The bar was not empty, but as we sat at the booth, the crowd faded away... and I felt like I was in a movie, with the spotlight on our table and the background blurred. There was no need to talk over the noise -- there was no audible noise. As we shared our various stories and takes on issues, my heart seemed to find a grassland on its own. Not the one that I had been expecting, but I felt at peace with myself. Maybe good company does good for a confused mind.
Cliched as it is, but apparently peace does not last. The incessant nagging in some unidentified corner of my head could not be ignored. I picked up my handphone from the table to think of a reply to that curt message. Something to ease off the tension, something to put things right again.
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As I parted the curtains, sunlight flooded the room. Seems like the rainy season is over. I always loved the sun. Even when I used to row. It is a wonderful source of energy. I think I function like a plant, needing this divine energy to propel me forward, and so my mood changes like the weather. You know, she's got the sun in her eyes.
Been a long time since I've gone out to sea. I miss soaking in the enormous bed of marine life, riding the wakes generated by the beautiful but noisy boat, and learning new tricks. I should have forgotten most of them by now -- not that I used to know alot though. Technical stuff seem easier to control than relationship-wise. But I probably like the instability (do i?) and newness to it. The dynamic nature. The minor head injury that I suffered when I got thrown off the wake and my board flew off only lasted for a few days. But however insignificant, injuries of the heart seem to last forever, even though they can be totally small sometimes you don't feel them. Like how I remember the presence of the scar on my left wrist, no matter how tiny it is now, from my Primary School days. Not that the incident still floods my mind now, but the memories and the pain with which the scar brings is so vivid. And that's where they're irritating -- you know they're there somewhere.
Maybe the excitement in my life that I had to forgo for a long while is the cause of my addiction to Ice. Or maybe I had thought that what I missed out in life could be found in the drug. Either way, I picked it up. I knew no harmful effects of Ice, except the withdrawal symptoms. It had become a part of my life -- my regular dossage that perks me up like coffee. The assurance that I'll get my next dosage has become a constant thought in my head -- and it is the engine of the vehicle that drives me through Life. The day I knew that I might not have the means to keep my supply of that drug, that the drug was not made for me but some other kind of people, was the day I tried to quit. The escapist I am, I was able to do it -- til I saw my next pill and felt the effects it had in me again. The joy I feel, the filling up of a little void in me, the craving for more. I may be a little addicted.
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