In the wee small hours

When one is up, awake as the day, in the middle of the night, one always tend to think depressing thoughts. It goes with the atmosphere, I suppose. Dark, quiet with only the crickets for company. There's none to distract you from the most unworthy of thoughts - that you're incomplete, that you're a failure, that you're stupid, that you'll never succeed in anything, that you're forever alone in a crowd.

when the sun is high in the afternoon sky
you can always find something to do
but from dusk till dawn, as the clock ticks on
something happens to you

The paper journal lies open, as you scribble away the contents of your heart. Trite words, full of angst and self-pity. You know you'll shy away from those words in the morning - they are too sentimental, embarassingly juvenile to be any use to you in any way. You'll cringe in memory in the morning. But still, you scratch away with your pen-of-the-moment.

in the wee small hours of the morning
while the whole wide world is fast asleep
you lie awake, and think about the boy
and never, ever think of counting sheep

Alison's wedding reception was full of distinguished guests (Datuk, Datin, Tan Sri, Puan Sri) - friends of her parents, relatives from both sides, folks from church - both from Melbourne and her church here, and his colleagues from work. There were only a handful of "school" friends - five of her ex-classmates from secondary school. Of the twenty five or so that went through five years of university with her, only one turned up - me. So I hardly knew any of the guests - I felt out of the loop, severely.

The food was good though. So was the live band.

But it drove home how university and the friends I made there, seem like a hundred years ago instead of it just barely a year ago. Next Thursday marks the first anniversary of our graduation. Of the twenty five of us that graduated, I have only kept in regular contact with one.

It saddened me. So, in the wee small hours, I think sad thoughts of the past. I think sad thoughts of a life of a hundred acquaintances and a few, far away, dear friends. I think sad thoughts of being unable to trust, ever again. I think sad thoughts of quiet loneliness in the years to come. I think sad thoughts of heart yearning for happiness, but unable to love, ever again.

My heart aches, from the sad thoughts. Perhaps it's time I cried again.