what you cannot have

by The Dreamer

As I stood in the kitchen, in front of my microwave, staring blankly at my slouched, convexed reflection merging with the dim illumination of my cup taking a 30-second carousel ride round-and-round, I was suddenly hyper-aware of the presence of Time breathing down my neck. In my mind, the image of the ghost clinging onto the protagonist of the horror film Shutter flashed through my mind, and I held back a strangled scream. I looked back at my own reflection and let out a breath I never knew I was holding after I made sure there was no horror-movie-embodiment-of-vengeance clasping onto my shoulder.

Time momentarily took up all the space in the kitchen. Conflating both terms together, I am reminded of some basic law of physics that meditated on space and time being effectively interchangeable, and fundamentally the same thing. And now their merger created such a powerful presence that I was forced to cower into an area where they could not reach me.

I noticed it most prominently in the blinking countdown, screaming at me in digitalised red ink: 10…9…8…7… It felt like a bomb, ticking ticking ticking, waiting to explode. My mom always told me never to stand right in front of a microwave; you never know when it would decide to betray you. (It almost happened the day I put a metal spoon in WITH an uncooked egg in my half-asleep state, but that’s another story that I probably will never tell.) But I wanted to display my fearlessness, to a grant total of zero audience members, so I parked myself right in front of it, forcing myself to meet the shrill exclamation when Time was reduced to 0.

I noticed it in the forces of time that rendered my third cup of tea cold in the first place, making it necessary for me to pop it into this semi-time-machine, to reverse the effects of time.

Things I am afraid of:

  • Confrontation
  • Gore
  • Failure
  • Reality
  • Time

This post is probably just me expounding on mainly just the final bulletpoint. I’ll elucidate the rest perhaps later (though essentially my blog is literally a compilation of me struggling to conquer these fears on an everyday basis, isn’t it?)

Whenever I found myself wanting to write, it was met with an abysmal absence of energy. It felt like energy and time, in my circumstances, shared an inverse relationship; they were asymptotes of each other. Destined to never cross paths. Sometimes they went close, went so close till there was almost negative space, but in between there remained the gap of Almost, a promise that was doomed to be broken and never to be fulfilled. Instead of immortalising my moments, I was sleeping it away. I hated that I was resting in my free time, that I didn’t have the capacity to maximise my use of 24 hours, or in Donald Trump’s critical and condescending tone, “She doesn’t have the stamina.”

Hating sleep was extremely ironic and sounded ridiculous even to my own ears because it was evident I needed that rest, and it was an indisputable fact that I loved my sleep. But even mothers resent their children sometimes because all things came with opportunity costs.

Hypothesis: Time is never free. Its currency – opportunity costs.

Sleep is a thief, robbing me of things most endearing, most precious to me — my time, my memories, my emotions, my words. I am a firm believer that what I feel at this exact moment can never be replicated in any other fraction of a second. This results in a hasty chase to fossilise everything in words. But I sleep it away. And then these moments are gone from me forever.

Sleep is a hypnotist, settling me comfortably in a world that’s all kinds of tempting and magical, but ultimately wasn’t real. Sleep is a politician, spinning lies after lies, pledging commitments that would never realise.

My fears are all interlinked. I am afraid to Confront – be it Failure, Reality, Time…(ok and then there was Gore, which was less prominent but still haunted me nevertheless to a deep extent.)

And now I am forced to come to terms with Infinity, about what cannot be articulated; the infinite feelings, colors, sounds, experiences that I do not have words for, and will never be accorded the right to breathe and to be presented to the world because I let them slip away, like a pseudo-abortion of sorts.I need to learn how to live in Infinity,  trust that I’ll retain what I need to later, and if not, accept the price of a life fully lived.

钧 x x

j e a n x x

 

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