the glory of being alone.

i'm an introvert, i am. so much of one that it scares me to face the blatant, stark reality. not that i needed a book to tell me what i am but i finally got my hands on Quiet (Susan Cain), and boy could i relate to it.  it's true. you need not be loud to be firm, no need to boom for attention. it is one's own quiet demeanour that speaks. these days of busyness have left me with an insatiable craving for solitude. some people like to sit and stone, well me, my brain wouldn't hear of it. it just keeps whirring on. but i've found having people around disrupts the frequency of silence, like interference from another source. Silence is more musical than any song so said Christina Rossetti, and i couldn't agree more. sadly, we have been socialised to view solitude as anti-socialism, to view the lack of a smile as unfriendliness. but why? did they not say talk is cheap and smiles hide daggers?

Mr Thoreau said "i never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude", he most certainly is right. well, almost. because in this tranquility, i think of you. you were probably more companionable than solitude.

22 July. i take a deep breath, and embrace this new page of life (ironically on page 22 too).

i wish you were here to see me off on this first day. you've left me with unforgettable memories on my first days: how you merrily hopped onto the school bus and settled proudly on a seat, you had a smile on your face that seemed to say "i'm going to school too!" and a semi-puzzled look wondering why the kids were laughing or had bewilderment written on their face. you'd probably have done the same on the public bus, 4 years later at the bustop, if you weren't already on the leash.

for me to gently tap your furry head and fiddle with your soft floppy ears before i scuttle off to an uncertain day ahead.. for you to welcome me back with a resounding thump of your windmill tail, with sparkling eyes in hopes of a treat or two.. these are but remnants dreams i try so hard to hold on tight. but dreams, they are an illusory, you think you've got them tight but then they float away from your grip and disappear. catching dreams is like trying to grasp a cloud in hand.

in loving memory of the chocolatecoatedlab.