昨天的四月-

最近生病，身体垮了。累坏的我也就随着身体的需求，在生活上放慢了脚步。

声音没了，也就更安静，更注意周围。

发现同学学生朋友非常爱护我，体恤我。有些还乐意地拥抱我一下。温暖的滋味，非常的甜；关怀的举动使一个原本劳累的一天更有明亮的光彩。虽然外面下着倾盆大雨，天气非常的冷，时时刻刻都有寒风吹着，不过，这只使朋友的拥抱显为更加的温暖，更加的宝贵。

非常像不久前的四月-那月的每一天有如鲜红的西瓜，都是非常的甜美爽口，带着淡淡的馨香。非常满足快乐的一段日子。但，岁月不待人，离别的那一天终于来临。

嗯，记得那一天，是多么地注意小东西，多么地想让这故事以一个完美的句号结束，准备开始小说的新一章。那故事是结束了，新的一章也早就开始了，才发觉自己还依依不舍。但要在那天给故事括上一个逗号，是不可能的。而时光，也不能倒流。

想起来时，感觉有点儿怪。快要到八月份了。一个星期多久要搬进新家，为那地区增添更多的记忆。但又有点不想。已经把那地方与你联系起来，现在又要作些新的联系，多情的心有点舍不得，只觉得怪，很怪，非常的怪。不过，这些新的联系是不可避免的，非建造不可。

怎么说，也是新的一章了，该有新的发展。永远存在现状，也会闷了，感到乏味。当然，这只是我猜想的，但我想应该是这样吧。

新的一章，新的人物，新的朋友。新的笑话，新的故事，新的责任。生活，也起了一点变化。较注意身体，不愿意像以前这样使力地推自己。可能因为在这方面已没有那么多的压力吧。开始学习说“不”。开始学习作倾听的耳朵，而不是埋怨的嘴巴。每天早上收到朋友温馨的短讯，一个活泼的早安。

但这次，我不会把旧的线剪断。它们还是很宝贵，非常的宝贵。熟悉的声音，亲切的话语，在这时刻，我不想失去它们，也不愿看它们因我消失。最近几天，就是感到无比温暖，欣慰，喜乐。朋友的关怀，拥抱。同学的问候。早上的问候短讯。顺利的活动。朋友的喜乐，在痛苦中所遇到的暖和。朋友的电话。哥的电话。

在一个有如新的生活方式里，在熟悉的人物找到靠山。这些，可能明天就消失了。

但我感激我既然能有这么一天。

The Lord is Good.

Phone Call-

They were on the phone.

"Shall I meet you?" he asked. The night was dark, the wind strong. He walked to the window. Rain drops plummeted down, fat and heavy, before splashing into tiny sprays when they met the ground. The occasional car went by, wheels grinding into puddles at high-speed, sending drops of water flying - a different kind of splash.

She replied. "No..."

There was silence. She heard his breathing. It was raining. It was cold. She gave a slight shiver, the whole of her body twisting suddenly in an reflex action she had no control over. It was cold, from head to toes. She needed her jacket. No... her blanket would be better. That could cover her feet too. She stood up and went to her room to get it. The door creaked a little. She winced. She went in. The dim light from the living room highlighted the room in greyish colours and shadows. She found her blanket. It laid there, a pile of light grey. She opened the door wider to get in. The light shone onto the blanket and showed it to be silver. She took it with her free hand - the other was cradling the phone.

He heard the creaking, but stayed quiet. What could he say? His invitation was turned down. He felt crushed. He wondered why. He was too proud to ask. He only stayed silent. The rain became heavier.

She went out of the room. He was still quiet, and only his breathing could be heard. She went to the sofa and huddled herself up. It was a long silence, she felt.

"I'm sorry..." she ventured. "But, but I hardly think I can take it any longer. Do you know the things they say? How they make you out like a monster. Some great awful beast. A slithering serpent. Ah ah! They're not helping. You're not helping. I dare not see you. No, not because I'm afraid I'll see a monster. That still seems far from reality. I'm afraid of seeing a shell, a fraction of the person I thought I know, but is now someone I don't. Hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, bitter smile and laugher. What kind of wrathful fire burns beneath!"

It was still silence on the other end. She felt sapped, drained.

"You had better go sleep," he said, at long last.

The words seemed curt; the pain unbearable. But she was too tired to argue.

Tossed by the elements-

Somehow the line of my lifebuoy is going slack. I'm not sure if there's even a hold on it anymore - I hope there is, but it's out of my control. But it is slack, and I'm floating out to sea.

Choppy, very choppy waves. The waters ripple; currents trying to pull me off the lifebuoy. Down down, come down the water says, embracing me and trying to pull me in. Down to Davy Jone's locker, they say, down depths below, to a place where even sunlight can't reach, where all you'll see is black, and feel coldness slide across your skin. And then they lap gently.

Then more roughly, and my head goes underwater, only my hands are left gripping, and I'm pulling myself up, and down I go again, up, and down, up, and down. Gasping for air results in them splashing into my mouth, and I choke and spit them out, but the saltiness remains. My eyes sting and I feel dirty. But that’s of secondary importance.

I'm up against one who would never tire, while my own reserves are running out. The elements realise it, and laugh – I am the one at their mercy, and nothing could bring them greater joy. Storm clouds join the scene, dark, brooding and heavy.

It’s not long before rain pours, big fat complacent drops of water drumming down, wetting my hair, running into my eyes, sticking to my face. A final struggle, a last heave of strength, and I hoist myself a little higher and rest my head on the buoy too. Safe, for a while, until my hands slip. But not now.

The clouds go away, deciding to play with me later. The sun comes out again, shining unbearably.

But amidst such torture lies little droplets of happiness and joy, which is kinda funny, and a bit hard to reconcile with the whole matter at hand. The view, wide expanse of blue, and clear blue skies above, and islands far away in the distance. The sun sets and the sea is set ablaze, fiery red and orange. As the day settles into dusk and stars come out, the dark blue of the sky is intoxicating, the twinkle of the stars so clear.

And then darkness set, and the stars twinkle, but otherwise all is black. And how I yearn for the sweet relief and escape of sleep, to rest. But I can't, for fear of falling down into a darkness one cannot escape from.

At least my emotions are back in rein. Visible, but not going to lash out at anyone else.

Besides, my hands are really tied.

Art-

What I would like to do is to take pictures of people - not their faces, but themselves, from the back, the way I see them. A picture of them gazing up or down at whatever has captured their eyes for the moment, be it fireworks, or down from the height of 40 stories, or up at a intricate spider web. A moment. Their moment.

I'll name each individual photo after the name of the involved. And then I'll call the collection gaze.

A pity is that I might not be fully able to capture that moment, as they survey beauty and take it in, saving it in their memory...

"So she took her love
For to gaze awhile"
-Sting

Still, I'll try. Over the holidays perhaps.

Wow Wow Wow.

Why did I even bother? Why did I try baring my heart in hopes that there'll be mutual support and encouragement?

It hurts to be an initiator, especially when you mean it in absolute truth. At least I was prepared. The blow would have been a stinging slap if I hadn't prepared my shield. After some time the shield cracked though, as expected of old unused things.

Meanwhile he goes chop chop, let's move on.

To familiarise myself with the shield again or not? Hmm.

**

Isolation appeals greatly to the independent mind and soul, and even more greatly to pride. Pride sees a super charming deal that glitters and glow with full appeal.

After all, why drag you into the pain too? Better me suffering, than two suffering. Heaven forbid that I should ever drag you down when you're feeling happy, that I should ever spoil a good day of yours! Never should my trouble take time away from your day, for you to be unable to continue with your work, for you to be all distracted.

Always always, rather me than you. Rather one than two. Rather one person in pain than two in so. Rather rather rather...

I don't know how to face tomorrow.

This coming morning to be exact.

"Woah darling, that's so fake."

Let's stop those fake smiles, because I've never cared for you much and you've never cared for me too I think. The feeling should be mutual. I can't connect to you, nor talk to you. There is no similar interest as far as I can see. You click well with the others. Fashion and clothes, the latest gossip, boys and eye candies, the latest star, the cutest thing ever.

I can listen, but I can't join in. I can't continue a conversation like that.

You think you know me. I cringe at your impressions. No, not because they are awful. But because they are so good, and I know I'm not what you think. My self and the impression you have of me are such polar opposites I don't recognise myself when you describe me. Open up your eyes dear, and your mouth, and ears, and you'll realise I am actually like you, maybe even worse. Don't you realise everytime you say stuff like that you're stabbing a knife into me, and twisting it hard hard hard as I suffer from pangs of self-rebuke?

Oh wait, I forgot. You don't have the time to do it I think.

So let's stop all this.

**

But stopping would kill me. And it's not what God wants too.

But what then?

I'm already slipping, and each session is a facade.

And I don't see how you can throw two people together and ask them to make friends just like that. Well perhaps you can actually. But the way you've put that process into words, and assigned us partners, and all, it feels weird.

Thanks for forgetting me though. That was the only good part.

But my sister was there, so I had to raise my hand and inform you of my lack of a partner.

I believe I've been thrown into that with her because I'm supposed to be the more mature one guiding. Of course the possibility that it could be the other way round is just as high. And I'm wishing that it's the other way round. But something, something of me say it isn't.

Pride, is that you? Or is it something else, like rationality of mind, or the skeptic?

What can I do for a babe, the one whom God already so tenderly loves?

**

Tomorrow's questions are going to twist themselves in my heart.

But being me, I have the textbook perfect answer. As always.

This is not maturity speaking. This is an above average academic ability speaking.

**

Would it be more apparent, if I run away and go sit at the pond?

Nah. That might be too attention-seeking.

Then again, whoever questioned?

Maybe I shall.