Take a Deetour

"I write to find out what I think." - Joan Didion

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Personal Effects


Much of today was spent going through boxes of my past. Boxes from as far as ten years ago when I was at uni, boxes from when I left my job a year and a half ago.

I don't know how else to describe the ache, except that it feels like death. It's almost like going through someone else's personal stuff. Someone who was close, but someone who has gone, never to return again.

Going through old words I have written & photos capturing images much younger than they would be today, I can barely recognise the girl that was. That girl seemed so sure, so confident, so happy, if I knew her now, I'd probably wanna punch her.

I guess that's the problem with being older. I'm not wiser, just hyper-aware of my short-comings, uncomfortable in this state of limbo. Back then, I didn't look back or forwards, I enjoyed being in the moment without over-thinking it.

For the most part, I try not to resort to self-indulgent, sentimental drivel, but rifling through sheaves of the past seems to have shaken up more than I bargained for. It smacks of narcissism to speak this way, but I can only speak of things in relation to me. Call it a boomerang butterfly effect - one small gesture has led to this big one.

As I was making my way through a pile of papers from the past, I got a text message. It was a friend I hadn't heard from probably since I was nine. Y had bad news. Our mutual childhood friend had a heart attack in KL and died. DIED? This same friend I bumped into a few weeks ago who said he'd get in touch with Y so all 3 of us could meet up? he did and that's how she got my number. Only now K is gone without me ever getting to know him again.

And here comes the irony: I talk about feeling old when looking back at my 19-year-old-self, but can't help wonder how someone like K, who's my age, could have died so young.

I have no other way of mourning what I don't know anymore, so I'll mourn this way, with the lyrics of a song that came on the radio when I found out you'd gone, K.

Runaway train, never coming back
Runaway train, tearing up the track
Runaway train, burning in my veins
I run away but it always seems the same

~ runaway train/ soul asylum



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