For the past couple of days, this friend of mine had been posting ‘heavy’ writings on his blog. Now, him, writing things like this, it isn’t a surprise at all. He’s open-minded and not afraid to let the world know what he thinks about certain things. But for him to have this sudden burst of creativity and write article after article of serious issues is new. Of course, his writing aren’t fluff, and they’re not some desperate attempt to rake in more hits. He’s not a ‘blog-whore’, as he so eloquently put it. His motto is writing to express, not to impress. Something that comes through in each of his posts. He has a very fresh, no-nonsense style with spatterings of dark humour thrown in, a style that I very much enjoy. When I started blogging way back when, I enjoyed writings of this nature, not just by him, but by many others. They seem to have this carefree sense in them, as if the words just flow out of them. My amateurish efforts are nothing compared to the sense of style that they have.
“And they lived happily ever after.” Nice to hear. It signifies that all is right at the end, that the rest of their lives are destined to be full and contented. But what happens after that? When the euphoria has ended, and you suddenly find yourself with the prospect of living the rest of your life with the person you gave your heart to? I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t an intimidating thought. When I see all these couples walking around, holding hands, or getting close and intimate with each other, one thought would eventually enter my mind, sooner or later: “How long would that last?” If I had someone with me, how long would I have the good fortune to be with her? How long will we be with each other, before we go on separately with our lives, whatever the reason may be?
I suddenly found myself being a driver two days ago, taking my mum to see yet another relative who is related to us through some vague, complicated manner. He was admitted in IJN, and apparently he had been there for about a month before we found out about it. So, after negotiating through lunch-hour Saturday traffic, en route to Jalan Masjid India for the first in a series of long, drawn-out Deepavali shopping sessions, we found overselves in his room on the 5th floor of IJN.
