I remembered that one time, we were studying Maths in school. Just us. I was stuck on a vectors question and you were trying to help me visualise it. I had been using my arms to figure it out, so you held on to my wrists and started manipulating them. You did it so spontaneously, so readily – as if at that moment “us” just existed, and we didn’t have to think, worry, feel awkward about me loving you and you feeling nothing.
And there we were, in our own XYZ-axis-world. The closest I ever got to holding your hand.
I remembered this as I walked home from pilates class today. The pathway outside Hwa Chong is a strange place at night; it’s a tiny limbo of sorts. On my left, cars sped by in the opposite direction, spheres of white headlights passing me by within the orange glow of street lamps. On my right, a field, student-less, but still filled with the promise of activity the very next day.
Then there was me, and darkness.
After all, why light a pathway for no one?
I could sing, I could cry, and I could use my right hand to grasp my left wrist and pretend it was you and no one would look at me weirdly and no one would ever know. It’s just that – and I knew it before I even tried – it’s not your hand anymore. Your fingers slipped away a long time ago, and not just physically. I knew that even if you were actually standing there in front of me and doing the same action you did so many months ago, I wouldn’t feel a tingle, or even a skipped heartbeat. I would only feel the naked-to-the-human-eye gaps between your skin and mine, and the abyss between our selves. I would only feel the loss, the emptiness, the nothing.
Yet I indulge myself with these memories. Do you?
If you found out one day, that I had finally, finally found someone else to love, what would you feel? Would you suddenly realise how much you miss me? Would you think of everything that had ever happened or didn’t happen? Or would you be relieved, free of the burden of carrying a piece of my heart?
Maybe you would just nod and move on to the next conversational topic.
Maybe you would feel nothing.
Maybe you wouldn’t even remember me at all.