One Sunday Evening

I stood by the window in my bedroom, admiring the city skyline which was right now shimmering in the golden sunlight of a weekend evening. There was a gentle breeze flowing through the wide open windows. I closed my eyes and focused on the peals of laughter from the children playing by the pool downstairs, and picked up the distant hum of the passing train along the way. From the kitchen came a cacophony of clanking utensils as Mum busied herself with preparing dinner.

There was something surreal about this whole experience – it’s Sunday evening and I’m at home.

It feels not too long ago when I first roamed the realms of those sweat-choked, cum-choked dark room territories. The countless hours of mindless, fruitless hunting games, I knew that wasn’t what I wanted right from the start, yet it was strangely addictive. I was helplessly pulled in to the whirlpool of lust, lured week after week with the promise of love, and let down again and again by the games of deception and lies.

If I have the energy to go on, why not the courage to put this to an end?

And it seems now, five years since I embarked on the journey in search of love in all the wrong places, it will now end exactly where it has begun. On ground zero, I have a collection of experiences and encounters that, even though were heart-felt and vivid as they unfolded, have failed to stand the test of time, and I have emerged with wounds that perhaps may never heal. But on ground zero, I have now gathered enough reasons to set off on a separate path, away from the dizzying darkened corridors and the depressing weekly routine of hopes and disappointments. This path smells of the sweetened promise of a stable relationship and the reassuring reward of security and stability.

A much anticipated end to an overdue chapter of my life. I smiled as I helped Mum with the dishes and set the table for dinner, my first dinner on Sunday at home since as long as I can remember.