The Peak Performer and His Price.

I’ve morphed into undeniable, uncontrollable sobs now. I think they’ll die down at some point, some point when I can figure out how I can approach, control this situation better. It’s not enough that one has to say goodbye, one has to fully mean it too.

Somehow sleep engulfed me before I could set an alarm yesterday at 2. I don’t know what it is but I really hated, dreaded the thought of saying goodbye to Shawn.

When I woke up to the sound of a car pulling away this morning, instinctively I knew he had gone. Saw the alarm with a sinking pit feeling and ran downstairs, opened the door. It was as if he had never came. The kitchen, living room, were all bare of his things save some trail mix bars. They could have been anyone’s; there were no tangible traces of him in our home.

It was as if he had never came. The morning sun rose and I went back to my covers, attempting to go to sleep but well..failing miserably.

Part of me grieves because I didn’t get to say goodbye, I didn’t get to send him off before his plane journey. Enough that I already hate planes and worry unequivocally for anyone who steps on them, I also worry that I might never see him again.

Life is so transcendent like that; we forget that death waits at every corner. And the fact that we might never see the same person twice in one life. I’m afraid for him and I’m afraid for me.

An overwhelmingly positive thought that maybe, since I didn’t get to say good bye, it’s a premonition that I might see him again. And that is a really comforting thought for someone who’s basically bawling over something as trival as a farewell hug.

This fear of maybe never seeing someone again honestly became more ‘real’ to me in the past few days. My last few days of summer I spent in relative peace, laughter, and lots of healthy humor, with great people whom I regret having ever doubted. But what if I never see all of them again?

Shawn’s farewell also symbolized more than just the going away of a friend. If it was anyone else I honestly…would have been upset but not nearly as much. He was my first Malaysian visitor after a grand total of two years. He was somehow my Malaysia, my one link to my home in this town. And I loved him for being that. I know this sounds really sad but before he came, I only knew one other Malaysian in the US and she was in Cali. I could have tried harder to hunt for Malaysian students here, but really? Do you not see the futility and the irony of that task?

I know I know, it’s silly to think in terms of a person representing a country but to me, it was like..I finally had a comrade of some sort. I finally had someone from back home that I could share a language, stories, and concerns with. There are things about Boulder that he and I can laugh about or shake our heads in shame because of the very fact that we’re both from the same state, in the same country.

And..oh god. I haven’t had that in a while. Don’t misread me, I have (had) some amazing friendships and relationships here that I wouldn’t give up the world for. And I know that they are a result of me leaving home and going abroad to pursue a dream. But they honestly don’t cure my homesickness.

Yesterday we met up with some Malaysians (his friends) from Fort Collins and had dinner in Boulder and I cannot tell you how..comforting it was to speak Manglish again and not be judged. If we weren’t in some swanky Japanese restaurant I swear that we were really sweating our guts off in some roadside hawker stall.

Admittedly, I’ve always been nervous about meeting my fellow M’sians here in the US. I’ve thrown off most of my Malaysianness already in a grand, scandalous, and stupid attempt to blend.  I have basically no connections back home since most of my friends have also left and I hardly go back, compared to some who return gladly every summer for a brief welcome respite. I also know that I’m going to be judged for how ‘white’ I appear…and well, meeting fellow Asians in the US, in any part of the world, sometimes terrify me. Not gonna lie, I do avoid Asian Asians on some conscious level.

But increasingly, I find myself longing for their company. Longing for stories of home, and shared memories of food, places we’ve been to, even the Swine Flu Scare back in KL makes me smile.

He just texted me and I burst into tears again. My Malaysia has gone away and there’s noone else who’s coming, at least not in the near future. It’s strange but because I take such a long time to warm up to someone, I really dislike letting them go. I hate developing affection because I’ve yet to be able to separate affection and attachment as much as I try and lie.

The walk to my favorite coffee parlor subdued my tears somewhat. School will start in 2 hours, memories will be replaced, and soon, it will seem like he never came. Then the memories will come back, a bit more glowingly awesome than they really were ( or possibly less? ) and I will remember him and the good times and long for Malaysia once more.

With this thought : If you took into account the fact that you might never see someone again, would you treat that same person differently?