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I’ve been thinking about all of the things that make me really happy/sad/confused lately. At random time when coming home with a baguette in the morning makes me so happy and how it warms up my hands. I have a fond memory of my grandpa who used to buy me baguettes and we would dip it in condensed milk. It was soft and warm and the morning sun rise would shine on the wooden table. You remember when we were kids, all those plans we made? It was like we were just waiting around our lives to begin, planning all that stuff we’d do when we did. Somehow, life starts before you know it. Suddenly you’re halfway through living, and all those plans they just don’t mean a damn thing. It’s confusing because you knew you just lost a track of time but you don’t know if it’s a good thing or not. If there’s anything I've learnt, without a doubt there is nothing more precious than time.
Little things like when I first saw a friend laugh/smile because I said something funny, he started glowing and I can’t get it out of my head. And on my 22nd birthday, I knew my friends were going to throw a surprise party for me but I acted clueless and surprised when everyone crashed in with my favourite banana cake with cream cheese on top and sang the anthem like I’m still 16. I remember, I remember all the happy faces — and that greasy faces — when we all done grilling our favourite lamb that night. Last night when I came home to my apartment alone and having to sleep in the queen-sized bed and leaving the other side empty. I remember that lingering feelings that chocked me up at 3 in the morning. Funny how you love to be alone but hate to be lonely at the end of the day, I guess if I can’t even figure myself out yet, no one else can.
Two consecutive weekends in a row, I got to catch a local band at two different venues. I think this is by far my most favourite birthday month I’ve ever had. I was in the middle of the cramped hall but the good music, oh the good music made me forgot about the fact how I really hate being in a public brushing shoulders with strangers. I fed my soul with good people around me lately, and it recovers me a little. Having to meet new people and talking to passionate people who create things and actually do things drag me along to start creating more. 22-year-old me will see me making sure I don’t end up having enough free time to find people’s faults and to surround myself more with people who are smarter than me. To pick people who are interested in what I’m interested in.
March brought me to this one person. That one person, the kind of person I wanna drink morning coffee with. He looks like someone you would momentarily fall in love with and then never see again. That kind of person. When we settled down on the stool at some random burger joint that night and he started telling me how he ended up doing things he does now... I remember that glinting eyes and glowing face. I guess that’s what good people did to you, make you feel content just by hearing them telling you things they are passionate about. I didn’t realise it not until when I kept on searching for his eyes in the cramped gig hall that night. I loved everything there was to it. It didn’t make me happy or content, it made me fall in love and that was absolutely alright. “You have too much feelings for people, keep it to yourself because not just anyone deserve that part of you” my friend told me that. And it hit me... I always do that to people and in return, I was left drained.