Dec 31, 2014
...and, after the last one leaves, and you've spoke your last piece, maybe then you'll look up, to that bitter, cold realization, once again, for just one final time, you truly are alone.
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from South Africa
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Thailand
seen from Malaysia
...and, after the last one leaves, and you've spoke your last piece, maybe then you'll look up, to that bitter, cold realization, once again, for just one final time, you truly are alone.
Social Apologies... Please, Help Me Change.
Let's spend some time to get her.
unsubstantiated
She was standing on the rail station ramp, when the light-rail eased to a stop.
Though her acquaintance was listening intently, they only spoke when prompted to speak, giving commentary in a call-and-response type manner.
I watched as they both stepped through the doors just a few feet in front of where I was sitting, their dialogue muffled by the surrounding sounds of rush-hour commuters in the busy city.
I noticed a few of the emphatic hand gestures and volume with which both ladies were speaking diminished once they entered the train, attempting to keep their conversation somewhat private; as private as possible in such a crowded place.
There was a sense of urgency I sensed in her voice that she couldn't seem to keep hidden, despite her tries to cover it with a facade of calm.
As I watched, I could tell she was talking about something that meant a great deal to her.
Even the promise of an extra sliver or two of privacy was not worth it, she would not postpone her conversation, not for merely a shallow veil of subtlety. She needed desperately to speak to someone.
Seeking advice from a friend, one whom, may not have the same bias she may own. One whom may have more insight.
To vent her frustrations, and more importantly to share her confusion.
To share a deep-pitted fear, a chilling sadness.
To maybe feel, not so alone.
Her voice got quieter with each passing moment the conversation went on.
Sounding more defeated and helpless with each reply.
Not only understanding how this grander picture was being constructed, but also, with each action, how her feelings, sentimental emotions, desires, and hopes, were being crushed with each step they were taking.
Each second, she was drifting further.
She finally turned to her acquaintance, tears in her eyes, she whispered the words she had been afraid to say.
"I know,” She paused, "He doesn't love me, anymore."
Her voice breaking more with every word.
"He never really did..." She mouthed silently.
Looking at her friend for a brief moment and looking away, a single tear ran down her cheek, and came to rest on her chin before being brushed away.
The moment had passed.
Love Holds No Reservations
Echoes (cont.)
Stand up tall, son Never be ashamed of the person you are Don't fear what the outside world may think of you You will always be my son, of whom I will always be proud
His eyes closed, ...and He moved no more.
I am not the shit of this earth. There will be retribution. They will pay for their actions, they will be scorned for their words. Then the world will see who is the weak, from the strong.