Every day now, time is a concept, divided into four parts. Time for tea after I wake up, time during the day when I’m in bed in front of my laptop, time to go downstairs to cook dinner, time for myself after dinner.
These four periods are tied together by a common thread. I offer a poem for small things.
I look at accounts dedicated to plants on Instagram. They transport me out of my sometimes frankly stale world into a fresher, healthier realm. I also want to understand what the writer intends to say in their native language but the translation is off. ‘Space valid’ – I ponder over this translation for a few seconds and suppose that they probably meant to write the space has been used well and give my own conclusion my stamp of approval.
I scroll through Tumblr blogs, marvelling at the sheer witticisms of people.
I love how BTS fans love the group so much they have created cool animated videos, hilarious memes, countless videos to form a cohesive story about why BTS deserves this love. This feeds into my admiration for the artists. ARMY, you are amazing!
I am happy we have eggs and flour and lemons at home.
I am grateful we have a big freezer. Though it is half empty now, we can still stock up when we’re really running low.
I am grateful we have more females than males in this house. Sometimes, I wonder if my aunt loves my brother this much because she practically raised him or because he is the only son in this house.
And sometimes, I wonder at the miracle of believing that anything is possible for me now.
This time has proved to be indispensable – I needed to recalibrate. I feel less and less like myself every day. Or am I more and more like myself? I wasn’t this irritable. I wasn’t this cruel. I wasn’t this stupid. I wasn’t this egoistic (perhaps that’s preferable to being egotistic..:P). But I am now.
I need to calm down. I need to regroup my emotions and thoughts. If I continue along this path, I am nervous about where I will end up. There are dark clouds all the time now.
This quarantine period has given me clarity on the small things that give me so much joy. The things and feelings that come up unprompted. When I am offered a cup of tea suddenly. When I feel a burst of energy and inspiration to make dinner and I’m alone in the kitchen. When I slip into fresh sheets after a refreshing shower at night and I pat myself on the back for having that energy to change my sheets at some point during the day.
And then sometimes, my small things are unpleasant for other people. Am I even allowed to share these? Like, I am joyous when I manage to sneak downstairs without encountering my family. I feel satisfied when I can take a whole day without any of them asking me why I’m in my room always. When I can grab food but my family’s around but they don’t talk to me and I successfully run upstairs to my sanctuary. I am ashamed to admit this but it is my small victory.
I dream of living alone all the time. I dream of being able to hang around in my balcony or in the backyard without having anyone around. I dream of cooking when and what I want.
I offer a prayer I don’t have a child. I wouldn’t be a good parent in this present state of mind. It is quite sad considering I’d always imagined I would have started a family at this age. Now I’m not even sure I want a child at all.
Nothing is small if it brings you joy. Nothing is small if it brings you pain. Because that second of emotion is all you’re feeling at that time. You’re awash with love or sorrow. That’s all you know right that moment.
So, I say a poem for my small things.
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