In Continuum.

Running against the wind, running with one foot before the other, I ran out of the main gates and across the busy street, not knowing where to run to after we reach the junction together. Perhaps that friend's house just down the road? It's not too far from where we'd be anyway, it's just on the other side of the stadium. Maybe, just maybe, we can have a small chat on the side of the curb all over again, just like the old times. Like the old times, that was harder to type than I imagined. It does seem like it has been a long time ever since that night, when we hung out after a salad and a cup of coffee, and when we contemplated on trespassing into that abandoned house, the one with the big giant red and blue sign hung on the gates that said "For Sale". Maybe we can really do it this time, or find another one of those big fancy houses with their own postal codes and seven cars and take a piss outside their gates like we promised each other to do when we have nothing to lose. Whatever happened to those days, I wondered out loud. Whatever happened to you. 

You board the ship, the water laps against the sides
Reminds you of when you were a child
You rowed the boat to mystery and walked through trails
Where all the trees had faces
You wrapped your arms around and felt the breeze

It's always so easy to lose track of yourself drowned in a sea of love sometimes. Blissful and careless, wild and stupid. You make promises to never change, to always remain the same no matter what happens. You spoke with despise before everything happened, about how the distance has grown far and cold between yourself and the friends of old. Trapped under the same roof at the chalet that night at the birthday party, more than the pounding headache in your temples, the awkward silences between yourself and those girls were begging you to go home. You couldn't care less about being the wet blanket, maybe they couldn't care less about your departure either. The party had to go on, with or without you, and you came home and gave me a call that night, sounding like a million pieces trying to stay together as one. You spoke of a plywood drifting in the sea, a closely knitted group of friends falling apart and failing the test of time. I told you that I have come to terms with people leaving me behind, and that included you, you being the most important friend in my life. You made a promise to never forget yourself in the midst of things, always have a place for me despite the newfound love that was still in its youth at that time. I guess neither of us knew what we were talking about, and I do not blame you for making empty promises, for I have to. I don't think I have come to terms with losing someone dear to me, like you have broken your promise of never losing yourself in the midst of things. We have drifted so far apart, and I have realized that I cannot possibly come to terms with this truth.

It is difficult to balance everything well, isn't it? You only have so many hands, you only have so much time. You made the choice of fitting it in, despite the already stifling life that you were already in. Almost a year on, and it all seems calm and serene on the surface, while everything else is falling apart underneath. You cannot have everything working perfectly in your life at the very same time, that is never going to happen at all. You always have to compromise, love is just a giant game of compromising each other, and everything else around the both of you. I used to believe that it is OK to retreat into the background, let your relationship take the center stage for a while. But it seems like you have been so addicted to the limelight that we have all been left behind behind the curtains, and the song that plays while you two lovebirds are on the stage isn't ending anytime soon either. So the lot of us are changing out of our costumes, packing up the props, wiping off the make-ups on our faces, and there you are wondering why we are leaving through the backdoor before the show is over. The truth is, the show ended a long time ago when you failed to realize that there are more actors in this play than your dancing partner on stage. There is more to life than him, and you seem to be have been blinded by the spotlight that has been shining on you for way too long.  

It is easy to say those words, or to type those words over an MSN conversation window. Every once in a while, those random messages do remind me of the past when we used to talk like we've known each other only for a day or less. There were so much to talk about, and we were the kind of friends that talked about having nothing to talk about, remember that? How very rare, that thing we shared in between us. People envied us, people were jealous of what we had, but I guess they don't have to worry about that anymore. I've been trying my very best to find that magic all over again, to give people a reason to feel jealous all over again. I saw those random words of affection, secretly hoped that perhaps you might have come back to me all over again. But five lines more, maybe ten, and then it is all back to that silence all over again. I can see those words, I know what they are supposed to mean. But when you tell them to me and then disappear ten lines afterwards, it just gives me a feeling that you said those words for the sake of doing so. Don't patronize me, I am better than that. 

It has taken quite an effort, on my part, to figure out how to type this entry without hurting any feelings. It has been about two weeks now, and these thoughts have been swirling around in my mind for the longest time. It doesn't usually happen this way, but I guess everything with you right now is so fragile, so intangible, so different from the way things used to be. I've decided to type this entry the way that I feel is the most straightforward manner that I can imagine, without any self-censors and attempts to sugar-coat anything. I have tried my very best to bridge that gap in between us, and I am still waiting for the day for you to cross over. You are comfortable in where you are, I know that very well because I have been there before. But come over some time, even if the grass isn't as green as your side of the valley. For nostalgia's sake, for my sake, just pretend that we've never had this break. I'd play along, even if it makes me feel remotely better as a result. It's pretentious, and it irks me to do it, but if that is what is going to make you come over, then I am willing to stoop that low for you. 

I ran passed the bus stop and around the dimly lid overhead bridge, then down the cement walkway to the junction where I was supposed to meet MJ for our run down towards Serangoon Garden Circus. He was already there when I arrived, but the red man was lighted up, so I jogged on the spot to wait for the lights to go green. I knew, that if I motioned for him to turn back and run towards the stadium, it'd be a great idea to run all the way to your house and say hello, maybe that'd make a great excuse to talk to you if you can't do so on the internet anymore. But then I figured, at that junction we came to a long time ago, we seem to have chosen different paths and ran on different roads. It seems so hard for our paths to cross anymore, and an attempt to go closer to you almost seem like an intrusion somehow.

So I threw that thought out of the window, and told MJ that we'd run towards the round-about instead of your place. I guess at this point in time, I have tried my very best to find that feeling with you all over again. But it is lost now, lost because neither of us tried very hard at the beginning to keep it alive. It'd be nice, if I reach your front gates and have you waiting on me on the other side of those iron bars. It'd be nice, to have a drink or two before I ran off again back home, but I knew that that isn't going to happen anytime soon. Because you've gone my friend, you've gone to start your life somewhere that doesn't include me in the picture, anymore.