dangling like the puppetress

Recently, i made a new friend, G. He’s the first whom i knew with a medical condition termed as Hypoglycemia. In layman’s terms, the body lacks of sugar. Rebelling against the advanced medical science, he decided to take life into his own hands and did a drastic change of diet and lifestyle. True be told, it’s a little intimidating when the lot of us gurgled alcohol as part of diet while he prefers bottled club soda with lemon wedges.

The symptoms associated with this medical condition might have appeared somehow during meetups, but never really mentally taken. It can even happen during sleep. Like a restless spirit that refuses to leave you alone. Wanting distraction, i surfed for more information. When i got to the part where they said patients can cry or have nightmares during sleep, all i could think of is i wanna hug him for this.

For carrying on strongly with life despite an incurable illness, when the majority healthy bodies out there get depressive with tiny setbacks.

Under a star-lit night, clinking over mojitos and caipirinhas, served by eye-candy hailing from nepal and columbia, we sat in relaxed companionship, chatting about changes and compatibility. Two young geeky beings we were, splitting into different directions of our lives in our growing stage. She, the buck-toothed gal who in later life, blossomed into a beauty. Leaving her roots behind and moving to Melbourne city, where she carved out a life for herself with companionship. The changes we see in each other at our yearly reunion, the easy affection we constantly held towards one another, a friendship which will see us through our life.

I remember the regret lumped in my heart when she moved out of the same building after 10 over years of living closely. Kids we were, sprinting home after school, grabbing our kiddish swimsuits and heading to the nearest public pool. Times when i was bored or locked out, her place was my refuge. I remember the many nights we spent chatting in her messy bedroom.  Her parents treated me like their daughter. When she moved away, i stood and watched the van shifting the aged furniture, a pang constraining in my throat, bogged by a sense of regret. Her dad looked up at his house and a tear formed in his eyes. I was such a familiar sight that aunt suggested a set of house keys for me, while her dad made sure that a double-bunk bed was bought partly for me. When she packed up and left for Melbourne, i knew the distance will never weaken our cousin-ly love.

In 3 weeks time, she will leave us once more for her new life. But before that, we will reminisce our juvenile past by having one more pyjamas party over her house.