Skip to main content

Cold Feet

‘Mama, my feet are cold.’

‘Come warm your little toes by the fire, darling.’

I’ve always had cold feet. Colder than anyone else’s. Though not corpse-cold, but enough to have to keep wearing thrice the layers of socks as anyone else during winter, and occasionally during the warmer months.


When I became a teenager, my cold feet syndrome kept me from joining the others in the pool, fearing I would catch a case of frostbite. Or rather, just about anything that required removing my shoes, basically.

‘Why are her toes purple?’

‘They look like they’re about to fall off.’

‘Maybe she’s a zombie.’

Or rather, I was just afraid. Of everyone else.


It wasn’t as though I had no friends. I made plenty. There was a girl, Marie. She was just as different as I was. She had cold hands, like dead fish. And another, whose name was Lydia, had a complexion so pale, she could’ve very well been a vampire. Together, we set our own rules and abided by no one else's. Fortunately, the world was not as cruel as we'd learned in our books. We had numerous other friends, plenty to spare – our connections ran deep into the various cliques that made up secondary school, but, it was always us three. 

When our nostalgic school days ended, we went our own separate ways. We hardly saw each other after that. Marie moved out of town, and Lydia left the country shortly after.

‘Sorry, I can’t make the video call session today. Maybe this weekend?’

‘I’ve got assignments to catch up on. I’ll talk to you later.’

We tried our best, but it was never the same. We didn’t even have time for a reunion. Eventually, our friendship dissipated. I was left to start over.

My cold feet syndrome accompanied me even into university, like Mary’s little lamb. The fear of being isolated continued to haunt me. I was fine being alone, I just feared being lonely.

Then I met a boy. His name was James. How we met, wasn’t very spectacular, but there was a spark. A certain something. It ignited a kind of flame so bright, even my darkest fears could not extinguish. He could have been my first love, but I then had plenty of first loves to boast. He was different. He was my first someone. But it wasn't easy loving a ‘someone’, as I came to learn.

You had to keep them company,

‘Babe, could you come with me to this thing?’

Feed them,

‘Hey James, I’m getting pizza. The usual toppings, with fries?’

And sometimes even discipline them.

‘What do you mean "I don’t trust you enough"?!’

It was tough but through it all, my cold feet had miraculously (and ironically) made things better. Sometimes they even made it funny when we were in bed.

‘Argh! Stop pressing them on my back!’

There had always been a fear or two or three, that came with my cold feet. One of them came true: we didn’t last through our third year. We mutually parted ways under the guise of having lost attraction towards each other. In truth, we had yearned for so much and expected so much more, but never gained anything other than empty promises and broken hearts.

                ‘Goodbye.’
                                ‘We’ll still be friends, right?’
                ‘Yeah.’

Three months later, I caught wind that he'd got himself a new girlfriend. I moved on.

Years came and went, and before I knew it, I turned 27. Who knew dating and working would be as simple as squeezing every second of free time from your busy schedule, to make plans for a date? Many failed relationships and a few staled ones later, here I am, about to marry the man of my dreams. But, that’s what I uttered all those years ago when I pressed my chilling feet into the warm, strong vertebrae of my once someone. I loved him, but I wasn't in love with him.

My buried fears made an untimely visit as I stood frozen by anxiety in my veil and gown. I could hear the expectant murmuring behind the massive, mahogany wooden doors of the church that separated me from my future. But what rang loudest were the only sounds of my heels echoing as I held up my dress and ran. What I learned in life, is that people leave, regardless of the promises they had sworn to keep, and hence, I shall leave, before I am left.

I guess I will always have cold feet, and the fears that come with it.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

There are three things I realised during these couple of days. One: Cooking Mama is available on Android! Imagine to my utter delight that this DS game would be playable on my phone! I've wanted a DS at one point just to play Cooking Mama because, hello, you can cook stuff without looking like a total idiot in the kitchen and burning it down?! I kid. I'm not entirely hopeless in the kitchen, more of the opposite actually *coughselfpraisecough*. Anyway, I would suppose the game's language settings are set to the one your phone's UI is in, but it also allows you to choose which languages you want the game to be in. Of course, Japanese is one of them (duh). The game is free, but (so far) recipes are bought by cash, and they ain't cheap. They come in a bundle of  about six or more recipes that you can cook and combine  with. Yes, combine. Now you can be the Michelin Star chef you've always wanted to be (or not). Since this game is relatively new, I don...

An Adventure Awaits!

It's been pretty hectic over the past few days, and now that I finally have some time to breathe , let me hand you some updates. Last Friday was my last day at work and boy did the girlies prepare a wholesome feast! Also I had a chance to try this yummeh thing: Beautiful cheese. Nanda Chicken, 11, Jalan Solaris 2, Solaris Mont Kiara, 50480 Kuala Lumpur, Federal Territory of Kuala Lumpur Just a note, if you like spicy stuff, this is your place. I was dying with level 1 spice. So proceed with caution and don't think you won't shit fire, cuz you might. You can thank me later. Me when I see cheese on my food.  Two things make me an incredibly happy person like in the picture above: 1) Korean food 2) karaoke. There's this Korean place called  in PV128 at Wangsa Maju that serves unlimited supply  of Korean food for the price of either RM25, or RM30. Most of its patrons go for the more expensive option since it appears to be more worth of it...

帰りたい

Have you ever felt this intense urge in your heart, this longing in your soul to go somewhere --  to return to a place you don't physically call home? It's been more than a month since I went to Japan. Suffice to say, I felt what I mentioned above at Haneda airport while counting down the minutes to my departure back to England. New and old friends patiently waited with me as I queued up to checked-in, ate with me my last Japanese dinner bought at the convenience store, and took an abundance of digital memories. These things made it all the more difficult to let go and leave. I put on a smile, wide enough that even my own consciousness is fooled, laughed loudly, assuring myself and the others that I will be back the following year -- the same promise I made the previous year. But life is unexpected and plans are ephemeral. The inital aim of this post was to reflect on my time in Japan (which was no less exciting as the previous time), but I guess it ended up sounding a litt...