running

 

A smattering of the last 10 days, lest I forget. 

1.

I find out on Instagram that someone who was once important to me is about to be married. Newly wed, in fact, by the time I’m putting this down. I think about the last we spoke and I realise I don’t know for sure when it was. By the roadside? In my apartment? I think there was ice-cream. I think I was deep in sadness. I think I was a terrible friend at the end. 

I want to tell her I’m happy she’s happy, but I don’t think this means anything now. I scroll past without double tapping.

2.

I am rereading a book I have long touted as a favourite. It is 607 pages in a font size that makes me feel like I need to get my eyes checked again. On the title page, an inscription: To Melissa, very best wishes.

This is the only signed copy of a book I own. I can’t remember how it ends.

3.

I find out over lunch that C is allergic to prawns. The problem is we’re splitting a dry laksa and kueh pie tee, each crowned with half of said allergy-inducing prawn. She assures me it’ll be fine — she’s almost positive she’s eaten her way to immunity. She used to get a rash on her face; these days, almost always nothing.

Later, as I watch her scratch at her cheek, I wonder: was it worth it? How do you pick the mistakes you want to make? Why do we choose the same pain over and over again?

4.

One week after biting my lower lip in the same spot — twice, maybe thrice? — I still have a blood bruise to show for it. A constellation of four ulcers, now down to two, only hurts when I apply the Bonjela that pb made me buy. 

I can measure my days with the marks on my body: a band of trapped blood under my toenail when a slab of wood fell on it last September, matching cuts on my shins from when I walked into my bed (4 weeks ago on the left; 1 on the right), and now, more spilled blood.

Sometimes I feel like I am sleepwalking through life.

5.

How does that phrase go again? This moment is the youngest you will ever be. 

None of us get to go back.

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