Holding on

As I sit myself on the plane, doing some­thing out of my rou­tine I was reflect­ing on my goals and achieve­ments that I have done through­out the year.

It was just moments ago before I leave the hotel room to Incheon, that I weigh myself on the scale. I gained anoth­er 5kg of weight. It was noth­ing unusu­al, real­ly.

Come every Decem­ber, it seems to be the month where I gain some weight. Per­haps due to the kin­da depres­sion that I have to go through, or per­haps it was due to the hol­i­day and year end. I would like to think that it was because of the hol­i­day, but deep inside, I know it was because I miss The Boy.

I have to admit, I tend to eat a lot when I am down and depressed. Depres­sion has seem to be the every day of my life now. I could try not to think of it by try­ing to do some­thing pro­duc­tive. It doesn’t last long before my mind start wan­der­ing again; yes I can’t seem to con­cen­trate on doing some­thing that I want to do.

As my iPod plays my favourite songs, that one song that me and The Boy liked start­ed play­ing. I remem­ber myself putting that song into a playlist that strict­ly labelled as “Do not play this play list, you dumb arse” but it nev­er seem to work, not how I want to, any­ways.

I final­ly made it there, I thought I had made a clean get­away; I met some­one whom I thought we share the same mutu­al affec­tions, the same some­one that would give me that warm ten­der love that I would give the same. I miss you, I miss you every sin­gle day.

I thought I was strong, strong enough to beat that urge not to let that drop of tear escape. At 40,000 feet above sea lev­el, it is quite impos­si­ble to get out from here.

I should have seen it com­ing. That thought of you going out with some­one sends the shiv­ers down the spine. It was back to the days before we part our ways that I still remem­ber vivid­ly. That day where you told me what had hap­pened the pre­vi­ous night. I was furi­ous; how can I not be?

It still hurts me the day when you start­ed to ignore my calls. It still hurts me that you had agree to go along with anoth­er guy. What hap­pened to our mutu­al agree­ment that we would be togeth­er? What had hap­pened so bad­ly that you had to put away every­thing that we build so hard?

It sad­dens me even more that the oth­er guy did not trust you enough to let you stay alone at his home. It sad­dens me that you had to run off to hid­ing when­ev­er there is a raid to his premise. It sad­dens me that you have to sit at his work place wait­ing for him to go along with what­ev­er ille­gal busi­ness that he is doing.

What sad­den me most is despite all that, you still choose to be with him.

Were you real­ly that des­per­ate to make that loud state­ment to me that you had some­what found some­one bet­ter in your life? How long did that last you? Three weeks?

I have known you enough that you would not have gone more than a month with that guy. What can he pro­vide you that I could not? I sim­ply just could not under­stand.

I was angry, and I have every right to be by the way you treat­ed me.

You were angry too, and you have all the rights to be.

But what had hap­pened could have been eas­i­ly fixed if we were to give in. We did, and it seemed to work, for what­ev­er rea­sons there was.

I nev­er had the inten­tion to lock you down to my side. I was afraid of los­ing you, I was afraid of you get­ting hurt. You in turn, pre­fer to be left out in the wild. I am not a con­trol freak, I nev­er intend to be, but look at what had hap­pen after that?

The mem­o­ries seems to fade away, slow­ly.


Are you okay, sir.”

The flight atten­dant were a lit­tle con­cern.

For a moment, I thought it was The Boy. I must have doze off short­ly after take off.

We are cross­ing the Pacif­ic Ocean,” claimed the flight atten­dant, with a very heavy Kore­an accent.

Could I offer you anoth­er drink, sir?” he con­tin­ues.

Sure, some­thing alco­holic, please.” I stressed.

Wine okay for you sir?”

Né, kam­sam­ni­da.” I thank him in Kore­an, a sim­ple word that I picked up while in Korea

He smiled back.


I closed the lid of my Mac­book Pro, gaz­ing out­side of the tiny air craft win­dow, with clouds swift­ly pass­ing by from under­neath of the plane. I thought I see ships as small as ants, and my thoughts slow­ly drift­ed away again.

I have tried so hard to fill that empti­ness, that I have for­got some­times who I am. All I had want­ed was you to hold on to, some­thing that I could hold on in return. Was it that hard to be your­self that you be some­one else?

Just a day before, I was hav­ing the dream. The same dream that I have every time I dream of you. We were blow­ing the can­dles off your birth­day cake. It was a choco­late cake, the one that you like, with tiny bits of blue­ber­ries and straw­ber­ries on top. I had pur­pose­ly got­ten it import­ed because the local ones are just not good enough. I was hold­ing your hand togeth­er and we closed our eyes to make that wish.

When I opened my eyes, I felt the empti­ness. The kind where I know that you are no longer with me.

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3 Responses to Holding on

  1. William December 28, 2011 at 9:58 am #

    The can­dles have been blown. The flames have flick­ered out. Only smoke and shad­ows remain. In the dark, it’s much eas­i­er to find anoth­er light­ed can­dle!

  2. eric September 19, 2012 at 10:03 am #

    are u still writ­ing?

  3. Cedric Ang September 19, 2012 at 11:50 am #

    @eric,

    I am, just sel­dom.

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