Matchbox Maladies

Catastrophic uncertainty of the self.

Month: July, 2012

patterns beyond sleep

by Sine Qua Non

**somewhere, someone thinks the same thoughts. you will know it is me.

 

i have stopped waiting for sunrise. but morning after morning, it creeps in. it makes its way through the thicket of rainfall, slithering through disappearing stars, spilling onto my bedroom floor. it enters my room, finds a spot at the crevice between the wall and where my body crumbles. it has no voice but it speaks the truth: morning has come and i am still waiting. in twenty-four hours it will happen again. and again. and again. but maybe on a different morning the pillow will be somewhere else, the wall would look back sooner, my body will not be on the bed. not this bed, maybe another. morning is certain to arrive everyday. to subject one’s self to wait is borne out of an illusion that there is something special about the arrival. maybe because the return is as certain as the departure. this is how we know things should be. as children, we were taught that morning light comes to take the place of a dark night. growing up, they tell us that the night is darkest before the dawn. some of us were convinced the moon and the stars are just as, if not even more, beautiful. our lives revolve around the movement of nights and days. we are bound by the habit of the universe. we are made to believe that this is how things should be. what celestial bodies do not shed light on is this: how are we able to feel the absence of something that is always there anyway?

sometimes an  arrival does not signify the return from a departure. sunrise will come again tomorrow.

by Sine Qua Non

[Helen Fisher’s] pioneering work into the neural substrates of love identified three distinct yet overlapping systems for love: the hypothalamus for lust, the ventral tegmental area (VTA) for romantic love and the ventral pallidum for attachment. And in terms of confusing love and lust, she says that the two are very closely aligned, both in experience and biology.

 

“These brain systems often work together, but I think it’s fair to say they often don’t work together too,” Fisher told me. “One might feel deep attachment for one partner, be in romantic love with another partner,and then be sexually attracted to many others. There’s overlap, but like a kaleidoscope, the patterns are different.”

And that kaleidoscope can change based on experience, age or other environmental factors. When I pressed on the lust/love question, she simply said that lust can turn into love—and vice versa (something that most of us know firsthand). But she couldn’t offer any concrete, nitty-gritty answer about how to tell the two apart.

Quite Something

by Sine Qua Non

For self-preservation I have tried convincing myself that you are not the one for me. And even if you were, you probably wouldn’t give in to fate and fulfill that destiny. All the time, in my head, when we talk, when you hold me, when we kiss, when you’re inside me, when you reach for me, when you look at me and make your way to tear my heart into shreds, my brain struggles to keep everything together by sending out reminders to the rest of my being: he has no love for you, no way you will ever be together and get into a relationship. And I keep my cool. I stand my ground. I emerge whole. Supposedly, point for me. Yay.

Tonight I have decided to put an end to the foolishness.

No, not because I have found any clue to the truth of the things above. I still do not know whether you will take me seriously or not. I have not the slightest idea if you look at me in any other way aside from the hot stuff you take me for. But I like you. A lot. And, really, it’s quite the opposite of living life to the fullest if I shoot down possibilities even just inside my head. Yes, we have the liberty to believe. It’s just not a very good idea to believe that things will not happen for you. Faith was created for those who allow themselves to dream. They’re the romantics. Last I checked, I am quite one romantic. Except, for some, reason you’ve pushed me to hang that part of myself in the closet.

Not anymore. I permit myself to fall. And as I wait for my pair of wings to grow, I will revel in the possibility that, maybe one day, one of these days, soon, really, you’ll run to me, pull me towards you and say: Yeah, well. You’re quite something. Something I don’t think I can live without.

 Really, believe me, it’s not quite delusion. I am just allowing myself to hope, and believe.

Take the cue, universe. You know what to do.

Saturday Habit

by Sine Qua Non

it isn’t really strange. in fact it’s quite expected that despite all the attempts at eradicating you from my head i would continue to seek you. so much so that i content myself with looking at pictures of you that i do not own. what adds to the hilarity of the situation is the fact that i am doing this, seeking you, in the midst of being sought out by a number of respectfully eligible bachelors. i choose to look at poorly captured images of you whose stares are not intended for me. i content myself with seeing your face. and continue to hope that, one Saturday, i would be able to stare at it again and know that it is actually me you’re looking at and not some camera lens. and touch your face, too. now that would be ultimate.

 

will this ever end? i wonder. all i know is that if that Saturday comes, this habit will only continue to persist.