Psychic Waning

As the moon waxes and wanes, so too does hope. It is odd, because I have never, in all my nineteen years of life, doubted my beliefs. In philosophy, in my life's path, in my abilities. I have always trusted that under the right circumstances, I would make the right move. Perhaps I have always presented an illusion of emotional coldness, as most acquaintances already know. But tonight, all illusions melt away as I watch the cold, pale moon. Appearing to be emotionally cold does not mean I am ignorant to the emotions of others. I do feel. It's just that I feel too much, therefore I have to keep a very tight leash on my feelings, lest they overwhelm me. I can feel time running out for me. In my whole life as a gay man, this was my greatest fear, to be surrounded by men. But a new fear has replaced my wariness of men in general. And that fear lies in the uncertainty of my future. I have talents, yes. But many of these remain untapped and confined, utilised only for the purpose of my amusement. I should write a book, I should start taking the piano seriously, I should start exploring philosophy with more zeal. A few hours on the ivories, and I believed I was set for life. Writing a few short paragraphs, and I thought I had a bestseller. Knowing the premises of the great philosophers made me think I was one too. But as Night raises her own brand of illusions, she strips away most of mine. And I'm not sure whether to rage at her or thank her. I wanted to go home on Wednesday, but then my eyes were too red to be seen in public. Visibility was null, and I didn't fancy being hunted down by exorcists. So I stayed home and brooded. A few hours of rest, and my energy is back at optimum level, and my eyes are mostly healed. Tomorrow is Sunday. Make that today. Today is Sunday, and I believe I am long overdue for a meeting with my mum and my piano. I need to raise the issue of my education. Most people do not, indeed, they can not understand my passion and zeal for my area of interests. So let me try to capture my thoughts and emotions into words, although I'm afraid I might not do them justice. When I was younger, the piano was all I had. I withdrew from the world, I stopped speaking to people in general, and my friends were not of the good kind. Spending six to seven hours on the ivories was typical for me. My parents left me alone, because I wanted it that way. I would play from the moment the sun began to rise (thank God for understanding neighbours) until I had to go to school, and continue playing the instant I came home. It was my only comfort. If I shed tears while playing, if I was furious, only the piano would express that. But time and lack of practice has dulled my skills, and I regret that. I am trying to remedy that, and almost every waking minute is spent pining away for my piano. And I am beginning to lose hope that I will ever have it by my side, whenever I need a touch of old comfort. That piano has a lot of memories, and a lot of soul to it. My attachment to it is of such magnitude that I can scarcely put it into words. I don't know how, but I have to get it back. I know a lot of people look upon me as a wayward child. But they don't know me. Behind the facade of cold civility and emotional detachment is just a boy with a broken wing. Too many times, I have sat at the piano and played for hours, while tears fell into my lap. I disregarded them, because the music that emanated from the oneness of man and instrument calmed me, healed me. The keyboard that is my current substitute is dying. I cringe whenever the notes falter, and I know there will be no other. Yet...how can I explain all this to the women who I have been pushing further and further away? My mum messaged me yesterday. She wanted to ask me out, I know. But something made her hold back, and that something is me. My dad came over to Bedok yesterday. I was an internal mess, writhing in agony and longing. Just...I just want him to ruffle my hair and hug me. And tell me once more that I am his son. I spoke two words to him, and withdrew to the shadows, where I could see but remain unseen. He is thin and gaunt now, and I worry for him, for what is happening at home. I have to go home today, to both houses that I have neglected for a long time. My dad may not regard me as his son anymore, but I still care about him. And seeing him look so worn down jolted me out of my alabaster tower. I have luxuriated for so long playing the part of the spoilt prince, that I have forgotten exactly who it was that put me there in the first place. *shakes head* The waning of hope, and my dying illusions make for a bitter brew. I do not care. Let my illusions wane, and fade away to nothing. Return them to the shadows from whence they came. I stopped using the L word with my family nine years ago. I still won't use it, because it signifies weakness and I will not open my heart up only to be pierced again by disappointment. But there are other ways in which I can heal rifts, and I will not run anymore. As soon as the sun lights up the sky, I leave for home. Tomorrow, I will call on my dad and the cats that I miss so much. I have to see for myself. The moon is waxing towards full, and I hope everything positive will flourish as she does on her velvet throne. *clasps hands* I cannot make you understand, I know. (You being all the people who care about me) You believe I am an aimless bum, with no direction in life. But you are wrong. I need to do this, because it is something I have wanted all my life. It took me six years to get my first piano, and I possess a great deal of patience. It may perplex you to see that I am content to sit by and allow Opportunity to take his time and call on me whenever he pleases. But I am not sitting by quietly. Still waters run deep, I cannot reiterate that point enough. I have stilled my mind, banished most of my demons, thanks largely in part to Yushaa. I have found a new focus, and that is my interest in music, languages and philosophy. Perhaps I have taken too long to shift this into high gear, but I have already planned my life out, even if I do not speak of my plans. Understand that I will not remain forever under another's thumb, and that eventually I will carve a niche for myself in this cruel and heartless world. But to do that, I will need time, and patience. I have both, but I want understanding too, even if it is not needed for my solo flight. *bows* I hope my words illuminate the darkness that so many of you believe I represent. It is all I can give to you. For now.