unreal

When he first smsed me, an indication that he's been back (for a while), I froze, literally. I had no idea what to do, what to feel, how to behave. The "delinquent" past I've been trying to escape. A past I've been trying to put behind myself. When he asked me why I replied in English, I played dumb and said (lied), "oh, I don't know how to use the function of this phone. Besides, I'm used to it." After a while, he called me. Funnily, after listening to his voice I grew calm and settled, knowing his motive for communication. "A friend who saw you told me. So I thought I'll just call you." When he asked if I was with anyone, I stiffened and started my mock-confident blabbering (that only happens when I get hit by something unexpected), making up as I go. "Oh, no. Ya it gets lonely but my church people are there." One good reminder on why it was good for us to part - I would have never returned to God the way I did. Knowing he was in town put me in another fix - I kept looking behind my shoulder when I was in Marina, where he is currently working, afraid to bump into him. But what if I actually did? I had to return him the thing. He never meant to give it to me, I surprised him once with a gift when we promised none, and out of fluster mainly he offered me that. I don't know why it ended up with me, I did a good job of erasing the past. Sure, there was funny stuff, touching and sweet memories, until I allowed the addictions to happen. That, I hate. That ruined my whole life, made me a shadow of my own passions, suffering and screaming inside, my conscience and the devil fighting a war over my soul and body. Remnants of the addiction taunt me, even though I am not tempted heavily. The images seem to laugh at me, telling me I can never be rid of the devil in my life. If not for God I've be in the path, probably dead by the time I'm 30. I found the thing in a box, probably chucked it in when I found it during packing. I can't even remember my reaction to it. I found it again recently, when that box that I mean for memories was literally overflowing. It was in a cup with some other bits and pieces, and with him around, I had a confused internal debate on whether I should return him it. I smsed him just now. He was surprised, and so was I with my emotions. A certain emptiness took over, rationally telling him to take it back. Because I cannot throw it away - I am by nature a sentimental hoarder. No, I actually don't know why I am not throwing it away, or why I cannot bring myself to sell it, even if it'll get me a lot of welcome cash. I cannot bring myself to rid of it, unless it's back to him. It bing-bonged for a while, and it was getting almost angry. His first reaction was for me to keep it, as a "memory". I told him I couldn't keep such an expensive "memory", that if he didn't want it I'll sell it. He replied that he hoped it was a "beautiful memory". I told him, bluntly, it no longer has any significance to me, hence, it was as good as worthless. His angry response was "I understand! I understand! Do what you want with it! Sell it!" I still want to be friends, I said, but I cannot keep this thing. I simply CANNOT. You never meant to give it to me anyways, and also I cannot keep this thing. "Of course we are friends, at that time it was the most expensive thing I owned, that'll tell you the importance of you in my heart at that time. Although we're no longer together, I hope you keep that as a memory." Damn it, what to say? Half of me wants to keep as for the good memories, the other half of me wants to bang my head on the wall, get concussion, wake up with no recollection of the past. "I don't want the thing." "Then you give to someone else loh." I wonder when I am able to see him face to face without the hesitation, fear and anger again. He was someone to me, yes, but if I want to be petty, he took a mobile phone, my discman, other stuff and an irreplacable thing I had. He took my heart, broke into pieces, smashed it up, served it back to me on a ice cold platter, with a "I go back Malaysia, tell you for what." He also helped me screw up my emotions. But see, all these happened towards the end, or rather, after the end. (Yes Jeff, if I see you on the streets, I'll still kick you in the groin, even if I am happy that I am getting my life back now.) R is a different, sorta, story. Yes we shared some good times, and it's this I want to keep in the friendship. But now, the thing stands between the both of us, or actually, how we are treating the thing is. It's so unreal sms-ing him on all these. Almost like he's still in Malaysia, when he ran away. Everything about him is so unreal, until I touch my wounds and feel the pain, see it bleed. I can still feel the weight of the addiction on top of me. He didn't bring me into the addiction, he introduced me into the practise but I was the one who made it an addiction, already being curious and having the tendency. And it screwed my whole life up (after he screwed it up first). It still hurts, though no fault of his totally (or actually), but life as we know will go on. And pray that God heals faster (though it'll be in His time). I know, God knows. Perhaps, just maybe it was retribution in advance for what my sister did to A. Think meeting him face to face will be more unreal. argh.