tiny world of my thoughts

lost & confused...

2010-09-10T23:49:00.001+12:00

It starts with the little shocks. I find something. I see something. And I realize there’s this whole world out there that I don’t know anything about. What takes me aback is that it’s such a familiar world, yet such a down and dirty, even filthy, imperfect side of the world that I know and I had no idea that something like that could exist. I live in my own little world. I always have. I like it here. People tell me some day it’s going to break me. I’ve been broken plenty times, but I always manage to concoct my vision of my own little ‘perfect’ world. Perhaps I should say illusion – not vision. But it isn’t an illusion to me, because it is what my world is to me.

Am I confusing you? Don’t worry, I’m confusing myself.

I always had trouble finding my identity, holding my own. I’ve had my troubles, my hard times, my dark times. And perhaps, I’ve always been aware of this dark world lurking just behind my own ‘perfect’ little one. When I really look at it, it’s so complex, so ugly. No one likes ugly things, but when you’re forced to see them, you’re forced to acknowledge them also. It makes my world seem like the pristine, pure white innocence of a child’s fantasy world. I feel like an immature little kid with hardly any experience of this world. And you know what scares me the most? A part of me wants to see that ugliness. Maybe even experience it. Why? For wisdom’s sake.

Then it hits me. Maybe all of you live with the reality of that ugliness. Maybe it’s just ugly because I lock myself in my own little world. But then I like it here. Yes, I realize I’m repeating myself but what do you expect me to do? Open the bolts? Let the demons loose? IN HERE?? Why would I?

True, I want to do some good in this world. I see the suffering, the sorrow and grief. All that depravity in humanity. Great, now I’m rhyming – but yea, I see all that yet not this ‘other’ side to the world I’ve grown up in?? Am I just too oblivious?

What am I really on about?

Well, look, for instance, I know people cheat in a relationship. I’ve seen in the movies, etc. But really, how about real life?? How about how absolutely, insanely wrong that is? I have no idea. I hope I never do. I’m a loyalty person. But can you really imagine what a dirty thing that is without experiencing it? And that’s just the simplest of the ugly things.

Sorry, I’m straying – no pun intended.

This being unaware of this whole side of the world makes me feel oh-so small and oh-so lost…

Then there’s all the questions.

I can’t list all the questions – there are so many.

Every step I take, I hesitate, but they aren’t shaky steps. Every move I make, I make myself confident but I’m not sure what I’m doing, where it’s going. I’ve got it all planned out, but I know so very well how plans can go horribly wrong. Turn so completely onto another path. Can I ever know, can I ever be sure? Probably not.

I’m scared.

I’m scared I might make a mistake. And one single mistake and it’s over for me.

I’ve made my share of mistakes. I’ve dealt myself with countless blows; I’ve felt like my life just might be at its worst, the lowest of the low. I’ve stumbled, I’ve fallen.

And I’ve gotten up.

And now I’ve got everything at stake. My career, my trust, my heart, my life…

I just can’t afford another mistake.

It scares me, not knowing where things are going. It scares me to know there’s so much out there that I’m not even aware of. So much so close to home. It scares me thinking maybe the reasons I stumbled are related to that ugliness just beneath the veneer that I’m not aware of.

I can’t know everything but can’t I at least open my eyes? So I can defend myself?

It scares me that I’m down to my last chance. It scares me that, were I a cat, this is my ninth life.

Maybe it’s not fair of me to rant on about it, after all, I’ve had all nine lives. All those chances.

Maybe it’s not fair of me to tell you, when some of you are perhaps in a worse place than I am.

Maybe I just want someone to tell me it’s okay to be wrong. To stumble, once in a while.

But then again, that would be a lie. And lies are part of that ugliness of that ‘other’ world, aren’t they?

~ 2326hrs / 10 September 2010

fury...

2010-05-13T00:22:00.004+12:00

The flame that licks,

Coaxing you into it’s warmth,

Slowly murmuring you into a simmer,

Then embracing you to the rage,

Finally… finally…

Exploding…

Unleashing that fire...

The same could be said of passion.

The same could be said of anger.

Mine is the milder of the two.

Anger.

At the world, at large.

Because, you cannot change it.

Would you try again....?

Would you burn with these flames...?

Or will you let them cool...

Would you ride away with the tide...?

[Anj original, 0024hrs / 13.05.2010]

"poetry - through the eyes of a mere mortal"

2010-04-02T01:35:00.003+13:00

Poetry, as is,

Song of nature,

Unfettered, a realm only He sees...

Such,

The ebb and tide of oceans

Far & wide,

Their melodic symphony,

Driving but life itself...

Whispers of a forest,

Evergreen,

It’s beckoning magic,

The music of rainfall...

Captured forever by mankind,

By the one tool within their feeble reaches...

Words,

Words, to hold,

To describe, to paint...

Hoping, daring,

To preserve, to withstand,

The all destructive hurdle, of time...

Poetry, in it’s purest,

As the innocence abound, within a child’s eyes,

Unpracticed,

The cascades of a virgin waterfall,

Untaught...

Poetry, in it’s essence...

Unlearned,

Not the firm stroke of an artist’s brush,

Yet, the whisper-touch of a mere mortal soul...

The poetry within my heart...

Strokes of an era long past,

That simply do not belong hither...

Nor does, this ephemeral heart...

[an Anj original, 0015hrs / 04 April 2010]

your world & mine...

2009-11-15T04:01:00.003+13:00

Darkness engulfs me. Night makes me part of it.

The moon hides; a specter behind the November clouds.

The curtain falls, swishing in the dead silence of the night. I creep back down, under my covers – reds and creams… whites and roses… and I wonder… if I should go into the world of sleep, where thoughts don’t clash over each other, where there can be no reality to face. Yet I know I cannot – I’ve had far more than my dose already.

I lie on my back, staring at the mahogany crossings on the white ceiling wondering if dead silence truly has a rhythm… like the one that I can hear right now…

In your world, silence has no rhythm; silence… is just silence, right?

In your world, I used to be a writer. I used to be a poet.

I used to be so many things.

Then… then I lost myself.

Life’s a funny thing. You know that there are worse things in the world that could probably never happen to you. But then…when something unfortunate happens on your life – you forget those others less fortunate than you. You act as though the world’s ended. As though everything’s crashing down on you… as though you’re the unluckiest being in the whole entire world.

Or perhaps, that’s just me…

I was a dreamer once. The faeries, princes, princesses and happily ever after kind of dreamer. The knights, superheroes and true love kind of dreamer.

Then I lost myself.

How do you look at someone and tell what kind of person they are?

How do you talk to someone, how do you listen and judge what kind of characters they possess?

How do you see someone’s actions and tell where their heart truly lies?

How do you look at a world, where everyone dons a coat of paint everyday hiding their real selves and find truth in it?

How do you see something that doesn’t exist?

I was a believer of people once. I used to believe that there was good in everyone, just waiting to be channeled or tapped into. Waiting for someone to find.

I used to believe that people would wash off their coats of paint if they knew they wouldn’t be judged. I used to believe that truth…meant freedom…for everyone…as it did for me…

But then…I lost myself.

So I turn away. And walk out of your world. I shut that gateway, and lock it tight. So that your world can never intrude in mine. So that I shall never lose myself.

Because, in your world, words don’t mean a thing. Because there, verses don’t rhyme with reason.

Because dreams belong to children.

Because… good people are rare…

Because hope is a better friend to despair than is to fruition.

And because…truth rarely exists…

The screech of a tire, the honking of a horn…breaks the rising and falling rhythm of the dead silence in my ears.

In my world, I am a writer. I am a poet. I am a dreamer. I am a believer.

Because in my world, silence has a rhythm.

home 12

2009-10-26T04:51:00.004+13:00

Written 0425hrs, 26th October 2009

an A.N.J. Original

home 11

2009-10-26T04:51:00.003+13:00

home 10

2009-10-26T04:51:00.001+13:00

home 9

2009-10-26T04:50:00.005+13:00

home 8

2009-10-26T04:50:00.004+13:00

home 7

2009-10-26T04:50:00.002+13:00

home 6

2009-10-26T04:49:00.003+13:00

home 5

2009-10-26T04:49:00.002+13:00

home 4

2009-10-26T04:48:00.002+13:00

home 3

2009-10-26T04:48:00.001+13:00

home 2

2009-10-26T04:33:00.002+13:00

home 1

2009-10-26T04:22:00.003+13:00

Another series of my "poepics" (Walker's Fourth New International Dictionary, 2008)

Dedicated to Andrew, with all my love....

noise

2009-04-15T12:54:00.002+12:00

I am a person of solitude and silence. Walker of the night, if that sheds more light on my meaning. I detest the times when the world comes alive with all the noise of traffic, the people. Lately, though my home has been a place that is rather hushed, there is still so much of it.

Mostly the people.

The neighbours... the cars that whizz past... the neighbours’ kids playing some screaming game on the driveway...the whistling of the carpenter in the next neighbours’ house...
I know, I know. Peaceful and suburb-ish.

Yet to me, it is NOISE.

It comforts me as much as scratching nail on a blackboard would comfort most people (you get the point – if you don’t you’re too daft to be reading this...yea, I apologise, that was uncalled for...but I am annoyed!! So let me rant! -_-)

Anything that interrupts the softest rustling of the arid yet golden autumn leaves, the rare whisper of the breeze, the occasional chirping of the birds...is repellent to me.

Yet lately, I find myself loving noise. Needing it. Even when I am doing nought but writing, I need the television set switched ON!! That noise...is comforting... *wince* (yea, hear me? Comforting???! Hope you realise how desperate I am now x_x)

The silence ceased to be the lonely bubble of the familiar world that is mine and mine alone.

The world that people used to tell me was completely detached from reality. My own. My very own.

My dream land.

Instead, now, this silence is oppressive. Suffocating. Accusing. I keep waiting to hear the condemnation I do not deserve that I know is coming. Soon.

*sigh*

Is nothing truly sacrosanct? Truly my own? Truly safe from the selfish clutches that is reality?

(yea, yea, morbid little sucker, am I not?)

No wonder ae? When I need to have the telly switched on even when there’s nought on apart from stupid cartoons!!!! (yes, that was right - CAR-TOONS!!!!!! Get the extent of my angst?)

Well, here’s a goodbye.

Goodbye, dearest silence mine... Sayonara! Adios! Salut! Auf wiedersehen! Slán leat!

*heavier sigh*

who lives in a pineapple under the sea!!

(kill me now? please?)

"different..."

2009-02-06T18:02:00.002+13:00

“She is camouflaged into that bench and wall. Invisible. Why? Because she’s always there, as immobile as a piece of furniture. She only occasionally looks up from the book she’s reading to give a shy smile to anyone passing by. Her uniform is smart, her appearance proper and her manners prim. Why would anyone notice her?

In class, she sits at a desk alone. She talks to no one and if greeted, the reply comes in her barely audible, soft voice. Why notice her, she can’t be anything much, could she?
She walks by, on the road, her arms folded across her chest.

Oooh, how hostile.

Her expression is sober. The few times you catch her eye, a smile touches her lips, then flees as though afraid.

She is no socialite because she is not allowed to go out on her own. She did not “hang out” with friends, did not date and hasn’t had a boyfriend. She isn’t a clown in class because she follows the rules to a T. She is studious, her hobbies being reading and writing. She goes home in a private car. Her best friend is her mother.

Will you give anything but a passing glance towards her?

I know the answer is “NO”. I know because that girl is me.”

~ Been rummaging through the black box under my bed, which is my stash of writing stock from all of my life, and found this. Written in 2004... Hope you liked it...maybe I’ll write a sequel...look for it!! Ciaos for now ^^ ~

lost...

2009-01-22T01:55:00.004+13:00

[ 'searching' - pic taken by me, Waitakere Ranges, NZ ]

Searching for words
For that which
There are none...

Feeling so old
In this life
That I’ve but just started living...

With age
A mere fledgling
Yet with burden and duty
Less so...

Searching for words
To describe
Such that cannot be described...

Searching for words...
Searching...
Searching...

~ original, obviously... that kinda came pretty fast...lol...anyways hope you enjoy or whatever =P ~

cries unheard

2009-01-15T12:50:00.005+13:00

[ solitary walk, Pukinui Farm, Taupaki - pic taken by me ]

The tears cascade
I am as usual, alone
Strength a mere façade
On and on the lonely hours drone
Wishing, just wishing
Dreaming, always dreaming...

My life
A new world
Of luck. Of chance. Without strife?
Inked pages, with age, curled...

Myself
So very different
Yet so very much the same...

These slipping droplets
A silent scream
For my saviour, alarm pellets
My answer, my prayer – a mere dream
So I cry, hopelessly, I cry
Wishing these windows to my soul would remain, forever dry...

~ a riddle of sorts, I guess...an original again ~

lonely soul [random thoughts]

2009-01-03T00:17:00.003+13:00

“Now my heart’s in two and I can’t find the other half...”

Sad. That I am.

How long have I been this way? I’m not sure.

Yes, I was always a loner. Every step of the way. Then I met him. It was the most perfect experience of my life. Utter, complete bliss. Am I saying that just because that’s what I want to believe deep down?

Jared, I don’t know. I’m trying to erase it all, even from deep down. Trying to expunge. Believe me, I am trying.

Rage, I’ve been so lonely since then, you cannot begin to fathom.

Jon, thank you, for everything.

Andrew, forgive me. I truly am sorry.

Chris, .......................

If ever there’s anyone who could even begin to understand what I’m feeling, I haven’t met them yet. If ever there’s a way to fix this, I haven’t seen it yet.

Dreaming. Always dreaming.

Living. Always in this unreal little world of mine.

I’ve been a lover of solitude.

Yet now... I just don’t know. There’s an emptiness in me that aches as though it’s embedded so very deep, I cannot even reach down to try and heal the wounds myself.

Wondering why the pen in my hand flies over these pages, inking these words when they can be nought but meaningless...

Can I live this life alone?

Can I keep moving forward alone?

Can I find success and happiness alone?

*laughs*

Of course. As though I had another choice.

I’ve always been alone. So why can I not, ae?

“It’s like I’m walking on broken glass...”

Signed;

~ The Loner ~

the last night and day

2008-12-18T14:47:00.007+13:00

Darkness ensconces the room and the unnatural orange-y light fills it with the infra red heat that emanates from the grey heater. Underneath the layers of fluffy blankets and duvet, I am shifting; restless. Then it racks me – a pain so acute I am plunged into senselessness. Maybe I let out a moan, a sound of aching but even to my own ears the sound is minute, nonexistent.
I’m hurting; everywhere, every point, every joint, every muscle, every organ, everything... I’m bleeding; eyes blinded from the dark, yet I can see it. I see myself bleed. And yet my physical being is perfectly fine.

I don’t even know where this pain comes from, but I do know it’s the sheer, hollow emptiness that’s engulfing me. And through this mixture of obscure pain and night’s darkness comes clarity. One moment, when everything is so very clear; the Nyx of my imagination decides to visit me. Every so often, she bestows upon me lucidity, sense of what is and even inspiration. No; naught of that this night. Tonight it’s psychosis. Tonight it’s what isn’t.

I cry. The tears drip out of me, constricting me, choking me with such completion that in some back recess of my mind I think it’s an end. Not the end, perhaps, yet still... an end. Nay, no such mercy. I keep crying. Time is of no essence, it just floats away.

Claws; long, sharp, clutch at the covers on my bedding. Strength enough to shame an Amazon perhaps, I think, my thoughts nonsensical as I watch. I know not my own might, nor what my body seems to be doing. I cannot feel what my own hand touches; I can only see... as though I am not one with it.

Terra firma!!

The thought forms as the pain takes to yet another level. I see the words appear serpentine, smoky in front of my eyes. Yes, Terra firma. Yes, solid Earth. I need to find that. So emerges that moment of clarity. And in that second or two, my coherent thoughts only awe at the possibility of such pain, such utter and heightened pain being inflicted on the intangible state.

How? I wonder.

The waves hit again, tears spill – big, fat, small, thin, delicate -like cherry blossom leaves on a spring day. I hear the hail patter against the windows behind me. I want to go outside. I am aching so, so very bad to go out there. To get sprayed with the hail, and the rainstorm. Yet again, how so? Convention denies it. The rules. So many rules. I do what I have to. I stay. And subject myself to this self inflicted, unintended torture. I stay because the rule book says now is the time to sleep. Hatred bubbles in me for all that convention, standard, principle. I feel sick. I start sobbing yet again. I scream into the soft, feathered pillow, a scream to which the world is always, always, deaf to.

I cry myself dry...till the tears no longer come...and fall, in that state, into an abyss of fatigued, dreamless sleep...

The sun’s rays stealing through the off-white curtains embellish themselves on my face. My eyelids flutter and I open my eyes. I wake up. It’s one those ‘waking up’s when I have no clue as to who I am, what my name is... none of that cumbersome worldly knowledge. It’s surreal. It’s Xanadu. I want to stay in that state of ignorant bliss for always. Yet, as is the way with the world, the surreal passes, the cumbersome sinks back into place.

I watch my feet step on the stone steps; it is déjà vecu, déjà senti and nostalgia - it makes me nauseated.

The same cream coloured pump shoes.

The same black skinny jeans.

The same slim silver Giordano watch.

The tiny list forms itself in my mind as I think of the attire I’d word the first day so early this year when I’d come to the College. Today was to be the last. And my dress is green in contrast with the bright orange of that day, my hair in its state of wet curls that are slowly drying into natural cupid curls – unlike the brushed and flat-iron straight bob of that day. And the girl I am is different. Very different.

My vision splits itself into two. I watch everything from the eyes of the girl that stepped into this College that wet day in late January and with the slightly wiser girl of today.

I watch myself walk out of those automated doors with the group that was assigned to me. Feeling strange, yet with an exhilaration that comes with new beginnings. I remember the times I’ve walked out of the same door, my pace as always double times that of usual... I remember the time that 'handsome' Jared talked to me first on those stone steps. And I see the confidence in my walk as I enter the same doors today.

SIC. Student Information Centre. I remember the times I was there alone. The times I was there with people. With Rage. I find myself laughing to myself. I would miss him so, I think, and I mean it.

The escalator that leads up towards the Dean’s and Principal’s offices...and the music room. I remember my trying to practise my piece on the pianoforte for Graduation there. Alessandro trying to teach me to play guitar. A smile tugs at my lips.

I look towards the staircase. The times I’ve run up and down it, crying, laughing.

I keep walking, towards another pair of automated doors. I look around at the cafeteria. The painful hours spent sitting alone, invisible. Then the more recent days, spent with not one free moment alone. Running after Jared with a pin all over the place, getting in trouble for running in the corridors, cornering him and the bruise of touch he gave me - the first time I got into trouble during the whole year... Having lunch with Rage, ending up almost every time hitting him. And with Alessandro and Vencel... Another smile tugs at my lips... The year didn’t end with me being such a loner after all, I think...

My hand is on the exit door, and I glance back one last time, reminiscing, before I open it and start down the stairs. As I open the door at the bottom, sunlight pours down, warm, golden... I look around the campus. Towards the car park, the short cut I used to desperately take towards my haven; the library... then towards the grass field and the pathway I used to take to English before I passed the exam and dropped it... the desolate grey branches and muddy, sodden grass of winter had now become lush green canopies and beauty dew-y carpets. A lightness touches my heart; feeling a loveliness of the end. The sweetness without bitterness. I am still smiling...

A figure moves a little way beyond and I think to myself how attractive the lean figure is, yet ignore it. I am still looking around, reflecting.

Before I know it, he is in front of me.

“Hey!” he says amused, his eyes lingering on me from behind his shades.

I look up at him, surprised that I hadn’t recognized him.

“Oh hey!! You!” I smile, feeling a rush of affection and gratitude towards him – my bestie.

The grin struggles to break on my face, my lips set in a suppressed smile.

“What?” he asks.

“You look good today,” I say, meaning it, seeing the t-shirt and denim jeans compliment his tall, lean figure, and the shades lend attractiveness to his features.

He is silent, assessing my remark as compliment or sarcasm. He decides, unsurely...

“Thanks, I think,” he says.

“It’s over huh? One year...”

“Yeah...”

And we stand there staring at the building for a while.

“Come on, it’s almost time,” he says beckoning to me.

We walk together in a comfortable silence...

“There come the invigilator and her son,” he states.

“Son??”

“What? You think they are married? Like Demi Moore and that...”

“Ashton Kutcher!! Arrgh... you...” I wallop him with my bag.

We both burst into laughter...

And no one ever knew even at the end...that I carried my own hell with me... Maybe because I hide it well, even to myself... and it emerges when I am least aware...

the nonexistent concept...of "friendship"

2008-11-05T23:38:00.003+13:00

[ anyone who hasn't read this, hope you will; http://lightofeye-sha.blogspot.com/2007/11/forget-you-never-to-all-my-friends-then.html ]

I shouldn’t give a damn
But I always do
I know, it’s my bad
Yet what can I do?
It’s how I am
My nature instilled

You come.
You touch.
You go.

And no one’s ever any different.

I’ll always care. I’ll always give a damn.

And you’ll always leave.

It doesn’t matter though.
I mean, you know it wouldn’t, right? Else you wouldn’t go?

It’s alright.
It’s how my life works anyway.
You’re my best friends.
And that’s special to me.

At least, now you understand why I didn't believe in 'friends'...

Well, any of that doesn’t matter...

Just...

Go...

happ"y"ness

2008-10-28T22:39:00.002+13:00

The silver silhouette of moonlight
Soft clinks of ivory hail
Far in the distance, Venus shines bright
Night’s lovely silence doth my heart assail
Touches my lips a smile too true
Thawing, like the warmth of a steaming brew...

Falling; the sun’s golden rays
Flowers whispering in the soft breeze
Trees so evergreen of young spring days
A pretty moment to seize –
A minute; my heart warming
A second; my soul healing...

The rush of speed through air
Mirth and laughter escape my lips
In the world, I feel, not a care –
The silver lining and away trouble slips...

I feel so free
Overflowing, teeming, with glee...

~ another not-so great original ~

Even that doesn’t seem to convey how I feel these days... Life’s just beautiful...every aspect of it...

It’s lasted almost a month now... so... wish me luck!!

And you guys... keep smiling too!! =D

*hugs and kisses*

scattered thoughts

2008-10-21T22:14:00.001+13:00

~ dedicated to “Rage VanDen Heuvel” & all else of you who can’t stand my dreaming ~

Detached.

For lack of a better word to describe the way I feel, it floats around my head. What the matter is with me, I do not know. I wish reality would come and crash it’s cruelly blunt waves onto me, but I am cocooned; in this world that is mine and mine alone – my eyes downcast, my ears tuned only to the thoughts in my head...

My world.

Completely detached from the real world.

Silly they say; I’ve heard it before. If you can’t bear it, just stay away... because I’m a dreamer, and I’m content living in this world of dreams and thoughts that I weave...

why do i feel so wrong...

2008-09-08T22:48:00.004+12:00

The loneliness that ensconces me when I walk... the bubble that’s surrounding me with vacuum-like sound...

Droplets cold as ice pelt onto my face, covering the screen that has become my eyes with a crystallised design.

My footsteps echo about me, the wind howls flipping the huge silver loops on my earlobes.

I wonder...is it just me that feels this isolation?

Surely...look...everyone around me has company. I see that...and it’s just me that walks alone...

Why do I feel so wrong? Why am I so different?

Acceptance; I no longer look for, nor do I yearn it, for it won’t come.

Belonging; another I’ve stopped expecting...

I know I’ll never be one of them... or one of you...

I’ve heard so many people say...wonder out loud... how I cannot be ‘labelled’ or ‘stereotyped’. Maybe that’s why I won’t fit in...

I only want to stop feeling this wrong. I like who I am. I may not be perfect... I may be a hot tempered, stubborn paradox. I may be quiet, shy and a bit of a recluse. I may be moody, over emotional, particular and a tad too straight-laced at times.

But that defines who I am.

I don’t want to become something else just to be ‘accepted’! Mayhap, that impertinence on my part makes me so hateable. Yes, I know how a lot of people detest me... The looks they give... the way they talk when I turn around... I know...

I’ll be free one day...free of all of that... I guess it’s just high school...

And yeah, I know I said the same about this year at the end of last year... Heck, I’ve said it at the end of every year! Yeah, I’m a dreamer. So what? I’ll dream... And one day... the love I can give...and who I am inside... will show...

One day...

I’ll be free of the chains that hold me inside myself... my inhibitions...

One day...

I’ll feel right...

But in the meantime...

Tell me why...

I feel so wrong...

A coldness...

Like the freezing rain...

That’s soaking me...

Numbing me...

Tell me why...

I must be so...

~ random thoughts to myself...guess getting soaked in freezing rain wasn't much good for my head =P ~

plain old truth 8

2008-09-03T17:12:00.003+12:00

~ well, thats the end of the "poepics"... hope you liked 'em ^^ ~

plain old truth 7

2008-09-03T17:08:00.002+12:00

plain old truth 6

2008-09-03T17:01:00.000+12:00

plain old truth 5

2008-09-03T16:53:00.001+12:00

plain old truth 4

2008-09-02T16:49:00.001+12:00

~ still a few more to come... later...~

plain old truth 3

2008-09-02T16:47:00.000+12:00

plain old truth 2

2008-09-02T16:44:00.000+12:00

the plain old truth

2008-09-02T16:36:00.001+12:00

~ continued when I can locate the other halves of this... guess am going down memory lane...summin I found from a while ago too... ~

there are dreams, and then, there are dreams...

2008-09-01T11:06:00.003+12:00

Something from quite a long while ago...

My dream guy would be...

Kind n Caring

Compassionate

Romantic

Sensitive

Empathetic

Dhenn.. ambitious..

Studious

Sweet :P

Decent.. that means disciplined.. and have a good past.. like maa nubai koh noolhe.. u know dho

Good family... thats like.. not a family of addicts.. or criminals n who don’t hate ME!! lol

Must have a sense of humour but not a total clown :P

Be able to put up with me.. mind you.. thats pretty difficult sometimes and maybe “neutralize me” if that’s not too much to ask

Able to support me if I need em.. and give me advice.. n be there for me...

Intelligent too.. but not necessarily a genius :P

Educated

Love kids

Ohh and two more things.. Should not make me live in Maldives (that includes all S.E. Asian countries n probably most of Asia… hmm n Africa n umm Mid-east too lol!!)

And be great at English

Well, is that such a lot to ask for in a guy?? It doesn’t even sound that PERFECT to be inhumane dammit!! Oh well, whatever happens, happens.

Who gives a shiite anyway!!

Me *small voice*

Yeah you, you stupid idiot!

*kicks n tears the hopeless romantic in self to bits*

Over n out for now.

vortex

2008-08-09T10:24:00.004+12:00

[ WARNING: PRETTY INTENSE STUFF ]

The room so brightly lit

The people so painfully jolly

Me right here

Inanimate, ignored

As usual

All alone, in a corner...

A void

Black, sucking

Taking me

Destroying me...

The vortex - pulling...

My essence - ebbing...ebbing...

My inner self

Crying the tears

That spring to my eyes

Brimming...brimming with the salty water...

Hear this desperate cry - for help...

Hear this cry, mine, for a ray of hope...

Hear it... please!!

But, of course

Who can hear?

Who wants to?

And anyhow...

If hear they did

Who'd want to help?

And how indeed?

I shall be so bold

As to say

Madness, pure and true

Shall be better than this that I am...

Such my world suddenly dark

A hopeless despair setting in cruelly...

"Oh precious soul mine!

Oh come back hope!

Oh come back ambition!

Oh come back self!

Come back...come back..."

So I sob, "come back..."

Alas! My cries are in vain

"As is all that I do"

Whispers the devil that

Has taken hold of my soul...

See! See! See what I've become...

See how shameful I am...

Despair takes hold of me

Its grip; firm, merciless

And it vows to hold

For ever more...

And all I am able to do

Is cry and sob...till tears no more...

Save me... none can... I think...

~ another original.... from one of my bleaker days ~

outcast

2008-07-20T22:27:00.003+12:00

“I’d rather not,” I say. Then I smile and give a small wave. I walk to the outdoor area, only to see that all the benches there are full too. Then I walk to the girls’ and lock myself in one of the cubicles there. I want to cry. Those tears are just lurking behind this gulp that I am forcing back.

“Fussy me! I’m sorry but I’d rather not stay there...but since you’re okay with it... I didn’t want to impose... It’d just take away my appetite and make me all sucky! Uhh...sorry!”

I type it into my phone, trying to make the text as light hearted as possible. Only...all I want to do is burst into tears...sob...and just keep sobbing...

True, the stubborn streak in me refuses to do the things I loathe... Does that make me a snob? That there are people I just cannot stand to be around? Did I even care?

Maybe. I was just hungry. And tired. Suddenly, so tired. I walk back into the crowd, see an empty table, plop down onto the bench and take out my lunch. I start nibbling on the fruit bar my mum has packed in with the sandwich. I realize my appetite has fled anyway. Nibbling my way through the small bar, wishing I’d disappear, I catch sight of him. I look away. I just can’t do it. Fake niceties. What I feel, I show. If I can’t tolerate someone... my annoyance just shows. I stick the straw in my packet of juice and continue writing as though I might just disappear into the ink. The juice feels bland on my tongue. I want to throw up. I want to disappear. Desolation. And I chose it.

“Hey,” I look up to see him hovering over me. I smile, a smile that refuses to reach my eyes.

“It’s okay,” he says, presumably in reply to my text.

I contemplate responding and realize my voice has faded away.

“I’m sorry...for staying with them...” he says, sounding sincere...

I wished he’d just go away... It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. It was me. All me.

I shake my head to indicate it was nothing and smile that wretched smile again.

“What class do you have now?”

“Nothing,” even to me, my voice sounds strangled. I ardently hope he doesn’t notice.

“See you later, then!” I wave a small wave.

As soon as his form disappears from view, I dump my papers into my bag, fling it onto my shoulder, toss my half empty packet of juice into the bin and half run to my locker. For caution’s sake of the so very unpredictable weather, I extract my black umbrella and try to escape the cursed crowd. I manage. I flee out of the College.

As my stiletto boots tap on the slanting pavement, I feel that tinge on pain in my right ankle and wonder if it ever truly healed. Then I wonder why I returned for lunch time at College. Because I wanted to talk to him? Because he was the one person whom I can talk to? Shut up, I say to my inner self.

Great, now I was actually talking out loud to myself like a crazy person.

I walk to the library. My haven. Bury myself in a book until my next class. That, at least, is ignorant bliss. But induced escapes from reality do not last long.

I make my way towards College again, after half an hour or so. Reality sucked. Life sucked. More so... I was just very f***ed up.

Why do I complain of desolation when I was so hostile? So unapproachable? So particular? I guess I have no right for that.

I guess I was just selfish.

I guess I should just learn to be this outcast that I make myself.

That’s when I cry. Two lone little tears before I dam them up again. Shush, I tell myself.

This is what I chose...

College opens again tomorrow, after a month... Will it be any different? I doubt it.

heavenly droplets

2008-06-16T20:56:00.004+12:00

The pretty sights...and oh, those small pitter-patters...

I let out a contented sigh as I decide to take the longer way towards College. Quite contrary, I supposed, to what others might do in the pouring rain and the raging wind...

In all truth, I have always been in love with the rain...

For a moment, I tilt my ebony coloured umbrella to a side... letting the tiny droplets splash against my skin and the strong wind tousle my hair...

Rain. Symbol of purity...the washing, nay, cleansing of the world...

Rain. The crystal droplets...

Rain. Part of my name...part of me...

I am completely enticed by it. Those few seconds in which I set aside my shelter are; to my surprise, a sort of bliss...a contentment seeps into me... a feeling that had lately been miles from me...

As I walk the tar pavement, I smile to myself... I love the soft, occasional splashes of the droplets on my woollen coat and my pump shoes. I love tiny pitter-patters all around me, as those droplets from heaven magically splash onto these Earthly surfaces...

My usually lowered lids now lift to observe my surroundings... The oncoming winter has stripped most of the trees in vicinity into a shameful state of nudity yet I am granted what I wish to see...

The diamond-textured droplet softly slips off the tip of the ridiculously tiny and yellowed leaf onto a small puddle right in front of me... The water ripples... Time seems to slow for me... I hear the seagull, oddly far from its trademark beaches, call from the top of the aged red building... I hear the stream of water gushing along the indentation at the edges of the road... I seem to hear the touch of every droplet from the skies to the earthen grounds...

Tell me I’m dramatizing but I felt all the bad go away...far, far away at that moment...and make obsolete all my agonies of the past weeks....and I felt my spirits lift considerably...

Even the shiver that ran through me, with the gust of wind that went past, I found pleasant...

I find myself wonderingly contemplating the significant effects if such a small incident on me...and then an echo of the past ripples into me; of something someone very beloved to me said...

Sometimes, it’s the little things that matter the most...

...breaking down...

2008-06-03T23:50:00.006+12:00

Desolation.
Whenever I need someone,
It’s always as though I get isolation.
As though I’m a torture-deserving one,
As though I’m inhumane...
Such – the world so inane...

Yes, my expression bears,
The stony mask,
To hide my fears,
To fool you – world – that I am ‘bon’.
My pain – mine alone.
The girl – me – that is always lone.

I used to believe, my dear readers,
That saying of old;
Of eagles being like leaders,
Never flocking, never of the same mould.
I am an eagle – a loner...
Yet I am hardly close to being a leader...

I thought this mask mine,
Would never be revealed,
In front of eyes thine.
Never would I have believed,
That I’d breakdown this pitiful,
That tears would so openly flow – sorrowful...

Whatever.
This is me.
My feelings – no matter.
This is me,
This “weirdo”, this “emo”, this “whiner”,
This loner...

~ another original...rather raw...spur of the moment thing...random thoughts from a forlorn lil soul ~

random thoughts....is it so wrong?

2008-05-18T08:58:00.002+12:00

I hold my emotions out of my façade among these people; my college-mates. Its tiring... This smile that just upturns the corners of my mouth – a gesture of courtesy. The greeting; like a particle in the breeze, meaning nothing; naught at all except an acknowledgement of my existence... I’ve never been one for hiding my emotions... It is so tiring... But then who is there for me to show my feelings to? Burst into tears in public? Like that would achieve anything but make a spectacle out of myself... yet this... this is tiring...

Sometimes I feel like I can’t take it anymore. I feel like I’m fighting a merciless, mighty hurricane that is determined to leave destroyed the remains of this frail soul in its wake.

True, I may not be the only one feeling this way. All I’m saying is that its hard. And whoever does feel this way, I’d sympathise with... except I detest that sympathy from others, so if you will, I won’t give mine.

Anyway, going back to that previous thread of thought... Sometimes I just feel like giving up and doing nothing at all...

Sometimes I just wish there was someone who’d hold me close... tell me I can make it... someone who’d love me unconditionally, without expectations... Someone who’d tell me it’ll all be alright...and make all the grey clouds disappear...

Is it so wrong to want the warmth of such an embrace? Is it so wrong to want to be loved that way? Is it so wrong to just want a shoulder to cry on? One that would not judge my moment of weakness?

Not wrong, perhaps... Just plain impossible...

a delicate equilibrium

2008-05-10T08:36:00.003+12:00

Look, I don’t know why. So don’t ask me. The way I hold myself – it is a delicate manner. So shut up. Ignore me. Leave me alone. Treat me like part of the furniture or the building structure – fine! I can deal with that.

What I cannot deal with? For you to acknowledge me when you feel like it – once; then again. Why not just leave me to myself? To be the loner that I am? It hurts when you seem to befriend me, then disappear at your whim. Because then I wonder what it is that you wanted. Because... oh! Because it feels like you’re using me. And that I would never allow... I’m just not sure... I’m never sure anymore...

I survive, keep myself together... I manage, thanks to the equilibrium that I build within myself. That equilibrium though? It’s delicate as can be. So don’t come to me.

I am here. The vigour around me. Damn and damnation. Yes, I stand alone. I should maybe eat something to ease this hunger I feel, seeing as its lunch break. Yet I don’t want to plunge into that crowd. I don’t want to take up a meek pose and timidly ask of someone to let me sit at their table. I’m sick of it. All I want to do is run.

So I run.

Where to?

I find myself in the library on the other side of the road from my College. Relief floods over me. Books...my dear, dear books. My comfort. My drug. I reach out and take one, flipping through the pages. Familiar territory. A sense of easy calm runs through me. My worries disappear.

Safe. At least for the moment.

I cannot see it, but I feel the creases that had taken hold of my forehead slowly smooth away, and the tension in my body ebb. My arms; that were crossed in front of me are now untangled.

The time reads 12 p.m. I need to go back. My next class would start within ten minutes. I slip the book back where it belongs and walk out.

Confidence; however slight. Strength; however brittle. Its back.

I hold myself the way I always do; head high, eyes lowered. Its easy now. My insides have stopped trembling and screaming in desperation.

I take a deep breath – as a medieval prisoner forced to jump into the dark blue depths would. The door slides open; thankfully, it is quiet. I rush to my locker, gather my things and run to my class.

The chatter, the sounds – they reappear. Already my inner equilibrium seems to be shaking. I refuse to let it. I don’t want to lock myself away and cry alone like I used to.

I walk to my usual seat, and put down my things. He speaks to me. The smile that appears on my expression is of its own accord. Its genuine; this time. Again, I find myself wondering if he wants something from me. I crush the thought. I like him. A whole, whole lot. So, doubts are hardly worth it. I smile again, and then lower my head into my arms. I just want to disappear.

I lift my head only when it seems like the class is about to start.

“Hi,” she says. Oh, she’s talking to me? I smile.

“Are you not feeling well?” Is that not the million dollar question? I smile again, then nod. I feel so weak, I might as well be sick.

“Hope you get well soon.”

I want to thank her. My voice fails me. Why bother?

I barricade myself. My expression is a mask. Nothing is wrong with me. I’m fine. Perfectly fine.

The inner equilibrium is complete again...until the next time it shatters...until the next time I need to run...

the paradox that is me...

2008-05-03T09:35:00.003+12:00

A moment, take;
I’m in tears.
Another and the salty lake
Disappears.
This is me
The turmoil of my emotions running free.

When I inflame
Do stay away
For I could defame
With such a fire none can allay.
To my personality; this is a lead,
A paradox, indeed.

Complicated they say I am,
Difficult, I can be.
A handful untamed,
I sure could be.
A whirling paradox you cannot dam,
Like within the eye of a hurricane.

Perhaps you must
Heed all those who say
“Stay away.”

~another original...bit of an angry-feelings one, me thinks... ^^ ~

Broken Wings

2008-04-20T19:59:00.004+12:00

My wings are broken

And I keep falling...

Destiny has spoken

I was never meant for flying...

I stop my struggle

To fall, fall into the rubble...

I do not know sunshine

Because I cannot let go

Of proper ways - a rigid line.

Be free, I want to.

Though, can I?

No, perhaps never, says I...

A few times, bliss I found

In thinking my saviour dear

Will break the thread with which I am bound...

I was bound, I fear, for far too many years

And to cut them, I alone, cannot find shears...

Come , will he

My saviour?

Nay, says me.

He is but my dream fervour...

And I am meant forever

To be this loner...

...as i am...

2008-04-15T19:01:00.000+12:00

Do you not see me? Do you not see the terror; so pure and raw that I know is in my eyes? Do you not know that I am trying to flee from all of you? Do you not realize that when I do, I will cry, endlessly, for not being able to be like you? Do you not understand the strength that it takes for me to carry myself as I am?

Yes, I know you cannot even fathom what I feel. Yes, I realize that you are completely taken by the strength of my façade. YES! I HAVE BEEN A LONER FOR SO LONG! But that does not mean I do not care to have friends. It does not been that I am not wistful by what I see.

A MASQUERADE!! Maybe so. Yet sometimes I wish I could be like you. Outgoing. Almost carefree. I hate, nay, loathe it when I become this way. I KNOW this is me. I know I cannot be like you. I know I do not actually want to have a personality like that of yours. And yet it get so, so hard to live everyday - day in, day out – among you and feel desolate, like a neon light that people sidestep and ignore unless they need something to light their path for a moment...

YES! LIL OLD ‘VICTIMIZED’ ME, EH? Well, yoohoo for you for being right. But I dare you to come and live this way, knowing all I know, being all I am.

Well, hell to that. I am myself because I am this way. I cannot, could not recognize myself when I tried to change.
I wipe my tears, take a deep breath and gather myself. I walk away with my head held high, my eyes lowered... as though I could not care a bit what you think of me... as I am...

not there...

2008-03-08T11:51:00.000+13:00

Not the appropriate time or place. But I’m a writer, however amateur. I write. That seems to be the best thing I do. It may make me seem like a loner, maybe even hostile. I used to care about that. Now? I just don’t care. This happens to be who I am.

Voices. Activity. Noise. Vigour. That’s all around me; I stand in the midst of it all – alone, passive. Recluse?? Nope, just shy, I suppose...

I wanted to change, once upon a time. I envied the people who could just go up to a stranger, strike up conversation and make a friend. I used to want to be that way. Not anymore...because I know now that that will never be me...

See that girl over there...standing alone, quiet and distant? Naught special? Hmm...that, my dear people, is yours truly. I’m not complaining. I don’t need your sympathy. I’m only saying because you ought to know... that I am here... watching you...

Then, I meet my beloved pen and paper. I write. Time flies; I don’t even know how much. I look up and suddenly I find the world gone ahead while time had stopped for me...

I thought I’d be different this time. A new place. A new year. I’m still the same. I accept myself for who I am.

So would I say it’s a bad beginning? Nope. Because this is just the beginning and the beginning hasn’t ended yet...

Wish me luck...

Loneliness

2008-02-12T19:28:00.000+13:00

I’ve felt it once
I’ve felt it twice
Then much more...
It comes, it goes
And I shouldn’t look
For something to quell it
It’s just a desire.
A feeling. Nothing more.

I have everything I should need
Everything I should yearn.
Company is just company
Because they are strangers
Who flit in and out of your life
They will come
And they will go.
Those who stay
Come once in a blue moon
If any at all.

I’ve stumbled
Made mistakes
I’ve hurt.
The root – because I was lonely.
Assez. Enough.
Everyone feels it
Then and again.
Why fight it?
Why contradict it?
It’s just part of life.
After all, in the end
We are on our own.

So I shall take it
In my stride
Another ultimatum of life...

Free!!!!!!!

2008-01-08T01:57:00.000+13:00

I’m a free little bird in this cruel world,
I fly up high,
Where no one can get hold,
Of me, on the borders of the everlasting sky,
No net can pin me down,
No arrow can put me down.

Sovereignty never felt this good,
I never knew freedom was so beautiful,
It feels too good,
To be true, yet you know something’s beautiful,
Or bountiful, until you come close to,
Losing that little thing too!

I might have been a foolish bird,
Once upon a time,
So defiant, even to the adult bird,
Gone is that foolish time,
When I soared down below,
And got tangled in the nets cast below.

Blind to the traps,
I soared too close,
And got caught in their cruel laps,
I got a nasty dose,
But cheers! I’ve fled!
Neither scratch nor drop of blood I’ve shed…

Reflections - 2007

2008-01-03T21:01:00.000+13:00

[ Sunset of 2007 ]

True, the past is best left behind; except perhaps for those precious memories that you must cherish. Yet there come times when reflection on the past is inevitable and even necessary. The end of a year is that time. And so, I reflect...

The year I am putting behind myself is not just another year. I leave so much behind with 2007, in a sense even myself. My former self, that is.
As usual, 2007 started off with the promise of brighter tomorrows, new resolutions and renewed optimism as with the beginning of each year. Yet, at the time, my future was so uncertain that deep down, I was rather afraid. Having left Junior High, I wondered where I would go next. Of course, I would study further. But the question was where.

My GCE O’level results came; I was disappointed knowing that my tardy revision had stopped me from achieving better. My parents, though, were surprised I had done that well with just a few weeks of revising. But the monotony of the days lingered. I had naught to do, and a job (apart from at my dad’s office) was out of question. So I stayed at home; ate, slept, watched television, got on and off cyberspace and the telephone and the occasional trip out...

There was someone around whom most of my year revolved. At first, I felt utterly and completely besotted. But as days flew by, I somehow became someone unrecognizable; even to myself. Some point along the way, I felt as though I was caught in the eye of an ever whirling hurricane of confusion. I had no idea what I was doing wrong; somehow I had got my priorities mixed up. I had always been temperamental, but I found myself directing fits of rage at people I didn’t mean to and bursting into tears for god knows what reason!

I must have, should have, seen it coming, but I guess I was too blinded by some things. When it did happen, the impact of the ‘explosion’ left me shocked but made me see things in a clearer way than I had in quite some time. It was like being dazzled when someone flicks on the light after you’ve been groping in pitch blackness for ages.

Horrified, I was, to think it was too late to see. Too late to change. Too late to prevent the damage. To myself and everyone I cared for. Thank God Almighty, I was saved by the ones I truly love...

Even then, I felt trapped. I had no idea why or by what, only that I had the constant feeling of being chained. Then we had to leave. Of course, we (my family and I) had planned the move; packing our belongings into boxes, etc. We were going to leave in a calm, relaxed manner – no last minute rushes. That’s what we thought. However, the night before we were supposed be leaving, my younger brother fell and fractured his arm (his third fracture in two years). The impact of the fracture had dented the other bone and needed surgery to set it right. Or so they said.

We left within the hour in such a furious rush that I could not quite grasp that that was it!! That was leaving. That was leaving the country of my blood that I had called home for all of my life. That was leaving if not for good, just then, then for a long, long time. That was my lifelong dream.

I looked towards the city as the ferry whirred to the airport. The “bodu dhidha” (big flag) that stood softly waving in its red, green and white splendour. The Islamic Centre with its majestic gold crescent on the white dome. For a moment a lump caught in my throat. A wave of nostalgia swept over me and I wanted to wave to the city as I used to as a kid, crying out “Bodu dhidha, bye!!”

Then I saw the jungle of buildings rising from the city; the many vehicles zooming, the people and the sounds. I remembered what the society had become. Was becoming. Quite abruptly I turned, towards my destination. To the future. I was not leaving anything behind, except my past. Yes, there were my relatives and I would miss them, but that was another story altogether. I was leaving behind all the hurt, all my mistakes and all of my regrets.

Looking back, I realize that the emancipation I had longed for happened as the flight took off from “home”. I only realized it in Singapore where we transited, en route, for my younger brother’s treatment.
It was the laughter. My laughter. I didn’t remember the last time I had laughed like that. In fact, laughed at all. It must have been months. And it felt good; so good. My laughter was uncontrollable and contagious as I rolled over on the white bed of the hotel suite, joined in by my family. And I felt - physically felt, the heavy weight I had been carrying around leave me – my soul. I felt like the colours of the rainbow, like a soaring bird, like floating... like everything beautiful in the world... I welcomed gaiety back to me...

A couple of days later, I was looking out of a plane window onto a never ending greenery, with houses peeking out here and there. It was a beautiful sight. And as the plane landed in Aotearoa, the land of the long white cloud, I felt that at least one part - the most difficult part, of my emancipation was complete...

Trust...

2007-12-04T23:03:00.000+13:00

I stood with night’s breeze hugging me,
The night’s silver moon reflecting on the sea,
As melted silver; the waves to be,
Come and kiss the beaches, as an unending relation I see,
So unlike life’s many friendships,
Unique it is from all relationships.

Lifting my eyes to the silver moon,
I think to myself,
It is only flesh and blood whom,
Never leave you to yourself,
Never abandon you to cruel solitude,
And even then, there are few of your own breed that forget gratitude.

O sweet memory, O bitter memory,
Of those friends who ceased to be,
I wish it would delete itself; this memory,
Alas! T’is my mind that lets it be,
And make me lose trust for,
Humanity, which I had believed before.

Forget-You-Never

2007-11-28T09:27:00.000+13:00

[written with thoughts of all my friends; then, now & to-be]

You come.

You touch.

You leave.

Come back, please?

You can’t even hear me. Or you don’t want to. Where have those promises of “eternity” and “forever” and “always” gone? Kaput. Just like that. Just like that. Where am I left? Right here. Weeping. Missing. Longing.

No, no, don’t mind me.

Obviously I’ll get over it. That’s what your gestures mean, right? GET OVER IT! So where’s the problem, eh? Problem is I don’t truly get over it. Not ever.

When you come into my life, you do something magical to me. You give me a reason to smile when I open my eyes to a new dawn, knowing there is someone who cares what happens to me. Such is the thrill in knowing the care of someone who is not obliged to do so.

Care. What a word. What a thing.

Do you know what it means? I hear a ‘yes’. But do you truly? Another ‘yes’. Then do you care for me? An inevitable ‘yes’. And I believe you, truly, utterly, completely believe you; because I, too, care for you. Yet, there is a difference in our caring. A difference that I am not aware of. A fatal difference, if I may.

I care too much. You care just enough.

But I do not know it, and am in a state of ignorant bliss. You are one of my closest, as I am one of yours. Or so I think. How in the world would I know? I wouldn’t. I just trust.

Trust. Another of those big words. Big things.

Can I trust you? Of course, I can, even with my life. I won’t be hurt again? Never ever. You’ll be here for me. You’ll make sure I’m never hurt.

But you don’t really mean much of that, do you? Nay, I won’t judge. I don’t know what is in your heart. You speak the truth. You care for me. I can and shall trust you. You’ll never abandon me.

I smile. I’m dancing on a rainbow. I see my dark moments in my mind’s eye, during which you support me. Aid me. Pull me out. You, the shining ray out of thick grey skies. You, the silver lining of my black cloud. I smile again.

Thank goodness for you.

Tonight, I lie here. No, not an insomniac, but afraid if I close my eyes, I will succumb to my teary urge. So I just lie here, looking into dark nothingness. I say your name in my mind and smile, remembering the first time we met. The magic you brought with your presence in my life. Everything that happened in between. I smile. Back to the present night.

Where are you? Gone. So soon? So soon.

Your touch still lingers on my heart. Your mark.

A taint. A scar. A caress.

It could be either. Sometimes I reach out and touch it to feel pain... other times bliss... other times lament. Either way, it’s still there. Not gone like you are...

It could be my fault. My mistake. Or perhaps yours. Doesn’t matter, though. I apologize for my faults, cherish the good times. I haven’t forgotten and I shall never...

Though I have a question to ask.

Why let me hope for something long lasting when you can’t guarantee? Why let me hope for you, my friends? Why let me hope you’ll stand by me?? Why let me hope I shall no longer be a loner??

Why let me hope a hopeless hope???

Dreams...

2007-11-11T21:05:00.000+13:00

At times of sadness,
And times of sorrow,
What keeps me alive is the happiness,
Of the dreams that are far from hollow,
The immunity from depression that keeps my heart upbeat,
Are these dreams that keep my blood in heat.

What are these dreams,
That swim in front of my eyes?
What are these dreams,
That helps me and never tires?
What are these dreams,
That provoke in me – hope’s fires?
If you knew true,
I know you would dream too.

These are the dreams,
Of my future beautiful,
That were and are to be beams,
Erected on the road of my life successful,
To push me off the pitiful floor,
And, through happiness, let my life soar.

I dream of a future bright,
Books of achievement too,
In the luminous light,
Of my dear parents’ love so,
Dream to let my life succeed,
So that the dreams are no longer a façade…

~ another original, all rights reserved again ~

Illusions

2007-11-09T18:27:00.000+13:00

Indulging myself in the euphoria of my drugs, I was. It wafts towards me, its fingers gently playing in my ears. My heart lurches, as one would when one is standing on a bus and it drives off. And as such, my heart is thrown against the floor of my soul. Immediately, my eyes are drawn towards the scene of music. Nostalgia engulfs me, drowning me in its tender embrace. Though it was just a month ago, it seems so long ago, and I am not the same person anymore. My heart keeps to the rhythm of the song, I see those days relived in my memory. I want to be the girl I was then. Yet I don’t.

Oh! I don’t know!!

Bliss? Yes, it was. But only some moments.

Is bliss ever real? Can anyone be perfectly blissful? Or is it just an illusion that we create so we can survive in this world? Oh, how selfish I am being.

There are those who are far less blessed than I could ever even imagine.

But that’s us humans, isn’t it? Selfish.

Is it too much to ask for simple happiness, though?

Yes, I have my basic necessities. A family and their love. Yet...yet... sometimes I feel so lonely I think it’s going to drive me insane.

My past is a pathway of hideous mistakes. Mistakes that will always stay with me. Mistakes that haunt me. That destroyed me. And destroys me still. I am rebuilding myself. Yes, I still dream. And yes, maybe they are impossible illusions once more. Illusions that will crash on me again. Till then, though, I will survive.

My pain is mine alone.

All those who need me, I shall be here. Even in my darkest hours, you will have my comfort. As you always have had... I’ll build another illusive dream yet again, and go on... until it crashes on me. Again.

Maybe it will eradicate me one day.

Who knows...? But till then I shall dream... unending dreams...

Don’t try to stop me, please!

Because I will dream... even when it hurts... I will dream... like the dreamer I have always been...

The Way I Cry...

2007-11-08T20:33:00.000+13:00

My soul,
Its bleeding,
My heart – it’s not whole,
Wish to numb my feeling,
Throw myself onto bed; emotion darts,
That’s when it starts…

Water of the salty stream,
Born from deep within my soul,
So easily shed they seem,
Yet the toll destroys me whole,
Those are the times I feel myself drown in troubled times.

The moment now,
Right here,
This place somehow,
Longing my pieces to adhere,
Oh mend! Mend me from this!
What it is? Pain, pain is this!

No matter, no matter,
My guilt or fault another,
Whatever problem, conflict – no matter,
Wish to be in a world some other,
Wish someone would take away,
Wash it away with words pure as rain.

I let my eyelids fall,
Let the stream take over,
Drown in this? …oh...but…
What I wish makes my spirit sink even lower,
My savior, where are you?
Rescue me! Rescue me! Please, please do!

I long for a voice,
Inquiring my soul’s sorrow,
Touch my ears, o’ soothing voice,
Yet all I hear is emptiness hollow,
Tears yet more, hurt and angry, gush down,
My soul does scream and frown.

I long again for,
A hand to wipe my tears,
That never comes, nor,
The warmth of an embrace to destroy my fears,
My savior dear!
Rescue me! Rescue me here!

Time ticks away,
I lift myself up,
Dab the tears away,
Try to cheer myself up,
Try to bury the hopes,
Of my dream savior that never comes...

~ an original, of course, all rights reserved ^_^ ~

Addicted

2007-11-05T00:03:00.000+13:00

I am an addict. They say people take drugs to take leave of reality and hence experience a better euphoria than reality can ever present you with. So yes, I am an addict. To a several number of drugs.

Books. My primary drug. I am ardent reader. A fiction addict, if you will. They give me such comfort. Because I know that no matter how bad the events, how bad the consequences, how hurtful things become, how much pain endured by the characters, things will always turn out okay. Even if far from perfect. Why are books, no matter how modern, so fairy tale-ish? Because if they weren’t then they wouldn’t be worth the effort. Because people don’t want to read about reality when they already have quite enough of it. And for that simple reason I, too, am an addict to books. With books, it’s so easy to feel what the characters feel. Sorrow when they feel it, knowing somewhere along the way there’s a turning point where happiness will inevitably intervene. Knowing no matter how imperfect things are, characters will, in the end, find perfect bliss. It is such a secure net around me. The only regret is that it’s always so temporary. When every book ends I madly rush towards the other. If I don’t I do suffer withdrawals. And those are unbearable.

In the same way I am addicted to writing. When I can’t have a book, I rush towards pen and paper, and let the ink run across it. I write my feelings, but it’s still an escape from reality because I write with the conviction that I’m pouring it out to someone who can magically fix everything. Yes, for the famous saviour my unconscious mind keeps screaming for...

And so there I am staring at the dark blank screen; my soul is in the eye of a tornado. I want to forget what is happening inside of me. And so, I let my fingers run... and the white letters appear. Losing myself. Forgetting reality. Forgetting the tornado that rages my soul tearing it to pieces. And suddenly I am at the very last full stop. It is the wee hours of night. I want to sleep. I am no insomniac. Yet I know if I stop and close my eyes, the tornado will have the better of me. Sleep touches my eyes and draws me towards the horrible scene. I give in and let my eyelids fall shut.

I hear my unconscious self scream. A scream of terror. A scream of anguish. My insides are torn beyond repair. I’m bleeding. I jump up. Searching for medicine. Drugs. My dearest drugs! Yet there are none around. I’d exhausted my supply for the day. I hear myself scream in my head again. Frantically I search for the cures. None. I can feel the waves of withdrawal starting to set upon me. I want to fight them but I’m too weak. Losing blood. I need a comfort. Please. My imploration silently travels into the empty air and disappears. No one knows I am hurting. No one sees. No one hears. I am quite alone. I hear the last anguished scream for a relief from the pain as my vision blurs out. Water gushes out of my eyes and I sob silently, painfully...until I lose consciousness. Then in the morning I shall wake up again, reaching for my drugs...

Magic Tunes

2007-09-24T08:09:00.000+12:00

Songwriters, singers and authors; how can I ever live without the comfort of their fantasy worlds? Of their inspirations. Oh yes, I said inspirations. This may sound so incredibly corny, but it’s pretty much the truth. Music and books are my escape. Or should I say my saviours?

There’s the song playing now in my ears; it’s the song I’ve been pining for. I don’t choose a song I would like to listen to anymore. My soul just chooses it for me nowadays. I start humming tunes just out of the blue. Not common tunes that I usually listen to, which often happens, but just random songs. And they so match my mood that it amazes me and somehow I have pangs for them like hunger. Once I hear them I have a satisfying comfort that is so hard to explain. It’s a healing for my soul in a way. Maybe it’s my unconscious mind’s way of paving my path to move on in life. Perhaps. Perhaps. The songs are from my past, that I know. And although they had never held much significance in my eyes then, I start to see them in a new light... I feel the music in my heart of hearts and it’s like something meaningful awakens in me. Oh yea, soppy, clichéd; makes you sick; but let me warn you – it sure isn’t no drama soap.

One sunny morning early this spring, I woke up to find this song in my head just out of nowhere. I was pretty sure I had not heard it recently and the most frustrating bit was that I only knew three verses of it! I had a knack that the lyrics spoke of being stuck in between or some such and the three verses that kept singing themselves to tune in my head were “...all I need is time...a moment that is mine...while I am in between...”. Three days on and it still wouldn’t get the hell out of my head! Good grief! So finally defeated, I log in on my music site of sorts and type in the first verse and the singer who I thought must have sung it. And sure enough there it was and would you believe how related to me these lyrics were? The song triggered something in me... it was true, I needed time, a moment that was only mine, while I was still in between and not at the end or the beginning; to figure out who I am, who I want to be...

AND the other day, just when I was feeling blue, lonely and lost with the wind howling cruelly cold around me this tune whizzed into my head... do be obliged and guess?

Strike one!! You’re right!

“...it’s a damn cold night...”

Hard to believe? Believe it.

It’s like that now. I’ve been trying to shut off my ‘times of yore’ from my mind for the past couple of days. Trying with a will of iron...but trying and failing I guess, because I gave in to this. “...and she’s buying a stairway to heaven...” It was song I used to play repeatedly during a turning point of my life (though I had no idea at the time). I’ve been humming the tune for a while now and just moments ago gave in to temptation. There is a sweet comfort in hearing the song...so long as I fight the nostalgia. But the urge for it is increasing and it keeps steadily ascending.

I’m in the world of the song. The music is the breeze of this unique world. The words are its character. And it’s just me and the singer’s voice...

I’m vulnerable.

Am I giving in to nostalgia? It seems I am. Yea, so I am.

I allow myself to indulge in the sickening sweet longing of the past...just for a few seconds and my emotions are already in turmoil.

Pull away while you can...

I can’t.

But then I can, because I’ve grown; grown through time. I know I can’t change the past. So I plunge once again into the music that is my comfort, my companion, my saviour...