Thoughts on the Train

The Mall, and What I Do When I've Got Too Much Time

The mall.
I roam around aimless
I'm waiting because I was too early.
That's new.

Looking around, I see stuff that amuses me.
Ring holder kittens, triangular pencils,
Best selling books, crappy comforters.
And people.
Lots of 'em!

Boys, girls, parents, kids.
Couples wearing identicals.
Same shirt, same shoes.
Different pieces of the same set.
Predictable.

And then the singles.
That girl in the sundress,
Impatiently tapping her foot at the cashier queue.
That boy with the bright green headphones,
Lost in his music, lost in thought.

There are others like me, nameless,
Lacking direction.
Our steps taking sweet time.
Seeming to resemble relief
From the fast pace of commercialism around us.

I need to sit down.
But I have to pay for a seat, a space.
This isn't new to me, or to anybody, really.
I begin to wonder what excuse do I use to sit this time?
A burger value meal? A slice of pizza? A WHOLE pizza?
That's not unlikely.

Ugh, decisions, decisions!
Times like this it's better to let my finances decide.

I shookmy front pockets.
Whatever jingles is the budget I have
For a spontaneous snack.
I shook again and knew what I was having without seeing.
A cup of coffee.
I reach to the back pockets.
A few more shillings.
This makes a cup of iced coffee. Lucky me!

I am now sitting in the middle of a hawker centre.
It's tea time.
It's packed!
The sounds are familiar but indistinguishable.
Conversations muddled by my ignorant ears.
I register English, Malay,
Fookien, Tamil...among others.
Or I think that's what they are.

My mind is racing.
In English, Tagalog, Visaya.
The walls in my head echo thoughts that are mine,
As well as others.
Collective thoughts stored
From conversations I've had in the past.
Talks mirroring the ones surrounding me right now.
I can hear it.

I hear my mother's hearty laughter up here somewhere.
There's my father's thundering voice.
And my sisters, singing/arguing,
Same difference.
I can hear my friends!

I hear songs of old, tied to heartstrings like a kite.
Tugging emotions long forgotten, buried, suppressed.
I miss home.

At the same time, I don't.

Is it crazy?
I mean, I think it's confusing if said like that.
But honestly, it isn't.
To me it's crystal clear.

I miss home, and at the same time I don't.

It's true that I'm missing some of the things
I've temporarily left behind.
My family, my home, the life I've been raised in.
They've left spaces in my heart
Similar to dents on raw cookie dough.
Empty, vacant.

And yet, this vacancy allowed other great things to settle.
There is freedom, unadulterated and pure.
There's adventure; there's wonder.
There's a sea of possibilities
And I'm standing at the threshold.

This total, absolute control over my life is new and refreshing.
A little thing compared to what other people desire.
Control.

But having it is everything I never thought I wanted, I needed.
And now it's in my hands, fragile as can be.

It keeps me in check.
I am kept in neutral grounds between neurotic happiness
And psychopathic depression.

And that's how I want it to stay.
Until time demands for my head.

Young and in control.

I love life.