Swinging Low

1)
Welly - or, broadly, NZ - is a lot like Anna to me.

She is the girl-woman I've spent more than few hours admiring, both up close and personal, and from afar. She is the girl-woman I found too beautiful for words, and also the one I'd never gotten to really know and had known only superficially. Despite this - or maybe because of this - she is the one I miss so very often, the one I have only fond memories of.

Singapore, on the other hand, is like my girlfriend Kai. She was the one who anticipated my every mood, the one whose sentences I'd completed. Her hand in my back pocket would trigger the conflicting emotions of comfort and discomfort. Most prolly because of our familarity with each other's idiosyncracies, she was the one I often got irritated and frustrated at; the one I'd fight with, then kiss and make up.

Then again, it was never her; it was always me. I was the one who'd get deeply, completely, and inexplicably annoyed at her. There were always plenty of rocky patches for me with her.

I think I'm going through an awfully trying one now.



2)
I feel so unhappy, so miserable, most of the time.

I tell myself I feel so unhappy and immediately there is this voice retorting but you're not even trying - you're not giving yourself a chance to be happy.

I get so mad at that voice; and, at the same time, it confuses me, makes me second-guess myself: have I really not tried to be happy? Have I not tried hard enough to be happy?

How much is enough, though?

When even the beautiful evening sky makes you sad - when the beauty of nature fails to stir any joy in you - is that when you're truly, hopelessly, unhappy?