A certain attachment
I might be getting overly sentimental at this point in my life, but I noticed that I have more and more emotional attachment to circumstances than I used to.
Note that I said "circumstances" and not "people." I don’t often find myself emotionally attached to many people for very long; I blame it on growing up as an independent only child who wasn’t very physically or verbally demonstrative. We just aren’t a very demonstrative family. One of the first times I actually told my mom that I loved her was sometime in college. Before then, it was simply understood that we were family and we had these feelings between us and they didn’t need to be voiced.
(Don’t get me wrong, my parents and I have a very loving relationship, but we just don’t do the typical touchy-feely kinda stuff.)
But yes, back to the subject of this… More often, I find myself getting a bit weepy (on the inside) over some very strange circumstances, e.g., the way the rising sun fills the train car and spills over people’s faces. I’ve taken to watching the sky change colours from blue to pink/purple to blue to grey in the evenings instead of rushing about, going from one place to the next. Sometimes, I’ll just sit quietly somewhere and watch people go by. I’m not doing anything, I’m just watching them walk by, the leaves swirling under their feet, being kicked about and finally left wedged against the edge of a wall with some cigarette butts and rubbish.
I like to think that I’m storing these scenes and memories away for future writing efforts.
Quietly to myself, I wonder how many more times will I see this scene? The answer is probably never, since the same exact scene wouldn’t happen again. Maybe something similar to it would, but not the same one. The wind wouldn’t blow in exactly the same direction with the same strength, and the leaves would have moved and the people would be one step off from the last time. See, that’s how time works; it marches on regardless of if we sit to observe it or not. Time’s job is to pass, to keep going, no matter what.
I guess I’m just feeling sentimental lately, thinking how I would miss this life, these small rituals I’ve built up. Of course, I’d miss the people, but there are people everywhere aren’t there? I’m not saying that people are disposable, but I think sometimes my own personal detachment from others makes it rather easy to go from one social circle to another, never really settling down (and really having no desire to).
The Mister may be one of the very few people in the world I could imagine wanting to go home to every single day of my life. This doesn’t mean he’s my soulmate, but just that I want our lives to march alongside each other for a very long time, no matter what other things happen along the way. Is that love? Maybe not passionate love, but it’s my own way to love someone.
All in all, maybe it’s a bit of a lonely life to live like this, but it feels natural to me, like it’s the right thing for me to do. No matter, because it works, even if others who choose to live their lives differently can’t quite see my point of view. That’s okay too. To each his own, or some other banal drivel.
(You should always follow what feels most resonant with your own nature and not try to be someone you’re not; isn’t that where all this unhappiness in the world comes from?)