the greatest thing you'll ever learn,
is to love and be loved.
is to love and be loved.
Frustration, I wonder;
Saturday, September 08, 2007 ( 10:13 PM )
She sat up, brushed her hair, sighed.
He was still there; still sleeping, still lightly snoring. It hadn't been long since he fell into slumber, hardly five minutes ago, so suddenly, while she wanted to continue.
She stood, hoping the movement would stir him, but it didn't, not barely. The curtain shuddered with a sudden wind, and she shuddered too, with thoughts of leaving this place, him... But her heart wrenched, at the thought of his despair, at finding her gone. At having her gone.
At having him gone, from her life.
But she could not stay, she had to go.
Sitting down beside him, she picked up the blanket, to wrap herself; to her surprise he started, murmured, gestured to her, asking for his clothes, and she handed it to him. He went back into sleep just as instantly as he had woken.
She surrendered the blanket to him, tucking it around his unclothed body; she curled up on the mattress, pressing her thighs together to keep warm, staring at him, at his face.
She nudged him gently, but he would not wake.
The minutes passed, and she remained there, waiting, for him to wake up, to send her home, or at the very least, say goodbye. Was that too much to ask of him?
Why was he always so exhausted whenever they met? Why was he always so tired? Why was he always falling asleep? It did not matter that she was not satisfied; all that mattered to her was that she satisfied him; and that he did not allow her to do so at times, because of his seemingly permanent exhaustion, frustrated her.
She decided to leave, after a half hour of waiting, but she first took the pants from his hands, the hands that she loved to touch and caress, and folded them neatly beside him; she pulled the blanket up and made sure he'd be warm - but he suddenly sat up, yawned, and lay back down.
She tucked him in again, wishing she could spend the night there, in the comfort of his arms... She grabbed the pillow, lifted his head to place the pillow beneath him.. and he woke up, for the third time.
I'm going home, she said curtly, holding back tears. You just sleep, I'll go home myself.
Of course she wished he would send her home. Of course she wished he would stroke her hair while she laid her head on his chest, on the bus home, as he always did. Of course she wished he would kiss her on the stairs beneath her place, before hugging her goodbye. Of course she wished he would never fall asleep like this, or at least, not so often. Of course she wished he would follow through. Of course she wished... that she knew why this hurt so much that he left her halfway.
He mumbled something about sending her home, but in her anger she refused. You just sleep.
She went to the door, fumbled with his keys, hoping he would come to her, and he did.
I'll send you home, he said, his eyes puffy from sleep. I'll send you home, never-
No. She didn't look into his eyes as she said it. You go sleep, I'll go home, I know you're tired.
Sorry, he mustered, softly. And her heart sank because she knew it was sincere. She pulled the door open; she didn't kiss him goodbye like they always did. He knew something was wrong, asked her what it was, but she shook her head, moved off to the stairs.
Down a step, two.
Then she heard the bang of a closing door. She weakened, but continued.
And then a scream, frustration imminent.
She did not know which direction it came from. But she knew, instinctively, that it was his.
She felt weak, leaned her head on the dirty, unscrubbed wall, and began to weep, to shiver.
And chiding herself, she ran back up the stairs, back to his door, rang the bell, hoping he would answer, imagined him hesitating as he heard it, imagined him thinking how a simple half hour nap had screwed him up, fucked him up. She rang it again.
She hadn't told him, but the previous night, she had dreamt of him breaking up with her on her birthday.
She stood at the door as he opened it, clutching the gate with tears in her eyes, traces of mascara tracing down her dolled cheeks. Desperation and helplessness lurked in his eyes, and he looked at her with question, with worry.
But without warning she threw herself into his arms, taking comfort in his warm embrace as she wept. Why didn't you insist on going with me, she whispered. Why did you leave me. Why do you always work so hard. Why are you always listless, listless.. whenever we meet.
He apologised, assured her. Sincerely told her what she needed to hear. And held her as she cried; as her tears ran down his shoulders, he held her tighter, cried together with her... and she felt safe in his embrace, and nothing else mattered anymore.
***
Doesn't matter if you understand, or if you relate to the story above or not.
As long as I do.
***
Laptop is fucked up again, for the 3rd time.
I swear, I will never patronise Fujitsu again, no matter how nice their products look.
or how cheap they are.
Am working every single day for this month, with only 2 days off I believe. =x
Sian. Research Plus, Daiso.
Only consoling factor is that I'm working, for the first time, for some projects, together with him. Which makes my nights less tiring. I know it sounds sappy.. But.. You know what I mean. =)
And of course, incoming $$$. What could be better than that =D (besides errrrrr alot of other things. :D )
And I hate the way you ignore me when I am nice enough to come visit you at work. Pfft.
***
Don't be afraid of death,
Just be afraid of leading a colourless life.
I love you.
Don't you ever dare forget that.