It’s days like these I wonder if it’s even worth getting up in the mornings. Not that I have been doing much of that lately; I seem to open my eyes only to afternoons.

I feel like Rip van Winkle (an astonishingly silly name, I recall thinking, when I was younger and wiser) waking up from a century-long slumber and finding everything around me has changed. Although, in my case, my slumber consisted mostly of a five-day seclusion away from society, just trying to think things over. Cut off the phones and dug me heels deep in bed. Spent my waking hours just staring at a flickering monitor, telling me things I told myself I needed to know.

Didn’t work much. Then, when I came out again yesterday, it was practically a shock. So many things have changed, or perhaps it’s just me. I don’t know, I do tend to overwhelm reality with feelings entirely my own.

Maria called me many times and left tons of voice messages as my mobile was turned off. She sounded really worried about me; I feel guilty to have caused such kind concern on her part. Of course, there’s the huge dinner party I was supposed to have on Wednesday, that for recently-explained reasons, I had completely put out of my mind. Not the first time I’ve cancelled, mind you, so I do feel a first-rate jerk.

J-Dawg, when I found him, curled up in front of his laptop as usual, in his Stusta hidley-hole, told me Michael was leaving Germany next week. That was sudden. And Mikey had been trying to reach me too, to spend his few days left here in Munich with his bunch of friends, one of whom seemed to have disappeared into thin air. It is dreary, while being utterly my own fault, to be greeted with an astonished “You’re alive!” all the time.

The worst news was saved for last: Blue told me that Manuel’s father had passed away last Tuesday and I didn’t even know. They had the presence of mind to send Manuel’s family a wreath, and included me, and here I am just feeling awful for not having known or said anything or done anything.

We can only go so far in feeling someone else’s pain. Still, this sudden loss has shaken me, not only because Manuel is a dear friend of mine, but because it calls on those of us, all of us, who have lost loved ones before. I remember Mr. Mazza from our brief encounter, as a strong, loving family man who adored his son with great warmth and pride. He striked me as a man who built his entire life, his earthly empire, from his two hands, with his supportive wife by his side. He was a good man.

Like I said, I can never know his sorrow, and I am deeply sorry I wasn’t around earlier (for all the good that I could have done, which I fear is precious little). Yet I find it hard to say the right words of condolence to Manuel. So, I will go out on a limb, and speak instead to his father, a man I admired very much, and still do.

This is what I can say to him, and it is for you, Manuel, that I write this, and I hope I have not offended. If I have, treat it as the wrongs of a friend, that’s all.

This, more than the five days spent alone, has given me a greater jolt than anything else. I can wait and watch what is going to happen happen to me, or I can at least get out there and do something. I know things will be hard and perhaps even too hard to bear, but anything is better than being like this.

So, in answer to all the unasked questions: Yes, I must admit I didn’t really have the 100% enthusiasm for this degree that I thought I would. I had thought I could force myself to desire something I didn’t deeply believe in and excel at it. This was what I thought many around me did; I was conceited and proud and felt if these mediocre people could do it, why not I?

But I was wrong. It doesn’t matter how good or smart they were, the thing was they DID feel for their work. They worked hard because their heart was in what they did. I had not the same fortune.

I guess coming here was a sort of challenge to myself, a way to prove something. But I made a mistake at the very first step by choosing a path I did not desire to follow, or, as it were, follow through.

I wanted to show I could do as well as others; all I’ve shown is that I’ve made a fool out of myself.

And in doing so, in coming here, (though I do not regret that part; I’ve learned many new, wondrous things and made many new, wonderful friends) I have alienated in part, my family and friends back home, my loved ones. I have found it hard to communicate with the ones I loved the most as I struggle to be a success; it was as if I could not speak truly with any of them unless I have achieved something.

Yet I was so glad when the rare chance came for me to chat, over the phone or the Internet, with any one of them. I had been too proud to say I missed them all.

And in conclusion, I have to say I must have been running away for almost a year. It is a sickening feeling and I’m tired of running.

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Things have to get worse before they get better. Who says things will get better?

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I cannot believe that last line. I cannot afford to throw my life away to cynicism and betray my hopes and my ambitions.

No, I haven’t gained any great insights or lessons from this, yet. But taking one step at a time, I hope to move from here, my current situation, dire and unpleasant. I’ll deal with it, come what may.

I’ve miles to go before I can come home again. This coming week I hope to set many things right again. I will grow strong again. I know I can.

Lastly, my dear readers, thanks for being here.

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Copyright © 2002 Kenny Mah Ying Fye.