This Is How We Will Say Goodbye
This is how we will leave each other.
You will leave at 10:13 on platform 12, seven minutes before you have to catch your train back home. I will have knots in my hair and will be wearing the same clothes from last night, because we would have ran out of time in the morning to shower or tidy ourselves up.
I will try to tell you all the things I have kept inside of me, but my aptitude for words will be falling short. Instead, we will talk about the weather and how you hope the train won’t be filled with people on their morning commute. The unlucky vowels that I had chained together during our car ride will stay tucked away under my tongue, and will be washed down with the strongest coffee that the barista had to offer at the petrol station. I will jokingly ask him if coffee can wash down the shame of being cheated on, and he will reply that tequila works best for that.
I will leave you with the brightest smile that I can craft, parting you with the illusion that my heart isn’t breaking into a thousand pieces. I will think how the fragile pieces shine like the reflective glass in the concrete mixture on the floor. I will keep looking at them while you go through the checklist of things you need to bring. I will note how I am not on it and feel the cracks under my ribs escalate with every beating pulse. I have every right to be angry, you will say. It is as if validation can only be granted with your signed approval and charming smile. I will focus on counting the glittering particles and wait for acceptance to wash over me. I will pray that it’s on the next train coming in so that I can leave with more than what I came with.
I will leave you with the heartbreak that has folded itself inwardly with unforgiving heaviness. I will feel tiredness in every limb that begins from the chest and escalates to my toes. Even my words will seem dull and dry, and I will not know how to make them sound exciting or beautiful like they use to. Maybe that’s what you thought of when you kissed her; how her words shined so brightly in that dark bar and how her voice coated every syllable with an enthralling allure.
Looking at my words hurt my eyes, because they now exist with so much madness and disappointment that I feel like they are judging me for being such a poor host to them. All that is pouring out of my fingertips are harsh arrangements like ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, ‘betrayal’ and a couple of ‘what the fuck’ with too many ‘why the hell did you do that, you asshole’. Those are just a few examples of the words that I want to throw at you.
The ability to write delicate pretty words will be put on the back burner, because I have lost the ability to string together flowing lines on how much I loved you. I wanted to remind the world that I had never seen such bright and promising eyes like yours, but the world no longer needs to hear them. So I will follow the barista’s suggestion and begin my search for too much tequila with my roommate.
I will learn to live and let live, just like how you once whispered into my ears as we danced at your sister’s wedding in October. I will remember that it is your loss and that you are missing out on the fullness that only I can offer you.
I will leave you with open palms and my head held high to the summer sky. I will leave with grace and integrity that you lack in both virtues and morals. But most of all, I will leave you with the certainty that I will one day feel love in my ribs for another boy who will think that I am more than enough. I will leave you because I deserve better than anything you can offer, and the two other chances I gave you were twice too many.
*As Seen On Thought Catalog
I Know How It Feels.
I know how it feels to have a tinder heart and a paper body. To feel so soft against the world that seems too harsh, and think that a spark could turn you straight into ash.
I know how it feels to tread through air and startle the phantoms that haunt the silent corners, and to want to freeze the moments where you felt so alive in a time capsule for safekeeping. I know how coating your thoughts with nostalgia makes breathing easier, because living in the past doesn’t seem so terrible when you’ve lost the map to the future, right?
I know how it feels to run your hands through pages and pages of letters scattered on your bedroom floor. They wrote you beautiful words that now make you feel as hollow as the bottles you drink. You try to find the messages left inside each of them, and you let yourself become weaker than how you aspire to be.
I know how it feels to remember promises that now shine like empty words with their tattered edges. They were real, they say to you. They were here. Empty thoughts can set such carless fires to the soul, but you and I both know that, don’t we? We can trace the source from the trail of ashes that have been left behind from its spark.
I know how it feels to measure moments in the heartbeats you skip, and how a palm can feel like salvation with such grace and poise. You remember the way their hand felt against your cheek and on the curve of your back. You remember how they held you with so much strength and devotion on those cool summer nights. You thought to yourself: This is it. This is the only magic that the universe needs to know of.
I know how it feels to know the shadows behind the shades in your living room, and to know that the bare floorboards hold the secrets to your heart. They saw you both dancing to Bruce Springsteen in the summer, and watched you fall in love when the first snowflake fell from the December sky. They were there when they got down on one knee and asked you the simplest question. They saw you say yes to the ring that holds onto you because it fits – not because it is fastened or stretched by false pretenses.
I know how it feels to wrestle with emptiness, and to want to undo the not-doing with one final gesture. I know how it feels when the weight of darkness crashes down onto your chest in the middle of the night, and how you wish things would stop spinning because the axis seems tilted now. I know, love, I know.
I know how it feels to be lost, left, and forgotten.
But I also know how it feels to breathe through the pain and create something beautiful out of its residue. I know that there is strength within you to put one foot in front of the other and sprint with momentum. I know that your humble hands are capable of creating beauty in brush strokes and in inked penmanship. I know that the city lights will guide you towards the better, and that you are never too broken to be beyond repaired.
I know how it feels being lost within infinite moments and memories, but I also know that you are not alone. I know that there is strength in you to right the new wrongs. I can see it in your dilated eyes as you search for the answer for your fragile heart. I know that you will create beauty in the neglected and plaster yourself together with every fresh exhale.
I know how it feels, and I know that you will make it through all of this.
*as seen on Thought Catalog
this is who i am.
I know you will find this.
I know this because if I were you, I’d take a quick Google search to see what kind of person I am and what kind of trouble you might be headed towards. This is what you are looking for, right? This is why you clicked on this post, and I don’t blame you for wanting a full disclosure on the can of worms you just opened.
I am here to quickly fill you in on these things.
I am more than an expensive piece of paper or an email. I am more than the title of my course, or the societies and activities I was involved in. I am more than the student representative, the personal I put on for a radio show. I am the collective memory of 24 years of breathing, living and loving. I am a daughter and a sister, a writer and a dreamer, a nomadic traveler who craves for the mileage that often only a plane ticket can offer. I am someone who can never settle with contentment.
I am a trader of sorts with lessons and experiences that don’t live on a page or typed on a document: they exist in the world outside of my window. They are in projects that I have been so proud to be a part of; in the stories that I have written and published; in the videos that I have been involved with; and the teams that I have been so privileged to be a part of. I am in the relationships I have built and kept with the phenomenal souls and people I love. I am in 2 am pizza parties and wild decisions after whiskey. I am in the momentum and strength that I carry with humble hands. These are intangible things that cannot transcend themselves into ink on paper. And to me, these are the things that matter and reflect me the most.
I am encoded in the genetics passed on to me by an English Father and a Chinese Mother. My tongue speaks of three languages and my modest hands play four instruments. I have been taught by intellectuals on how to write and understand the world created in film and languages; and most of all, to breathe in values and virtues that build a strong backbone to be proud of.
I am fueled by coffee and lessons learnt from different cultures, fragments from cities that have taught me what it means to be human in a world with no limitation. I have been taught to be the best variations of myself, and how to swim when the current wishes to see you sink to the bottom.
Liverpool taught me to be a student with passion and creativity through words and music. Hong Kong taught me what it means to put one foot in front of the other and run with everything I’ve got; to gain momentum through work and learn with open palms that nothing is too terrifying if you are willing to try. New York taught me to be bold and daring in a city that always craves more. Sydneytaught me the art of breathing and the beauty that exists in a every sunset. Vancouver taught me the importance of being thankful to lost love. Tokyo taught me that language doesn’t act as a barrier to form friendships. Rome taught me the importance of history and architecture. Amsterdam reminded me to be wild, and Thailand taught me the importance of sunscreen.
And as for where I want to go, I is up to me to decide how I want to consume it. Let it be a challenge and an opportunity to evolve outside of my comfort zones. Let it be the chance to be wild eyed and fight for the chance to fall in love again. And I sincerely hope you see that too. I sincerely hope you see that I want this more than I have ever before, and that I am no longer afraid to speak from the shadows of just dreaming.
I want this.