The Best Piece of Advice

So you find yourself in a subway,

With your world in a bag by your side

And all at once, it seem like a good way

You realize it’s the end of the line

for what it’s worth?


Here comes the train upon the track

There goes the pain, it cuts to black

Are you ready for the last act?

to take a step, you can’t back..

I would usually find myself listening to this song while looking back at how I let go, or I think it’s better to say, break free from one of the best and longest relationships I had in my life. I was playing the song when I was deciding and I would play the song again and again reminiscing. Isn’t it amazing when a song clearly depicts the moments in our lives – from the most joyful to the most gruesome ones?

I was already running out of tears when I learned the song and so listening to Keira Knightly doesn’t send me to tears anymore. Perhaps, I listen to it from time to time to convince myself that it’s okay to pack up your world in a bag, ride that train and never return. I listen to it to avoid asking myself, ‘Did I make the wrong decision?’ Because, boy, there are times when the monster under my bed keeps on trying to snatch my feet at night to tell me I was wrong to leave.

The monster would whisper in my ears, ‘You gave up on it. You gave up on that one person who never gave you up.’ I would then be wide awake even my body longs to sleep and think to myself, ‘did I really make the wrong decision?’

I never wanted to leave, I said to myself while looking at the night sky that barely had stars on it. And the many reasons to back that up flashed into the sky for me to see – the exchange of letters with corrugated hearts, finishing each other’s thoughts or sentences, going to places together, watching movies together, gorging on our favorite dishes together, laughing together, telling endless stories together. All those ten year-worth of memories flashed.

‘See,’ the monster would tease, ‘you made it all wrong. You have to pack up again and go back.’

‘C’mon, you can do it,’ it added.

The monster was right. I can return again. With one more letter or conversation, I will have a ticket back to where I have been. But what about my heart and the courage I mustered for years to leave?

My heart who was mum with my entire conversation with the monster finally came to speak. ‘We both know that we never want to be there anymore,’ it said.

The heart then lamented on every pain it endured. ‘Remember when we were left out in the dark to bear the cold? You were regarded the ‘best’ but you never really were. It left you and it went with the many people it regarded as really its best. Remember when it said it won’t leave you? Well it did, not just once. Remember when in every conversation you were always wrong and in every meeting you were always waiting? Remember when — ’

Enough, I said cutting the heart short. I don’t want to hear those anymore. ‘Remember, I refused to be a victim of all this so I can move on with a light heart?’

‘I’m sorry,’ the heart said. ‘It’s just that I am happy where I am now. Though we have packed few pieces of bread for our trip that seems not enough, I am glad we have taken this journey… to know what else lies ahead.’

Then poof! The monster and the heart would leave me alone to ponder on my own question. Did I make the wrong decision?

This is when I am reminded of a (borrowed) photo that stayed in my phone for quite a long time.

(Please stare for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 seconds)


Is it wrong to take a photo of the crocodile? No.

But is it wise to take a photo this close? I guess not.

There are things that are not wrong but may not be wise to do in a moment. Leaving may not be wrong. Staying may not be wrong either. But if you deem that leaving is the wise thing to do, then maybe you did the right thing for you.

That was me talking again to myself. I do this, talking to myself, a lot of times because I believe that the answers we search for can usually be found in ourselves. We just have to dig deeper.

And so I conclude that the best piece of advice… is at the end of my own hand and at the depths of my heart.


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