a cloudy forecast

The corridors, hallways, open-air spaces outside this building, the shuttlebus, even the MRT—they all have become constricting, restricting places.

If only it didn’t happen, this would not be how my life’s turned out to be. I would’av enjoyed my coffee breaks more without thinking of running into you. Or bumping into you as I line up at the canteen in the mornings for breakfast.

If only the family’s been a little more closer, then I wouldn’t just have you as my ate here. I would’av gotten an entire horde of kuyas as well; instead of just us meeting accidentally by the hallway, or bumping into each other at the elevators, acting it out like we’re both busy, as to say a little nod will suffice . Last time I saw you, you didn’t even nod in my direction.

I really miss you, you know that? At the shuttlebus I yearn for that closeness, the warm smile coming from you. Sometimes I imagine I’ve just fallen into some bad dream; but I’m just deluding myself. Passing the stairwell brings back memories of our batcave days. the MRT’s become some sort of a hide and seek game we play each night.

1 comment:

theLastJedi said...

' wow.. the longing and despondency in that post was just so transcending that it is almost palpable..
- man, that was tough.. a well-written and wrenching post.. =)