June 6, 2014

IMG_20140606_153650Today I was lonely, and exacerbated my loneliness by deliberately returning to an empty house. I want and need company, but my limit is quickly reached these days. I had reached it today. Today, the weather matched my mood; gray and overcast, massive steel exhaust vents pointing to the sky; it must take so much to power a large complex. Where does the smoke go; does it get pushed to the ground by the rain. And what is it about us that needs filling- the approval that lets us live.

Today I picked up a baby earthworm by a leaflet I’d taken from the library; somehow it had fallen into the sink and was drowning. It climbed onto the leaflet and I flung indiscriminately; it landed on foliage, where I stared dispassionately while washing my hands, a plump young girl staring at me, then to the worm, in turn. She noted my presence when walking past afterward, whilst I waited for the lift. Later on in the MRT, a faceless stranger sat beside me. She’d two books in her hand, one by a motivational speaker and another on diets. I concluded she desired to be happy and skinny.

Today I went to the library, and it was difficult because of memories. I borrowed a Jeffrey Archer in the cause of one of those memories. Perhaps Faceless Stranger will conclude I’m a mindless escapist. Later on I bought myself some avocados; comfort drink for the lonely nights. They were ripening fast, and at five for three dollars, a good deal. I wonder where decomposing avocados go. At the counter, I discovered I’d misread my numbers and had to return two, and pay five dollars instead. The elderly  Filipino after me struck up conversation and we chatted about avocados for awhile. I told him I’d had avocado shake in the Philippines before; he advised me to go to Borocay. I also like the smell of boiling tea eggs. The musical car ride was playing ‘joy to the world’ when I entered the post office; I thought it was untimely and strange. It was still coming out from the speakers when I reemerged some time later. I walked home in the rain, under a shakey umbrella. Pulling the umbrella out of my bag, I realised my bubble blower had come uncapped, and the casualties were my sparklers and an ang pao containing eighteen dollars. I had to throw them away; this will teach me to go around with bubbles in my bag. Oh, but I had used it before, when I was sad. Before I tossed it I blew a few bubbles with the remnant liquid for old times’ sake. The bubbles floated through the air and past leaves. I hoped they wouldn’t damage the leaves. Above me was a woman’s voice on the phone, instructing and discussing. I found I couldn’t bear to toss it. It’s standing on the table before me now. But back there I opened my umbrella, and trusted the rain would wash the soap away as I puzzled my way through puddles. After everything, I looked down and saw water seeping through invisible holes, tracing patterns through the polyester. But I had not gotten wet.

Today I sent a letter, but it wasn’t to my husband. I hope it will be well-received.

Today I go back to an empty house.


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