Tuesday, April 5, 2011

When in London

I always like to, since I was little, ask myself if I am okay. Well, not out loud of course. From time to time, I check, just to make sure whatever I am going through it didn't affect me that bad.

The question is always as simple as "So, are you okay?

It is the same as what people ask me when I am going through something. But with myself, I've got to be more honest.

For the past 28 years, the answer has always always been either "Yeah, I am" or "Yeah, I will be". Because whatever I told people (I might want to fish for sympathies), I know for sure I can always bounce back.

For the first time ever, after the incident three weeks ago, when I asked myself that same ageless question, I wasn't sure of the answer. Well, I know for a fact that I am not okay. I am suffering. But the more terrifying thing is I don't even know if I can be okay, ever.

I kept on telling people that I know it's the best decision I've made and life will turn out to be better for me. But honestly, I'm having a hard time believing it myself.

Why? Because every single thing on earth reminds me of him.

That sucks big time.

Even when a good thing happen to me, all I can think of how good it is if I can share it with him.

So, frankly I cannot see how I can go on like this.

Two days ago, I was in the shower, when I asked myself that question. It was so easy to fall back to that empty feeling, feeling sorry for myself, when I suddenly realizes something.

I am taking a bath in a hotel in London! I went to Bicester Village in the morning and strolled along the Hyde Park and the Kensington Park in the afternoon.

How can I not be okay?

I feel awesome! I feel great! And I am looking forward for tomorrow and all the days after that. I am okay people. I just need a little bit of fresh air to tell me that.

My friends, the wonderful wonderful people, are right after all. I guess they sometimes know me more than I know myself.

And right now I am sipping hot chocolate in Pret A Manger at High Street Kensington underground station. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

Kensington Park

P/S When I talk to myself (in my head) in London, I found myself speaking in British accent. It's like when I was 13, when I dreamt of my sweetheart, B-Rock of Backstreet Boys, he was speaking in Malay. My head is funny sometimes.

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