Currently Playing: Buddy - Say A Lot.
I wasn’t planning on writing anything tonight actually, so whatever you make of whatever this is, be forewarned that this is the result of absolute fatigue coupled with the inability to fall asleep. Incoherency is to be expected, if not utter nonsense.
I have got to learn not to space out when I’m on the road. It dawned on me tonight that I have almost no recollection of anything in between the time I turn the ignition on and switch the engine off. The one exception is when I encounter the ever irritating stereotypical KL driver. Need I say more?
I wondered something tonight, in that mind zone I occupy when I’m cruising under night lights. What does it mean when most of the time you’re only able to find solace, comfort and understanding in people whom you don’t meet often? You know. Those people you don’t know so well, the ones you bump into once or twice, or wave at from a distance, smile at in a momentary glance as you pass each other in the corridors, give a nod of acknowledgment, exchange brief “how are you’s” with… What does it mean when you’re only capable of truly connecting with these ‘passerby people’, and you’re not afraid of sitting across them for maybe a quiet cup of tea with all your baggages on full display? But once they evolve into a ‘regular’, a certain detachment settles between you and them, and you’re no longer as trusting as you once were, as you hurriedly stuff all your baggages back in. It’s a scary thought, to sometimes feel close to strangers and awkward with friends. This inverted way of functioning, I fear, will have damaging reciprocations.
“You know, maybe we’re - we’re only good at brief encounters, walking around in European cities in warm climate.” says Celine to Jesse.
I didn’t know that brief encounters actually work pretty well.
Or maybe I’m just thinking too much.
I write too much, therefore I tell too much.
I wonder if that’s as bad as talking too much?
Isn’t it evident I need sleep?
Selamat malam, wasalam.
Enough said here.
