In Continuum.

Mental Polaroids

I'm writing you to
Catch you up on places I've been
And you held this letter probably got excited
But there's nothing else inside it

The chill of the icy cup of coffee was already getting to the tips of my fingers as I stood there with a napkin wrapped around the cup in the middle of a bustling cafe, looking for an empty seat indoors. But every seat was taken, save for the one next to the group of annoying teenagers, pouring themselves over a laptop and laughing their heads off like baboons. Suddenly, the seats outside right next to the row of glass windows looked more attractive to me. Besides, it was drizzling outside then, so why the hell not.

When stared upon with such resentment, I wondered if it was because of the smoke inside his lungs that caused his face to distort into such a irritated look, or was it because of the fact that the sight of a loner - me - infuriated him. Perhaps a bit of both, as the man in the red shirt in front of me stared towards my table with a leg upon the chair and cared too little about the No Smoking sign on the table. He and his partner covered it with the plate of strawberry cheese cake, how convenient of those ignorant bastards. The girl's back was facing me back then, and I could feel him looking at me, this queer looking teenage sort of guy, reading a storybook and drinking a cup of coffee at the same time must have looked rather pathetic. But of course, all these might only be the result of my wild imaginations. After all, there is a sense of hatred towards me whenever I go these days, even in the bathroom when I look through the mirror. What resentment! What animosity! I swore to stay away from reflective surfaces for the time being, until I learned to like myself a little more.

Didn't have a camera by my side this time
Hoping I would see the world through both my eyes
Maybe I will tell you all about it when I'm
In the mood to lose my way with words

Our brain works like a photo album of sorts when it comes to memories, I always imagine. When speaking of a certain object or person, our brain flips through those pages of memories and we pick out the first mental picture of that object or thing. For example, I remember during the night when I was over at Corinna's, she was telling us about how different objects reminds her of different people in her life. Anything related to The Lord of the Rings would remind her of Valerie, since she is the biggest fan I have ever met. A common friend with Ahmad called Charlene would remind her of him every single time. A big glass door would remind her of Samantha because there was this time when she ran into one - I'm sorry Sam, and books and coffee reminds her - of me. That is how her mental photo album works, and I guess I have my own set of mental Polaroids that I took throughout the course of my life.

Today, the skies are painted
Colors of the cowboy cliche
And strange how clouds that look like
Mountains in the sky next to mountains anyway

Speaking of the Primary school for example, I'd first think about the long walkway that leads to the main school building itself, with the orange roof and the beige colored pillars. In the distance, the triangular roof of the school hall, peeping over the trees and the other school building in the distance. Speaking of the Secondary School, I picture the entrance to the main compound, with that same kind of long road that leads towards the porch. But because of the construction of the building itself, you can't really see the rest of the building from the main entrance really. So I see the chapel all the time, the way it stands in the corner of the school behind trees and statues of the Virgin Mary. And my Junior College would be the sight of the grand stand, as seen from the running track next to the car park, and the round dome-shaped building to the side that included the lecture theaters, the teachers' offices and the library.

Those are my mental Polaroids of the schools that I have been to. Of course, in further inspection, I'm sure that I would be able to pull out more mental pictures of these places, but the above are the very first images that come to my head whenever they are spoken of or mentioned. I guess that is why they say a pair of human eyes is the best form of camera lenses there is in the world. We are born with the best quality possible - considering that you do not have birth defects of course - and we don't need to worry about the Megapixels or the memory card. This piece of information could become the next inspiration for some writer out there, experience a writer's block about a serial murderer whose method of killing is yet revealed to the author. Digging out human eyes to make into camera lenses - sick.

Didn't have a camera by my side this time
Hoping I would see the world through both my eyes
Maybe I will tell you all about it when I'm
In the mood to lose my way but let me say you should

Our eyes like lenses, our eyelids like shutters, flashing away at strangers on the train and buses. The image of the three couples with their heads on one another's annoyed me somehow. Come to think about it, a couple of months ago I cared so little about the public display of other people's affections, because I knew that I had my fair share of it. But now that there is this moment of solitary and loneliness, these mental images that I take of people on the bus suddenly becomes stinging to the eyes. The way these couples lose control of their necks and allow their heads to rest upon the heads of their partners, I never understood that part. I wondered, then, if these images ever stung you like they did with my eyes. But I guess, you are probably too happy and too joyous to be in the same state of mind as I, for there you are with your newly found partner, visiting the places that we have been to in the not-too-distant past happily while I, mentally regurgitate at the mere idea of doing so. I've been avoiding places, specific seats, just so that I wouldn't vomit in front of a bunch of strangers for no reasons. Plagued with nostalgia and melancholia, it's not as if anybody has controls over their gag reflexes anyway.

The mental image of you old love, is one with you to my left - always the left - with just your face and neck revealed underneath those hair. There is a luminous quality to your face, as it braced the sea breeze and smelled the salty air. Radiating, you emitted a kind of burning chill somehow, and there I was from your right, staring at you as you looked into the distance with such sadness in your eyes. And then I start to wonder, why is the very first image that I have of you such a sad one? It's not the one with you running through the rain and getting all soaked, or the one with you falling asleep underneath the stars, no the one with you laughing hysterically in the darkened park. It is the one with you looking into the distance, depressed and sad. Like the images that I have of the schools I have been to, perhaps it is because I've seen you like this too often, too many times. We you ever truly happy?

Have seen that sunrise with your own eyes
It brought me back to life
You'd be with me next time I go outside
No more 3x5s

I guess you have to be there...
I guess you have to be with me...

I told RuiQi last night, to say something random and out of the blues. She said," I think my pencil box is made of fake fur". In return, she asked me the same question. And after a moment of thought, I said," I am thinking that my heart is like black fire. A fire raging with passion and emotion, but brightening up nothing in this dark room". The idea of a black fire first came to me while reading the Michael Cunningham book, and the idea and image of it got stuck with me ever since then. It's the idea of a black fire that caught my attention, and how such an imaginary and almost fantastical image can reflect my emotions right now about - well, everything.

Because it really is burning like a black fire, this heart of mine. You would think that a raging fire would light up every corner of the place that it is in. But not this one, because it consumes the light around it to make it burning even stronger, and the heart only grows darker with time. Emotions well and fly about like fireflies in the night, but they too have darkened lights behind their backs. I wondered when was the last time you were alone, when you were truly alone in this life. Because you haven't had a break throughout this period of time, the moment you realized that you needed to be with somebody. This is the period in a breakup whereby you revisit the places and the words, the smiles and the cries, and examine all over again the subtle implications and meanings. You start to wonder if any of those were real, were true, if you ever felt alive with me at all. So when was the last time you were alone? When you were with me, and being a thousand miles away all at the same time, staring into the distance and bracing yourself against the sea breeze.

Oh, today I finally overcame
Tried to fit the world inside a picture frame
Maybe I will tell you all about it when I'm
In the mood to lose my way but let me say you should

The group of boys fooled around at the bus stop as I waited for mine to come. They looked young, almost too young to be out at that time of the night, and one of them was the birthday boy I assumed. Thirteen years old, at the most fourteen, dressed in a style too old for them. They looked so small in those t-shirts and jeans, and the words of Jonathan came back to me from a March day when he said," The world needs less school kids". I couldn't tell who was having this birthday, but they probably didn't have enough armpit hair to speak of. What did they know about life? What did they know about pain, and heartbreak? It was all a joke, it was all some practical joke.

But as I looked upon them with such resentment and animosity, I realized that that was probably the same reason why the cigarette smoking man was looking at me as well. The truth is, I lost my grip. A trip through my head to look at those mental Polaroids must have disrupted something in my mind. I must admit, this entry must seem like a giant collage of random images and thoughts. But I don't mind, for that is how I feel right now with these pictures in my head as I revisit the old times when love was truly in the air. The lack of it, causes one to scatter these pictures around. And now upon the floor they lie, these mental Polaroids, and I start to think if one day these pictures shall burn in the black fire and be consumed forever, even if it means that my heart shall be forever darkened and tainted. To rid myself of these memories, perhaps I am willing to give it a shot.

Have seen that sunrise with your own eyes
It brought me back to life
You'd be with me next time I go outside
No more 3x5s
Just no more 3x5s