Minority Report

I am a minority.

That is a fact. I used to be part of the majority, but over time, I have slipped into the minor segment of society and am now, a minority.

I feel like I've stepped on the largest snake on the board, and I've slipped right down to the beginning. Except this time, there are others at the 97, 98 and 99, waiting for their final turn. I have a whole board game ahead of me and inevitably just one last roll of the dice.

There was a time when I had it figured out. I had my intended path clearly ahead of me. I knew what I wanted and I knew when I wanted to achieve it. But then I met someone, and she changed me. Actually, in all honestly I changed myself, albeit, because of her. When I realized that what I wanted could simply not fit within her pursuit of passion, I brushed my needs aside. I locked them away because she took center stage and all that mattered to me then, was that her spotlight shone as bright as possible.

And so I left my plan, unattended, buried and forgotten. It's funny how something so important can suddenly be rendered immaterial when the heart gets involved. But that's just human nature, or perhaps just plain stupidity on my part.

In my defense, I followed my heart, and somehow, at the time, I always felt that it would work itself out in the end. But i was wrong. It didn't. And I was left in turmoil. A universe on spin cycle. That's what my existence felt like.

And it was during this entire process that the universe moved me, from another member of the majority to the minority that I am now.

I look around and see the majority. I see them progress through the game of life. Like the Mario Brother's game they have collected the marriage coin, the honeymoon coin, the buy our own place to live coin and some even the kids coin. And as with the game itself, the coins represent new powers for Mario and with all these coins, from my perspective, they look invincible.

I on the other hand, can only watch in vain. I sometimes feel like an observer, watching from the outside and they play and move up in the game of life, while i stay put, unable to make a move.

A few years ago, whenever there was a huge gathering of friends, inevitably, the ones with children would always be the first to leave, as they had to be back before the midnight feed. I used to pity them and I assumed they just wished that they could be more like us, partying till the sunrises, without a care in the world.

Strangely, the same scenario played out in front of me recently, but for the first time, it dawned on me that perhaps the couples leaving were the ones who really pitied us. We, the ones who stayed out because we had nothing to go home to. Whilst they were returning to the comfort of their newborn, we would drown ourselves in alcohol to numb the fact that there was nothing nor no one waiting for us when we eventually got home, let alone to wake up to the next morning.

I overhead a conversation on the next table the other day over brunch, and a lady who was obviously in her mid to late thirties said "If I meet a guy my age, who's single, never been married, I'd better be careful. There must be something wrong with him."


I used to make fun of my friends who were girls, reminding them that they had an expiry date. But perhaps guys have one too.

Maybe I've passed mine. How else it is possible to wonder on aimlessly for over two years with not a single encounter that is worth mentioning? If this solitary confinement was meant to teach me about myself then I would say that the lesson has been learnt, but now it just feels like torture.

I am a minority. A group thought to be different from the larger group from which it is apart.

There is a larger group out there that is reaping the benefits of living.

I am different. There was a time when I thought this meant I was special. But the reality is that I am not. I am just another minority, dwindling through life, without a cause.

Teardrops

You hit me and it hurts

I look up and stare into your eyes

It’s cold, blank and empty

The ringing is subsiding

I take your outstretched hand and stand up

You help me up

You kick me and I stumble backwards

The pain shoots through my body and explodes in my head

My eyes water

I grit my teeth and breathe hard. I am suppressing the tears

I will not cry

I will not let you see me cry

You are walking towards me

I do not move, there is no point running

I tense every muscle in my body and brace myself

This time you come at me with your fists

The first blow strikes me across the face

I hear a crack and another wave of pain makes me shiver

The next blow sends my head swinging the other way

I do not feel this one, but the room dims for a moment

The ringing drowns out the sound of my voice

I feel warmth. It washes over my body.

It feels nice. I try to smile but it hurts my face

I taste it. Blood

You touch me and I flinch

You are wiping the blood off my face

I try to look into your eyes but everything is hazy

I feel your fingers grip my neck

They are trembling and I can sense your rage

But I will not cry

Your nails pierce my skin

Instinctively I gasp for air

I can barely suck it in

My vision blurs and I can’t swallow

My head is getting lighter and I fight to keep my eyes open

I feel like I’m flying

You throw me across the room and I slam into the wall

My head throbs in agony

I can’t stand up anymore

I slump to the floor

I will not cry

I will still, not, let you see me cry

I try to curl up

But I barely manage to pull my knees to my chest

You foot strikes me in the stomach and I feel your toes touch my spine

Your elbow crashes into my ear and there is no sound

Your knee whacks my jaw and another crack echoes

Your nails rake across my bare skin and tear into my flesh

The pounding starts.

Your kicks, your punches, your blows

Rain down on me like a monsoon of madness

I will not give in, I will not

I cannot give in, I cannot

I cry

You see me cry

To Borrow A Phrase

I didn't write this but I wish I did. It eptomises everything that I have to say about something I don't want to talk about:

I know I can't take one more step close to you

Cause all that's waiting is regret

And don't you know I'm not your ghost anymore

You lost the love I loved the most

I've learned to live half alive

And now you want me one more time

And who do you think you are

Running 'round leaving scars

Collecting your jar of hearts

And tearing love apart

You're gonna catch a cold

From the ice inside your soul

So don't come back for me

Who do you think you are

It's actually lyrics from the song "Jar Of Hearts" by Christina Perri. The song itself was written by  Christina Perri together with Drew Lawrence Barrett Yeretsian. 

It's a very moving song and she is extremely talented. Here's the music video so you can judge for yourself

The Annual Song and Dance

And so, another year goes by. And for the second consecutive year, I wished I could avoid the rituals and routines that we practice at every birthday. I know the tune, the song and the dance. And I even know how it ends. In disappointment. There is nothing that I want, or maybe there is nothing that I feel that I want. And a person who wants nothing is akin to standing on a ledge.

But despite this I do believe in the universe. And I do believe that it is constantly working, invisibly, in the background, ensuring that everything happens for a reason. This has certainly been put to the test, as I've tumbled from one inglorious encounter to another. I feel like it's trampled over me so much over the past few years that I am near numb to it's insults.

But then there was the night before my birthday. A total random series of events that was triggered by yet another failed encounter that ended with the biggest blow that it's dealt me in a while. But because of that I ended up in a place where I should not have been and met with a group of people that I would normally not have, and in the end, despite a last kick in the shin the universe threw me a bone, in the form of a chance encounter.

I say chance because there are many variables in the permutation of life that could have led to many alternative scenarios. But in this instance, the universe aligned itself for the first time in 8 years, and it happened.

The universe. Oh how you have toyed with me and had your way at my expense. And to borrow an analogy: Just when I felt like I had one foot dangling off the rooftop, ready to jump off, you surprised me.

You delivered unto me a moment in time that I would frame and put on display. So much so that wish i could freeze myself in time and relive it over and over again.

Regardless of how this event will eventually pan out, the initial moment has made me - again to borrow an analogy: step back off the ledge and come inside.

You've now aroused my curiosity and for that reason alone it'll be worth sticking around and see how it plays out. You do work in mysterious ways. And now you've dangled something in front of me that I want.

My Heart

I recently found out I have a weak heart. I suspected it for a while but I finally found out for certain. I ran my first half marathon with a heart rate monitor and it turned out to be pretty alarming.

The common way for determining your maximum heart rate is to minus you age from 220. So technically my maximum heart rate should be 187 beats per minute (bpm). My heart rate was well below that for the first 15km or so, but then as I started to tire I noticed it started to increase. As I pushed on past the 17 km mark, I was at 185bpm.

By the 19 km mark I was well into the 190bpm zone and rising. The final 1 km was the hardest. I was tired but determined to keep up my pace, and so my heart rate went into the 200bpm zone. As I approached the finish line I was aiming to finish under 2 hours, which was my personal target, so I sprinted the last 300m or so. I felt fine, I felt I was pouring every ounce of energy into powering my legs to the finish. I made it across the line in 2h 00m 02!

So close, yet so far.

But here’s when I noticed that my heart rate had peaked at 205bpm and then I felt my heart pounding against my chest. It was alarming because it felt like it wanted to burst through and escape. It took close to an hour before it came down to my resting heart rate.

My housemate who also happens to be a cardiothoracic surgeon in the making said it’s never a good sign when your heart rate exceeds 200bpm. I brought it up with my running coach and he suggested a few exercises to build up my heart’s resilience.

I always though that saying you were heartbroken was just a metaphor, but maybe there’s more to it. My poor heart is so bruised and battered that it can’t even handle me doing the only thing that helps me escape.

The silver lining is that whilst I can’t do much about the emotional scaring, I can certainly do something about getting it physically stronger than it currently is. Here’s to hoping it works.