I told ine all of that before, about this feeling of otherness in my body. She told me that I was of this earth, that my place is still in the here and now, even if I am the bridge to the other world, I would still have my time here. Then she’d ramble on about me needing to find the right balance between my
The Iban culture refers this as the physical, mortal, visible parts of the body.
and my
The spirit counterpart to the tuboh. It could refer to the soul as well.
. Only that I could make sense of, because it echoed what my therapist told me: to always be aware of what my body is feeling.

I tried. But I just couldn’t. Everything inside me feels jumbled up, like a mesh of threads.

After that, I remembered I had lunch with you. I grappled if I should tell you, especially at Delifrance, your favourite café. But you knew something was up the moment you saw me. I could never hide anything from you. Worry was already burrowing in your eyes, your brows tensing into a knot. You set the menu you were holding on the table, and I heard you take a big breath. Your shoulders rose in slow motion.

That’s when I told you.

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