pAst mY beD tiME..

In most of us, by the age of thirty, the character has set like plaster, and will never soften again.

William James

dear jess

This is probably not the best time to be writing to you. I can see that there are bags beneath my eyes, which I don’t usually get owing to my long love for the bed. As I sip my coffee at 4.02 am, threw up 3 hours ago from too much coughing and waiting for my body to wake up as it is usually is at its peak about now, I realize why I love being awake at this time.

The rest of the world; in my part of the world anyways, is dead.

No one is in your way, no one is rushing to become better than you and just for a while, that one moment, everyone is in a land of subconscious that they have forgotten or repressed in order to become part of the norm.

One more yawn, one more sip.

There’s the girl who’s gone to another country for six months yet spent the rest of her life here that says give her time before she can speak ‘malaysian English’ again. There’s the other girl that will only cook spaghetti that way because she always has been.

Growing older does not equate to becoming wiser. On the other hand it means that I will be more stubborn, more convinced that iam wise and right and who iam at 27 (I must say 27 before its too late, too soon..) will be who iam at 33, amplified and unchangeable. It’s a fact of life. Human beings eventually grow up to be donkeys. As stubborn as hell.

I cant stand it. People who’ve left this country and come back speaking like they aren’t Malaysian’s. Perhaps they need to express their deep longings of learning and experiencing. And worse still I cant stand people who don’t want to learn something new.

The scary part is that one day I wont be able to stand myself and by that time it’ll be too late.

yours creeping out of her 20's,

jess