I'm a keen observer of people. It's a trait that has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. I usually relate that particular trait to my line of work, but I like to believe that I've always been a guy who would look past his talkative friend and observe this other mysterious person just above his friend's ear. And that's what I've been doing for the past minute or so when Alexis began rambling about the boy who broke his heart. I'm a keen observer of people and I know that this guy behind Alexis, who can easily pull off a messy hair and an even messier plain white shirt is observing me as well. As I look and trace his high nose and flat lips with my intent stare, I catch him looking back. I know I got him.
I compartmentalize. My mind is a giant public restroom. Compartments lined one after another on the left with the long mirror that hang across the length of the line of cubicles. Every time I go out of a cubicle, I see my reflection and not know the person I'm looking at. Same thing happened as I got out of the last cubicle with the messy guy from the restaurant earlier. But I see a different person in the mirror: I see Joshua. As the messy guy slaps my butt that still stung, I see Joshua. As the messy guy washes his hand and tells me nonsense about his friends who are waiting for him outside, I see Joshua. As the messy guy finally leaves and the swinging door creeks in antiquity, I see Joshua. But inside my head, I've already entered a new compartment.
But as I see an infinity of Joshua, I feel no pain. As I kiss Joshua who's already sleeping on the couch of my apartment, I feel no pain. As I take off everything and sleep, I feel no pain. I feel nothing. Why do we feel? Why do we have to feel? And why do we love? Why do we have to love? Lastly, why do we stay? Why do we have to stay?
These were the thoughts circulating through my head when I first admitted to myself that Joshua isn't just a guy who can satisfy my inner desires; he was more than that. I chose to feel. I chose to love. I chose to stay.
It is kind of funny to say that I chose to finally feel when I used to struggle with every thing that I am feeling. I already said that I am a keen observer and that includes being a little attached with the tiniest possibility in hand. I feel too much when I should feel less and I feel less when I should feel too much so I decided not to give a damn about anything anymore. I let the world feel me, instead.
I don't do love, either. The love that I knew then meant being in control. I love fiercely. I tightly hold the people dear to me. Sometimes I choke them. But I always mistook their struggle to breathe as love. I remember how Joshua would go fast and deep on me and I still urged him to go faster and deeper. And I remember how I would wrap my arms around his soul and feel his wispy arms slapping mine. Pain and love are synonymous in my head. At times, I regard pain as the prerequisite of love – or love, the prerequisite of pain. Pain and love go hand-in-hand.
Since I don't feel and love, it's a natural thing for me to leave. I let people come and go. I always think that I don't deserve them, or worse, they don't deserve me. I jump from one place to another, like a band on a tour marking every stop they come across to. I didn't feel anything for Joshua. I didn't love Joshua. I left Joshua.
The only thing that I knew was myself. There was no one in this world worth-staying more than I but the tides shifted and all of a sudden, I felt, I loved, I stayed.
Joshua carved me into a person who isn't afraid to welcome the rush of emotions this world has to offer. He opened my eyes and by then I saw my real self behind all the boulders I built. He made me see it through him. I do not see Joshua in the mirror anymore; instead, I see Joshua holding my hand to assure me that he is still there. Joshua, despite the pain he endured after I told him that I am unable to comprehend how feelings work, showered me with his love anyway and proved that even if I challenge people to chase me, he will run faster, not to hunt me down but to stay with my pace and be together.
The video was still rolling and the couple on the screen was about to kiss when a drop reached my shoulder. He was crying silently. His lips was pressed into a straight line. I can't read what's on his mind–
"I love you so much," said both of the Joshua-on-the-screen and the Joshua-on-my-lap.
It's been eight years but our wedding coverage still gives a jolt on my heart. I am glad that I once observed and loved fiercely.
I compartmentalize. My mind is a giant public restroom. Compartments lined one after another on the left with the long mirror that hang across the length of the line of cubicles. Every time I go out of a cubicle, I see my reflection and not know the person I'm looking at. Same thing happened as I got out of the last cubicle with the messy guy from the restaurant earlier. But I see a different person in the mirror: I see Joshua. As the messy guy slaps my butt that still stung, I see Joshua. As the messy guy washes his hand and tells me nonsense about his friends who are waiting for him outside, I see Joshua. As the messy guy finally leaves and the swinging door creeks in antiquity, I see Joshua. But inside my head, I've already entered a new compartment.
But as I see an infinity of Joshua, I feel no pain. As I kiss Joshua who's already sleeping on the couch of my apartment, I feel no pain. As I take off everything and sleep, I feel no pain. I feel nothing. Why do we feel? Why do we have to feel? And why do we love? Why do we have to love? Lastly, why do we stay? Why do we have to stay?
These were the thoughts circulating through my head when I first admitted to myself that Joshua isn't just a guy who can satisfy my inner desires; he was more than that. I chose to feel. I chose to love. I chose to stay.
It is kind of funny to say that I chose to finally feel when I used to struggle with every thing that I am feeling. I already said that I am a keen observer and that includes being a little attached with the tiniest possibility in hand. I feel too much when I should feel less and I feel less when I should feel too much so I decided not to give a damn about anything anymore. I let the world feel me, instead.
I don't do love, either. The love that I knew then meant being in control. I love fiercely. I tightly hold the people dear to me. Sometimes I choke them. But I always mistook their struggle to breathe as love. I remember how Joshua would go fast and deep on me and I still urged him to go faster and deeper. And I remember how I would wrap my arms around his soul and feel his wispy arms slapping mine. Pain and love are synonymous in my head. At times, I regard pain as the prerequisite of love – or love, the prerequisite of pain. Pain and love go hand-in-hand.
Since I don't feel and love, it's a natural thing for me to leave. I let people come and go. I always think that I don't deserve them, or worse, they don't deserve me. I jump from one place to another, like a band on a tour marking every stop they come across to. I didn't feel anything for Joshua. I didn't love Joshua. I left Joshua.
The only thing that I knew was myself. There was no one in this world worth-staying more than I but the tides shifted and all of a sudden, I felt, I loved, I stayed.
Joshua carved me into a person who isn't afraid to welcome the rush of emotions this world has to offer. He opened my eyes and by then I saw my real self behind all the boulders I built. He made me see it through him. I do not see Joshua in the mirror anymore; instead, I see Joshua holding my hand to assure me that he is still there. Joshua, despite the pain he endured after I told him that I am unable to comprehend how feelings work, showered me with his love anyway and proved that even if I challenge people to chase me, he will run faster, not to hunt me down but to stay with my pace and be together.
The video was still rolling and the couple on the screen was about to kiss when a drop reached my shoulder. He was crying silently. His lips was pressed into a straight line. I can't read what's on his mind–
"I love you so much," said both of the Joshua-on-the-screen and the Joshua-on-my-lap.
It's been eight years but our wedding coverage still gives a jolt on my heart. I am glad that I once observed and loved fiercely.
A collaboration by John and Slykherin
Regular text: John
Italicized text: Slykherin
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