Tuesday, March 04, 2014
I realised today that I've been playing a new game with people on the streets. I zoom in on paunchy uncles who look like they could harbour sickness in their robust bodies, middle-aged folks with greying hair, someone who looks particularly unkind or mean, the pissy tissue aunty, people who annoy me, like the bitch who went "excuuuuse me" loudly when I paused to give way to an ah lian walking her toddler in a fucking crowded mall. I look at this people and sum up their lives in a second and I think, why are you alive and my father is dead?
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2 comments:
I did that, too. Walked around for months asking myself why these people were alive and my mother dead, why bad things happen to good people. Sat in conversations thinking shut up, shut up, shut up every time someone complained about something they could complain about because they were alive. Late at night I would sit up and think, where are you? After the funeral, after concerned friends and family slowly backed off, I only had myself and those thoughts. Those were the worst of times.
If you want to talk, I can listen.
I'm sorry to learn that you went through that, but thank you for sharing your thoughts and offering to listen. They helped, in some way. Thank you.
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