DearHeart, My Life

Broken Promises

“Today, for sure” I promised.
“Just one moment…,” an interruption.
“Sorry, but can you…,” an intervention.
“Have you seen my email…,” a phone buzz.
“Thank you, I’ll leave you to it…,” hope arises.
“Oh wait, but…,” nope, not happening.
“NOW!” she demands.
*Ring ring* goes the phone.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I whisper.


That moment when you realise that you’ve somehow managed to step off the edge. Again. And now you’re stuck, clinging and barely holding on. Just beyond, the sirens sing – beckoning, urging. Above and below; two parties of warring suggestions.

And you wonder, if it’s all right to let go and drop to the unknown or if it’s safer to claw your way back up.

One voice, soothing and calming. Singing of adventures unknown.
The other, firm and rational. Sharing lore from experiences past.

Your thoughts darts back and forth, a previously forgotten pulse races. One moment clinging, the next, fighting. And truth is, you’re torn.

Because you know deep inside that whichever happens, you’ll say it is okay. That you made the right choice. That it’s for the best. Yet, you’ll know – in that one shadow of your mind, the other voice remains. Reminding, wondering, encouraging. And you know you’d secretly wished you had picked the other.

Risk the climb, or let go and fall.

Dear heart, what says you?

I remember those days when I used to sit at my favourite seat beside the window, nursing a cooling cup of coffee. The slight strain of RnB music streams faintly from the pub a couple of shops down. Sighing, as I went back to work – trying my best to focus in the balmy breeze.

I remember those days when the sun was scorching hot. And panting, we ran across the street for a join the queue for an iced drink. Whining, as we find our way to some shade under the awning of a nearby restaurant.

I remember those days, when it was warm and humid. Friends and more friends around. Taunting, laughing, encouraging… just minutes before they tossed me into the pool. Anger, annoyance, fear, as I somehow waded my way out.

I remember those days, when cash wasn’t easily available. When we’d wander the malls, window shopping for hours, trying to buy time before we caught up with the other half of our group who were still stuck in classes. We’d walk past fancy restaurants serving RM10 tea and wonder, how could they spend that easily.

I remember those days, when I didn’t have to think about ‘those’ days.

I miss.

Sometimes I really wonder…

Is it like a safe harbour, for visiting ships?

Some, like clockwork (weather permitting) returning somewhat regularly, a familiar hull, easing it’s way into the embrace of calm waters. A quick trade and then leaving with the high tide, only to reappear the next season.

Some, appearing with the storm. Swift and sudden. Repairs, necessity, need. And then just like that they leave, never to be seen again.

Then there’s some, who appear in the distance. Decked out in warm cheery lights. Welcoming, beckoning – simply looking for a safe haven and a good night’s company. A calm comfortable presence that eases in and out. Comfort, a familiar face.

And then there are those ones. The ones we’d rather not acknowledge. Regret, disappointment, ignorance and naïveté. Sailing in with all sails furled, flags raised. Charming, different, enigma. And then sneaking out in the middle of the night, quiet and slick. Leaving bills unpaid, hearts broken.

That jerk.

Nevertheless one thing stays the same. In the end, they all leave, setting sail for bluer seas. A quiet hush then falls over town. The harbour quiets down. And then we wait. Wait for the next ship to sail in.

It’s been 3 months since the last post.


maybe one day

…while I am having a cup of coffee, a movement catches the corner of my eye. You’d walk in, shaking off the rain. Two ticks on the clock, and our eyes meet. I’d give an awkward smile and look back down to my book, pretending to read. Perusing the menu, you make an order. The girl at the counter smiles while she processes the transaction. You head on over in my direction, clutching a table number and sitting on the table next to me.

It’s raining heavier now, I’d notice as the water drumming on aluminium roof intensifies. The slight hustle and bustle, the fragrant aroma of fresh brewed coffee and the slight tinge of nervousness asserts itself into my awareness.

The waitress carries over your order. A steak sandwich… and a pot of tea? Perhaps the next time you’ll get a coffee, time changes things, but I guess I like that you liked tea. You caught me looking, and gave me a smile. I notice the corner of your eyes crinkling in humour. Embarrassed, I shyly return the gesture.

And at that moment, we will both just know. Know it in a way that only we both could know. That it will all work out and things will be how they are supposed to be. No words needed to be said, it would have simply felt right.

I don’t know if these chance meetings will ever happen. If there really is an invisible string that is tied to someone, somewhere, pulling people together in the imminent future. And then reality sinks in. Yes, day dreams are great for hope and inspiration but it sure doesn’t pay the bills.

And even then, maybe, we weren’t meant for anything else. A vision to soothe my tired mind or a temporary thought that brings a smile. Perhaps eventually, someone else will replace my thoughts as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep. Only to be nothing more than a sweet memory to be written in a paragraph in my journal. A note of someone who reminds me to hope and believe that it will all turn out all right somehow one day.

But maybe, just maybe one day…