A time to weep...

I remember a time, a time when i stayed up way past midnight into the early Sunday morning, just to watch my favorite Chinese MTV coundown. A time where sad love songs made me all melancholic, of what, I never knew... The time of silly teenage lovers, of innocent puppy love... where it was sweet just to be able to study together for the A levels. Where I had no idea what was real loneliness, where I loved staring out of my window looking at the midnight rains, and feel sad for no reason, just for the fun of it... and stare at raindrops falling from just outside my window, finding their way to the ground in the dim street lighting... We broke up but stayed the best of friends but maybe he always had a special place in my heart...

I remember the time where every freshman around me was attached, where it was cool to stay in the hall, but me, being the accidental outcast did not have a room-mate to stay with, so I was still stuck to my room. Love then was a short 1 month stint with someone who was on a rebound, and I was still full of myself thinking I was the one who chose to let him go, deliberately ignoring the fact that I was being taken for a ride... I still never stopped believing in love.

Then the big one, the time where I fell in love with a younger boy, who so wanted to become my man... and to our own surprise, we stuck together for almost 4 years... why we parted was a mystery to all except myself. But the time after that was the worst - ridden by guilt, afraid of hearing sad lovesongs, paranoid of going anywhere that would remind me of him. So many times, I was tempted to tell him I want him back... just so I could be in someone's arms again, just so I don't have to be alone. Those very very depressing 10 months - 10 long months he didnt know about. When the doctor told me my skin condition could have been caused by depression, I realised how serious it was. I could have been nearly clinically depressed... it must have been God's grace that saved me. But I was human, and was not spared the mental torment, the constant dread of weekends, constantly trying to fill my schedule with work and play, afraid that just one idle minute will start me thinking and crying again. Friends wanted to lend a helping hand, but I knew those hands could do little to comfort me or to keep my pillow from becoming wet with tears almost every other night, with dreams of what could have been. There was no word to describe that misery, that pain, that was more than metaphorical... I could actually feel a pressure around my chest - this is when I truly learnt the meaning of heart-wrenching... and I thought I could never heal... Then I learnt, what doesn't break u, makes u stronger...

After him I met some more, some who were not meant to be, they had nasty names for people like that, but just not worth mentioning... those who had greater loves, before me, those ended badly... and I learnt I was more in love than I thought, and yet maybe less in love that I thought...

Today I am here, listening to the songs of yesterday, recalling the stories of my past... watching the story of those around me unfold... How would this one end? How far have I sunken? Maybe I'll never know, until the day it ends...

Yet now all I can remember about being alone, is that crippling fear of having all the free time to sit on my bed and let my thoughts and tears run wild...