went, and in that photo that I saw, you looked so happy. So that answers my question I guess, my question as to if you're doing okay. I am glad to see you happy; your happiness was and will always be very precious to me. I hope last night's moon made you as happy as it did me. You, kilometres away.. under the same bright, full moon. I hope you looked up and a smile crept across your face. I hope the little things in life give you happiness, and last night I lived for the hope that you and I saw the same moon and had the same thought - how beautiful it would have been to share that moon with you.
Double decker bus
Fuck.
I thought of you again just now.
I am on the bus, on the "best seats in the house" as a vibrant girl called them the other day.
As I look up from my premium seats with a 270 degree view of london from a humble second storey, you crossed my mind. Well, 'crossed' is a lie, because you came in but you haven't yet left.
The windscreen in front of me is quilted with a layer of warm breaths on the inside, and a marathon of rain droplets outside. Last time I was in a bus and I had these seats (though the left side ones), I was on the phone with you. I was even wearing the same jacket I am now.
I remember maniacally laughing with you on the phone, as both of us were in fits.. me slightly less elegant than yours. I forgot why I was laughing, but I knew I could not shut up. We were talking, we were laughing, we were ecstatic - we were in our own little bubble together despite the hundreds of kilometres distance between us. I did not care that I was laughing so loudly on a full bus - you did that, you made me that comfortable in my skin. As long as I laughed, and you were there, the whole world seemed fine and nothing could hurt me. Nothing could make me question myself.
Now even typing this feels like something I shouldn't do in public.
Ghost of 2023 past
I find myself thinking less and less about you.
You are no longer at the forefront of my mind... although I can assure you you still skim through it a couple of times a day. Now you feel more like a dream which has passed me by, a ghost of 2023 past. My mind is playing tricks on me, and some of the details are becoming hazy.
Life without you is becoming easier, thankfully.
Airport pick ups
Why did you have to come into my life?
Wouldn't it have been easier on the both of us if we never met?
We met, we became friends. You became a wonderful friend to me - I had never experienced that thoughtfulness, that kindness, from someone who I didn't owe anything to. A couple of weeks ago I saw something online which said, true love is airport pick ups. God knows how many times you came to pick me up from the airport, how many times you dropped me off. I never asked.. you know how I am with asking for favours. But you never made me ask. Instead, you asked ME if you could come for me. You wanted to, you said. And you were always excited to, always happy to. God, your face when I came in November - remember when I couldn't see you at first and I was worried; because we had had an hour's delay and I had no way of letting you know? To be honest, I wouldn't have been surprised if you had left; it was a long time to wait. But oh no you did not go; you stayed patiently waiting in your car - then got out of it as I approached, so you could hold me in your arms in what turned out to be one of the best embraces I've ever been held in.
Your warm breath on my neck as you hugged me tightly, asking me how I am. I did not answer; because anything that I might have been feeling before was made alright in your arms. My goodness, your excitement whenever you saw me was palpable; I couldn't believe how anyone would be that happy to see someone else.
Except I could, in a way; because that's how I felt whenever I saw you.
But it was that same excitement that ruined us. Nothing that fiery can last for long; but the damage it's done to my head and heart is irreparable. I ask myself, wouldn't it have been easier on the both of us; on both our hearts and brains if we had never met?
Actually, I know it would have been easier for me. You came into my life and you brought so much colour, so much happiness - remember, you made me fall a bit more in love with life again? But when you left, you took that away with you. So now I am trying to find that same happiness, that same colour worth living for.. without you as an intervention. And I am struggling, it is so hard to do this alone; and I am not sure I really want to actually.
But where are you now? I am blind, I have no idea what you're thinking, I have no idea what you're doing. It's safe and sane to assume that you've moved on, I think in your heart of hearts you knew that I am not the person for you. This silence, this space, makes me doubt if we had the same experiences in our minds - was I as important to you as you were to me? Was I always there for you, or could I have done better? Did I make you as happy as you made me? Would it also have been better for you had we never met?
I hate my brain for not wanting to let go. Because letting go means forgetting, and I am not ready to do that yet.
The most important lesson.
The most important lesson I have ever been taught came served on a very cold dish.
A patient of mine had passed away. He was a patient who I had formed a very strong bond with. A patient who I looked forward to seeing every week; a patient whose family knew me by name. Whose family always looked for me, despite my trying to cower away in a corner in the consultation room. A patient who would fist-bump me every single time, and who would always smile at me with his bright blue eyes... and later on, eye. He was not my patient... yet, but oh how I wish we had that opportunity. He never ended up being my patient as he was taken from this world too soon, and that will be one of my biggest regrets. At the time I could do nothing, even now - I am still helpless.
Although I learned a big lesson that day - that of never forming strong, deep-rooted relationships with your patients; that was not the most important lesson I have ever been taught.
I was distraught when I learned of his passing away. I had missed a number of previous appointments, and ironically, during our last appointment together I was overjoyed to learn that he was finally being referred to our clinic - finally, he'll get to be my patient and I promised I would try my very very best to help him. We shared a meaningful embrace, even his sister joined in - and I told them I'd see them next week.
But that never happened.
The pain I felt when the consultant shared the news with me was incomparable to anything else. It broke my heart - the patient who I thought of everyday, who I prayed for everyday.. who I got my family to pray for everyday.. died? It shattered me, I could not function properly for a while after that. Did I have a right to feel this much pain? He was by no means related to me, but the pain I felt then was just as grounded. I thought to myself, I would really like to get in touch with his family, to see how they are doing. To see how they are coping, and to share our sadness together. I wanted to reach out because I really really cared, and because he had a special place in my heart... which he still occupies, almost three years down the line.
But then, the consultant shared a very important insight with me. He asked; "But what would they gain from you reaching out?"
I fumbled my words - I told him they would know that I cared, and that I thought of him. But the truth was; I was subconsciously wanting to reach out to attain some form of closure... for me. And although I might have very well gotten that closure, the real victims in this scenario, i.e. the family themselves, might not have gotten that same result from our hypothetical interaction. It was then that I learned, that no matter how painful a situation gets. No matter how unsurvivable, how heart-shattering, how mind-numbing a situation is... I should not reach out to absolve myself of any loose ends. The pain I feel might be greater than anything else I've ever felt before, and I might think that that pain would be allayed if I just reach out...
But it is never about my pain. I need to bring others first - my patients, my patients' families... you. Your pain preceded mine, and I care too much about you to try and fix myself at your cost. I am certain that in the long run it will be better for you that I did not reach out.. and I hope you never know the pain that not reaching out has caused me. I cannot put into words how badly I wanted to call you, message you, how much I wanted, needed to hear your voice... and the amount of times I came dangerously close. But I wanted you to feel better. And I knew that if I did reach out, I would hinder that. I wish you the very absolute best - and I really hope you find happiness in your life; as wonderful and fulfilling as the happiness you gave me. I hope that by not reaching out, I catalysed your journey to happiness.. but please don't for a second think that I did not reach out because of me. Because I did want to - I really did, but what I wanted more was to protect your heart.. at the cost of breaking mine.
A day in London
Remember that Waterstones near Green Park in Piccadilly? Right after Fallow - what a wonderful meal that was. That day was a whole adventure with you; so many gastronomical firsts with you by my side! So many highlights have stayed with me... looking back, I wish I had kept a journal of our memories, happy and not so happy, together; because I cannot always rely on my brain for the correct recollection. But in all those minutes, hours spent together that day, I keep repeating the same 10 minutes in my head.
You took my hand in yours in that little café in Waterstones, and looked me in the eye. A pot of tea and a coffee filling the space between us, but both were being ignored - you had something important to say.
Thank you for showing me what love is, you said. I was stunned to hear that - me, show YOU what love is? How is that even possible? When all I did was practice restraint; holding back because I have promised myself to someone else? How could I have shown you what love is when all I could give you was my attention as a friend?
You said you've never seen a proper example of love; that you had no idea that love can look like this. You said that growing up, your parents had fallen out of love; that you cannot remember them ever being affectionate towards each other. You said that you thought that's what it should be like when we grow up and look for love. But then you said that I changed all that. You said you finally understood the wonderful thing they spoke about in movies. I could not, and still cannot understand why or how. But throughout my time with you, I realised that the why or how is not always important... sometimes things just are; and I can only be grateful and feel blessed for having them.
It's funny, because I was under the impression that throughout our friendship, YOU were showing me what love is. In the other occasions preceding that day, and the ones which followed - you were always, always there for me, in so many ways. I just had to pick up my phone, and I know you'd always answer. You made me feel safe and comforted and really, really loved - so it was a bit ironic that you were saying those words to me, rather than the other way round.
You might never get to know this; but I will forever hold your words in my heart. I have recently been told by someone who I poured all my love and my soul into that he has never actually felt loved by me in all our years of knowing and (I thought) loving each other. Your words from months ago, said on that day in London then stepped in - love-cum-armour trying to hold the pieces of my heart remotely together. Since then, your words have never failed to remind me that I AM capable of giving love, I AM capable of loving. My heart is forever indebted to you. Thank YOU for showing me what love is, on so many levels.
'Dear Universe... If I never get successful because I have a lot of fears, may you at least allow me to be happy because I have a lot of love'
Okonomiyaki
You would have loved it today. Your okonomiyaki would have had meat on it of course, you being you - and I could hear your teasing in my ears because I had the vegetarian option. You would have asked our chef questions about the ingredients, the cooking, watching intently to perhaps learn something new. When the chef leaves, you'd confidently declare that you can replicate this, that we can make it together one day. I laugh because that will never happen, but it's a nice dream to carry.
You would have made light fun of my total inability to handle chopsticks, taking my hands in yours to show me how. Once you get to your okonomiyaki, you would have closed your eyes for a second in wonder as that first bite hits your tongue, savouring each ingredient as only your palate would. You would continue to eat in silence, expertly cutting yours on the hotplate whilst I am trying to elegantly hack away at mine. Again, we laugh - I was not born to do this. When you laugh, you don't close your eyes. Instead, you look fiercely into mine. I look away, because your intensity scares me.
You finish your meal before mine, and I feel pressured as now I have an extra pair of eyes watching me struggle with a simple pancake of cabbage and potatoes. But they're your eyes. So I calm down and finish my okonomiyaki in peace.