A Bittersweet Life
'Twas a bittersweet experience.
On the eve of cancelling my phone line, I went through my handphone, writing down people's numbers and perhaps the email addresses that they might have sent. Hence, it necessitates a run through of all the messages in my phone.
And 'twas a bittersweet experience.
I have a tendency of keeping the messages that matters to me. In a general sense, this applies to a lot of messages, so the end result is that I tend to keep a lot of my messages. They all mean something to me, somehow. Reading a particular message can be a powerful experience, some even enough to transport me back to the moment of the message.
It can be good. It can be bad. In fact, I have a tendency to remember the emotions that I feel at certain moments, and recall those emotions on a moment's notice. I read that this can be a useful attribute for an actor. It can't be that useful, mind: I acted in two movies, and both times...I suck.
But I also directed both movies. Like I said...a bittersweet experience.
And deleting the messages from my phone...it was exactly that. It recalled me the joy when my little sister sent me a message that she was selected for her class debate. I had debated in university, and I suppose there was a sense of accomplishment, of having followed in my footsteps somewhat. I felt joy, and immense pride at her achievement.
Then there are the messages that freezes the moments, when my sister messaged me the passing of one of my dear aunts. I felt that chill: a static feeling, and yet it reverberates. You know...a realisation that something, somewhere, somehow will never. Ever. Be. The. Same. Again.
There are also the satisfaction that...I somehow matter. That's something I know, and feel, but to have that affirmed...is a nice feeling. To have someone message you, "Thank you for calling! It made my day!" makes me feel like I'm a good person. I'm both good and bad, mind you. Something that's normal, I suppose.
A bittersweet person, if you like.
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