True Love Waits

The crazy woman is seen walking down the streets from time to time, or jogging to be more exact. She moves at a certain pace. I never knew where she was heading, sometimes it was past my place, sometimes it was to the busy conjunction in the middle of the day, sometimes it was in the hamlet where my family used to live at a quiet night time, but it was always with confidence and determine how her feet was carrying her.

The crazy woman always knows how to make herself stand out in the crowd. Her colors of choice must have been reflecting what she was feeling inside, pink and green, similar to those of regularly used marker pens. Marker pens, my first boyfriend used them a lot, so much that he was joyous opening the Christmas gift box full of markers that I gave him. But anyway, I guess sometimes people were too busy seeing her as a picture book, by the colors she put on, that they fail to notice the light beam of satisfaction on her face, which was what truly made her appearance memorable.

The crazy woman has been here for quite a while. The first time I saw her was around 5 years ago. But it wasn’t until way later that I learnt that she was crazy. How did I know? The mouths of strangers, talking about another stranger, out in the sun, the public domain of course. Some spoke of sympathy, some spoke of judgement, but the wisest ones spoke of lost love. It has always been it, isn’t it, the thing that drove you to the point of insanity, or of having to create another layer to bury what can’t be buried under, yet was still celebrated and yearned for in many ways?


The neighborhood has been surrounded by noises of cement cracking, drilling and brick cutting machine thanks to the new law regarding the misuse of the pavement. The modest road that cut through our place was constructed around 2 decades ago, as an extension of a small alley, with each household donating part of our designated land already. There have been no pavements of any kind ever since. And now they want us to do it ourselves, return a specific amount of “space” for something that has never existed, or they would do it by force.

At least, there was sound. I could start to feel the side effect of the pills I’ve been taking, and that sound was what could break the dull layer I took comfort in.

 

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This entry was published on March 23, 2017 at 2:38 pm. It’s filed under Thinking, Women and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

One thought on “True Love Waits

  1. Really beautiful narrative. I like the way you link every part of the story together. Thanks for making my morning.

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