Stay broken or try again?

I've let fatigue embrace me a lot these days, over the past few months, across the years. It's become a bit of a fatal friend that lingers close enough to fade into my peripherals now and then. It's gotten quite comfortable emptying out my insides, leaving behind sharp pangs in my temples, cycloning all my commitments against the corners of my skull. 

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Something about the tropical cold of November in Singapore has laid the groundwork for a bit longing. I couldn't tell you what form I yearned for the most - whether it was just a matter of some warmth in my fingers from cradling a tea mug, or just an opposite-someone with philosophies I could spar with. 

But I'm not short of either. I initiate turn-based combat every time I start a new email thread with a client, and the sweet caretakers at work often slide a cup of hot, homemade oolong onto my table while I burn a glare into the pixels of my screen, editing shoddy work. 

So it must be something in between? Something tactile, something engaging, something with a little fire. 

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"You've got to hold on to me. Like, hug me." 

It's been a while since I felt what it was like to be a bullet. To pierce through the air at an incomprehensible speed, icy winds licking your sides to cool your hot internal engine. I think at some point I heard my laugh echo back to me from the walls of the empty office buildings we sped past. It was the most unbridled fun I had in a long time. The streets sparkled. 

We took turns asking each other questions I used to be overly precious and cautious about. It's a different game from what I remembered, and I felt a gnawing bit of shame realising that maybe, I was the one that was in denial this entire time. 

"I love my name." 

And then he said it out loud, and it bounced off the mirrors before filling up the whole room. I was happy to let it take the space, because I know we would often give so little time to a name like his. He said it translated to "The Best", and he paused in anticipation, in a well-rehearsed way that made me think he's endured decades of the same reaction. I let him have my incredulous laugh.