Momentum of the waters... thats the title...

The bed could feel my weight as my body lifts up and down. The fan was stopped at my direction. Whenever my body lifted up, I could feel the air blowing straight into my face. Something I enjoyed. As though I could imagine myself on a swing, in the air. As though the ceiling light is the bright sun and my bed is the playground. But most importantly, as I did my don’t-know-number- how- many- of- sit- ups, my tears wouldn’t flow. The music blast at my ears as I tried to concentrate on the stomach crunch instead of the accumulating tears. I pretend to pay attention to every single commercial ad that was playing at the moment, as though I really was interested. I did one set of sit-ups then switched to doing arms- exercise so that my back could rest and I could sit up to breathe in more air. Then this cycle continued, until my back was too tired to leave the bed, until my stomach felt the pinch, until my arms are tired and until my tears lose their momentum to run down my cheeks.

When I finally stopped, I sat on my bed, still with the fan blowing at my face. Sometimes I switched on the air- conditional. But sometimes, I thought the sweat makes me more awake, more aware of my own presence. Sat there for a while.

Then I removed my earplug and moved back to my study desk. I sat down and thought, see, I am not crying this time. While I am helpless, this physical exercise allowed me to vent my frustration, to regain my confidence, to remain bright awake and most importantly, to stop the flowing tears. I felt more confident. I thought to myself, someone out there must have cared for me if that someone out there knew, and I thought again, there should be nothing I can’t do, I must try.

Maybe crying is a sign of weakness, a signpost of near- depression/ helplessness. Whatever it is, it is also a vent of my frustration or any feeling of upset-ness. And a breaking gap of renewal.
Jogging in the early wake of morning allows me to cry silently yet rebelliously, not bothering to wipe my tears or worry about others’ anxiety upon seeing me cry. Yet recently I discovered that sometimes doing sit-ups allow me to stop the flow.

After the don’t- know- how- many- sit- ups I have done, a drop of tear still plunged down and wet my face.

The writer’s note
Finally I could sit there in front of my computer to find some peace, some soul- seeking, some breathing space. Felt so burdened with my project work that is due this Friday. Felt so helpless. Felt as though… I guess this is enough huh. Si xian said that he hoped when I see him the next time, I would stop crying. He said I should learn not to cry so much, and said that he too is 70% made up of water. I smiled. Especially when he said go for operation remove your tear glands then u know. I smiled again. As for you, can I see that you are there? Maybe someday the shadow will fade away.