It was a prank that I have pulled that went seriously wrong.

At first, I thought I wanted to see his reaction on how he would see things. Now, I guess I have to change my point of view to a whole new perspective.

I could not sleep last night. Penning my last entry I was already exhausted, perhaps with what has been going on for the past few months, perhaps with what has been going on lately. I tried to slot in hints on my Facebook, hints that I wasn’t ready for a long distance relationship. I am a ‘closeted’ person. Closeted not that I am not out, but a rather, I prefer to be close to someone, the be able to hug the person, to kiss the person, and in return to be loved.

I hug my friends, I sometime kisses my friends. Often I am not careful when I am doing this, and many would think I am actually hitting on them. My preferences of liking another person of the same sex doesn’t make them get comfortable with me, some even prefer to stay away from me, as far as they can.

Why? I wonder sometimes why would I rather ‘choose’ to be a gay boy than choosing to be a straight and live a ‘normal’ life. What actually determine that being straight is actually normal, and being gay isn’t? People keep on telling me that being gay is just a choice, being gay is just a person being disobedient towards God, but really?

People get envious of me, they start to call me names. It’s fine really. They start to accuse me of things that I have not done, they started to think I am another person, a ‘faker’ because I had done a lot to help that person. Why is that that it is so hard to believe?

I went to the Tsukiji Fish Market, in the futile attempt to exhaust myself so that I could rest, and prepare the flight to Singapore. I failed, miserably.

Looking at the tuna’s, the salmon and the fishes reminds me of the boy. Do not even try to ask me how or why, but if I had the guts to, I would have break down and cry right smack center of the fish market.

The hussle and bussle of the fish market throw me into deeper thoughts. In the midst of the fishermen, the midst of the trader, there stand a boy, three thousand miles away from home.

For what?

Just because he had wanted a chance to be alone, to try that feeling of being lonely, to get away and forget that selective memory, and hopefully keep the good ones intact.

Again, it failed miserably.

Asking myself, WHY did God had created human, and yet putting them into relationship stress like this. Would it not be a wonderful world if the humans have a manual for relationships?

I started to think again by myself, how should I be surviving the rest of my life. Should all these be just a temporary hindrance? Just an obstacle in life?

“Daijobu desu ka? Daijobu desu ka? Are you okay?”

The voice of a young Japanese boy awaken me from my thoughts. I must have been standing there for a very long time judging from the lesser about of people walking past me.

“Daijobu desu ka?”

The boy asked me again.

“Daijobu, domo”

I replied.

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I could not sleep. Insomnia has got the best of me. That’s not just it, flashback of our moments with the boy hit me hard again, till I almost kneel down to my knees begging it to stop.

I want to cry it out, loud if I could, but I can’t. Streak of tears just kept on falling because it knows I miss the boy very much.

The more I look at my Facebook, the more unhappy I become. I don’t look at Facebook much nowadays because it kept on reminding me of the fear that I have.

Just this afternoon while I was munching on the green apples that I have cut, I saw a profile adding the boy to his Facebook.

Is this the guy that everyone is talking about? Is this the person that people has been telling me that is fucking with my ex boy friend, my boy? Is this the person that took over my ‘duty’ satisfying the boy? Can he?

Questions and questions starting to appear in my mind.

I am not sure if I can get over it, I mean it has been so darn long that the boy has not contacted me. I on the other hand do not want to disturb him because the boy told me he do not want to hear from me. Perhaps, the boy misses me, perhaps not.

I check on the boy’s blog everyday. Hoping that he would update his blog. It has been vacant since last year, my hope of getting to know the boy’s well being just shattered like that, with barrier after barrier blocking my progress.

I sometimes do wonder, if the boy actually still thinks of me. He did say that he wants to cut off all contacts because he wants to move on. He could not without thinking about me. I was somehow flattered, but thinking it to myself, isn’t it better if we had not choose to breakup?

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I could feel my heartbeat taking me down
And for the moment, I would sleep alright
Invading with a selfish fear
To keep me up another restless night
Another restless night

The blood was dry, it was sober
The feeling of audible cracks
And I could tell it was over
From the curtains that hung from your neck

And I realized that then you were perfect
And my teeth ripping out of my head
And it looked like a painting I once knew
Back when my thoughts weren’t entirely intact

To pray for what I thought were angels
Ended up being ambulances
And the Lord showed me dreams of my daughter
She was crying inside your stomach

And I felt love again

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I would want to blame it on the different time zones, they call it jet lagged. Yes, I have been living on a jet setter’s lifestyle since late November. It was fun, to be able to travel all around, meeting different people before I start myself in Uni in May.

But that is not the point, the point is, I wanted to stay away from my home in Kuala Lumpur. I had wanted to do this for a very long time, trying to see if I could forget the boy. The truth is, I can’t. On the boy’s birthday last year, while I was in Brazil, I gave the boy a call to wish him a happy birthday. I mean, it would only be appropriate if I do that, at least, I thought it that way.

Not only was I wrong about the whole thing, I still ended up crying at night, hugging a pillow, that I was well aware that it would not hug me back.

It was Chinese New Year. I remembered last year’s pretty well. I was in hometown, and could not let myself not missing the boy. We practically texted each other the whole day. I had to run around the house because the house was surrounded by hills, and Maxis coverage wasn’t that great, then I found the perfect spot, the store room.

Sweating and sneezing, I embraced myself, just for the sake of not wanting to miss his text messages. Silly, I know. That’s what we all do for love, no?

Deep inside, back to reality, I thought I could forget him if I leave my room, leave everything behind and move somewhere else. I could not move to Singapore because that was our initial plan. We both continue our studies in Singapore.

Singapore will bring back the memories, I would definitely sure about it. Then, during my vacation, I cried, and cried again, hugging the cold hotel pillows, streak of tears just fall down to my cheek, and to the bed.

I could not help it, they say I was being foolish for falling in love to a person that do not love me. Deep inside, I still believe that there is love, deep inside, I still believe that it was me that had caused the breakup, and it was be that had put our relationship into that fine thin line.

I could have salvage it, I just know I could.

It has been almost 9 months since we break up, and I am still here, hugging my pillow tight, hoping that it was the boy that I was hugging.

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How can I help it? I could not do anything but just let the tears flow from my eyes to my cheek and drop till my shirt, and sometimes on the bed.

Almost every night I cry myself silently, almost every night all I could do is to think of the mess I am in; the mess that I might not be able to clean up, a mess that I do not want to have anything to do with; a mess that I have regretted creating in the first place.

Listening to the Top 40 hit songs do not help, my ‘super emo’ play list has been on the iPod for the past nights accompanying my tear of loneliness.

The boy had been a great meaning of my life. I do not know or how it has impact me, but I just know that it did. Otherwise, why would I not be able to get over it and get on with it, a question that I myself that should have the answer, do not have.

A few weeks from now, it would be our first year together if we are still together. I find it very hard to swallow. All I can think of right now, is how badly I have treated the boy.

I want to move on, but I can’t. I tried, and people tell me I have not been trying hard enough. How hard is enough, then?

Some people can let go something easily, perhaps that something is of no value to that somebody. I beg to differ, the boy has been part of my life, and I do not think I can let it go with just a snap of the finger, a gesture that the boy love to do.

All I can think of is the good things that the boy do, the hand gesture, the language, the sweet smile, the smirk and the attitude.

I have then been thinking, even if we had the chance in the future to get back together, will we even still be the same? Will we get over our past, and live life like it should be? Tears continue to fall from my eyes to my cheek, gradually falling down to my shirt wetting it.

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