It is 3 days until my 21st birthday. Typically a time of great excitement and rejoice in a young persons life. However, I can't help but feel melancholy. It is not the thought of growing old that has me downcast per se. Rather it is the realization that I will enter the 21st year of my life alone. Certainly I have friends and I have family and where I would be without them only the fates know, but I haven't a collaborator, or even the memory of such a person to carry with me into this newer phase of my life.
What is more is that on the actual day of my birthday, I fear I may be alone. What a doleful way to celebrate a birthday. Lisa is to be in Ponorogo, Benita in KL, James in Adelaide. Hopefully there will still be Tom, and banana pudding.
Today the sky was mourning with me. As I sat at the table and saw the drops gain in number and in speed I felt compelled to go out. And out I went. I went right out to the back garden, with the rain tumbling down, those cold, wet, globules pelting my skin. Frivolously attempting to pierce the surface. For what purpose, I am not sure.
But there I stood in the rain. The thunder sounding violently all around me. I walked into the grotto and had a sit. As I sat I had a think. The rain permeated that little grotto. As I sat there contemplating the events of the previous days the rain continued to drip upon me. What is one to think of things and people and places and events? Is one to think anything at all? Feeling as if I should cry I stared out at the garden, but I couldn't see what lie directly in front of me. The sharp jut of stone that hung down in front of me would only allow me the sight of things in my peripheral vision. I couldn't help but feel this was metaphorical. As I am hopeless with words, I dare not work one out, but metaphorical it must have been. Though the rain was disruptive, no doubt, all was green and moist and alive. I longed for my eyes to pour as the sky at that very moment. Alas, all I could muster was one slight trickle from my left eye. The tears were there in my eyes, little pools of sadness and pain, but only one tear would let it self come into existence. It trickled down my cheek and rested for some time at my chin before being consumed by the rain, losing its identity, its purpose, its originality, its significance.
And that was it. That was all that could be done or felt at the time. I'm still waiting for the moment when I am hit by the inescapable wave of emotion that is sure to come. I only hope the rain will be there to wash away the evidence of my lament.