Friday, December 22, 2006
♥ Friday, December 22, 2006
It feels so good to be home.
I'm back in my own computer, my own bed and my own table. But most importantly are the view from my room, my floor and my bed.
It feels so good to be home. (I know I said that already. but really)
My room. It's where I've cried countless times after any fight or anything I couldn't deal with. My room is where I sneak past-midnight snacks into. It's where all my files are (for now, at least) and almost everything else that I own. They're all in this 3 by 3m room, in my cupboards, on my shelfs, on my table. It's where my medals and trophies and certificates and awards are kept. Usually my guitar is standing upright beside the bed, and my table is a weeny bit messy and my overstuffed cabinet and my stupid faulty a/c which doesn't stop making noise are there. It's where I hide most of the time when I don't feel like socialising, the only place (besides the toilet) where I can just cry, cry and cry and not worry about people seeing me. My room's where I feel at home.
My room's what I missed during my whole trip.
Makes me think of that song.
"Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you." HAHA.
But I don't really want to spoil the atmosphere. So. Back.
The view from my room. Many people don't think this is important, but many a times I've found peace in my window. Whenever I look out; at night or in the morning whatever I see just tells me something. In the morning though I hate the morning rays but what really gets me up is the thought of looking outside. See the employees rushing for work, mothers sending their children to school in their cars, some mothers holding their children's hands and walking along the roads. And then I think. Look at them. And look at you.
At noon or in the afternoon you see young kids who don't go to school yet walking about with their mothers. And then you see some security guards leaving for the mall next door for lunch. Everybodys rushing in the lunch hour.
In the evening it's the rush hour with the employees you saw in the morning rushing for work now rushing home for dinner, either alone or with their families. There are cars everywhere, taxis, people at the bus stop. And then there's the sunset glow after a while, and the buildings look like outstanding skyscapers.
But the most beautiful view is forever at night, where darkness illuminates the space, and lights dot the buildings. You see red lights, green lights, blue lights, and then the occasional dim yellow lights. The road being lit up, usually (like now, past midnight) with no cars. It's hard to imagine what was so busted in the day is empty, completely once darkness falls. Because the people have returned home. People who don't like work but have to work for money, to support their families. People who'd sacrifice their freedom for the people they love, to work and get money to feed every single mouth in the household.
And I admire these people. These people who work hard for every penny they earn and would chase after every single penny which drops and rolls towards the drains. Because they know that this penny was the money they traded their freedom for.
And my floor never fails me. I come home everyday, exhausted and sleepy and dirty. I plop down my bag and look forward to a day of homework, laundry and chores. But then I don't want to dirty my bed. With my dirty uniform. Because in the end I hav to clean it up anyway. And the only option I can see is the floor. And it feels so good, to lie down and stare at the ceiling thinking over the day. Because you always feel that the floor is behind you, supporting you. It's literal, but hey, it works for me. I can feel it. The bond with my floor. (:
My bed. Is where I've changed countless bedsheets on, hid in the night when I was supposed to be asleep but wasn't of course; cried myself to sleep so many times; wrote in my lovely diary under the covers with a batteryoperated reading light, wet it (with tears) while listening to my iPod and then dried it. It's where all the hundred acre wood dolls, and Maya my husky sleep on, or sit on, all day long. And I say goodbye to all of them every single night. It's where I strummed my guitar and played those darn syf pieces all day long.
And the most important thing it does is to make me feel like someone's hugging me. Not really hugging, but holding. I find solace in my pillow and bolster when I cry. They dry up my tears and then I talk to my dolls when I cry, and then I think on the bed. Hesitate, decide and then doubt, and then believe, smile, laugh, and then cry again, and then read some smses and flutter. It's where I can truly be in my own world when the rest of the world is around me.
And to me it's always saying;
"And I will always love you."
