Invisible Strings

We are burdened by the rules of society.

And it's a shame. It's sad that we cannot be who we want to be, that we can't say how we feel, that we can't simply do what we want to do.

These rules of “morality” are what cause so much pain. We are internally tormented by the conflicts between what we want and what is expected of us by others. We have so many people to please – our parents, our partners, our colleagues, even strangers- that our needs practically come in last.

What would it mean, to live in a “free” society? I don't think I'm talking about anarchy. Laws and regulations have their uses. But what about social freedom? Freedom to talk, to make, to criticize, to love, to feel.

No matter what people say, we are meant to have partners. Someone to share our lives with. The question is, are we meant to share them with one person forever? Surely relationships, just like anything else, eventually run of steam, eventually reach the end of the line.

And that doesn't have to be a bad thing. I honestly believe that the most I've learnt about myself was through other people. Why lose out on opportunities to learn, to grow?

The thought that we have one life, just one chance, has been weighing on my mind for a long time. It makes me want to take chances, take risks, do as much as I can. If I want it, I'll go for it.

That's not to say that all relationships must end after a certain period of time. Who am I to dictate anything? There are many couples that stay together, happily, for years and years until the end of their lives. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that- the point here is, we should maximize our happiness. When we feel that things are not working... we should not be afraid to let it go.

We must be confident. We must know who we are. We must believe that everything will be okay, that we have to change for no one, and be under nobody's rule. We must believe that everybody has the right to do what they want, as long as nobody is getting hurt. Otherwise, what is the point of it all? What is the point of living life by a bunch of rules, sacrificing, avoiding certain things just because they are considered wrong by the society?

This doesn't mean we have to be harsh, or exploit people. But being honest about how we feel, and just talking, can come such a long way. There is nothing to be ashamed of, no matter what is on our minds. Absolutely nothing.

Poison

One of the hardest things we can do as humans is admit to ourselves about how we really feel. But sometimes even admitting it is not enough; not enough to find a purpose and not enough to get onto the right path again.

For some reason we need a constant reminder of why we should be happy. And what does that mean anyway? Everything is relative after all... we can be grateful for what we have, the opportunities we have been given, but it doesn't mean we will be happy. And that is the curse of being human, of being conscious and aware.

Almost exactly a year ago, I lost something that had huge meaning in my life. It had a profound impact on me, knocked me off balance. Since then I feel like I've been living a surreal life, memories are hazy, sometimes I don't even believe it was me. I have been regaining my footing, but I acknowledge now that where I am heading off to is not where I used to be.

Don't get me wrong. Yes, the loss was sad, and sad is not even really the right word to describe it. It hurt like nothing had ever hurt before, and the pain changed me. But I don't regret it. And this is where things are important... no matter what happens, you have to understand and accept the part you played in it. You must admit that things happen for a reason. You cannot blame yourself.

Things weren't right for a long time, and there was no way to fix them. But this is what happens when we hold on to things that are broken. They become toxic, they start to poison your life, but you hold on. You hold on because of the sentimental value, because of its meaning. These are the things that separate us from machines, from animals. Empty, rotten energies become the centre of our lives, and we cannot give them up until they are wrenched from us. We are forced to let them go, desperate and pathetic, but it doesn't matter. None of it matters.

So how honest can we be with ourselves? Can we admit that we are hurt, or that we feel empty? Or would we rather fill the gaps in, with other temporary things? I think we are master liars- but to ourselves. We deceive ourselves into believing we are who we want to be, that even the idea of being honest with the self seems quite ridiculous. I think that even in moments when we think we are being bitterly honest, admitting to ourselves we are nothing more than we really are, we are still fulfilling an image in our heads of ourselves- the “honest” person.

We are ever-changing beings, so fickle, so unclear. Extreme emotional situations especially can easily deter us from our paths... “there's someone in my head, but it's not me”.

Double

A lover first, a woman second.

--

There's something alluring about a first date. All dressed up, fancy restaurant. Stolen glances, secret smiles. Dim light, tall glass of red.

How to discriminate between love for a man and love for a woman?

Is it the long lashes, the perfectly manicured nails that look at you, or a meticulous tie and dimpled cheeks?

Is it the feline, ferocious sex appeal of a woman, or the overpowering dominance of a man?

--

And who is to say, who you should love?

Connect

What do you do when you want something you know you can't have? As glances meet and eyes connect, the link is undeniable. What human being can explain what happens when that link occurs? A jolt of understanding, yes, and vulnerability. Feeling naked. As I look up at you across the smoke-filled room, I am shocked to find you are looking right back at me. You don't flinch, you don't turn away. Hold your gaze like you know exactly how I'm feeling. Those few seconds pass by painfully slowly and everything else seems to swim by. You are a closed book.

A contradiction. You don't look like you're supposed to look. You don't talk like you're supposed to talk. The odd one out, the outsider. Everything ties back to you- you are the link. How did you take this role?

Everything I've built up breaks down near you. My confidence- shattered. You break me down and I fall apart. Am I everything I think I am? And then you come back, offer a helping hand. Maybe, just maybe. But you're good, right? Right?

It aches. A glimmer of hope, snatched away. I'm grasping at air, everything is just beyond my reach. Are you too high, or am I too low? I hate the doubts.

It doesn't matter. Maybe this is how it's meant to be. Maybe I could've been a fly in your web. Maybe I already am.

Or maybe, just maybe, you don't know what you're doing either.

Breathe

Breathe, breathe in the air.
Don't be afraid to care.
Leave, don't leave me.
Look around and choose your own ground.

Long you live and high you fly
Smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry
All you touch and all you see
Is all your life will ever be.

Run, rabbit run.
Dig that hole, forget the sun,
And when at last the work is done
Don't sit down it's time to dig another one.

For long you live and high you fly
But only if you ride the tide
And balanced on the biggest wave
You race towards an early grave.

-- Pink Floyd (Breathe)

In Transit

I have become a traveller. I invariably journey alone... in fact, I do not remember the last time I flew with a friend or family member. I like the solitude.

A lot of the time, my life feels like it's in transit. Nothing is either one way or another. This is reflected in almost every aspect of myself: I am the offspring of two quite opposing cultures, but I identify with neither one completely. This is why I constantly need to be on the move. I can't stay long enough to soak up a culture. I need to be in-between.

My favourite part of the journey is the ride to the airport. This time, I am aboard an underground train. It will take me slightly more than an hour to reach what is considered the busiest airport in the world. I have taken this train many, many times before. To me, it is the in-between of my two homes. One represents sun, money and family; the other represents freedom, knowledge and cold. I love both dearly, but I cannot live in one without the other for too long.

I get on the train at the very centre of the city. The carriage is over-packed, but my first instinct is to immediately check who else seems to be going to the same place as me. There are businesswomen in suits, listening to their music; big, burly men dressed casually like they are on a lazy day out; students, on the way home from lectures, exhausted... and tourists, travelling in packs, always loud, always excited. As the first half hour passes, the crowd slowly trickles out. This usually happens by the time the train moves from being underground to overground. There is now enough space for me to sit down.

At this point in my journey, I always reflect on the other times I had taken it. I compare who I am today to who I was then. I go through some memories, remember how I felt, who I was thinking about, what I was looking forward to. I realise that every single time the answers to those questions would be different. And I am sure the pattern will continue. That is almost certain; who I am today will not be who I am tomorrow, or next month, or next year. I would like to say that it is just the surface that changes, but I fear that is not true. Sometimes, I know that my very core, my innermost beliefs have changed dramatically.

I observe the people around me. An old man near me has “PEK” written on his backpack... the handsome blonde one opposite doesn't seem to have much baggage, I wonder where he is going... a middle eastern young couple, students, stand close by. I always imagine these people on their planes, going off to their various locations, living their lives. For now, this temporary amount of time, our lives are interconnected and we will all come together at a point where we all disperse again. It seems like a beautiful idea. Life is so surreal in moments like these.

We eventually reach our destination. Here, it is all about wide spaces. Following rules, following directions. It's a miniature version of life outside, but at the same time, it's nothing like what goes on outside. This is its own world. Time, too, has an abnormal quality to it here. Everything seems to be swimming by in slow motion, yet the clock looks like it's racing.

I go through the motions that I've done so many times before. I'm in transit, again. In between. When it's time to board, I move to my little seat, look out my little window. I will be up in the air soon. And oh, there are things to look forward to. But for now, I don't mind being at a point where I am neither here, nor there. For this temporary amount of time, nothing from either worlds can get to me- no problems, no news, no people. I am unreachable.