It has come to a point in time when the sporadic thoughts are kept for posterity. Everything else either gets walled in or is lost forever to the sands of time. There’s no more the desire to just write for the sake of penning thoughts down for the sake of it.
There’s no more cause to fight or stand for now. It’s now all about living and just allowing days to pass until… something happens.
Stagnating spiritually has inevitably evolved my personality into something else.
There was a brief foray into dating websites and a flurry of applications. This was shortlived only because interest waned the moment they asked me to pay for a package. If someone were to tell me that I’ll have to resort to this ten or twenty years ago, I would have laughed in that person’s face heartily.
For now, it’s all about (re)starting the work on keeping … the promise I made two years ago.
The invitation came via a text message as her big day drew nearer. We’re talking about weeks, rather than months now. Yet, despite the passage of time, the “what-ifs” were never really fully resolved. Somewhere inside of me, there was this temptation to spill them all out. Then again, it would be futile and just simply wouldn’t make any difference to her life.
The rational aspect of me would argue that I should have done all that much earlier. However, the argument was that there was never an implicit hint of when she might have met her other half. Adding to the confusion was her comment about her concerns with long-term commitment.
It’s all academic now. Her wedding would be one of those that I had attended, where my heart would swell, my ego bruised once again, the voices of condemnation echo incessantly and the resolve strengthened (only to dissipate the next day).
Something needs to be done, but way too many things are holding me back – consciously or subconsciously.
With the ex-sarong kebaya girl having celebrated her house-warming and making the parental units proud, she is almost officially “grown-up”. The last rite of passage would be the wedding, where yours truly would be the smouldering, grumpy and grouchy brother of the bride at the dinner and assorted activities. The temptation is to write a letter (not type an e-mail or send a text or IM message) to express the thoughts of someone who prefers not to speak them. Hopefully, it’s good enough for them to be kept for posterity sake.
Perhaps that would be my only gift from my heart I could give to her.