and what did thee have to offer me, december?

nothing but mild heartache, the lingering thought of events that transpired a year ago not quite cutting gashes into me anymore. the dull ache easing, giving way to a stale resignation.

october smelled of restlessness, of knotty shoes and the smell of freshly cut grass and concrete baked by the sun. closed doors, restlessness, a sense that the month would never end and a jaunt in the midst of it all - i ran away again.

november disappeared in a flurry of nothingness, a sense of just waiting for the end, a slow and unbearably placid way to journey to the last month of the year. knots to be tied up, a journey to the end and the impecably stark questions of wondering what came after the end. after all, when one only waits for the end, one begins to think about exactly follows after the arrival of the end.

the arrival of the end. - december came too soon, and thailand proved a wonderful distractor. amidst the sun on sunny Phuket, the sands that crept to my ankles and the orgasmic food - think thai tom yum, that, that under the bright blue sky, i could cease to exist, and the world could just continue spinning merrily on its own axis.

that november reminded me of jaunts to circular road, milling around the singapore river. of taking the bus home after that, of watching the blank painted faces of random pedestrians.

that december saw the roads all decked out in jolly christmas cheer, while the day itself passed on like any other day, with shopping centres doing a jingly-jang as their cash registers rang out in delight and the crowds thronged, spit-spat-spoot. that the decors looked sad and sorry and rain-spotted once the notion that christmas was over came through. the lights didn't seem quite merry, the mood flittered down to a damp and dimmering one. people trudging on in a sullen acceptance that another year was going to end, that the year did add a number of regrets to their growing list of regrets, despite the resolutions resolutely made.

and now, january. it's past mid january and the cheerily-irritating new year songs have crept their way onto the airwaves once more. the other day at my cubicle, a colleague stared at me in mock-horror as another new year song blared its way out of the speakers. i could only throw my hands up in resignation and declare that it was only serendipity that the song happened to be playing.

and so it's been a few years hence that i've longed for a visit to the noisy supermarket on the eve itself, people stomping their way across everyone else's feet to reach the cheap goodies. of floating past the expressway at midnight and catching random movies with teenagers and the anticipation of visiting the next day, visits to the temples, the smell of red packets and of falling asleep in front of the televisons and the smell of fresh money set aside as tiny bets for gambling.

when flipping over the pillow brings another state of mind into being. of the dreaded fear that tightens its icy grip upon your shoulder and the shivers that go down your spine as you realise how you can run away from anything but yourself, and the knowledge that to run away from yourself would only require one course of action.

and angry spurts of conversation, they are in vain. wake up. open your eyes and open up? i never want to have tears roll down my face again as they did in five years ago. five years - has it been that long? the world is moving too fast for me - leave me in my little cocoon - i never want to rear my head out again. let me lie in. i don't even want to feel the world spinning. sunday mornings at eight, my brain feels like a wet wad of paper.

the streets are the same and haven't changed from october. the street lights seem to pave the way, but i can only see an empty street. nor is there sunlight where i can see glimmers of dust dancing in the path of light.