In Continuum.

Broken Record Player

"Take care
I've been hurt before
Too much time spend on closing doors
You may hate me, but I'll remember to love you
Goodbye
Don't cry
You know why
And it'll be just as quiet when I leave
As it was when I first got here
I don't expect anything...
I don't expect anything..."

I remember my mother telling me about a record player.You know,the logo of HMV with that cute dog by the side of it,or those little golden ones you see annually on the Grammys.She used to tell me that back in her days,her father(My grandfather)used to have one.I think a record player's so mysterious and sexy,for some reason.I dont have a fetish over it,but i guess it'd be a good antique to have as part of my collection of...well,weird things.

Anyway,you know how a broken record player goes.When the needle jumps and the same line goes over and over again.That's kinda how DJs earn their money but,in a way it can be quite annoying.That's the state of my head,personified in a way.Like a broken record player the same old things have been repeating over and over.Well,at least i am not suffering from insomnias anymore,though i kind of miss the melancholic feeling i get every morning when i wake up from a sleepless night.It's a sadistic thing to love,that feeling of sleeplessness.But then again,i am positively pessimistic,and all-so sadistic in a healthy way.So sue me for being bad to myself.

You know how so many rock stars only become famous after their deaths?Not just rock stars,though.A lot of famous people have their names written in history only after their death,especially if those occur in a poetic and dramatic way.John Lennon was shot by a crazed fan outside his apartment,Jimi Hendrix had a drug overdose and choked to death on his own vomit(WHY?),Kurt Cobain killed himself with a shotgun,Socrates was executed before Jesus was born because he had different views from the government,and they were afraid that he might wrongly influence the youth in Athens.

It's the departure of people that makes an impact on others i guess.It's that human nature of not appreciating,taking things for granted that caused us to have this strange emotion to people who leaves our lives.It's a bad habit,but something we can never shed like smoking or doping.The truth is,we are all sinners when it comes to taking something for granted.

Only when she's gone,then i realised the emptiness.A broken record player i am,once more.Time and time again,all over again.I hate to repeat,and i shouldnt.Not ever again.I'll briefly touch on it,then leave it as that.After all,they are just memories,right.

I was just discussing with myself,the difference between you-then and you-now.I dont suppose a few months on the calendar wouldve made much physical change,save for those brown hair you got yourself after the exams.I dont like you-now,i really dont.It's not one of those self-denial things,i am not trying to convince myself anything.Because i am certain of it,true to my heart,that i dont.What bugs me,what troubles me really is you-then,in the back of my head where the parking lot was saved for you so long ago.I remember those "Monsters in my Pocket" toys that i had,with all the different colour monsters,small enough to fit inside your palms.I loved the orange series of monsters that i had,and i remember whenever i group the different colours i would always save a space for the orange ones.I love the dragon monster,the one with scales and those wings.I love the dragon,and it always had a place in my toy box.Always.

You-now,doesnt talk to me.You pretend to be hanging around,not noticing but always watching.You-now,is with another guy.That nincompoop.Oh,get it fixed.This broken record player,it is annoying the hell out of me.

I dreamnt of you the other day.You broke up,what a joy it was for me.For some reason your break up was on television,and you were with this other bloke,this other schmuck.I woke up to Martin shaking me,asking me to fall in downstairs in ten minutes.Then i realised my theory about dreams the other time,how they are always the opposite,negative image of reality.

"You didnt hate me in my dreams",i thought."Why cant you just hate me?"

So whatever happened to our promised coffee at 40,you-then?What happened to the mudcakes,too?What happened to the overnight chat you promised,you-then.You never lied,i know you dont.But why now,why now.

"...So he grabbed the machine and screamed.He screamed so loud,his voice went out.The machine stared back blankly,lifeless.The music was still playing in the background,over and over.The melody pierced the man's head,and he tried desperately to shake it out of his head as he banged the machine againes the wall.It banged and he banged somemore until the top came off.Parts of the machine strewned all over the ground,and the music finally stopped.He was panting now,and his heart was beating fast.There was an odd silence that followed,an unnatural peace around him that in that instant,he felt uncomfortable with.Something he was so used to,so accustomed to all this while,now gone with the muting of the music..."

"All the waves of blame arrange as broken scenery
As they steal your best memories away
What if I was someone different in your only history?
Would you feel the same
As I walk out the door
Never to see your face again...
Never to see your face again..."