My friend and foe

I feel the wind slapping against my face. My hair is in a mess but that's okay. We're at 120 kilometres per hour but my heart is racing even faster. The city lights loom overhead. They are so beautiful. I dance to the music in my head. I shout at the top of my lungs about just. how. awesome. this. is. The breeze. The speed. The pretty lights. The excitement. The alcohol in my blood. And you. Beautiful you.

But that's just today. Because tomorrow,

Who knows? I may be bawling my eyes out, and hitting my chest as though that would take the heavy, crushing feeling away. I may be hyperaware of what a mess I am; the feelings of despair heightened by Lewis Capaldi on loop. I may be screaming about just. how. terrible. this. is. The stale air that stifles me. My Sisyphean life. My grotesque reflection. The monotony. The alcohol in my blood. And you. Poor you.

But you know, one thing that's for sure is that I will wake up with a hangover tomorrow. 

what makes it special

This song.

It takes me back to that attic of yours at the corner of Cowley Road. It wasn’t fancy at all. You had to sleep on the floor so that I could have the bed every time I visited you for the weekend. But we were happy. And of all the songs that were on repeat from the JBL speakers that I got you for your 21st birthday, this is the song that takes me back to that place. 

It has been quite some time now but this song…it still transports me back to that exact moment when you were writing your thesis with the music playing in the background. I can’t remember what I was doing – perhaps watching a show on Netflix, reading a book or writing my own thesis – but I remember marvelling at how engrossed you were, typing away at your keyboard. I’ve always been distracted by the slightest of things – the sound of thunder in a distance, weird noises from your house mate’s room, or the smell of freshly brewed coffee from the kitchen. But for you, you could block off everything else and focus on the task at hand. And it sometimes got on my nerves, when you don’t even hear me calling your name. Maybe it is a guy I thing, I thought. Or maybe it is a you thing.

The years have come and gone – and our hearts have been broken, and healed, and broken and healed again – but what I’ve come to realise is that happiness thrives in the littlest, most unexpected moments. And those moments are when the fondest memories are made. Occasionally, I still think about our spontaneous weekend getaway to Budapest, the sunset over my favourite – oh, my dearest – Santorini, or the night you got down on one knee underneath the Tenerife sky. But the fondest memories that I have with you, and the memories that make it feel like it was just yesterday, are the simple moments in that attic of yours; writing our thesis, eating Chinese takeout while watching DC, and doing our own things at designated corners of the room with this song (among many others) playing in the background. 

-

The scenery has changed and I’m still the same person who seeks thrill and chase milestones. But I’ve also learned that it’s not always the extravagant and ‘wow’ moments in life that define us. Sometimes, it’s the bottle of Pocari Sweat that you get me in the morning when I have a hangover, the box of McWings and spicy nuggets (and your oversized jacket) that you bring me when I’m on overnight duty, and the evening walks around your estate that make it all so special.

And there's nothing more that I could ever ask for.