As some of you may know, Im preparing for the GMATs. Not the easiest thing to do while balancing visiting my dad everyday who is still in the hospital. I was talking to The Boyfriend, trying to remember how it was that I had so much discipline as a 17 year old girl studying for the high school exams.

I used to manage waking up early in the morning, going to school, coming straight back home and studying non-stop until nightime. I remember how my parents used to get worried and would ask me to take a break, to come downstairs and watch tv. I worked like clockwork, changing subjects every hour. I went through a mountain of revision books left behind untouched by my brother and sister. My weekends were a blur of science, history, math, additional math, literature, economics, Islamic studies, english, national language, accounting...

I was pretty well prepared for the exam that year.

I remember now, how I managed to do it. I was heartbroken, shattered. Cradling-remnants-of-a-broken-soul-crying-and-hating-the-world-wishing-I-was-dying-heartbroken. He was my first love, a boy back in high school. Tall and lanky with dark skin. I used to skip classes and stay with him in the back of an old ice kacang stall by the river. Used to sit with him and his friends and watched as he smoked a ciggie near me. Laughed as he and his friends talked about the boys and the girls and their experiences in school.

I loved him. Very much. Our parents found out about us. His parents moved him to a faraway state. I pined for him like you can imagine any 16 year old girl would pine for her first love. Saved up money so that I could feed the public phones to speak to him. He wasnt very good to me, that one. Wasnt a very positive effect on me. We used to argue on the phone and he will just hang it on the side, and I would sit there, crying, on the other line, hoping he would pick up the phone again. I would wait for him, sometimes just sitting there quietly for an hour. Hoping. I would spend my time in between classes to try and call him.

Then one day I realized, he never called me back. One day I realized I had put my heart and soul into this relationship and he had barely raised a finger. One day I realized we fought more than we loved. I cried far more than he ever made me laughed.

One day I realized that no man could be good for you if he makes you hate yourself more than anything in the world.

No man is worth it if he makes you feel worthless.

So one day, I called him, and I broke it off with him. We cried, enough to seal the seedlings of our youthful love. And then I stopped all contact with him.

I channeled everything. My pain, my anger, my sadness, my frustration. Everything. Into studying. I moved out of myself and relied on structure and practice and organization to get through my day. To heal I spent one hour at a time, looking at questions, finding the solutions, one subject at a time. Then it became 3 hours in the day, 5 hours in the day, and the days just melted by.

My best work comes when I am most depressed, when I feel the worst. Because there is nothing else for me to lose. There is nowhere else for me to go. You destroy yourself so that one day you can rise again like a pheonix in the sky. Hopefully this time stronger. Hopefully this time wiser.

But I think about it now, and I wonder. How healthy is it for me to destroy my soul, to reach into that deepness of pain and hurt and anguish just to singe my skin off and be reborn. How many times can a pheonix rise before the ashes engulfes him through and through.

How many times can I go through this? At what cost? At what expense? Broken hearts dont mend so well. But a broken soul... a broken soul takes years to heal, if any. A broken soul metamorphosises into something different, every time it comes back. It changes like the winds that carry it back into you, with remnants curling off and away never to return.

I cant help it still. I still seek solace in what is known, what is organized, expected, scheduled. Structure helps keep me sane especially when I am in a sea of fog. But I want to try this time, to move up slowly, to take it one step, one ladder at a time. Sometimes to fall and falter, but to be ready to pick myself up.

I am tired of my pheonix wings burning. So tired that if I let it burn this time, it may never come back.

This song has been playing in my head for a long time now...

Everything you think you know baby
Is wrong
And everything you think you had baby
Is gone

Certain things turn ugly when you think too hard
And nagging little thoughts change into things you can't turn off
Everything you think you know baby
Is wrong

It's all over but the crying
Fade to black I'm sick of trying
Took too much and now I'm done
It's all over but the crying

Do you really think I'm made of stone baby?
C'mon!
That we only love the things we own?
Baby you're wrong

Certain things just happen when you make no plans
And love can really tear you up and it can break you down
Everything you think you know baby
Is wrong

It's all over but the crying
Fade to black I'm sick of trying
Took too much and now I'm done
It's all over but the crying

Baby we're done

If I could I would
I'd change everything
Cause I can't forget you though you don't believe me
Now I can't walk back
I can't leave behind
Where does it go all the light that we had?

Everything you think you know baby
Is wrong
And everything you think you had baby
Is gone

Baby we're done

This reminds me... what life is all about

We'll do it all
Everything
On our own

We don't need
Anything
or anyone

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world?

I dont quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
Theyre not enough

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world

Forget what were told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden
Thats bursting into life

Lets waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world

Forget what were told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden
Thats bursting into life

All that I am
All that I ever was
In here in your perfect eyes
They're all I can see

I dont know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things
Will never change for us at all

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world

The confusion. The lust. Tip toeing the borders of danger and safety. Most of all... the excitement. The heady crazy excitement of the pain and anguish and potentiality of it all.

I can understand why people crave this feeling. How I used to live off this feeling. When the edges used to blur between goodness... and the dark side within.

The wish for a happy ending. The endurance of going through it with the other person. Culmination, in the rain or the snow. In the middle of the mountains, by the riverside. In the forests.

That one perfect moment of feeling that the both of you belong together forever. Regardless of the odds, the pains, the challenges.

And that one kiss. That first perfect kiss.

In the middle of the night. With the moonlight streaming in. The warm body next to you. Fighting every urge of temptation to give in. To not cross the line.

Then that delicious absolutely delirious moment when he turns to you. Cups your face in his hands and kisses you softly, gently and violently.

Your world completely dissapears and all you can taste is his lips on yours all you can sense is the heady excitement of your mingling scents your mind going insane with all the built of chemistry between you two your voice inside screaming Yes screaming No your hands rushing across his body pulling his shirt of frantically tracing his body gently scratching his back onto you your body wanting to pin him down wants to be pinned down wants him on top of you wants him in you wants him wanting him wanting him wanting him that this is right this is right this is right

That explosion. That crazy confused point.

Then the world quiets down. Your mind quiets.

Hums.

His lips on yours. His hands holding your face. Your body.

Silence.

That delicious. Softness.

When your worlds. Melt into each other.

That is the moment you live for.

When did it start?

As a girl growing up in this culture in this continent I have been marked with certain responsibilities. Parents never go to an old folks home. They must always live with their children when they are old and especially once they lose the other half of their lives. Eventually children start driving their parents around because they dont want to deal with the hassle of parking and traffic jams. Eventually the children are the ones to hunt around for their glasses so that the old eyes can get some help. Eventually you bring them to hospitals, for check ups, you sit by their side while they recover. You wash and wipe their feet and tuck them in. And eventually you receive phone calls in the middle of the night telling you that they need to go to the Emergency room. NOW.

I just never thought it would happen this early. This young in my life. I imagined it would happen when I am older, wiser, more prepared to know and understand whats going on with their bodies. To be able to help my parents get undressed and tuck them into bed just as I would have tucked my children.

I never thought it would be now.

Theyre the ones that you could never imagine growing old. The one that I always know I can go to and cry when things get bad and all they would have to do is hold my hand and tell me things are going to be ok. Or the one I would call for whenever I have problems (like when my car died... twice!) Theyre the ones who are supposed to be strong. Always.

I just dont like that reminder... of my parents mortality. Im not ready for it. Not now. Not yet. I want to forever be their little girl and have them always watch over me...

Last weekend I was vegetating around and thinking about things to do when the realization sinks in. Where are all my girl friends? One was off traipsing Hong Kong with my other friend who lives there. One was off moving from Jakarta to Bangkok. One was living it up in London... or Amsterdam... or Brussels (Where were you Wolf?) and one was ... well actually I dont actually know which country she's in now.

So, very few re: One married female friend was left in my country, my city. Its pretty tough because there's only so much clothes and style and tv shows that I can talk with with The Boyfriend. I want to dress up and go and have 'high tea' (snooty English)I want to dress up and walk around and shop around with girls. I want to go for pedicures and manicures and do our hair together.

I wanna do girly stuff too damnit! Not that I dont love being with The Boyfriend (shout out! I love being with you) I do miss being a little princessy sometimes. And a lot of the times, there are just things I want to do that can only be done with girls.

*sigh* this is what happens when you let your social life kind off die around you. Somehow the boys stick around. (I actually have tons of male friends). Go figure.

On another note. I was watching The Oprah Show with my mom and there was a very interesting coverage on the Republic of Mauritania. Essentially the women are considered more attractive the bigger they are. To a point where they are force feeding the girls with camel milk (force feeding has now been banned recently) They also prize women who are divorced, and have cellulite!! and the men need to be slim to be considered attractive. Isnt it crazy how we could have such different ideas on beauty around the world? So if your big, have cellulite and divorced, you would be pretty much prime meat in the Republic.

Well, back to the original question... so where are my female friends.... I think I need to find more of them...

Excitement. The lust of a fresh new relationship. The sparks every time your skin touches mine. Our flight into a different land. Music with us. I am happy that we are Taking Chances, you are worried about this chance.

We check into our hotel and never leave the nest of your body and mine together. The laughter, the smiles. The sweat of you and me while we caress each others face. My fingers tracing down your sweaty body. Your palm flat on my stomach. Kisses. Plenty and merciless that we rain on each other.

Dragged out, the promise of the day so close gone. We walk, hand in hand and find the elusive restaurant you had wanted to bring me to for dinner. We have no reservations but luckily we find ourselves a table amongst the brick a brack of the restaurant. Between the masks and the flowers. We walk a little bit more but do not find the beach. Instead we find a shop selling Japanese paraphenelia. One dollar, two dollars.

The sea breeze on our faces. Sitting on the side of the boat. Your hand around my waist. A snapshot of time with your arms lazily dangled over my shoulder. My hand on top of yours.

The beach. Glorious waters. Untamed ocean of blue blue blue. We walk together in the waters... along its coastal line. We dig up a hole and build a giant crab surrounded by a giant moat. I loved watching you do it. The excitement in your face, the competitiveness of building a great claw that would withstand the fight of the sea.

Us. Lazing by the poolside. Reading magazines. Reading nothing. Staring at the sky submerged in cool water.

It was us. You and me. You and me. Madly madly madly wrapped in each other. Against all odds, against all our dark secrets. We made it out of that island, taking chances, hand in hand.

Its not easy being in a relationship where everythings so bright, blindingly bright, that your rose tinted glasses cant help any more.

Ill be honest. There are days when it is hard. Oh so hard, when I want someone to fuss over me, when I want someone to go to special places with me. When I want someone to be interested in me, in my life. To be curious about me. To want to know me.

To want to plan things with me, do things with me. Spend time with me. Tell me things about his life. Share with me his life.

But then of course, all those things come in a relationship when the other person loves you. Once that gets chucked out the window, everything special that comes with it gets chucked out the window too.

I have to keep on remembering that now. Stiff upper lip now. Because my relationship doesnt come with those options anymore. When I feel hurt because he doesnt say hi, or ask about my day, I remind myself he doesnt love me and therefore why should he be thinking about me, why should he care about my day. When he makes plans to go somewhere without me, I remind myself, it doesnt come with the relationship anymore. Not this relationship. So I should stop making plans for him and me. Stop thinking about places we could go to for the weekends...

How we used to kidnap each other for the weekends...

Whichever it is. I know some days I cry inside, and I no longer need to turn to him. The pain of thinking and knowing that sometimes he could not be there for me hurts enough to stop me.

Sometimes I am reminded of the kid who falls down and scrapes her knee, noticing that no one notices her pain and crying, she just gets up, dusts herself off and walks away.

I miss that though. That feeling of having someone care for you so much. The feeling of voracious hunger to know each other. That feeling of waking up knowing, trusting, that this person wants to be with you. The feeling of wanting to have some plan for the future together. To travel together, to be on adventures together.

Sometimes I feel like we are drifting apart. Other times I feel like we are getting better, that things are getting better with us. He tries now. E-mails me sometimes to say hello. Talks to me sometimes. We laugh together, we cry together. We talk, and open up to each other sometimes. We go for beautiful breezy evenings in the park reading together. Go to the bookstore and buy books together. There are mornings when I wake up and turn around and he is there. And there are morning when I wake up when I ask myself if he is there for me.

My rose tinted glasses are shattered. There are days when I stay because I still love him... because I want to be there for him, whenever he needs me. But there are days when I wonder if my love for him is even enough anymore...

I think one of those things that are on top of the list of wrong things to do, is to marry someone simply because you've been with them for a long time and think that you're a dick if you didnt.

Wrong move soldier

Sometimes its not about you and me. Sometimes its not about me.

Thats the thing about relationships. It teaches you new things about yourself, like the fact that sometimes, the best thing for you to do. Is to just stand by your partner and wait for the storm to pass.

You walk into the house. Close the door. Lock it. You drop the keys into the box. Look around.

Something's amiss. Something's different now.

That face. Looking at you. Eyes that used to be soft. You cannot find that something in there that used to look at you. Long for you.

Asleep. In bed. Its different now. Something's amiss now. Little things that start to build up. Little things that start to pile up.

You look. Inside. And its less painful now. Less care now. Has enough anguish finally broken you down. Has enough despair eventually burnt out the flame. A question. If something is amiss in you now too...