i may just be getting back to pre-feel times...when i would just ponder about seemingly inconsequential stuff...
while walking almost everywhere yesterday, many scenes triggered off one thought or another. i remember wanting to write about something as i walked to raffles mrt. as soon as i met carrie though, that thought dissipated.
*note to serene: remember to just bust out your filo as soon as you get a thought.
the scene i actually remember from yesterday enough to carry forward to writing about today is a father holding his little girl's hand. they were crossing the road, chattering happily, with the girl almost in a half-skip.
i could never really remember that part of my childhood. it was as if i had none to speak of.
any semblance of a childhood i had probably only began in secondary school...more specifically, the day my brother was diagnosed with leukemia.
as odd as it sounds, my life really began then.
and i guess...the image of the girl and her dad walking hand in hand kinda made me wonder if i was ever that physically close to my dad.
my dad and i have been through quite a bit...there was my brother's illness, the cold war...whatever it was, through it all, my mom never failed to drum into me how stubborn both me and dad were. and that we would never be able to resolve issues between the both of us because we were both as strong-headed.
my dad and i seem to have a quiet understanding. we do seem quite similar. but i refuse to believe i have his pride too.
i feel the presence of an invisi-shield whenever we speak, even when we're in the same room.
could that have stemmed from putting on too many masks? masks that we both have to wear more often than most?
it's a revelation...how my dad and i can be so similar, yet couldn't be more different.
it's a sobering thought...how i probably could never hug my dad...purely because that shield exists.
but what i am sure of is: the day i do hug him, we both will break down.
we both want to be strong for our family. we cannot let our cracks of vulnerability shine through.
Thursday, March 04, 2004
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