~ Me, Myself & I ~

It's 6a.m now. I think my biological clock is not only screwed, its kaputt. I lie on my comfy single bed, eyes closed, trying to sink into the warm folds of sleep, yet my mind is working overtime. Totally random thoughts whirl around in my head, snippets of conversations i have had before, past memories long thought to be forgotten surging forth with vivid clarity, idle musings of fantasy, brooding contemplation of life, all of them conspiring to keep me from slipping into slumber. I've changed positions at least 5 times, putting an extra pillow under my head, turning sideways and resting my head on my arm, curling myself up fetal style, turning yet again and stuffing my face into the pillow... sleep was as distant as ever.
Soft thunder rumbled gently, and rain pattered steadily upon the roof, each drop sounding so loud and clear to my senses. A draft of wind, bearing the coolness and crispness of early morning somehow managed to find its way into the room, caressing me like a lover's touch. I felt invigorated by the sudden gust, rejuvinated even, though i had been trying to fall asleep in futile for the last hour and despaired of getting any anytime soon. I'm so going to be a zombie when i wake up later to study. And so i propped myself up with my elbows, and suddenly, as if the sight of my computer infront of me flicked a switch within , for one of the very few times in my life, I felt like penning down some things about me, things genuine and real, naked and raw.
People who know me recognize that I am not one who is given to outward displays of emotions. Few if any have ever seen me when my anger was in full bloom, when i seethed with fury and my eyes clouded with the red shadows of wrath. Never had i shed a tear in public or infront of friends, when grief over something or someone overwhelmed me. All i have shown to the world was happiness and laughter, or lukewarm emothions like displeasure, annoyance, or dark brooding. Anyone who has been an ardent follower of my OD, or at least has the patience to slowly plow through my 'flowery language' would know that I do not write about my mundane life, momentous and life-changing events, my thoughts, nor my feelings. Rather, i just write crap, albeit an interesting sort of crap(i hope). I write, because i love to write, because i hope that what i write would be a tiny spark of excitement to those with monotonous lives, but mostly because i'm bored.
Things that matter are meant to be kept inside. This basically sums up that which governs my life. Events which matter to me are etched within my mind, vivid videos to be recalled and replayed, the story of my life. Only some juicier bits, and almost always happy, i wanna share with people who matter. Otherwise, the more the thing mattered to me, the more i would not mention it, especially true for unhappy incidents. I am an emotional person, but feelings and emotions i experience, i bottle up. Happiness i'd gladly share, for happiness rubs off ppl like an infectious disease, but anger and sadness, especially anger and sadness, i keep a tight rein on. A close friend once commented to me, that for ppl who knew me well, i was like an open book, my emotions and thoughts very easily read. That is in part correct, for that is the limited side of me which i allow everyone to see. Good friends might even guess correctly what i'm feeling, but no one will ever know the depth and extent of that particular emotion. They might know that i'm angry, but they'll never guess how much i'm seething and boiling inside, how beneath my calm composure a raging inferno of calamitous proportions is brewing. To reveal anger or sadness, is to show weakness(I know i'm weird). I am intense. I feel things strongly, and things that affect me, affect me deeply, yet i feel seemingly nonchalant about alot of other things. There is like this thin ineffable line between black or white, right or wrong, things that matter or things that i dont give a fuck about. I can't stand grey, i can't tolerate ambiguity, I can't stomach maybe. That's me.
From the whirlpool of random thoughts as i attempted to sleep, i try to establish coherence. As i lay there, my mind wandered back to my conversation with my friend whom i went for supper with. We were making idle conversation when he pulled out a packet of ciggys and asked if i minded if he took a puff. I was slightly astounded by that act, for i never thought he was someone who smoked. I've known my fair share of smokers, but i was just particularly struck to find out that he smoked coz he so didnt seem the sort. Then the image of him puffing away morphed into an image of my granddaddy, lying with his eyes closed, his face still bearing traces of the pain he suffered from the wasting plague of cancer as a soft white sheet was pulled over his head. A picture imprinted eternally upon the photoalbum of my life. He died from cancer caused by excessive smoking when i was in JC 1. Which was the reason why eventhough I am a sinner of many vices, smoking would not be one of them. We were not close, and i even hesitate to proclaim that what i felt for him was love. It is not something i'm proud of and the sadness i feel is not the one of heartwrenching loss, but more of dull ache that I had not known him better, and that I would never have the chance to do so.
The memory of him swept me to another's departure from my life. My first gf, huiling. The woman who changed my life, left her marks in so many facets of my being, and made me the man I am today. I smiled in rememberance, strolling down memory lane. Looking back, i no longer feel the unbearable grief of our breakup, nor wish for her to be back by my side. Rather, i feel thankful for having had her once and feel no slight amount of amusement that eventhough she has been gone for 4-5 years, or should i say half a decade, some things between her and me will never change. Like how my pin number is still the 6 numbers we came up together, how her name is still the password for alot of my insignificant stuff, and how i still remember her NRIC number. Yes, i'm a sentimental slob.
I drift on to daydreaming about what i would do when i get my car in January coz huiling always complained about taking public transport back then when we were sweet 18, the plans about my future when i graduate this coming June and make my infant step out into society as a full fledged working adult. Then thoughts floated back to how I am so dead for not trying to sleep so that i can wake up early and study.
The turn of thoughts led me to assess my past 3 years of university life. I had been busy, and i love busy sometimes, most times. It had been fulfilling, working my butt off in my short-lived business, tuition, making enuff to get a car, immersing myself in extracurricular activities like orientation camps, singing, dancing, yet still finding time to have fun and get my weekly dose of midnight movies. Life is certainly good.
Dancing. Ah, dancing. Another legacy left over from huiling. The passion for dance she has inspired in me for which i am forever grateful, for in dance i have found joy and fulfillment. When i dance, i am truely alive. When the lights hit me full in the face, when the music engulfs me and sweeps me off my feet, when i give my all during the there and then, the moment, and shed perspiration of effort and exertion, every drop of sweat an affirmation of my dedication and passion, my heart pounding with adrenalin and muscles giving every ounce of energy they've got, that picture of beauty reflected in the eyes of each and every one in the audience is why dance is such a beautiful thing. (That was a wildly romanticized description i admit, mostly they just look on with mild curiosity and amusement.. the bastards!) Most of my friends know that i dance, yet it seems so very few have ever seen me dance. How ironic. Sometimes i feel disappointment that so few had ever expressed interest in coming to attend my performances, and I have performed quite a few times over the years. I'm going to take private dance lessons at 'Shawn and Gladys' with Michelle, my ex cum dance partner after exams. Body tingling with excitement at that thought, though how i am going to find the money to finance that on top of my car i seriously wonder.
My thoughts then flittered to Michelle, the girl who has reappeared in my life 2 years after we broke up, more beautiful than ever and every bit as hot as i remembered her to be. When she established contact with me a few months back, she was looking for a dance partner since her's quitted and i was the first choice that came to mind since i was the one who introduced her to latin dancing. She had just broken up with her then bf, and was weak and vulnerable. I did a 'What-if' senario in my mind and contemplated in amusement how would things be if I had tried my luck back then. I'm pretty sure i would succeed. *cough.. confidence is a virtue* I entertained the thought of getting back with her, coz even after 2-3 years of breaking up, she's still one of the prettiest and hottest girls i have ever met, the chilli padi she once was seemed to have mellowed down quite a bit, and the flower i knew when she was 18 has blossomed into something gorgeous and stunning. Our close proximity during dance practices and her friendly hugs and gestures are certainly not making things easy too :X. Alas, she has a bf now, but thats not really a problem come to think of it. I'm starting not to make sense. I know it's part loneliness, part NTU not having any pretty girls at all, and part boredom. Have it firmly under control, but musings never hurt anyone :P.
And i think i have finally exhausted my urge to write about myself for maybe the next few years.