Day One
My knuckles turn white as my fingers fumble to reach the two zippers to my luggage bag, as I comically sit on top of it to try and force it to close.
Packing for a trip has now seemed so odd, as my previous flight was a real mess of waterworks and jetlag.
Still, I guess this is another phase to move on from. I still find it surreal to be hiking the tallest mountain in South East Asia, and I'm not even the hiking kind!
I reckoned that perhaps forcing myself into uncomfortable positions can help me grow more. It'll probably suck, but it does provide some added perspective.
Day Two
Saline splashes over my face as I grip tightly onto the side railing of the starboard bow.
A speedboat had darted past us, in the opposite direction. Then, the boatman spun hard right, towards the wake of the earlier passer-by.
"Oh, you bastard-" SLAM! For the brief moment I was airborne along with the other passengers, I was teleported back to a recent ignominy, as my backside and back crashed back to my seat, the bouy slamming onto my already-white knuckles, cutting it.
Sea travel always seem to stress me out.
Day Three
Yep. As per usual, I had underpacked for the initial hike and overpacked for the second half.
Pauline was defeated come dinner time. You could see the pain in the eyes. She must be in a lot of discomfort. Throughout our meal she kept insisting that she wanted to skip the hike on the following day.
Annoyed, I gripped her shoulder hard. "You're climbing tomorrow. I don't care what you say right now. You will do it tomorrow or you will regret it". I could feel my intense glare piercing through her.
She got me into this trip. I owed her the very least for her to see it through.
Day Four
It has been two years. You'd think I'd take it much better by now. Somehow, I'd thought so too. But whenever I'm reminded of you, the regret of a fractured friendship reminds me of personal underlying issues.
Maybe, I have issues with intimacy, that I need to break them even when things are great. Perhaps I can't settle for the now and what's going on in the moment, to just enjoy the present times.
But this slow walk away from my ending adventure allows me to relive good times. And we were great, even if it was just as friends.
Lastly, somehow I could not get "What a Wonderful World" out of my head throughout the walk down.
Day Five
"I don't think you were ready for the hike."
Thanks for that uncalled piece of criticism. It wasn't advice. I've known better, mom.
I don't get it. You knew that I was handicapped with my asthma, and that altitude sickness got the better of me. You'd think I'm already a hard judge of my own performances, but you do love to add in a comment or two, just because you can.
Maybe it's because my grandmother treats you the same, maybe you've been desensitized and normalize this practice as a result of overexposure to your mother-in-law... But that's still unfair to me.
Besides, you know I'll have to bite my tongue and not entertain my "American education" of speaking my mind freely.
My knuckles turn white as my fingers fumble to reach the two zippers to my luggage bag, as I comically sit on top of it to try and force it to close.
Packing for a trip has now seemed so odd, as my previous flight was a real mess of waterworks and jetlag.
Still, I guess this is another phase to move on from. I still find it surreal to be hiking the tallest mountain in South East Asia, and I'm not even the hiking kind!
I reckoned that perhaps forcing myself into uncomfortable positions can help me grow more. It'll probably suck, but it does provide some added perspective.
Day Two
Saline splashes over my face as I grip tightly onto the side railing of the starboard bow.
A speedboat had darted past us, in the opposite direction. Then, the boatman spun hard right, towards the wake of the earlier passer-by.
"Oh, you bastard-" SLAM! For the brief moment I was airborne along with the other passengers, I was teleported back to a recent ignominy, as my backside and back crashed back to my seat, the bouy slamming onto my already-white knuckles, cutting it.
Sea travel always seem to stress me out.
Day Three
Yep. As per usual, I had underpacked for the initial hike and overpacked for the second half.
Pauline was defeated come dinner time. You could see the pain in the eyes. She must be in a lot of discomfort. Throughout our meal she kept insisting that she wanted to skip the hike on the following day.
Annoyed, I gripped her shoulder hard. "You're climbing tomorrow. I don't care what you say right now. You will do it tomorrow or you will regret it". I could feel my intense glare piercing through her.
She got me into this trip. I owed her the very least for her to see it through.
Day Four
It has been two years. You'd think I'd take it much better by now. Somehow, I'd thought so too. But whenever I'm reminded of you, the regret of a fractured friendship reminds me of personal underlying issues.
Maybe, I have issues with intimacy, that I need to break them even when things are great. Perhaps I can't settle for the now and what's going on in the moment, to just enjoy the present times.
But this slow walk away from my ending adventure allows me to relive good times. And we were great, even if it was just as friends.
Lastly, somehow I could not get "What a Wonderful World" out of my head throughout the walk down.
Day Five
"I don't think you were ready for the hike."
Thanks for that uncalled piece of criticism. It wasn't advice. I've known better, mom.
I don't get it. You knew that I was handicapped with my asthma, and that altitude sickness got the better of me. You'd think I'm already a hard judge of my own performances, but you do love to add in a comment or two, just because you can.
Maybe it's because my grandmother treats you the same, maybe you've been desensitized and normalize this practice as a result of overexposure to your mother-in-law... But that's still unfair to me.
Besides, you know I'll have to bite my tongue and not entertain my "American education" of speaking my mind freely.
posted from Bloggeroid
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