Soliloquy

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Home. Grandma's haven. My first home. It reminded me of the days of my childhood. Many happy times there. It reminded me of toys, the sounds of Chinese opera and my relatives.

It reminded me I once dragged a chair across the whole place while learning to walk. I remember the times I was a toddler, waking up in the middle of the night to arrange little blocks of wood. They were my toys since my mother was too sensible to buy Barbies for me.

My cousins. They stood in front of me with a bowl of Milo powder, dipping an ice cube into it and licking it off. All I got was a cup of hot Milo. And I wondered why.

I remember the pillows. Many, many of them stewn on the mattresses that practically occupied the whole living room. We slept there, played there and spent many days filling the air with happy giggles.

I recall the playground near Grandma's place. It was the good old playground with sand, metal slides and wooden see-saw. There, we spent many an anxious hour digging the sand, trying to bury something deep beneath. The playground has since been replaced with the modernised, less fun one without sand.

Oh how I miss those good old times. How long have I not inhaled this wonderful scent? This scent so familiar it smells like home? It's been a long time.

Grandma, I'm coming to visit you.

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I ran. I ran with the exhilaration and energy I haven't been endowed with for the longest time. It was then that I felt free.

Everyone backed away, shying from the rain. There I stood, as close to the rain as I was allowed, loving every moment of it.

I lifted my gazed from the soft pattering, and saw her in front, walking. She was strolling with the delight I possessed, her hand outstretched to let the cool droplets land on her palm.

I don't know her. I've never uttered more than 5 words to her. She wasn't a friend. She wasn't even an acquaintance. Yet, I felt that I understood her. A familiar understanding that we have something in common. Something secret. Something others there would never be able to fathom.

For a moment, I thought I caught a whiff of his scent. His natural scent. Then, it was gone. I heard him say, "What if you break my heart?" Only, when I first felt those words, they were typed, printed on the screen, imprinted in my heart.

I pushed the thoughts away from my mind. I want to be stronger. Happier. I want to be loved.

I averted my attention back to the drizzle.

Suddenly, it felt so good to be alive.

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It doesn't care about it's audience. It dances on and on. Provoke it and it will turn nasty. Make good use of it and it will work wonders.

There it dances, hearing the melody from the air around it. It gives warmth. It burns with a passion no one understands. Beautiful.

It caught my attention when everyone was so engrossed in breeding bacteria. I found nothing interesting in breeding bacteria except for the idea itself. But there in the Biology lab, there was passion. There was beauty.

In such an ordinary thing. Fire. No one sees its brillance. No one finds it as mesmerising as I do. No one was as intrigued by it as I am. No one sees from my point of view.

Perhaps I'm just plain weird. Maybe, just maybe, I might be more insane than I think I am. Who knows?

I think the world is just as beautiful as it is ugly. If only people can see that.

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