Glass

 

You have had broken hearts before.

You know what it feels like, what it smells like, what it likes for breakfast.

This isn’t it.

 

A broken heart swells instantaneously.

 

Its hurt is immediate – loud and obtrusive. It makes you scream and cry and rage, like the wounded animal that you are. Savagely, you demand retribution and justice, for the injustice that has been unleashed at you.

 

Yet, it also heals – if not to what it was before, at least close to what it was before. It becomes one again, beats again, breaths again. Time solders the cracks, joins what was ripped, and mends what was broken.

 

This heart is not broken.

 

There was no pain at first – it was hours before the first gnawing throb started, growing into an all-consuming grief that makes you nauseas. It made you quiet, shuttered, withdrawn. You feel nothing yet mourn everything, retreating to a quiet corner, hiding from whatever it was that destroyed every vestige of your humanity.

 

You know that this is something no thread or superglue can make whole. The fragments are too small, some lost to the winds that howled overheard.

 

For this heart is not broken. It is shattered. Beyond recognition.

Temporary Insanity

There was once a time where I could laugh at anything.

Even with hindsight, it was the perfect Spring. The sky was sunny with a bite of chill in the air that played at our ears and fingers – just enough to make everything pink and adorable. Suddenly, there were no insects, no puddles, no funny smells. Just you, with your smile that said nothing yet meant everything.

It wasn’t in the way you wore that blue sweater I bought you. Neither was it because of that glass rose I still keep in its box. Yes, that meant a lot, especially knowing how thrifty you are – for you to be parting with so much money for something so whimsical. It was probably more meaningful than anything that I could express in words. But that was not the reason why I could laugh at anything.

It was that split second, when your eyes caught mine, and I saw the world flash before your eyes. Because to you, for some strange and insane reason, I was the world, the most important thing in the world, more important than anything else in the world.

It was that moment, when you smiled, that lopsided grin that always made my heart skip a beat, then beat faster. That grin that said “Hello!”, “You just made my day”, “I love you” and “There was nothing before you”, all rolled into one. The grin that always made me feel like I had just discovered the cure to cancer, the solution to world hunger, and blessed the world with peace.

We watched the ducks that day – an hour out of time. Before the reality of the world rushed back in to choke us. Somewhere between then and now, I’m not sure what happened to all that laughter.

Perhaps it worked out for the best. After all, laughing at anything is a sure sign of lunacy.

Perhaps that was it, after all. It was all spring madness. And I have sobered up.

True Colours

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing”

“Of course you’re thinking of something. You can’t be thinking of nothing”

“Can’t I?”

“No one thinks of nothing. It’s humanly impossible to think of nothing. To be thinking of nothing, you’d have to stop every single thought that could possibly cross your mind.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! At the very least, you’d be thinking ‘It’s cold’ or ‘I’m sleepy’ or ‘I wonder what I shall have for dinner’. All human beings will have something to think about at some point. It’s physically impossible to have absolutely nothing on your mind. Even when you sleep, your mind keeps working. That’s why people dream.”

“Okay.”

“Unless you’re a freak. Or an alien. Even then, I think aliens think all the time too. Even airheads and bimbos would probably have something on their mind at all times, even if its just the fact that they think Barbie is a Goddess. Or that Prada is the mothership. Dammit, everyone thinks of something at any point!”

“Uhuh”

A moment of silence.

“So what are you thinking now?”

“I’m thinking that maybe, we should call off the wedding.”

Jeremiah

I sit on my lofty throne, king of all I survey. Occasionally, my humble subjects would look up to me in pensive awe, but by and large, they leave me alone. Perhaps none of them realised that I too have a story – that I once had more than this life they see.

Old yet ageless, I cannot recall my youth. My past has a make-believe quality to it – almost but not quite real. The oldest memory I have is looking out of the window, watching a busy world go by.  On hindsight, I would never have guessed things would turn out the way it did.

I remember the day they walked in, cheeks aglow from the biting cold of a December winter. They were looking to take one of us home. It was odd, I thought to myself, how the man would choose but the lady would decide. When they got to me, she squeeled and grabbed me, holding me close to her chest. This one, she proclaimed.

I fell in love with her then, this angel who rescued me from window-watching my life away. Instead, I watched her daily – humming as she brushed her hair, the sweetness of her laughter whenever she caught me staring at her. She loved me, she would say. I was her darling Jeremiah, her wonderful prince.

Yet, there were darker days to come. Soon, I would not hear such sounds of giddy happiness. The man disappeared, and took with him the sunshine of her days. Where the sight of me would once bring a twinkle to her eyes, there was only sadness. She could not bear to look at me anymore. She whispered softly - I’m sorry, my darling Jeremiah, but perhaps things just were not meant to be.

I waited, counting the hours, the days, the weeks, until my angel would return to me. Too much time had passed, until I had almost forgotten what I was waiting for. There were days where I would awaken in a panic, trying to reach for something I did not want to lose, yet not remembering what it was.

Till one day, when the Heavens shone upon me. My angel returned, cuddling me in her warm embrace. Yet things were different. Even without words, we both knew that too much had passed between us to ever go back to the way things were. And so we made our peace with each other, and she let me go. As she gave me one last kiss, she whispered, thank you for those happy times, my darling Jeremiah.

I may appear cold and aloof,  incapable of emotions. As I sit here, above my kingdom, they think my glassy stare reflects the coldness and emptiness of my heart. And I am content to let them think that.

But, make no mistake, this toy frog has lived. Oh, how I have lived.

Fencing

He was silent, but so was she.

Many times, he would chide her about the silence. A playful scold, slipping in a reminder about wasting precious money on telephone bills while saying nothing. She could hear his smile, and he knew she had that mischievious glint in her eyes, like a goblin about to turn a bucket of the farmer’s milk sour.

He knew what she would say – she had said it before. He might not really understand her perception of silence being filled with unsaid words, but he knew she truly believed it. She was, he decided a long time ago, much more sophisticated than him. A gouchy fumbling fool who, for some reason, she thought was wonderful.

And yet, they played this game. Over and over again. His lunge, her parry – clashing verbal sabers was their idea of spending time together. The same words, the same order, the same tone. The routine was comforting to them, like a good morning kiss and a hug goodbye before going to work. Odd, perhaps, but they were odd people to start with.

Tonight, their swordplay fell short. He lunged, and tripped, and could not get back on his feet. She crouched next to him, offering her hand to pull him up. She couldn’t reach him. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t reach him. She watched him – wary, sad, yearning.

He was silent, but so was she.

But tonight was different. The fences were up, and she had no way in.

Insanity

Have you ever felt that your heart was so full and so empty at the same time? That the world was moving far too fast for you to catch up but far too slow for your liking?

You think, perhaps I should hide in a corner, shun all light and happiness, for light and happiness will only make you suffer even more. But you crave the joy that comes, and every time it does, you think maybe this time will be different. Or maybe the smiles of today will make up for the pain that will inevitably come. And yet, you already know that is never true.

And yet, and yet…

So where do you run? What do you do? The harbour protects her ships but who protects the harbour when the storm comes? It is always the patriot who dies – and you don’t want to be the hero anymore. But that was never a role you chose for yourself. And now, when the melancholy howls at your door, you don’t know how to be anything else.