vulnerable.

1:34 AM and I’m still wide awake.

I’ve been feeling rather wispy the entire day today, despite having slept briefly and even going out for awhile, trying to curb and shake it off. It’s still here; wispy. I don’t know why, it must be one of those days…

Right now my heart is uneasy. Not bad uneasy – just uneasy. I don’t know why, I can’t put my finger on it – life is good, Alhamdulillah. Once the current sponsor came through with funding for grad school, the other scholarships came knocking too… sincerely, further testament to trust and believe that if things are meant to be, they will happen. Alhamdulillah and really, a lesson learned.

So yes, my life is good. There are hiccups of course, small ones, but nothing that puts me out of sleep and all that sort – which makes this unease ridiculous to admit aloud. But it’s here, I can feel it and it’s been pressing, pressing, pressing.

Is it the near-future that scares me? Is it the transition? Is it these thoughts that appear and escalate in my mind about what else if not my family?

I internalize too much, that I agree, but I don’t know why for the past few weeks I have been worrying about the directions that we’re all headed. Maybe it’s because I have been spending nights with Housemate #2 exchanging family tales. I’d come so close to ‘fessing about the big supposed secret, but I didn’t say anything. She prodded and had finally asked directly, “You bring it up all the time, though never saying it. It’s always in your stories.” Followed by saying she would just the same, respect my decision to not reveal it. Unsurprisingly, I responded equally as straightforward that I will not say what it is – because there is no point. It’s like this scar that doesn’t really go away – it doesn’t burn anymore, but it’s forever there. I don’t try to erase, deny or hide, as I did so desperately and carefully as a young schoolgirl, but it’s… always there.

“Is it something that’s resolved, could be resolved?” She had asked, carefully wording her question.

I paused, thinking. So close, tip of my tongue; my eyes squinted, weighing my answer.

“No, it’s… something that’ll always be there. It can’t be resolved, it’ll never be and it’s been so long now. We all deal with it differently. I do it by accepting … that it’s something that I won’t avoid anymore, but it’s something that’ll always be there.”

I’m very close to my parents, as everyone’s perhaps aware by now, but the same can’t be said about my other siblings and the older we grow, the more varied our directions are revealing themselves to be. Obviously mine is too, halfway across the continent once more. I worry about us, in the directions we seem to head and consequently, how much further we are from He who really matters.

I don’t know why I am writing this; I can’t sleep.

My heart is uneasy, time and again I realize that I can have all the wealth in the world but my cup does not fill. Similarly, here’s what I worry about my family – that we genuinely seem to be headed towards greater things in our respective lives, but I worry so much that in some of us, we’re void of God. I worry so much that we’re void of each other, so narrowed in our drives, ambitions, attention-seeking, friends, external activities and the like. I am not guiltless either, hence why I’ve been chewing and stewing in thought.

Housemate #2 and I have been doing so many of these nightly conversations, which is really nice …but it makes me so vulnerable and playing truth-telling is something that has always resulted in either of the following: waves of regret for days after, or mulling in afterthoughts like crazy. There are plenty moments in which the truth is at the tip of my tongue and I wonder if it’s anything to do with trust; do I not trust her?

Or does it, very simply, come back to pride and permanence? When I think of the two of us, unlike with Housemate #1, I don’t think this friendship is forever. In the end I’ll be just another friend she lived, befriended with in a part of the world she lived in, at a time. Her jet-setting, global-trotting life makes for plentiful memorable stories and hence, I’ll be just a friend whom is affectionately called Jane that she lived with for a couple years in her undergraduate years. I wonder what sort of stories about me she’ll share with others, if she ever does so. I may be wrong, but in her life that’s constantly in motion, mapping the world repeatedly, it feels like eventually we’ll be strangers and I don’t want another friend who’ll keep my most fractured part – for no reason. There will never be closure if so, because I can’t seek it even if I wanted to.

Internalizing, thinking too much? Perhaps, again. It’s 1:45 AM and I can’t sleep.

I told her last night that there are two friends in my world whom I will allow them to say whatever they think of me at any given point in my life – the former deskmate, ergo my best friend and Housemate #1 – but there’s only one with whom I really put my guard down and admit that I am broken, when I am; the former. For keeping this friendship and allowing for it to be stronger than the years past; thank you.

I want to continue to truth-tell with Housemate #2 but perhaps… I don’t trust her enough? Because I feel she has a particular perception as it is about me, my siblings and my parents based on some of the stories I have told… but this one, the biggest piece that’ll complete the puzzle… It may unravel everything, you know? That my family… as individual pieces, we’re broken and shattered. Too many elephants in the room.

And what will she think of me? Of my parents? Of my father? Weak man that he is, coward that he is… he’s still my father, you know? He’s also such a conservative Malay Muslim man. Such a… man. Now he’s 60-something and living in the shadows of regrets, of decisions he can’t override, of choices made by his younger self that he can’t undo. I love him, of course I do, but I am not blind to the sort of man he is. What then, what would she think of him, if she knows? Especially when her family is such a model family, that perfect capsule type? What would she think of him, when in contrast, her father is such a hip, fatherly figure? I think it’ll break my heart, if she thinks lesser of my parents; they need no more judgment.

I’m never revealing anything about this.

2:00 AM and I’m still wide awake.

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