I remember so much. I didn't know an 'almost' could hurt this bad. All the stupid poems I wrote for you hurt a thousand times worse now, all the words I tried to give you are biting me back.
The longest running conversation between a flower and a flame, a stupid flame who thought she was the sun and mistook her poison for energy.
I didn't realise how badly I burnt you just from leaning against you, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so so sorry. I wish I never called you back, I wish I never held your hand, I wish I never brought you out for your birthdays, I wish I can forget the fireworks by your eyes.
You once said I was the reason you never got a girlfriend, I wish I never came into your life and I wish I never existed. If only I'd stayed in the main game instead of going over to the sidelines to sit with you.
We are all hurting even though I didn't mean any harm to anyone. I just wanted to hurt myself, never you or the wind or even my girl. I didn't mean to make the both of you cry, I'm a fucking storm and how the fuck do I live like this?
You are the only other person who's been close enough to see the stupid mole beneath my eye, close enough to have felt the warmth from my legs. I never wanted to own you, I just always wanted to sit next to you and sit in comfortable silence.
Why does your ghost linger? One month later and I still feel your hand in mine and your arms around me in the cold up on the hill at Marsiling. Why couldn't you stay gone, you shouldn't have felt my absence the way I did yours because clearly you are the only one running through my mind.
How do I let go of something I never quite had? Like sand through my fingers and rain dripping down my hair, never quite mine and never solid enough to grasp and throw far away. How do I forget you, your tooth poking out at the side and the veins on your hands a strange bright green?
Eight paragraphs, and they don't do justice to what I feel for you. I wish you'd known that kindness doesn't mean deceit, and I wish you knew honesty doesn't have to be harsh. You always said I was perfect but you just wish I was someone else, I wish for that too and I wish we'd met under other circumstances. I wish for a lot of the impossible, things that I know I can't do anything about.
No matter where I go, floating around or back with the wind or with somebody new entirely I wouldn't be able to forget you. I'd spend my whole life thinking of you and remembering you to be the person who saved my life. I'm so sorry, the only way I knew how to repay you was by destroying yours.
I'll stay gone, but please don't forget everything I'd mumbled to you up at Marsiling hill, and don't just erase my face and voice from your head. Don't ever exorcise my ghost from next to you, I want to be the heat that we both strangely loved.
Showing posts with label L. Show all posts
Showing posts with label L. Show all posts
Friday, July 21, 2017
Thursday, July 13, 2017
L. R.
So it's the 13th of July today, and this post was originally intended to be posted on the 21st birthday of the one I call the flower. But you know, plans don't always go the way we want them to and people don't always turn out the good we thought them to be. It took me a while to figure out that you were the toxic one all along; and I hate the things I've written here, the way I thought so highly of you. I guess this is my way of finally letting you go.
Today is the 17th of April, 2017 and this post has been scheduled to be published on the 29th of September, 2017.
I have lost my best friend of four years. Maybe that's why it's so easy for you to go; I've only been in your life for four years. Why would you risk a friendship of eight years for me?
You were both wearing each other's t-shirts, him in your white Converse tee and you in his black one. February 2013, our first time meeting, both of us finally seeing the person that our best friend/boyfriend kept talking about. Me with my hair tucked beneath a beanie, you with your hands tucked between your legs.
After all this time, I can still remember our first proper conversation, about a week before I started poly life. We talked about genders and sexuality, of all the things to say to a new friend. I'm pretty sure you remember what was it we were wondering about together? It was so stupid, but it did make our friendship.
When and how did we get so close? When did you start being the centre of mine and his arguments? When did you stop shipping us and start seeing that we were no good for each other?
The affection I have for you grew together with my writing. Four years ago when I wrote about you, they were just shallow entries, calling you really immature names and complaining about you non-stop. We were like children, constantly bickering with each other and running around the tired adult that is your best friend/my boyfriend.
On my first day of school, you were the person I was furiously texting with the entire day. My other half, the wind; he wasn't around much at the time, I remember. He was already starting lessons that week if I'm not wrong, and he didn't reply as fast as you did.
You told me not to be afraid, to make eye contact with my new classmates and smile at them. You made sure I wasn't covering my eyes with my hair, to push it back, that much I remember. You starved my insecurity by telling me again and again you thought I was pretty.
Even in 2013, you were really the only other person who thought I was special. I know it's hard for you to be honest, but you once told me that you thought I was the most precious diamond and that you genuinely cared about me. Hah, don't you remember? You were so afraid of losing me, actually sending me that long apology text when you made me mad and I ignored you for weeks.
We never had much proper interaction and that's why it's easy for me to remember the memories with you. I remember being at my school atrium when you randomly called me and said something in French, was it? You laughed at me when I pretended to understand and then we talked about the wind. By then I was already addressing you as my best friend, to the few friends I'd made in poly.
Of course those friends never stayed. But you did.
You were always the first person I ran to when I got scared. Being left behind at a void deck at Woodlands, heartbroken and alone at Woodlands Waterfront, dumped at Jurong East station, two days after our first anniversary. I could never figure out when you became the person I always fell back to. When I started being jealous of my own boyfriend for having you as his best friend.
If you looked at the bigger picture, you were the only one who never took advantage of me. Even if I expanded the comparisons, looked at all the guys who came during my lonely year in 2012, before I even met you, the guys who came in 2014, after you. You are the only one I could lean against and feel safe with. The only one I could close my eyes with and wake up to your hands still in the same position as before.
When he broke up with me the first time in January 2014, I went to you. Ran to Marsiling where you sat in a navy blue shirt, a hand raised high in the air for me. You listened to me, you watched me, your striking brown eyes that I'd never noticed before, suddenly so piercing in the falling light.
Your best friend's hands scared me. His hands have slapped me hard across the face until my head flung to one side, they have crept beneath my shirts and into my jeans, they have pushed me against walls in dusty stairwells.
But yours are different. That night, your hands just stroked my hair while I laid crying. They held onto me when I walked onto the road before the cars even stopped. And that was just the beginning, the solace I find in your hands after the fear I've developed from his.
All the other friends I'd made through him disappeared when he left. I think you tried to go too, you are his best man after all and if those people started disliking me the moment he broke up with me, you should have too right? But somehow you didn't. You looked at me as me, the day I decided to text you after three months, with a push from one of those Heroine people.
I never wanted to own you, and I guess that's how you became a flower to me. I wanted to take care of you, to water you everyday but not wanting to ever pluck you out like I did your best friend. A white rose; in the Victorian Flower Language white roses mean 'a heart unacquainted with love', and that's all I have ever felt for you. I've used the word love so many times that I've grown to believe it isn't worthy of you and you mean so much more.
Remember the day we saw each other again after three months? I was walking to NYP to meet my secondary school friends, and you were walking to the MRT station, and while everyone else was walking on the sheltered walkway, you and I both decided to walk underneath the sun, and we popped out at the same time. What kind of crazy coincidence was that? We clearly saw each other, but we could only pretend we hadn't.
I never knew when those feelings came to be stronger. Maybe they came when I sat with you at your school library, you in your red/grey raglan, the one you said your mom bought for you. Or maybe they came when we sat at Yio Chu Kang station, letting the trains pass and looking at pictures of red pandas that you had an abundant of in your phone.
You made me play that stupid piano game, the one where you had to tap on the black tiles and avoid the white ones. You laughed when I lost and yelled in frustration, and I watched you play, your hands moving so naturally against your phone screen.
Despite everything I had gone through at that point, you made me feel sixteen. You made me think I was a flower too, so afraid of leaving my safe place beside you although I'd already been uprooted and ripped apart so many times, my petals falling all over and being stepped on. But the few interactions with you in person made me so happy back then, you wouldn't believe. They made me forget that I was an ugly person inside, the complete opposite of you.
We watched Godzilla together, but I know you don't remember that. Funny that even after three years I'm still blushing over how you'd suddenly placed an arm around me, and then grinning at me awkwardly after the movie. How I'm still not over the very rare hug with you, at the foot of your block with a Siamese cat as the only witness.
Our heads over each other's shoulders and arms around the other, your voice breaking the silence: "How long more are we gonna do this?"
"Until tomorrow morning," I'd said.
"That's a very long time," but I felt your arms tightening around me anyway.
And then you tried to run away again. You told me you didn't have any special feelings for me and you didn't want me and just like that you stopped talking again.
I disappeared for a while too, and then I went on with life again. But one thing was for sure, I never stopped thinking about you. I guess it was during this absence that I came to realise I was no good for you, just a flame gripping onto you tight and threatening to burn you; you were just smart enough to dislodge yourself from me and not allowing it to happen.
But I couldn't escape from you. Or you couldn't escape from me? Fate made us meet again on Yio Chu Kang station in early July, while we were with different companions, you with your two girls and I with the one I called the river. I couldn't even fathom that you were standing right in front of me, and you had to wave at me first. It completely slipped my mind how very much smitten I'd been with you.
It just had to be that the two girls and the river were talking among themselves, leaving the two of us standing next to each other but not having a word to say. Maybe we did have everything to say to the other but we just didn't have the rights to voice them out. So there we stood, our hands on the same pole but our minds on different worlds.
The girls left at Yishun, leaving me alone with the boy I liked, and the boy who liked me. How fucked up was that? No, how fucked up was I, looking at you the whole time and completely forgetting that I was with someone else initially?
I honestly can't recall what we talked about, or if we even did; but who could forget the way you suddenly stopped talking and just looked at me, into my eyes? You stunned me but I couldn't look away, and all I could do was stare back at you and hold my breath until you finally blinked and turned your head away.
At that point I had heard that if a person can make direct eye contact with you for more than five seconds, it means they're in love with you. That seemed a little far-fetched, but fucking hell, it reignited the spark I'd had for you before.
You alighted at Marsiling, and once again, I ran. I ditched the river and ran, disappearing at Choa Chu Kang station and hopping on the first bus I recognised; bus 67, bound for Tampines. I filmed the view outside the window through Bukit Timah, Serangoon, Kallang, Bedok; and I made a video to a song called Breathe.
You called me that night, a rare occurrence. I wanted to answer, but I didn't, I felt so weak for you when I was supposed to be the strongest girl in the world. Who are you? You're just a rose, and I'm the sun, but it was you giving me my energy.
It was in the middle of that month that your best friend came back to me. Asked if we could start all over again, and although a part of me was still thinking of you I decided to fall back into him. I convinced myself that he was the wind that got me under control without completely erasing me, even though that was how I felt about you, not him.
Our reunion was short-lived though, because you persuaded him otherwise. He texted me not even a complete day later, telling me he wasn't ready after all, that you'd talked to him and helped him see that it wasn't the right decision. I really didn't understand your intention then, and I wanted to hate you.
He came back and left again and again afterwards, a few times more. And somehow the first person I ran to each time was you, it was still you and it was always you. Four years of running to you but trying to run away from you, all at once. How was that possible? But at the same time, I know you know what that feels like.
On your 18th birthday in September 2014, I decided to wish you and told you never to let anyone take your grace. You knew my stupid metaphors already then, that you were a flower to me for your innocence, your never having had a first kiss and anything beyond that. It started off as you being Grass Type and me, Fire Type but over time it simplified to you, a flower and I, a flame.
At the time I was fooling around with another guy, the one I'd deemed Ghost Type for reasons that are so unimportant I can't be bothered to bring them up anymore. But on that day we'd had a fight, centering around the fact that he changed his WhatsApp wallpaper back to the pictures of him and his previous girl.
I did want to leave him that day, I walked out of his bedroom and towards his front door but he pulled me back and laid me down on the sofa in his living room. I guess I wouldn't have been thinking of you all morning if it hadn't been your birthday; if your "Lol ty" hadn't been the last text I'd received before it happened.
I don't quite remember what he said to me as he locked me in position on his sofa but I wouldn't forget the way I thought of you at that moment. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die; I guess that made you my life because you were what I thought of when I felt like this person was going to kill me.
We 'patched up' before leaving his house, and I looked okay again but I was still boiling and scared at the same time on the inside. I wanted to leave, but I wanted to stay, and I was foolish, believing he needed me and I needed him.
When I saw you walking past me at Jurong Point that day, I honestly didn't believe you were real. I thought I'd made you up, an illusion made by my helplessness. You called out to me first, and I asked where you were going and you said you were going to the toilet. And you laughed, and I fell for the fireworks by your eyes and I wished you were going home because I wanted to follow you there.
What were the odds of a Pasir Ris girl and a Marsiling boy bumping into each other all the way in Boon Lay? You were with your secondary school friends, the wind being among them, but somehow it was just you I met. It had to be you walking towards where I was at and that chance meeting was what set this mechanism in me that will always feel safe once I see you.
If it hadn't been for that coincidence, you wouldn't have asked me out two days later. Of course, just like with the movie you were only asking me because your best friend had ditched you and you needed a replacement. Still, I was down, I was always down for you because I was such a fool for you.
Sad that I can still remember the smallest things from that day. We both wore button shirts, you with your brown boots that you were so proud of. With our dyed hair, you with your brown and me with my red; you approached me at Bayfront and we walked outside Marina Bay Sands in the heat that we both strangely loved.
Why do the most redundant things stick with me? I remember the paths we walked, the things we conversed about. The way you sulked and threw the last bit of your burger onto the tray when your mom called you while we were eating Burger King.
I got us cookies from this place called Cookies For Sid while walking back towards City Hall station. We got three, one of which was yours, and I held out the bag to you and stated: "You have a one-third chance of taking out your cookie from this bag." You looked at me like I was just a pillar who served no purpose and answered: "So you're a Mathematician now?"
I always liked sending people home. The wind was an exception, because he lived in Johore, but I always wanted to send him to the maximum I could, like the berth of 950. Of course I sent you home that day, like I had twice before. I just wanted to go the furthest I could with you, you were always the safest I felt with even at the edge of the world.
That was why I held on to your hand, I'm not sure if you remember; and it was bittersweet to think about how you didn't let go until I did first.
You went back to being a new moon afterwards, not a sign of you anywhere. I moved forward together with time, crawled into the smallest spaces and painstakingly climbed over obstacles that I could have easily walked around instead. Where were you, I constantly wished I knew, but I never had the rights to wonder because I was too busy wrapping myself around the ghost's finger.
He didn't stay, which was no surprise. By that point I was so tired that I didn't care, I just let myself go. It felt like one of those stupid trust falls, how I'd closed my eyes and believed that somebody would catch me. I guess I did get caught, but I didn't fall back to where you were; instead it was your best friend whose arms I landed in.
The wind finally decided he wanted to be with me in late December, but I didn't even tell you about it. We had the kind of friendship where we could ignore each other for weeks and then pop up again just to talk about something insignificant but I decided to keep it from you.
You texted me in the evening of New Year 2015, while I was walking to fetch him from his morning shift at Ibis hotel. I admitted that we've gotten back together, and I knew you were always the first person who didn't approve of it. Over time you accepted it and we forcibly became your favourite couple, two idiots who never really complemented each other, your love for them both the only thing they had in common.
I figured you were like the moon. On some nights, you completely aren't there, like the new moon. On others, you are a crescent, asking how am I doing but never telling me how you feel. At times a half moon, when you try to tell me how you really feel but you just find it hard to do so. And frequently, you are the gibbous, when we talk about the world, things that nobody else in our lives would ever get.
And on some nights, you are a full moon, completely there for me. Your ears are mine to talk to and your eyes are open just to look at me; like the night I'd gone to your school, sitting next to you with a life in my womb.
Of course you were the very first person I ran to when I found out I was pregnant. I showed you the picture I'd taken of the test kit, and I can never forget your expression. You were so shocked, you looked terrified for the both of us. Or maybe, just maybe, it had been heartbreak on your part.
You took out a can of that Monster energy drink, do you remember? You drank some of it and passed it for me to take a sip, after you pointed out that it stated 'not for pregnant women', or was it expectant mothers? Of course I still drank it, but immediately after I placed my head down on the table and laid a hand on my stomach.
I wanted to cry. I thought I would cry when I was telling you, but I didn't. I will never know what you were thinking as you watched me from my left side; I just remember your voice, so near me, "Kau okay tak?" and that was when I lifted my head and looked at you and smiled, Yeah, I'm okay.
I guess you gave me strength. We talked for hours, about the most unimportant things, laughed about things that wouldn't be funny to us today, listened to songs that I would listen on repeat the following weeks. You leaned so close to me, and I never once wished you were the wind next to me instead. You were always my best friend, the one I felt safe with.
At times, even more so than my own significant other.
We had to separate at Yio Chu Kang station that night, you towards Marsiling and I, the Circle Line bound for Mountbatten and back to my granny's place. But I cracked when I watched your train go; I called you, Wait for me at Khatib, I'm coming. And I took the next train, watching the reservoir go by, the reservoir I've loved from the moment I first set eyes on it four years ago.
The North South Line is filled with memories of the wind and you. In 2013 it was him standing over me, his arms on either side of me while we talked about things that I can't even recall anymore. In 2015, on that night it was you, except I do remember one thing you said. You gave me a warning, you told me how my boyfriend was like in secondary school, your voice saying: "Just be careful ah."
You and I argued more than I did with him; we stopped talking again in early April 2015, just a few days after I started working at Popular. You were telling me to make an appointment at the polyclinic so they could refer me to the hospital, but for some reason I refused, and you got mad at me for it.
The wind got mad at you too shortly after, when he found out you'd told some of your secondary school friends about it, not the ones he'd told personally on his own accord. We never really understood why you always betrayed our trust like that, just the same as how you would never understand why we always ran to you about our problems but never listened to your advice.
We were each other's new moon for the next four months; you weren't there for me to talk to during my polyclinic visit, and my scan, and my stay at the hospital. You weren't there for the wind as well, letting him sit by my bedside and tweeting that he wished he had someone to talk to.
August 2015, your reappearance in my life. You apologised, and I imagine it must have been hard for you. Things changed by the time you returned; my conversion to a full-time job being one of them, my chopped hair being another, as well as bits of my depression slowly seeping in. Four months of our absences was enough to bring my unhappiness with the world and with myself.
I made it back into your life in time for your 19th birthday; got you pizza, your most favourite thing in the world. I watched the trains go by outside the window of bus 52 with you next to me, bound for Ngee Ann Poly. We ran across the wide road before the PIE, walked to the edge of the Grandstand where I once frequently sat by myself, hidden from society and typing on my laptop.
I started being all insecure about myself, telling you I didn't have eyebrows like all the popular girls on Instagram; you told me There, you do have eyebrows, and you reached out and touched them. What were we talking about afterwards, when you pulled a loose strand from my hair; after watching Taylor's Back To December video, when I caught you staring and your hand reached out to me suddenly, tucked my hair behind my right ear?
I told my other half about that, and he got mad at the both of us. He told me he'd put it aside but of course his forgiveness came with a price. He said the only way I could ever make up for it was by giving up my body that weekend for him to do whatever he wanted to. As always I did whatever he asked, because I was already not in the right mind and I'm so sorry for being a whore like you always said I was.
You did what you did on your 19th, but you called me ugly a hundred times that evening. You added fuel to the fire, and for that one day you gave me reasons to die too. Just one word, enough to wreck what little I had left, and it felt worse coming from you.
For the whole of 2016 you had to comfort me everytime I got insecure, bringing myself down and not seeing a single good thing in me. Sometimes you tired from it, from having to remind me again and again how you thought I was beautiful; but I never listened to you, hot-headed and stubborn as always. I guess that was your retribution.
At times I did think you were only saying these things because you were obliged to, me being your best friend's girl. You were stuck with me from the moment we met in early 2013, Downtown East, the Fish & Co that has long been destroyed. You couldn't run from me, and I from you.
2016, when my insecurities became desire to let go of the world. Being in a relationship didn't help much, especially one where I was the only one carrying the weight and blame and loss. Being the only one who was loving the other. Getting angry all the time, missing somebody who was long gone by my choice, seeing things that hurt me and hearing words that were just the same as knives to my chest.
Once again, it was you who turned into my solace. Not only were you always the first person I texted whenever I fought with him or had something unimportant to say. It was you who took care of me during his POP, walking ahead of your secondary school friends to talk with me, holding an umbrella over me to shelter me from the sun at its highest.
It was you who followed me when I walked out of the Challenger at Westgate, after breaking fast with your best friend and your other secondary school friend. It was you who joined me mimicking the MRT announcement when it came on, when he would clamp a hand over my mouth the times I did with him.
It was you who listened to me cry about how ugly I felt compared to your secondary school friends when I followed you guys jalan raya. It was you who slowed down to walk next to me and asked what book I was reading and it was you who listened to me ramble on about the series I was reading at the time.
It was you who sent me to the door when the wind and I were going off, who remembered that I needed plasters for the blisters I had developed from wearing shoes I wasn't used to wearing. It was you who asked me where I was hurting, who looked like you were gonna put on the plasters for me; but it was him who said it's okay and who pulled us out.
I kept wishing you were my best friend, and I was insanely jealous of the friendship you had with my other half. I never had friends that stuck with me, but you always stayed despite everything, despite knowing my annoying sides.
There I was again, the person bringing you out for your 20th birthday, ten days after my 21st. I fetched you at your place, and when you showed up in your red/grey raglan, I laughed, I told you how I'd guessed you were gonna wear that.
I told you about how back in August, when the wind and I were waiting for you at your void deck, we'd tried to guess what colour you were gonna wear. He said white, and I was positive it was black, and I'd turned out right; I told you I was more of your best friend than he was, and you laughed.
It just had to be that you were the only one who ever understood my love for trains and buses. You brought me on 963, showed me the trains depot and the remnants of the old Bukit Timah railway, how you'd ridden on it a long time ago, before either of us knew what heartbreak and loss was.
We both walked on either side of the tracks with our arms out, trying to balance ourselves. I spun around on them, stood on one foot, and you took pictures of me. You flooded your phone storage with the moments of me getting lost in my own world and laughing like there was no tomorrow.
We passed by a pair of swings and I sat without hesitation; you joined me, and it's these tiniest things you did that gave me so much hope. Competed to see who could go higher, and I was almost going ninety degrees! I can't forget how happy I was at that moment; then I looked at you and saw you laughing as well, and that was when I felt the weight on my shoulders get lighter.
It was you who taught me that dragonflies can bite, when you brought me to that hidden spot overlooking the cliffs and I'd wanted to catch one; of course you were also the one who understood my love for insects. Why is it that I have four years of memories with the wind but it's you who is everywhere? You are flowers, you are the moon, you are the ocean and you are dragonflies.
The morning after spending your 20th birthday with you, the world that I'd thought dimmed over the months started looking bright again; you'd started being the sun as well for me.
Few nights later was when you were finally honest with me, during our frequent conversations that went past midnight. You admitted that you did return the feelings I'd had for you back in 2014, but of course you always saw your best friend/my ex at the time as the barrier.
You know those dreams where you run and run for the door but it just keeps going further? I hate those. My version is trying to get someplace for the entire dream but never reaching there because I keep stopping at unnecessary places and procrastinating my journey. They're one of the reasons why I'm always early for work and why I hate when plans aren't fulfilled.
I hate the feeling of missed chances as well, of knowing things would have turned out differently if one thing that can be helped, changed.
You taught me how to run properly, when I told you how I always ran for the bus after work and felt an adrenaline from it. I told you about my secondary school friends going out without me, and you told me I didn't need them. You reminded me again that you thought I was beautiful and strong.
We talked about how lucky I was that he was not the one to have brought me to the railway tracks and the Henderson Waves. We knew how he would have tried something, his penchant to pull me somewhere secluded to make out even when I didn't want to.
You enlisted about a week later, in the same place my own other half had gone to. No surprise that I started feeling lonely the moment you went in, because I'd lost the best friend I could talk about both the shallow and deep with. I tried to replace you with writing, when I'd struggled with that for the entire year due to my bit of depression.
Although it felt awkward for me to write again, I fell back into it, my entries being the things I would have talked about with you. I started writing about you always, tried to deny feelings by hiding them in metaphors. I wrote about you the most in December, the days I'd wanted to believe in impossible things and started floating between this world and the next.
It's weird to think that many things I do now were taught by days with you. You were even the reason why I'm blogging in proper capitalisation; before you mentioned it to me, I hadn't even bothered to properly capitalise my I's and first letters of my sentences. Of course you remember right?
The wind and I were the only ones who had gone to your POP, January 2017. I'd like to believe I was the one who dragged him to go, not the other way around, because I always felt that I cared about you more than he did. It was the few days before that your messages started having an underlying tone to them, the way I'd never seen.
You fell back next to me on the eve of Lunar New Year; you came in your dumb NYP shirt while I was struggling with my coins and receipts and our Koi. You got your Pezzo and we sat on the floorboards of the recent pasar malam, among the remnants of its stalls and patrons.
It started to rain and we went to sit a little deeper; you went into depth of your recent frustrations too, the way you'd cried yourself to sleep in camp. I was just hearing about it, not exactly watching you cry myself, but it reminded me that you were human too. I always thought of you as the strongest person I know, the way you never let anything deter you; I forgot that in the harshest of storms, even the strongest oak tree snaps in half.
There used to be this huge tree at my workplace, opposite City Plaza. It was really majestic, with vines hanging around it like rain suspended in mid-air. Always exuding an indescribable aura even when I looked at it from afar. Until one day I saw that they'd torn it down to make space for construction; I thought of trees as the symbol for virginity and how everyone was destroying their tree... And I associated you with that particular one, and started feeling some kind of loss.
Why did it have to be you I felt safe with? We went to fetch the wind from work, from Outram Park to Bugis, where we ate Seoul Garden. It was one of the few shops that were open that evening, everything else being closed for Chinese New Year.
The whole time you both sat opposite me and I couldn't hear a word either of you were saying because the table was wide and it was really noisy. Later on he switched places, sitting next to me and when we both talked to you, you couldn't hear what we were saying. And it was so damn ridiculous but it made a memory.
It also made an opportunity for him to say things he didn't want you to hear. He started asking me if I wanted to go to a hotel afterwards, to which I said no to. His voice in my ear, saying, Jom lah, just for a while. I tried to ignore him, but he started getting mad at me, I could tell. I wrapped my arm around his but he snapped at me, Don't touch me if you don't want me to drag you to a hotel.
I needed to pee afterwards and he followed me; it just had to be that the nearest toilet was secluded and it was a handicapped one. Of course he tried to take a chance, managing to jump in because the automatic door was closing so slowly. I was lucky enough, quick enough to get back out, angry enough for him to back off, and I walked to the other side of Bugis Junction to find another bathroom.
If only he hadn't done it on that very day, the day you were sitting back at Seoul Garden waiting for us. It was his own actions that made me find solace in you, and I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry for never forgetting everything you've ever done for me.
For finding comfort in the smallest things you've said and done.
And I'm so sorry for being me, for not being a generic girl that would not have had your attention. I'm so sorry for coming into your life and making a mess of everything, intentionally and otherwise. I'm so sorry for having a presence that threatens to wreck your friendship of eight years time and again.
I'm about to jump off the ledge so I might as well tell the whole truth. I always saw the world in a different way even before my depression; you were the reason I once stayed awake til 3 in the morning, wishing I'd had you instead because I wouldn't have had her to lose.
You were the reason I passed by NYP one day by accident, because the bus I was on got into a crash and we all had to transfer buses; the way I looked at your school buildings and started tearing up, because they felt like a symbol of the innocence I believed I'd had with you.
You were the reason I flopped, lost the sex drive when he and I were in a hotel room mid-February this year. I just started thinking of you when he was on top of me, his lower body moving against mine. He always had my body but you had my mind. How fucked up am I, how fucked up is he, how fucked up is this world?
His tendency to drag me was always brought up to you, and even you felt disgusted by that. During your POP I'd met an old poly classmate, and I introduced you guys; a few weeks later I got to know that you'd went up to this guy during some training and told him everything about the way your best friend treated me.
We were once three kids, running across the lane by North Bridge Road with our hands holding on to each other. I loved the both of you at that moment, the three of us laughing about how stupid we must have looked. I was always grateful, how the supposed love of my life and my best friend loved each other just the same as how I loved them.
I tried to disappear that night. The last time you both saw me was when I left the train at City Hall. I lost myself, replying neither of you and answering none of his calls. I told him I couldn't remember what I did the moment I said goodbye to you both, and he asked me, Did you get possessed?
Maybe I was. I think I realised how I couldn't look at you without feeling the loss, without wanting to be like you again, never throwing away my youth on stupid decisions. Before we met that day I was talking to you about how I wished I was like you, and you straight knew it was because you were always on your own, with no girls you claimed yours.
Couldn't stop blaming myself for the wind turning out the way he did, getting brainwashed with his logic that I was the one who started everything back in 2013, so I didn't have the rights to deny him whatever he asked for. After that day with you both I started seeing, just a little bit, how my relationship with him was hurting me.
In late March you and I talked about our past, our 'almost' from three years ago. I could have tried harder, or I could have waited for you, denied him the access back to my life. I kept blaming you for not telling me you liked me back, when really it was just me and my own choices.
I said we were perpendicular lines, meeting once and then off we go, never meeting again. But you said we were more like parallel lines, so similar to each other but never having the rights to touch. We are train tracks, you with your tendency to always think about the future, and I on the other side with my habit of looking too much into the past.
Your best friend of eight years, and my boyfriend of four; he told me about how he easily understood people, the way he could quickly read how somebody is like. His colleagues, his squadmates, anyone. But us? "I've been with you guys for so long, I've loved both of you so much and I still don't know what you're both thinking. Yet you two understood each other so easily."
It all came crashing down, finally, when I tried to tell him the thoughts I had of you. He took them the wrong way, but looking back now that turned out fine because it was just what we all needed. We still met, we got pizza at Marsiling when he asked if he could see our texts.
I didn't want him to, I hated it. Sometimes you talked to me about things that you couldn't with him, like your days in camp and with your family. I just felt it wasn't right for him to read your messages that you trusted on me; I know you don't have that mindset because you have a problem with keeping secrets, so it's fine if you don't get it.
But my refusal to let him see your texts just restarted everything. We walked to the MRT station, my thoughts starting to be the hurricane that he was. I started missing her, I started thinking about how you never took advantage of me, I started seeing the possibility of a life without him. This person who used my body however he wanted and blamed me for his own sexual urges.
Today you are 21, the age I will forever be. Four years of actually being with me was not enough to make the hurricane stay, so how would we fare with bits and pieces of times spent with each other? Does not being with someone make it easier for you to move on, or actually harder?
We don't have the seasons here in Singapore but you remind me of spring; the transition from winter to summer, the cold and dark days being left behind.
I owe you more than you know. From the day we met back in 2013 all the way to the last time we saw each other after watching Power Rangers back in March 2017; you were always the tiny flower growing amidst the tombstones. You were the only one who saw me hurting in my relationship, when even I had been blind to it.
Whatever I know now was taught by you. It was you who told me I was a book that wanted to be read by someone illiterate, art that wanted to be appreciated by a blind man. You will always stick by his side, but you were the only one among his friends that were close enough to see the bruises he left on my arms, my face, my heart.
You and your best friend were both anchors, but his weight was to prevent me from rising to the surface, and yours was to help me stay in this world where I stopped belonging. He gave me thirteen reasons to die, but you were thirteen reasons I still hung on.
When you sat next to me on the skygarden at your school, leaning so close to me and asking if I was okay.
When I caught you staring and you reached out to tuck my hair behind my ear.
When you said the MRT announcement together with me, even getting the tone and pauses right, instead of shutting me up.
When you asked me what book I was reading when I was walking slowly behind all your secondary school friends.
When you ran to your room to take plasters for me, asking me where I was hurting before he pulled me away from you and out of your house.
When you brought us on 963 and showed me the views outside.
When you took pictures of me from behind and then snuck up to scare me, your hands on my shoulders.
When we balanced with our arms out on the railway tracks, trekking up and about under the heat that we both loved.
When we sat on the creaking swings that felt like they were gonna break from our weight anytime soon.
When we watched The Girl With All The Gifts and hid and laughed together when the black guy was about to get killed.
When we sent voice notes to each other at 1 in the morning, singing nostalgic tunes with our broken voices.
When he asked you to go home first after we ate Seoul Garden but you didn't because you looked at me and saw me subtly shaking my head.
Whenever you smiled at me.
You always said that no girl would ever want you or accept you. You overlooked me just the same as how I overlooked you, maybe because you were always so busy looking at the ground that you never noticed the sun, despite its heat on you.
I'll never be able to repay you for the smallest things you've done that gave me this priceless thing called hope. You started off as a flower but over time you became my everything else. I feel the need to apologise for it, but not towards the person I was with the entire time; I'm sorry to you for the way I have pierced through your room.
10 days ago I thought my life depended on the wind. I threw away my pride and dignity for him and never took much back, but it was you who helped me see the difference between my safety and suffering. It was you who told him to leave, and I never understood your intentions but I guess it was because I tried so hard to close my eyes on his abuse.
I started off this post angry with you, with no clue what were your intentions when you asked him to leave me. Two hours and 7000 words later I'm starting to see. You spent your whole life staring at the ground, and I have spent the last four years looking up at the sky, at the tornado that kept carrying me just to drop me. I never saw you, the flower between my feet, the tiny bit of hope.
I may have lost my mind but I have gained everything else in the process thanks to you. I won't forget your smile or the crinkles by your eyes that I called fireworks, and I'll bring them with me wherever I may end up. I'm always sorry, I'm sorry for everything and I'm sorry that the only girl who ever thought you were amazing was also insane.
Don't ever be afraid, okay? I'm not here for you anymore, not for your 21st, and although I want to be the sun for you, shining down on you from above; you had taken on that role for me instead. Thank you for coming into my life and letting me go into yours, and I am so sorry I'm not staying to see if I could have fallen for you.
Today is the 17th of April, 2017 and this post has been scheduled to be published on the 29th of September, 2017.
I have lost my best friend of four years. Maybe that's why it's so easy for you to go; I've only been in your life for four years. Why would you risk a friendship of eight years for me?
You were both wearing each other's t-shirts, him in your white Converse tee and you in his black one. February 2013, our first time meeting, both of us finally seeing the person that our best friend/boyfriend kept talking about. Me with my hair tucked beneath a beanie, you with your hands tucked between your legs.
After all this time, I can still remember our first proper conversation, about a week before I started poly life. We talked about genders and sexuality, of all the things to say to a new friend. I'm pretty sure you remember what was it we were wondering about together? It was so stupid, but it did make our friendship.
When and how did we get so close? When did you start being the centre of mine and his arguments? When did you stop shipping us and start seeing that we were no good for each other?
The affection I have for you grew together with my writing. Four years ago when I wrote about you, they were just shallow entries, calling you really immature names and complaining about you non-stop. We were like children, constantly bickering with each other and running around the tired adult that is your best friend/my boyfriend.
On my first day of school, you were the person I was furiously texting with the entire day. My other half, the wind; he wasn't around much at the time, I remember. He was already starting lessons that week if I'm not wrong, and he didn't reply as fast as you did.
You told me not to be afraid, to make eye contact with my new classmates and smile at them. You made sure I wasn't covering my eyes with my hair, to push it back, that much I remember. You starved my insecurity by telling me again and again you thought I was pretty.
Even in 2013, you were really the only other person who thought I was special. I know it's hard for you to be honest, but you once told me that you thought I was the most precious diamond and that you genuinely cared about me. Hah, don't you remember? You were so afraid of losing me, actually sending me that long apology text when you made me mad and I ignored you for weeks.
We never had much proper interaction and that's why it's easy for me to remember the memories with you. I remember being at my school atrium when you randomly called me and said something in French, was it? You laughed at me when I pretended to understand and then we talked about the wind. By then I was already addressing you as my best friend, to the few friends I'd made in poly.
Of course those friends never stayed. But you did.
You were always the first person I ran to when I got scared. Being left behind at a void deck at Woodlands, heartbroken and alone at Woodlands Waterfront, dumped at Jurong East station, two days after our first anniversary. I could never figure out when you became the person I always fell back to. When I started being jealous of my own boyfriend for having you as his best friend.
If you looked at the bigger picture, you were the only one who never took advantage of me. Even if I expanded the comparisons, looked at all the guys who came during my lonely year in 2012, before I even met you, the guys who came in 2014, after you. You are the only one I could lean against and feel safe with. The only one I could close my eyes with and wake up to your hands still in the same position as before.
When he broke up with me the first time in January 2014, I went to you. Ran to Marsiling where you sat in a navy blue shirt, a hand raised high in the air for me. You listened to me, you watched me, your striking brown eyes that I'd never noticed before, suddenly so piercing in the falling light.
Your best friend's hands scared me. His hands have slapped me hard across the face until my head flung to one side, they have crept beneath my shirts and into my jeans, they have pushed me against walls in dusty stairwells.
But yours are different. That night, your hands just stroked my hair while I laid crying. They held onto me when I walked onto the road before the cars even stopped. And that was just the beginning, the solace I find in your hands after the fear I've developed from his.
All the other friends I'd made through him disappeared when he left. I think you tried to go too, you are his best man after all and if those people started disliking me the moment he broke up with me, you should have too right? But somehow you didn't. You looked at me as me, the day I decided to text you after three months, with a push from one of those Heroine people.
I never wanted to own you, and I guess that's how you became a flower to me. I wanted to take care of you, to water you everyday but not wanting to ever pluck you out like I did your best friend. A white rose; in the Victorian Flower Language white roses mean 'a heart unacquainted with love', and that's all I have ever felt for you. I've used the word love so many times that I've grown to believe it isn't worthy of you and you mean so much more.
Remember the day we saw each other again after three months? I was walking to NYP to meet my secondary school friends, and you were walking to the MRT station, and while everyone else was walking on the sheltered walkway, you and I both decided to walk underneath the sun, and we popped out at the same time. What kind of crazy coincidence was that? We clearly saw each other, but we could only pretend we hadn't.
I never knew when those feelings came to be stronger. Maybe they came when I sat with you at your school library, you in your red/grey raglan, the one you said your mom bought for you. Or maybe they came when we sat at Yio Chu Kang station, letting the trains pass and looking at pictures of red pandas that you had an abundant of in your phone.
You made me play that stupid piano game, the one where you had to tap on the black tiles and avoid the white ones. You laughed when I lost and yelled in frustration, and I watched you play, your hands moving so naturally against your phone screen.
Despite everything I had gone through at that point, you made me feel sixteen. You made me think I was a flower too, so afraid of leaving my safe place beside you although I'd already been uprooted and ripped apart so many times, my petals falling all over and being stepped on. But the few interactions with you in person made me so happy back then, you wouldn't believe. They made me forget that I was an ugly person inside, the complete opposite of you.
We watched Godzilla together, but I know you don't remember that. Funny that even after three years I'm still blushing over how you'd suddenly placed an arm around me, and then grinning at me awkwardly after the movie. How I'm still not over the very rare hug with you, at the foot of your block with a Siamese cat as the only witness.
Our heads over each other's shoulders and arms around the other, your voice breaking the silence: "How long more are we gonna do this?"
"Until tomorrow morning," I'd said.
"That's a very long time," but I felt your arms tightening around me anyway.
And then you tried to run away again. You told me you didn't have any special feelings for me and you didn't want me and just like that you stopped talking again.
I disappeared for a while too, and then I went on with life again. But one thing was for sure, I never stopped thinking about you. I guess it was during this absence that I came to realise I was no good for you, just a flame gripping onto you tight and threatening to burn you; you were just smart enough to dislodge yourself from me and not allowing it to happen.
But I couldn't escape from you. Or you couldn't escape from me? Fate made us meet again on Yio Chu Kang station in early July, while we were with different companions, you with your two girls and I with the one I called the river. I couldn't even fathom that you were standing right in front of me, and you had to wave at me first. It completely slipped my mind how very much smitten I'd been with you.
It just had to be that the two girls and the river were talking among themselves, leaving the two of us standing next to each other but not having a word to say. Maybe we did have everything to say to the other but we just didn't have the rights to voice them out. So there we stood, our hands on the same pole but our minds on different worlds.
The girls left at Yishun, leaving me alone with the boy I liked, and the boy who liked me. How fucked up was that? No, how fucked up was I, looking at you the whole time and completely forgetting that I was with someone else initially?
I honestly can't recall what we talked about, or if we even did; but who could forget the way you suddenly stopped talking and just looked at me, into my eyes? You stunned me but I couldn't look away, and all I could do was stare back at you and hold my breath until you finally blinked and turned your head away.
At that point I had heard that if a person can make direct eye contact with you for more than five seconds, it means they're in love with you. That seemed a little far-fetched, but fucking hell, it reignited the spark I'd had for you before.
You called me that night, a rare occurrence. I wanted to answer, but I didn't, I felt so weak for you when I was supposed to be the strongest girl in the world. Who are you? You're just a rose, and I'm the sun, but it was you giving me my energy.
It was in the middle of that month that your best friend came back to me. Asked if we could start all over again, and although a part of me was still thinking of you I decided to fall back into him. I convinced myself that he was the wind that got me under control without completely erasing me, even though that was how I felt about you, not him.
Our reunion was short-lived though, because you persuaded him otherwise. He texted me not even a complete day later, telling me he wasn't ready after all, that you'd talked to him and helped him see that it wasn't the right decision. I really didn't understand your intention then, and I wanted to hate you.
He came back and left again and again afterwards, a few times more. And somehow the first person I ran to each time was you, it was still you and it was always you. Four years of running to you but trying to run away from you, all at once. How was that possible? But at the same time, I know you know what that feels like.
On your 18th birthday in September 2014, I decided to wish you and told you never to let anyone take your grace. You knew my stupid metaphors already then, that you were a flower to me for your innocence, your never having had a first kiss and anything beyond that. It started off as you being Grass Type and me, Fire Type but over time it simplified to you, a flower and I, a flame.
At the time I was fooling around with another guy, the one I'd deemed Ghost Type for reasons that are so unimportant I can't be bothered to bring them up anymore. But on that day we'd had a fight, centering around the fact that he changed his WhatsApp wallpaper back to the pictures of him and his previous girl.
I did want to leave him that day, I walked out of his bedroom and towards his front door but he pulled me back and laid me down on the sofa in his living room. I guess I wouldn't have been thinking of you all morning if it hadn't been your birthday; if your "Lol ty" hadn't been the last text I'd received before it happened.
We 'patched up' before leaving his house, and I looked okay again but I was still boiling and scared at the same time on the inside. I wanted to leave, but I wanted to stay, and I was foolish, believing he needed me and I needed him.
When I saw you walking past me at Jurong Point that day, I honestly didn't believe you were real. I thought I'd made you up, an illusion made by my helplessness. You called out to me first, and I asked where you were going and you said you were going to the toilet. And you laughed, and I fell for the fireworks by your eyes and I wished you were going home because I wanted to follow you there.
What were the odds of a Pasir Ris girl and a Marsiling boy bumping into each other all the way in Boon Lay? You were with your secondary school friends, the wind being among them, but somehow it was just you I met. It had to be you walking towards where I was at and that chance meeting was what set this mechanism in me that will always feel safe once I see you.
If it hadn't been for that coincidence, you wouldn't have asked me out two days later. Of course, just like with the movie you were only asking me because your best friend had ditched you and you needed a replacement. Still, I was down, I was always down for you because I was such a fool for you.
Sad that I can still remember the smallest things from that day. We both wore button shirts, you with your brown boots that you were so proud of. With our dyed hair, you with your brown and me with my red; you approached me at Bayfront and we walked outside Marina Bay Sands in the heat that we both strangely loved.
Why do the most redundant things stick with me? I remember the paths we walked, the things we conversed about. The way you sulked and threw the last bit of your burger onto the tray when your mom called you while we were eating Burger King.
I got us cookies from this place called Cookies For Sid while walking back towards City Hall station. We got three, one of which was yours, and I held out the bag to you and stated: "You have a one-third chance of taking out your cookie from this bag." You looked at me like I was just a pillar who served no purpose and answered: "So you're a Mathematician now?"
I always liked sending people home. The wind was an exception, because he lived in Johore, but I always wanted to send him to the maximum I could, like the berth of 950. Of course I sent you home that day, like I had twice before. I just wanted to go the furthest I could with you, you were always the safest I felt with even at the edge of the world.
That was why I held on to your hand, I'm not sure if you remember; and it was bittersweet to think about how you didn't let go until I did first.
You went back to being a new moon afterwards, not a sign of you anywhere. I moved forward together with time, crawled into the smallest spaces and painstakingly climbed over obstacles that I could have easily walked around instead. Where were you, I constantly wished I knew, but I never had the rights to wonder because I was too busy wrapping myself around the ghost's finger.
He didn't stay, which was no surprise. By that point I was so tired that I didn't care, I just let myself go. It felt like one of those stupid trust falls, how I'd closed my eyes and believed that somebody would catch me. I guess I did get caught, but I didn't fall back to where you were; instead it was your best friend whose arms I landed in.
The wind finally decided he wanted to be with me in late December, but I didn't even tell you about it. We had the kind of friendship where we could ignore each other for weeks and then pop up again just to talk about something insignificant but I decided to keep it from you.
You texted me in the evening of New Year 2015, while I was walking to fetch him from his morning shift at Ibis hotel. I admitted that we've gotten back together, and I knew you were always the first person who didn't approve of it. Over time you accepted it and we forcibly became your favourite couple, two idiots who never really complemented each other, your love for them both the only thing they had in common.
I figured you were like the moon. On some nights, you completely aren't there, like the new moon. On others, you are a crescent, asking how am I doing but never telling me how you feel. At times a half moon, when you try to tell me how you really feel but you just find it hard to do so. And frequently, you are the gibbous, when we talk about the world, things that nobody else in our lives would ever get.
And on some nights, you are a full moon, completely there for me. Your ears are mine to talk to and your eyes are open just to look at me; like the night I'd gone to your school, sitting next to you with a life in my womb.
Of course you were the very first person I ran to when I found out I was pregnant. I showed you the picture I'd taken of the test kit, and I can never forget your expression. You were so shocked, you looked terrified for the both of us. Or maybe, just maybe, it had been heartbreak on your part.
You took out a can of that Monster energy drink, do you remember? You drank some of it and passed it for me to take a sip, after you pointed out that it stated 'not for pregnant women', or was it expectant mothers? Of course I still drank it, but immediately after I placed my head down on the table and laid a hand on my stomach.
I wanted to cry. I thought I would cry when I was telling you, but I didn't. I will never know what you were thinking as you watched me from my left side; I just remember your voice, so near me, "Kau okay tak?" and that was when I lifted my head and looked at you and smiled, Yeah, I'm okay.
I guess you gave me strength. We talked for hours, about the most unimportant things, laughed about things that wouldn't be funny to us today, listened to songs that I would listen on repeat the following weeks. You leaned so close to me, and I never once wished you were the wind next to me instead. You were always my best friend, the one I felt safe with.
At times, even more so than my own significant other.
We had to separate at Yio Chu Kang station that night, you towards Marsiling and I, the Circle Line bound for Mountbatten and back to my granny's place. But I cracked when I watched your train go; I called you, Wait for me at Khatib, I'm coming. And I took the next train, watching the reservoir go by, the reservoir I've loved from the moment I first set eyes on it four years ago.
The North South Line is filled with memories of the wind and you. In 2013 it was him standing over me, his arms on either side of me while we talked about things that I can't even recall anymore. In 2015, on that night it was you, except I do remember one thing you said. You gave me a warning, you told me how my boyfriend was like in secondary school, your voice saying: "Just be careful ah."
You and I argued more than I did with him; we stopped talking again in early April 2015, just a few days after I started working at Popular. You were telling me to make an appointment at the polyclinic so they could refer me to the hospital, but for some reason I refused, and you got mad at me for it.
The wind got mad at you too shortly after, when he found out you'd told some of your secondary school friends about it, not the ones he'd told personally on his own accord. We never really understood why you always betrayed our trust like that, just the same as how you would never understand why we always ran to you about our problems but never listened to your advice.
We were each other's new moon for the next four months; you weren't there for me to talk to during my polyclinic visit, and my scan, and my stay at the hospital. You weren't there for the wind as well, letting him sit by my bedside and tweeting that he wished he had someone to talk to.
August 2015, your reappearance in my life. You apologised, and I imagine it must have been hard for you. Things changed by the time you returned; my conversion to a full-time job being one of them, my chopped hair being another, as well as bits of my depression slowly seeping in. Four months of our absences was enough to bring my unhappiness with the world and with myself.
I made it back into your life in time for your 19th birthday; got you pizza, your most favourite thing in the world. I watched the trains go by outside the window of bus 52 with you next to me, bound for Ngee Ann Poly. We ran across the wide road before the PIE, walked to the edge of the Grandstand where I once frequently sat by myself, hidden from society and typing on my laptop.
I started being all insecure about myself, telling you I didn't have eyebrows like all the popular girls on Instagram; you told me There, you do have eyebrows, and you reached out and touched them. What were we talking about afterwards, when you pulled a loose strand from my hair; after watching Taylor's Back To December video, when I caught you staring and your hand reached out to me suddenly, tucked my hair behind my right ear?
I told my other half about that, and he got mad at the both of us. He told me he'd put it aside but of course his forgiveness came with a price. He said the only way I could ever make up for it was by giving up my body that weekend for him to do whatever he wanted to. As always I did whatever he asked, because I was already not in the right mind and I'm so sorry for being a whore like you always said I was.
You did what you did on your 19th, but you called me ugly a hundred times that evening. You added fuel to the fire, and for that one day you gave me reasons to die too. Just one word, enough to wreck what little I had left, and it felt worse coming from you.
For the whole of 2016 you had to comfort me everytime I got insecure, bringing myself down and not seeing a single good thing in me. Sometimes you tired from it, from having to remind me again and again how you thought I was beautiful; but I never listened to you, hot-headed and stubborn as always. I guess that was your retribution.
At times I did think you were only saying these things because you were obliged to, me being your best friend's girl. You were stuck with me from the moment we met in early 2013, Downtown East, the Fish & Co that has long been destroyed. You couldn't run from me, and I from you.
2016, when my insecurities became desire to let go of the world. Being in a relationship didn't help much, especially one where I was the only one carrying the weight and blame and loss. Being the only one who was loving the other. Getting angry all the time, missing somebody who was long gone by my choice, seeing things that hurt me and hearing words that were just the same as knives to my chest.
Once again, it was you who turned into my solace. Not only were you always the first person I texted whenever I fought with him or had something unimportant to say. It was you who took care of me during his POP, walking ahead of your secondary school friends to talk with me, holding an umbrella over me to shelter me from the sun at its highest.
It was you who followed me when I walked out of the Challenger at Westgate, after breaking fast with your best friend and your other secondary school friend. It was you who joined me mimicking the MRT announcement when it came on, when he would clamp a hand over my mouth the times I did with him.
It was you who listened to me cry about how ugly I felt compared to your secondary school friends when I followed you guys jalan raya. It was you who slowed down to walk next to me and asked what book I was reading and it was you who listened to me ramble on about the series I was reading at the time.
It was you who sent me to the door when the wind and I were going off, who remembered that I needed plasters for the blisters I had developed from wearing shoes I wasn't used to wearing. It was you who asked me where I was hurting, who looked like you were gonna put on the plasters for me; but it was him who said it's okay and who pulled us out.
I kept wishing you were my best friend, and I was insanely jealous of the friendship you had with my other half. I never had friends that stuck with me, but you always stayed despite everything, despite knowing my annoying sides.
There I was again, the person bringing you out for your 20th birthday, ten days after my 21st. I fetched you at your place, and when you showed up in your red/grey raglan, I laughed, I told you how I'd guessed you were gonna wear that.
I told you about how back in August, when the wind and I were waiting for you at your void deck, we'd tried to guess what colour you were gonna wear. He said white, and I was positive it was black, and I'd turned out right; I told you I was more of your best friend than he was, and you laughed.
It just had to be that you were the only one who ever understood my love for trains and buses. You brought me on 963, showed me the trains depot and the remnants of the old Bukit Timah railway, how you'd ridden on it a long time ago, before either of us knew what heartbreak and loss was.
We both walked on either side of the tracks with our arms out, trying to balance ourselves. I spun around on them, stood on one foot, and you took pictures of me. You flooded your phone storage with the moments of me getting lost in my own world and laughing like there was no tomorrow.
We passed by a pair of swings and I sat without hesitation; you joined me, and it's these tiniest things you did that gave me so much hope. Competed to see who could go higher, and I was almost going ninety degrees! I can't forget how happy I was at that moment; then I looked at you and saw you laughing as well, and that was when I felt the weight on my shoulders get lighter.
It was you who taught me that dragonflies can bite, when you brought me to that hidden spot overlooking the cliffs and I'd wanted to catch one; of course you were also the one who understood my love for insects. Why is it that I have four years of memories with the wind but it's you who is everywhere? You are flowers, you are the moon, you are the ocean and you are dragonflies.
The morning after spending your 20th birthday with you, the world that I'd thought dimmed over the months started looking bright again; you'd started being the sun as well for me.
Few nights later was when you were finally honest with me, during our frequent conversations that went past midnight. You admitted that you did return the feelings I'd had for you back in 2014, but of course you always saw your best friend/my ex at the time as the barrier.
You know those dreams where you run and run for the door but it just keeps going further? I hate those. My version is trying to get someplace for the entire dream but never reaching there because I keep stopping at unnecessary places and procrastinating my journey. They're one of the reasons why I'm always early for work and why I hate when plans aren't fulfilled.
I hate the feeling of missed chances as well, of knowing things would have turned out differently if one thing that can be helped, changed.
You taught me how to run properly, when I told you how I always ran for the bus after work and felt an adrenaline from it. I told you about my secondary school friends going out without me, and you told me I didn't need them. You reminded me again that you thought I was beautiful and strong.
We talked about how lucky I was that he was not the one to have brought me to the railway tracks and the Henderson Waves. We knew how he would have tried something, his penchant to pull me somewhere secluded to make out even when I didn't want to.
You enlisted about a week later, in the same place my own other half had gone to. No surprise that I started feeling lonely the moment you went in, because I'd lost the best friend I could talk about both the shallow and deep with. I tried to replace you with writing, when I'd struggled with that for the entire year due to my bit of depression.
Although it felt awkward for me to write again, I fell back into it, my entries being the things I would have talked about with you. I started writing about you always, tried to deny feelings by hiding them in metaphors. I wrote about you the most in December, the days I'd wanted to believe in impossible things and started floating between this world and the next.
It's weird to think that many things I do now were taught by days with you. You were even the reason why I'm blogging in proper capitalisation; before you mentioned it to me, I hadn't even bothered to properly capitalise my I's and first letters of my sentences. Of course you remember right?
The wind and I were the only ones who had gone to your POP, January 2017. I'd like to believe I was the one who dragged him to go, not the other way around, because I always felt that I cared about you more than he did. It was the few days before that your messages started having an underlying tone to them, the way I'd never seen.
It started to rain and we went to sit a little deeper; you went into depth of your recent frustrations too, the way you'd cried yourself to sleep in camp. I was just hearing about it, not exactly watching you cry myself, but it reminded me that you were human too. I always thought of you as the strongest person I know, the way you never let anything deter you; I forgot that in the harshest of storms, even the strongest oak tree snaps in half.
There used to be this huge tree at my workplace, opposite City Plaza. It was really majestic, with vines hanging around it like rain suspended in mid-air. Always exuding an indescribable aura even when I looked at it from afar. Until one day I saw that they'd torn it down to make space for construction; I thought of trees as the symbol for virginity and how everyone was destroying their tree... And I associated you with that particular one, and started feeling some kind of loss.
Why did it have to be you I felt safe with? We went to fetch the wind from work, from Outram Park to Bugis, where we ate Seoul Garden. It was one of the few shops that were open that evening, everything else being closed for Chinese New Year.
The whole time you both sat opposite me and I couldn't hear a word either of you were saying because the table was wide and it was really noisy. Later on he switched places, sitting next to me and when we both talked to you, you couldn't hear what we were saying. And it was so damn ridiculous but it made a memory.
It also made an opportunity for him to say things he didn't want you to hear. He started asking me if I wanted to go to a hotel afterwards, to which I said no to. His voice in my ear, saying, Jom lah, just for a while. I tried to ignore him, but he started getting mad at me, I could tell. I wrapped my arm around his but he snapped at me, Don't touch me if you don't want me to drag you to a hotel.
I needed to pee afterwards and he followed me; it just had to be that the nearest toilet was secluded and it was a handicapped one. Of course he tried to take a chance, managing to jump in because the automatic door was closing so slowly. I was lucky enough, quick enough to get back out, angry enough for him to back off, and I walked to the other side of Bugis Junction to find another bathroom.
If only he hadn't done it on that very day, the day you were sitting back at Seoul Garden waiting for us. It was his own actions that made me find solace in you, and I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry for never forgetting everything you've ever done for me.
For finding comfort in the smallest things you've said and done.
And I'm so sorry for being me, for not being a generic girl that would not have had your attention. I'm so sorry for coming into your life and making a mess of everything, intentionally and otherwise. I'm so sorry for having a presence that threatens to wreck your friendship of eight years time and again.
I'm about to jump off the ledge so I might as well tell the whole truth. I always saw the world in a different way even before my depression; you were the reason I once stayed awake til 3 in the morning, wishing I'd had you instead because I wouldn't have had her to lose.
You were the reason I passed by NYP one day by accident, because the bus I was on got into a crash and we all had to transfer buses; the way I looked at your school buildings and started tearing up, because they felt like a symbol of the innocence I believed I'd had with you.
You were the reason I flopped, lost the sex drive when he and I were in a hotel room mid-February this year. I just started thinking of you when he was on top of me, his lower body moving against mine. He always had my body but you had my mind. How fucked up am I, how fucked up is he, how fucked up is this world?
His tendency to drag me was always brought up to you, and even you felt disgusted by that. During your POP I'd met an old poly classmate, and I introduced you guys; a few weeks later I got to know that you'd went up to this guy during some training and told him everything about the way your best friend treated me.
We were once three kids, running across the lane by North Bridge Road with our hands holding on to each other. I loved the both of you at that moment, the three of us laughing about how stupid we must have looked. I was always grateful, how the supposed love of my life and my best friend loved each other just the same as how I loved them.
I tried to disappear that night. The last time you both saw me was when I left the train at City Hall. I lost myself, replying neither of you and answering none of his calls. I told him I couldn't remember what I did the moment I said goodbye to you both, and he asked me, Did you get possessed?
Maybe I was. I think I realised how I couldn't look at you without feeling the loss, without wanting to be like you again, never throwing away my youth on stupid decisions. Before we met that day I was talking to you about how I wished I was like you, and you straight knew it was because you were always on your own, with no girls you claimed yours.
Couldn't stop blaming myself for the wind turning out the way he did, getting brainwashed with his logic that I was the one who started everything back in 2013, so I didn't have the rights to deny him whatever he asked for. After that day with you both I started seeing, just a little bit, how my relationship with him was hurting me.
In late March you and I talked about our past, our 'almost' from three years ago. I could have tried harder, or I could have waited for you, denied him the access back to my life. I kept blaming you for not telling me you liked me back, when really it was just me and my own choices.
I said we were perpendicular lines, meeting once and then off we go, never meeting again. But you said we were more like parallel lines, so similar to each other but never having the rights to touch. We are train tracks, you with your tendency to always think about the future, and I on the other side with my habit of looking too much into the past.
Your best friend of eight years, and my boyfriend of four; he told me about how he easily understood people, the way he could quickly read how somebody is like. His colleagues, his squadmates, anyone. But us? "I've been with you guys for so long, I've loved both of you so much and I still don't know what you're both thinking. Yet you two understood each other so easily."
It all came crashing down, finally, when I tried to tell him the thoughts I had of you. He took them the wrong way, but looking back now that turned out fine because it was just what we all needed. We still met, we got pizza at Marsiling when he asked if he could see our texts.
I didn't want him to, I hated it. Sometimes you talked to me about things that you couldn't with him, like your days in camp and with your family. I just felt it wasn't right for him to read your messages that you trusted on me; I know you don't have that mindset because you have a problem with keeping secrets, so it's fine if you don't get it.
But my refusal to let him see your texts just restarted everything. We walked to the MRT station, my thoughts starting to be the hurricane that he was. I started missing her, I started thinking about how you never took advantage of me, I started seeing the possibility of a life without him. This person who used my body however he wanted and blamed me for his own sexual urges.
Today you are 21, the age I will forever be. Four years of actually being with me was not enough to make the hurricane stay, so how would we fare with bits and pieces of times spent with each other? Does not being with someone make it easier for you to move on, or actually harder?
We don't have the seasons here in Singapore but you remind me of spring; the transition from winter to summer, the cold and dark days being left behind.
I owe you more than you know. From the day we met back in 2013 all the way to the last time we saw each other after watching Power Rangers back in March 2017; you were always the tiny flower growing amidst the tombstones. You were the only one who saw me hurting in my relationship, when even I had been blind to it.
Whatever I know now was taught by you. It was you who told me I was a book that wanted to be read by someone illiterate, art that wanted to be appreciated by a blind man. You will always stick by his side, but you were the only one among his friends that were close enough to see the bruises he left on my arms, my face, my heart.
You and your best friend were both anchors, but his weight was to prevent me from rising to the surface, and yours was to help me stay in this world where I stopped belonging. He gave me thirteen reasons to die, but you were thirteen reasons I still hung on.
When you sat next to me on the skygarden at your school, leaning so close to me and asking if I was okay.
When I caught you staring and you reached out to tuck my hair behind my ear.
When you said the MRT announcement together with me, even getting the tone and pauses right, instead of shutting me up.
When you asked me what book I was reading when I was walking slowly behind all your secondary school friends.
When you ran to your room to take plasters for me, asking me where I was hurting before he pulled me away from you and out of your house.
When you brought us on 963 and showed me the views outside.
When you took pictures of me from behind and then snuck up to scare me, your hands on my shoulders.
When we balanced with our arms out on the railway tracks, trekking up and about under the heat that we both loved.
When we watched The Girl With All The Gifts and hid and laughed together when the black guy was about to get killed.
When we sent voice notes to each other at 1 in the morning, singing nostalgic tunes with our broken voices.
When he asked you to go home first after we ate Seoul Garden but you didn't because you looked at me and saw me subtly shaking my head.
Whenever you smiled at me.
You always said that no girl would ever want you or accept you. You overlooked me just the same as how I overlooked you, maybe because you were always so busy looking at the ground that you never noticed the sun, despite its heat on you.
I'll never be able to repay you for the smallest things you've done that gave me this priceless thing called hope. You started off as a flower but over time you became my everything else. I feel the need to apologise for it, but not towards the person I was with the entire time; I'm sorry to you for the way I have pierced through your room.
10 days ago I thought my life depended on the wind. I threw away my pride and dignity for him and never took much back, but it was you who helped me see the difference between my safety and suffering. It was you who told him to leave, and I never understood your intentions but I guess it was because I tried so hard to close my eyes on his abuse.
I started off this post angry with you, with no clue what were your intentions when you asked him to leave me. Two hours and 7000 words later I'm starting to see. You spent your whole life staring at the ground, and I have spent the last four years looking up at the sky, at the tornado that kept carrying me just to drop me. I never saw you, the flower between my feet, the tiny bit of hope.
I may have lost my mind but I have gained everything else in the process thanks to you. I won't forget your smile or the crinkles by your eyes that I called fireworks, and I'll bring them with me wherever I may end up. I'm always sorry, I'm sorry for everything and I'm sorry that the only girl who ever thought you were amazing was also insane.
Don't ever be afraid, okay? I'm not here for you anymore, not for your 21st, and although I want to be the sun for you, shining down on you from above; you had taken on that role for me instead. Thank you for coming into my life and letting me go into yours, and I am so sorry I'm not staying to see if I could have fallen for you.
Sunday, November 08, 2015
Found on an Auntie Anne's wrapper
There
is
this
mechanism
in
me
that
will
always
feel
relieved
when
I
meet
the
little
flower
for
he
was
the
very
first
person
I'd
set
eyes
on
after
being
suffocated
by
a
ghost.
Wednesday, November 04, 2015
Found on a flower
Remember
when
your
little
flower
asked
you
"does
he
ever
use
force
on
you"
and
you
said
no
because
you
were
just
defending
the
person
you
call
your
other
half
Saturday, October 03, 2015
I didn't realise I was in so much pain
I don't love my niece the same way I did when I first saw her.
She isn't as cute anymore. She can't compare to you.
I'd sacrifice my own parents just to be with you if I could.
I am working so hard for you but you're gone.
You're dead and I only have a black and white picture of you.
A screenshot from my first and last ultrasound scan of you.
I gave you up for people who couldn't care less about me...
I am the ugliest person on earth.
You were the only one who could have gone your whole life believing I was the most beautiful.
I threw you away.
For people who couldn't care less about me.
I have three photo frames of many different people looking down at me,
and none of them are even here for me.
It hurts in my chest, physically, and I wish it didn't.
My breathing gets harder each time.
And when I say something, my other half only laughs and mocks me for it.
I'd sacrifice him to be with you if I could, too.
Every song reminds me of you. Every night I hear you. Every dream, I see you.
I miss you so fucking much and I'd burn the world down just to be with you if I could.
And no one understands.
I am this close to putting myself into oblivion.
I don't do it because the only thing still pulling me together is my job.
"You're not alone", but really, I am.
Because who else could be there even if they wanted to?
Just fucking kill me already.
She isn't as cute anymore. She can't compare to you.
I'd sacrifice my own parents just to be with you if I could.
I am working so hard for you but you're gone.
You're dead and I only have a black and white picture of you.
A screenshot from my first and last ultrasound scan of you.
I gave you up for people who couldn't care less about me...
I am the ugliest person on earth.
You were the only one who could have gone your whole life believing I was the most beautiful.
I threw you away.
For people who couldn't care less about me.
I have three photo frames of many different people looking down at me,
and none of them are even here for me.
It hurts in my chest, physically, and I wish it didn't.
My breathing gets harder each time.
And when I say something, my other half only laughs and mocks me for it.
I'd sacrifice him to be with you if I could, too.
Every song reminds me of you. Every night I hear you. Every dream, I see you.
I miss you so fucking much and I'd burn the world down just to be with you if I could.
And no one understands.
I am this close to putting myself into oblivion.
I don't do it because the only thing still pulling me together is my job.
"You're not alone", but really, I am.
Because who else could be there even if they wanted to?
Just fucking kill me already.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Love someone different
I once let go of someone I really liked, because I strongly believed that all I would do was destroy him.
He was a flower, and I was a flame. I couldn't disrupt his perfection with my rage.
He's never had a first love, never had a girlfriend, never had his first kiss, never harmed a hair on anyone else or himself. While I, on the other hand, I've thrown away every ounce of innocence I used to have. Permanent scars to symbolise my dirty past forever.
I let it go because I knew I didn't deserve to be his first anything. That I couldn't ever be, and that he deserved to have someone better than I ever will be.
It was the sad truth, but it was a pity, because he meant so much to me and I really did like him more than I ever thought.
If this was a movie, fate would continue pulling our lives together. Time would ensure the flame intertwines around the flower, like a vine in itself, wholly accepted by something that it would have otherwise destroyed.
If this was a movie, fate would continue pulling our lives together. Time would ensure the flame intertwines around the flower, like a vine in itself, wholly accepted by something that it would have otherwise destroyed.
Because after a lot of thought, I realise that Fire and Grass make the perfect lovers.
A flame can show the noise and buzz of the outside world to a flower, her energy warming up his roots and petals, ensuring he continues to prosper and live.
A flower can show the quiet and soft side of the world to the flame, his silence calming her and burning her anger down to the ground.
Maybe the perfect lover is not someone who shares the same interests in you, or someone who has the same experiences as you.
Maybe the perfect lover lies in the person most different from you.
Maybe differences are what pull two together.
Love someone completely different from you, so they can show you the side of the world you never knew, and you can show them the side which they don't.
That's a way for you to belong to each other. And there's definitely something beautiful about loving yourself and your other, two differently broken shapes that piece together a whole new world.
Maybe the perfect lover is not someone who shares the same interests in you, or someone who has the same experiences as you.
Maybe the perfect lover lies in the person most different from you.
Maybe differences are what pull two together.
Love someone completely different from you, so they can show you the side of the world you never knew, and you can show them the side which they don't.
That's a way for you to belong to each other. And there's definitely something beautiful about loving yourself and your other, two differently broken shapes that piece together a whole new world.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Cheesy poem for you
You, looking so shy and invisible
So small that you're barely noticeable
You've got a smile that dances in the darkest nights
Eyes that shine the brightest of all the lights
My hatred for him grows all the more merrier
Knowing you see him as a barrier
My heart breaks knowing I've lost you to him
But it rages seeing the way he keeps you in
Does he look out for you the way I do?
Does he understand your religious view?
Does he listen to every word you say?
Does he bother asking you about your day?
You, looking so lost and clueless
Leaking of a mixture of secrets and innocence
Never forgotten a single word you've said,
I yearn to know everything that happens in your head.
If you would open your eyes a little and see
You'd know at least half the things he told me
The way I see it, you're in his control
How I wish I could return you your heart and soul.
Does he realise how much you're worth?
Does he appreciate your existence on this Earth?
Does he bother hearing out your stories
Or does he just judge you and your theories?
So small that you're barely noticeable
You've got a smile that dances in the darkest nights
Eyes that shine the brightest of all the lights
My hatred for him grows all the more merrier
Knowing you see him as a barrier
My heart breaks knowing I've lost you to him
But it rages seeing the way he keeps you in
Does he look out for you the way I do?
Does he understand your religious view?
Does he listen to every word you say?
Does he bother asking you about your day?
You, looking so lost and clueless
Leaking of a mixture of secrets and innocence
Never forgotten a single word you've said,
I yearn to know everything that happens in your head.
If you would open your eyes a little and see
You'd know at least half the things he told me
The way I see it, you're in his control
How I wish I could return you your heart and soul.
Does he realise how much you're worth?
Does he appreciate your existence on this Earth?
Does he bother hearing out your stories
Or does he just judge you and your theories?
Would he sacrifice for you some of his strength
Or give away a load of his breath?
Tell me how long more would he keep you in his life
Because he certainly wouldn't make you his wife.
I wish you'd run away with me and take a chance
Hold my hand in yours and follow the same plans
I swear to you he won't take care of you like I would
He can never love you the way I could.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Reasons why I like you
I really mean it when I say you're one of a kind. You aren't like any other guys at all, you're the exact opposite of every other girl's dreamboy, you're invisible to many, and that is just what pulls me toward you.
1. You handle my ranting the way no one else could.
When I tell you my problems, you don't fuss over me. You don't give me advice. In fact, your replies don't have anything to do with my ranting most of the time. You talk about something else entirely, making me laugh and taking my mind off my troubles at the same time.
2. I love your obsession with Science.
I really do love listening to you go on about things which go against my metaphors. I love having you answer my questions about anything and everything. I love seeing you "typing...", knowing it was a dozen more texts explaining what I'd just asked. The rare occasions where you'd talk more than I would.
3. You make me feel like a little girl again.
When was the last time I had a silly schoolgirl crush??? It feels better to like somebody than to be liked. I feel so happy seeing you at your school. I melt into a puddle whenever I look into the pool that is your eyes. I get a dozen butterflies just standing next to you, I get electric shocks whenever we make contact. And when I'm not with you, I sit and daydream about you. You make me feel so innocent again, despite everything I'd gone through.
4. I love how you friend-zone me like heck.
As silly as it sounds, I really do. I like talking 'aku kau' with you, I like how you're talking with me like how boys would talk to each other. It just makes the rare moments where you show me affection all the more worth treasuring.
5. I love how nerdy you are.
The first time I saw you in a long time, back at Yio Chu Kang station, you were looking so lost and blur as heck, and I thought you were really cute. I like how you're shy around people, how you're awkward with me. I love the stoic face you always have on, the way you walk, and especially the way you talk about the things you like. And to top it off, I love how you're interested in the things you're interested in. Haha.
6. I love how honest and real you are.
Sure most of the time you're shy as heck, but when you do talk, you're always honest and you always mean what you say. You aren't afraid to admit your views on certain things. You don't give in to me, you make sure I know exactly how you think of me, even if it hurts. It's way better than all those other guys who try to 'angkat' me and shit.
7. The fact that there's still a lot to learn about you.
It's been about a year and a half since I met you, but I still don't know anything about you. I wish I could be closer to you, know everything about you. I wish I know how you are when you're really out of your comfort zone. I'm really jealous of your best friend because he knows way more about you than I do, UGH.
I keep daydreaming about you, even when I know you'd never like me back. I really meant it when I said I've no intentions of making you my boyfriend, but it'd be really nice to hang out with you more often. It'd be nice to treat you like a prince and a faggot at the same time. You're probably the only guy I could ever treat that way, hehe.
Gosh, I just... I have so many things to talk to you about, so many things I'd like to do with you. Remember when you said you had a chance with a girl back in the past, but that you wasted it? Well... I hope you can take it as a lesson that the next time a girl comes along again, you'd appreciate her like how you hadn't appreciated the one before.
Just like how I learnt a lot in my past relationship, and that I'd changed based on his words. But instead of using my new strength on him, I'd rather invest my energy on someone new. Focus on the future, not the past, you know?
I just wish you'd notice me I guess. Do you know you're the reason why I've been so focused in class? Okay, so I daydream about you in the middle of a boring lecture, but the thought of you is what makes me get back on track, thinking about how smart you are. You're my inspiration to be smart, as crazy as it sounds D:
And you look a mixture of hot and cute in those glasses. Not every guy can pull off that look *.*
I just feel reborn again thanks to you. You give me this crazy amount of energy which I've never had before as a loner. I just... Aaahhhh *covers my blushing face in disbelief* now I'm swooning over you. I need to stop.
1. You handle my ranting the way no one else could.
When I tell you my problems, you don't fuss over me. You don't give me advice. In fact, your replies don't have anything to do with my ranting most of the time. You talk about something else entirely, making me laugh and taking my mind off my troubles at the same time.
2. I love your obsession with Science.
I really do love listening to you go on about things which go against my metaphors. I love having you answer my questions about anything and everything. I love seeing you "typing...", knowing it was a dozen more texts explaining what I'd just asked. The rare occasions where you'd talk more than I would.
3. You make me feel like a little girl again.
When was the last time I had a silly schoolgirl crush??? It feels better to like somebody than to be liked. I feel so happy seeing you at your school. I melt into a puddle whenever I look into the pool that is your eyes. I get a dozen butterflies just standing next to you, I get electric shocks whenever we make contact. And when I'm not with you, I sit and daydream about you. You make me feel so innocent again, despite everything I'd gone through.
4. I love how you friend-zone me like heck.
As silly as it sounds, I really do. I like talking 'aku kau' with you, I like how you're talking with me like how boys would talk to each other. It just makes the rare moments where you show me affection all the more worth treasuring.
5. I love how nerdy you are.
The first time I saw you in a long time, back at Yio Chu Kang station, you were looking so lost and blur as heck, and I thought you were really cute. I like how you're shy around people, how you're awkward with me. I love the stoic face you always have on, the way you walk, and especially the way you talk about the things you like. And to top it off, I love how you're interested in the things you're interested in. Haha.
6. I love how honest and real you are.
Sure most of the time you're shy as heck, but when you do talk, you're always honest and you always mean what you say. You aren't afraid to admit your views on certain things. You don't give in to me, you make sure I know exactly how you think of me, even if it hurts. It's way better than all those other guys who try to 'angkat' me and shit.
7. The fact that there's still a lot to learn about you.
It's been about a year and a half since I met you, but I still don't know anything about you. I wish I could be closer to you, know everything about you. I wish I know how you are when you're really out of your comfort zone. I'm really jealous of your best friend because he knows way more about you than I do, UGH.
I keep daydreaming about you, even when I know you'd never like me back. I really meant it when I said I've no intentions of making you my boyfriend, but it'd be really nice to hang out with you more often. It'd be nice to treat you like a prince and a faggot at the same time. You're probably the only guy I could ever treat that way, hehe.
Gosh, I just... I have so many things to talk to you about, so many things I'd like to do with you. Remember when you said you had a chance with a girl back in the past, but that you wasted it? Well... I hope you can take it as a lesson that the next time a girl comes along again, you'd appreciate her like how you hadn't appreciated the one before.
Just like how I learnt a lot in my past relationship, and that I'd changed based on his words. But instead of using my new strength on him, I'd rather invest my energy on someone new. Focus on the future, not the past, you know?
I just wish you'd notice me I guess. Do you know you're the reason why I've been so focused in class? Okay, so I daydream about you in the middle of a boring lecture, but the thought of you is what makes me get back on track, thinking about how smart you are. You're my inspiration to be smart, as crazy as it sounds D:
And you look a mixture of hot and cute in those glasses. Not every guy can pull off that look *.*
I just feel reborn again thanks to you. You give me this crazy amount of energy which I've never had before as a loner. I just... Aaahhhh *covers my blushing face in disbelief* now I'm swooning over you. I need to stop.
Wednesday, May 07, 2014
The brightest star in the sky
There's always been something about him. Sure, at the beginning there weren't any feelings, but I still thought he was amazing.
I hadn't seen or talked to him for a long time, not til a few weeks ago when I was exploring Woodlands with a fellow Heroine. We'd gotten stuck in the rain, so we played 20 questions at a void deck while waiting for it to stop.
One of my friend's questions for me was, "Who's the most handsome guy you've ever met?" And I wasn't sure why at the time, but the first name, the first face, that popped up was his.
So I answered truthfully, and I elaborated that he's not only good-looking, but his character also contributed to him being 'the most handsome guy I've ever met'. Afterwards I couldn't help confiding in my friend about him, the parts of my life in which he had contributed greatly.
I only had the balls to strike a conversation with him some time later. It went okay I guess, just asked how was he and stuff. We used to talk about all kinds of random things, but I felt kind of awkward when talking to him again after a long time.
The first time I saw him after that was when I went over to his school, where my secondary school girlfriend was having her performance. I'd gone there on Wednesday and Thursday, and while I hadn't seen him on Wednesday, I totally was not expecting to see him the day after.
But guess what, I exited the train station and the first thing I saw was him.
We'd both walked out of the sheltered walkway, where crowds of other students were walking in. I don't know what kind of crazy coincidence that was.
I straightway walked back into the crowd and looked at my phone, pretending I hadn't seen him. I thought I'd say hi but I had a strong feeling he wouldn't respond.
Right after I was sure he'd walked past me, I couldn't help smiling to myself. I thought he was so cute. The whole route from the station to the entrance of his school, I was trying so hard not to grin like an idiot to myself. I really didn't think I'd be so happy just to see him.
He texted me later on, telling me he'd seen me, but that he wasn't sure if it was me. He couldn't recognise me with my glasses, heheh. It was a rare occasion where he'd started a conversation with me, and one that went on throughout my entire time at his school.
I'd always wanted to visit him at work because he said it was okay, but I never had the balls. I too wanted to send him home after work but yep, no balls. Every time I asked him out, I had to hide it in a coat of a joking tone so he wouldn't think I was serious. He always said no anyway.
Then Monday happened. For the first time in forever~, when I told him I was at his school, he'd asked me where I was, and that I could come to the library where he was at.
Gosh, I got so nervously excited, I just... Aaah. When I saw him, I just lost all my balls and couldn't remember anything which I'd wanted to ask him/talk to him about. My knees were shaking and I couldn't help stuttering a bit here and there. How embarrassing.
And then I got a chance to go home with him. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world at that moment, I swear. What is the statistical probability of being able to go home with someone you like? Gosh.
The trains were crowded so we decided to sit on the station waiting for the peak hour to pass. I had so much to ask him, though I don't think I'd managed to ask anything...
I'd known for a fact that he's shy around girls, or maybe just people in general. I remember a long time ago he'd said so, and that he gets nervous and anxious, even when he was with me. But he seemed fine on Monday, he didn't seem afraid to be himself, and I was secretly proud of him for that.
He showed me the memes and the gifs he'd laughed at, he showed me and gushed over his new favourite animal, he talked to me about the randomest things.
At one point of our chat, he said, "My throat is starting to hurt. I haven't been talking a lot because I'm not used to it."
It made me sad to hear that. Call it overthinking or exaggerating or whatever, but it made me feel like he'd cooped up his thoughts for so long. I don't know... It just broke my heart a little to know that he hadn't been talking to anyone else like he did to me.
As always, he refused to go for a movie with me, even after lots of my persuasion. He introduced me this game on his phone, some tap-tap-tapping on the black tiles, no touching the white ones.
It was hard as heck for me, until he said "If you can beat any of my high scores, I'll watch a movie with you." That was such good motivation for me, gosh. I found myself tapping faster and shit, hahaha!
Each time I lost, I'd scream of frustration, and he'd hiss and laugh, "Shut up lah!" But gosh. I love it when he laughs. The crinkles by his eyes and the fang at the side of his mouth.
We tapped out of the train station again to get a drink and sat by the sheltered walkway to chat some more. Because it hurt me to see him not knowing how amazing he is, I admitted how I'd long thought he's the most handsome person I'd ever met, outside and inside.
We finally got on a train around 8, when it was emptier than before. I loved the way he moved his head to follow the blue lights, and the expression of amazement in his eyes, gosh. That was the millionth time I'd melted that day.
I had to constantly remind myself that we were standing in front of the window, and that he could see in our reflections how I was gazing at him. I couldn't help it.
I was so thankful I hadn't gone back to Paya Lebar, because I had an expressway bus from Woodlands to Pasir Ris. It gave me reason to be able to send him home at Marsiling, hehe.
The last time we walked there by Marsiling station, I was a mess, drunk on alcohol and emotion. I didn't want to mention that night because I only wanted him to know that I'm a strong person who doesn't need to rely on anything, who doesn't cry about someone who gave up on her. I really wanted to show him that I'd changed since our last meeting.
But he asked, "What did you do here after I left you that night?"
"...I sat there crying my eyes out, and tweeting like crazy about how you left me there." I answered truthfully. And then I laughed. Because that time, although just 4 months ago, is a lifetime ago and it doesn't bother me anymore.
He went on about how heavy I was, and I started to feel a little relieved that that night seems like just a joke now.
The only thing about that night that I'll always remember is how pretty I realised his eyes are.
Our conversations went back to being random as we crossed the traffic lights and walked the big field in front of his house area.
I got so scared when we saw a frog, and he pretended to pick it up just to freak me out, ugh. And then he pretended he wanted to hold my hand when we passed a couple, just to imitate them, but laughed when I reached out for his hand seriously, UGH.
But that's just what I like about him. The way he annoys me all the time. As much as it really irritates me, I like how he's all like, "Hey! That's your 'I'm a faggot!' face!" whenever I sulked, in reference to a November memory.
At the lobby of his lift, we had a little silence. I really didn't want to say goodbye.
We did more silly handshakes, probably the only time I could ever make contact with his hand. And that was it. The lift door closed, and I was alone again.
But boy was I euphoric. I met and told a cat about how happy I was. I skipped my way through the field. I was smiling so much til my cheeks hurt. I was tired as hell, but it was worth it.
It'd be nice to be a little closer to him, honestly. I never had intentions to make him my boyfriend or anything. I don't really want us to fall in love and shit, but it'd be nice to, well, get to know him better.
I hadn't seen or talked to him for a long time, not til a few weeks ago when I was exploring Woodlands with a fellow Heroine. We'd gotten stuck in the rain, so we played 20 questions at a void deck while waiting for it to stop.
One of my friend's questions for me was, "Who's the most handsome guy you've ever met?" And I wasn't sure why at the time, but the first name, the first face, that popped up was his.
So I answered truthfully, and I elaborated that he's not only good-looking, but his character also contributed to him being 'the most handsome guy I've ever met'. Afterwards I couldn't help confiding in my friend about him, the parts of my life in which he had contributed greatly.
I only had the balls to strike a conversation with him some time later. It went okay I guess, just asked how was he and stuff. We used to talk about all kinds of random things, but I felt kind of awkward when talking to him again after a long time.
The first time I saw him after that was when I went over to his school, where my secondary school girlfriend was having her performance. I'd gone there on Wednesday and Thursday, and while I hadn't seen him on Wednesday, I totally was not expecting to see him the day after.
But guess what, I exited the train station and the first thing I saw was him.
We'd both walked out of the sheltered walkway, where crowds of other students were walking in. I don't know what kind of crazy coincidence that was.
I straightway walked back into the crowd and looked at my phone, pretending I hadn't seen him. I thought I'd say hi but I had a strong feeling he wouldn't respond.
Right after I was sure he'd walked past me, I couldn't help smiling to myself. I thought he was so cute. The whole route from the station to the entrance of his school, I was trying so hard not to grin like an idiot to myself. I really didn't think I'd be so happy just to see him.
He texted me later on, telling me he'd seen me, but that he wasn't sure if it was me. He couldn't recognise me with my glasses, heheh. It was a rare occasion where he'd started a conversation with me, and one that went on throughout my entire time at his school.
I'd always wanted to visit him at work because he said it was okay, but I never had the balls. I too wanted to send him home after work but yep, no balls. Every time I asked him out, I had to hide it in a coat of a joking tone so he wouldn't think I was serious. He always said no anyway.
Then Monday happened. For the first time in forever~, when I told him I was at his school, he'd asked me where I was, and that I could come to the library where he was at.
Gosh, I got so nervously excited, I just... Aaah. When I saw him, I just lost all my balls and couldn't remember anything which I'd wanted to ask him/talk to him about. My knees were shaking and I couldn't help stuttering a bit here and there. How embarrassing.
And then I got a chance to go home with him. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world at that moment, I swear. What is the statistical probability of being able to go home with someone you like? Gosh.
The trains were crowded so we decided to sit on the station waiting for the peak hour to pass. I had so much to ask him, though I don't think I'd managed to ask anything...
I'd known for a fact that he's shy around girls, or maybe just people in general. I remember a long time ago he'd said so, and that he gets nervous and anxious, even when he was with me. But he seemed fine on Monday, he didn't seem afraid to be himself, and I was secretly proud of him for that.
He showed me the memes and the gifs he'd laughed at, he showed me and gushed over his new favourite animal, he talked to me about the randomest things.
At one point of our chat, he said, "My throat is starting to hurt. I haven't been talking a lot because I'm not used to it."
It made me sad to hear that. Call it overthinking or exaggerating or whatever, but it made me feel like he'd cooped up his thoughts for so long. I don't know... It just broke my heart a little to know that he hadn't been talking to anyone else like he did to me.
As always, he refused to go for a movie with me, even after lots of my persuasion. He introduced me this game on his phone, some tap-tap-tapping on the black tiles, no touching the white ones.
It was hard as heck for me, until he said "If you can beat any of my high scores, I'll watch a movie with you." That was such good motivation for me, gosh. I found myself tapping faster and shit, hahaha!
Each time I lost, I'd scream of frustration, and he'd hiss and laugh, "Shut up lah!" But gosh. I love it when he laughs. The crinkles by his eyes and the fang at the side of his mouth.
We tapped out of the train station again to get a drink and sat by the sheltered walkway to chat some more. Because it hurt me to see him not knowing how amazing he is, I admitted how I'd long thought he's the most handsome person I'd ever met, outside and inside.
We finally got on a train around 8, when it was emptier than before. I loved the way he moved his head to follow the blue lights, and the expression of amazement in his eyes, gosh. That was the millionth time I'd melted that day.
I had to constantly remind myself that we were standing in front of the window, and that he could see in our reflections how I was gazing at him. I couldn't help it.
I was so thankful I hadn't gone back to Paya Lebar, because I had an expressway bus from Woodlands to Pasir Ris. It gave me reason to be able to send him home at Marsiling, hehe.
The last time we walked there by Marsiling station, I was a mess, drunk on alcohol and emotion. I didn't want to mention that night because I only wanted him to know that I'm a strong person who doesn't need to rely on anything, who doesn't cry about someone who gave up on her. I really wanted to show him that I'd changed since our last meeting.
But he asked, "What did you do here after I left you that night?"
"...I sat there crying my eyes out, and tweeting like crazy about how you left me there." I answered truthfully. And then I laughed. Because that time, although just 4 months ago, is a lifetime ago and it doesn't bother me anymore.
He went on about how heavy I was, and I started to feel a little relieved that that night seems like just a joke now.
The only thing about that night that I'll always remember is how pretty I realised his eyes are.
Our conversations went back to being random as we crossed the traffic lights and walked the big field in front of his house area.
I got so scared when we saw a frog, and he pretended to pick it up just to freak me out, ugh. And then he pretended he wanted to hold my hand when we passed a couple, just to imitate them, but laughed when I reached out for his hand seriously, UGH.
But that's just what I like about him. The way he annoys me all the time. As much as it really irritates me, I like how he's all like, "Hey! That's your 'I'm a faggot!' face!" whenever I sulked, in reference to a November memory.
At the lobby of his lift, we had a little silence. I really didn't want to say goodbye.
We did more silly handshakes, probably the only time I could ever make contact with his hand. And that was it. The lift door closed, and I was alone again.
But boy was I euphoric. I met and told a cat about how happy I was. I skipped my way through the field. I was smiling so much til my cheeks hurt. I was tired as hell, but it was worth it.
It'd be nice to be a little closer to him, honestly. I never had intentions to make him my boyfriend or anything. I don't really want us to fall in love and shit, but it'd be nice to, well, get to know him better.
I swear some quotes on Twitter do make a lot of sense. "There's a difference between liking someone for who they really are, and liking someone only for the attention they give you."
I think I'm one of the lucky few to know this difference.
You've no idea how amazing he is. He doesn't see himself the way I do, but I enjoy his presence, I appreciate his thoughts, and I admire his stand. I like how he's invisible to others, because it made me feel like that way I could have him all to myself.
I'd always wanted to know how it was like to be in his shoes. He talked to me about his personal life sometimes, but still I wonder how his life is really like. He's probably gone through a lot, but he seems way stronger than me.
It'd be nice to know his thoughts too. How his brain really works, considering his obsession with all things Science. His liking for the internet. His forever aloneliness.
I really do like him the way he is, whether or not he likes me back.
It's really okay. He's a little flower, perfectly fine as he is, left unpicked. When you see a flower, you don't pick it, you leave it as it is because love is about appreciation, not possession. All you have to do is water it regularly, if someone else already haven't.
I think I'm one of the lucky few to know this difference.
You've no idea how amazing he is. He doesn't see himself the way I do, but I enjoy his presence, I appreciate his thoughts, and I admire his stand. I like how he's invisible to others, because it made me feel like that way I could have him all to myself.
I'd always wanted to know how it was like to be in his shoes. He talked to me about his personal life sometimes, but still I wonder how his life is really like. He's probably gone through a lot, but he seems way stronger than me.
It'd be nice to know his thoughts too. How his brain really works, considering his obsession with all things Science. His liking for the internet. His forever aloneliness.
I really do like him the way he is, whether or not he likes me back.
It's really okay. He's a little flower, perfectly fine as he is, left unpicked. When you see a flower, you don't pick it, you leave it as it is because love is about appreciation, not possession. All you have to do is water it regularly, if someone else already haven't.
Besides, he's just wonderful on his own. I feel like I shouldn't taint his perfection by being with him. That's why I'm just fine admiring him from afar. That laugh of his, and those eyes.
His existence has left quite an impact on my recent life. I don't know how to explain this, other than that it's the thought of him that motivates me to study hard, to walk with pride, to not give a shit about any negativity. It's the thought of him that pulls me through the day.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Thanks for showing me my strength
My fingers hover over the letters of my keyboard and that's when I realise I don't remember last night's dream. Is that a miracle or what? But damn, now I have nothing to blog about.
That aside, I know it may seem strange that I have dreams every night but I rarely blog about them. I don't know if anyone's ever noticed, if I even have enough readers for someone to wonder that, but just saying, that I only blog about a dream I had when I remember enough to write a story about it.
Maybe I shall blog about that now: dreams in which I only remembered little to one scenes.
Okay I'm just gonna write about one dream for now, since it's long enough already. I had this one in late January this year, my break-up misery days.
I was in a school... My school, to be exact. I'm not sure how I remembered it was my school, but that's how dreams work: you wouldn't know how you know something, you just do.
There was that holiday kind of atmosphere, the school was half empty, and the few students littered around were just slacking and laughing, not studying or rushing to classes, shit like that.
It soon got a little darker, like it was 7 in the evening or 6 in the morning? Now that you mention it, I don't exactly recall the exact time of this one but the lighting was around those timings of the day.
I was walking past a group of other students when I receive a text from the ex's best friend. ...Wow, it's been a while since I last thought about him.
He gave me some random directions in which I obediently followed, and got into this classroom that was dark as hell. I could make out chairs and desks, like a normal classroom, but I didn't really see any reason special as to why he'd made me go there.
And then, bit by bit the classroom started to light up. There were these little pictures being lighted up, letters that spelled out words and words that made sentences, all of which glowed in the dark.
The pictures were of me, from all stages of my solitude, from misery to picking myself up, gaining composure and moving forward. At the time I had this dream, I was at my most miserable, and I hadn't been through that 'strong' stage in reality.
I don't exactly remember how they went, but the sentences were quotes, reminding me of how strong I am, how strong I should be, how I'd be able to handle this pain and more.
The pictures and quotes not only glowed in the dark, but they were spinning around me, slowly, a show of lights that was only meant for me and me alone. Really, it was extremely beautiful. You can't even begin to imagine. The way the lights bounced on my body, danced around me.
The ex's best friend texted me when I was in the midst of admiring the show, but I don't remember what it said, unfortunately. Never did remember it, not even the slightest.
I woke up with lots of butterflies in my tummy, but I did feel that little spark in me at the moment. And because my dreams have always meant so much to me and were always right, I strongly believed that the best friend had something to do with my moving on from the ex.
I dunno, it sounds stupid thinking back about it, but *shrugs* you never know?
And, I guess in a way, he predicted my strength. Okay, just his dreamworld alter-ego, but damn. At that time he was one of the few who really knew me well anyway, so... Yeah. Damn.
That aside, I know it may seem strange that I have dreams every night but I rarely blog about them. I don't know if anyone's ever noticed, if I even have enough readers for someone to wonder that, but just saying, that I only blog about a dream I had when I remember enough to write a story about it.
Maybe I shall blog about that now: dreams in which I only remembered little to one scenes.
Okay I'm just gonna write about one dream for now, since it's long enough already. I had this one in late January this year, my break-up misery days.
I was in a school... My school, to be exact. I'm not sure how I remembered it was my school, but that's how dreams work: you wouldn't know how you know something, you just do.
There was that holiday kind of atmosphere, the school was half empty, and the few students littered around were just slacking and laughing, not studying or rushing to classes, shit like that.
It soon got a little darker, like it was 7 in the evening or 6 in the morning? Now that you mention it, I don't exactly recall the exact time of this one but the lighting was around those timings of the day.
I was walking past a group of other students when I receive a text from the ex's best friend. ...Wow, it's been a while since I last thought about him.
He gave me some random directions in which I obediently followed, and got into this classroom that was dark as hell. I could make out chairs and desks, like a normal classroom, but I didn't really see any reason special as to why he'd made me go there.
And then, bit by bit the classroom started to light up. There were these little pictures being lighted up, letters that spelled out words and words that made sentences, all of which glowed in the dark.
The pictures were of me, from all stages of my solitude, from misery to picking myself up, gaining composure and moving forward. At the time I had this dream, I was at my most miserable, and I hadn't been through that 'strong' stage in reality.
I don't exactly remember how they went, but the sentences were quotes, reminding me of how strong I am, how strong I should be, how I'd be able to handle this pain and more.
The pictures and quotes not only glowed in the dark, but they were spinning around me, slowly, a show of lights that was only meant for me and me alone. Really, it was extremely beautiful. You can't even begin to imagine. The way the lights bounced on my body, danced around me.
The ex's best friend texted me when I was in the midst of admiring the show, but I don't remember what it said, unfortunately. Never did remember it, not even the slightest.
I woke up with lots of butterflies in my tummy, but I did feel that little spark in me at the moment. And because my dreams have always meant so much to me and were always right, I strongly believed that the best friend had something to do with my moving on from the ex.
I dunno, it sounds stupid thinking back about it, but *shrugs* you never know?
And, I guess in a way, he predicted my strength. Okay, just his dreamworld alter-ego, but damn. At that time he was one of the few who really knew me well anyway, so... Yeah. Damn.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Basket of moss
I don't know how I found you, but I'm glad I did. It was a room, at the back of a house, with a secret door which I had stumbled upon. A secret door where lain beyond was you.
You were a prisoner there, it was a small space with a mattress and bookshelves all around, cramped full of unimportant things. You were lying on the mattress, sitting against the wall, looking so pale and weak I thought you were going to die.
I had to go over to you and hold you in my arms so tightly, before you even realised I was there. Your eyes were so dead they scared me; they have never looked that empty.
You wouldn't talk, but somehow I figured you were just starving. I found a box of muffins in the kitchen of the house, which I brought back to you. You finished everything and I guess you were so thankful for me, because afterwards you wouldn't allow me to leave you alone.
You still refused to say anything but you made me stay there with you, making sure I was there each time you woke up. I couldn't bear to leave you alone anyway, not after seeing how you were caught up in that tiny hole all on your own the whole time.
I'm not sure how long we stayed there, just me against the wall, stroking your hair while you laid on my lap with your arms around me. You were like a child, and I so badly wanted to stay with you forever.
Soon, your captor returned. He went on a rage at seeing me there, and he grabbed at your hair, pulling you up to wake you. I tried to protect you, by fighting back against your captor but he just kicked me out of the secret room and locked the door behind him.
There was a lot of banging noise from the inside, and when the door opened again, your captor walked out with a death glare for me. You refused to even look me in the eye, as you walked out of your room with a backpack. Presumably that was your first time in a long time leaving that hellhole.
Your captor looked at me and told me he was bringing you to another place. A special place, fit only for a person like you. I wanted to protest, I wanted to bring you with me, because I could see he was torturing you but the look in his eyes dared me not to even speak.
And I'm sorry, that I let you down. I let you go with him, right when I thought you're safe with me. I didn't fight for you. I just let you walk away, with your head hung low, right on the tail of that bloody asshole.
I wish I can be there for you. It may be just a dream, but I feel like something's bothering you, like you're in trouble or buried in lots of problems that you can't talk to anyone about.
I know for a fact that if I approach you, you'll just push me the fuck away, but bloody hell you know I meant it when I told you I'll always be here for you if he ever gives you problems or neglects you.
If you think the "you" in the above story was referring to the asshole who dumped me, you've got it all wrong. You'd know who it is only if you really read into every single detail and if I've talked to you about my feelings about my relationship with this person, so, I guess only he himself would know who "you" is. Meh.
P.s. Refer to the Victorian flower language.
You were a prisoner there, it was a small space with a mattress and bookshelves all around, cramped full of unimportant things. You were lying on the mattress, sitting against the wall, looking so pale and weak I thought you were going to die.
I had to go over to you and hold you in my arms so tightly, before you even realised I was there. Your eyes were so dead they scared me; they have never looked that empty.
You wouldn't talk, but somehow I figured you were just starving. I found a box of muffins in the kitchen of the house, which I brought back to you. You finished everything and I guess you were so thankful for me, because afterwards you wouldn't allow me to leave you alone.
You still refused to say anything but you made me stay there with you, making sure I was there each time you woke up. I couldn't bear to leave you alone anyway, not after seeing how you were caught up in that tiny hole all on your own the whole time.
I'm not sure how long we stayed there, just me against the wall, stroking your hair while you laid on my lap with your arms around me. You were like a child, and I so badly wanted to stay with you forever.
Soon, your captor returned. He went on a rage at seeing me there, and he grabbed at your hair, pulling you up to wake you. I tried to protect you, by fighting back against your captor but he just kicked me out of the secret room and locked the door behind him.
There was a lot of banging noise from the inside, and when the door opened again, your captor walked out with a death glare for me. You refused to even look me in the eye, as you walked out of your room with a backpack. Presumably that was your first time in a long time leaving that hellhole.
Your captor looked at me and told me he was bringing you to another place. A special place, fit only for a person like you. I wanted to protest, I wanted to bring you with me, because I could see he was torturing you but the look in his eyes dared me not to even speak.
And I'm sorry, that I let you down. I let you go with him, right when I thought you're safe with me. I didn't fight for you. I just let you walk away, with your head hung low, right on the tail of that bloody asshole.
____
I know for a fact that if I approach you, you'll just push me the fuck away, but bloody hell you know I meant it when I told you I'll always be here for you if he ever gives you problems or neglects you.
If you think the "you" in the above story was referring to the asshole who dumped me, you've got it all wrong. You'd know who it is only if you really read into every single detail and if I've talked to you about my feelings about my relationship with this person, so, I guess only he himself would know who "you" is. Meh.
P.s. Refer to the Victorian flower language.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Luke
This special friend, whom I'd met about a year ago now. At that time, I'd only heard of him, stories and tales of the chaos they got themselves into, silly shit that they did which made me laugh, made me want to meet him.
Before I met him I was judging him, I'd thought he was the kind who's open, noisy as hell at first meeting, shit like that. But when we met, he was so shy and awkward, even with a mutual companion between us. I could see him shivering, though at that time I thought it was just the cold.
He was cute too, with his little fang at the side of his mouth when he smiled. Together with his best friend, they were super annoying, and I remember how they purposely held hands to spite me, and how I tried so hard to come between them.
The first time we talked, without having the faggot as our mutual friend, was in April, two days before my first day of school. At that time the two of them were having their bitch fight, quite a horrible one I must say, and I was caught in between.
This one time, I tried to get them to eat pizza with me, without knowing that the other was gonna be present. The faggot came, but his best friend realised my trick, and refused to come because he was there. I was such a failure.
I should have tried harder to patch them up, and I did, but I thought it was a good time to learn more about him. At that time I hadn't had my own best friend, and I was really jealous of their close friendship. I guess that's how my own friendship with this special friend evolved.
Just a few days of conversation and he was already picking on me the way a best friend would. I felt bad that I was stealing someone's best friend when I was supposed to patch them up, but up til now I've no regrets. Because he is an amazing person.
I'd always known about how he really liked all things Science. I tried to make our conversations revolve around such topics, asked him some questions to get him talking. It was a great way to get him talking, and I really liked listening to him go on about what he really liked.
Time passed and our conversations became more random and sillier, talking about all kinds of shit, especially when his best friend was neglecting me. It was nice talking to this friend, and listening to him; I really appreciated how we talked about anything without being afraid of getting judged of the other. And he did tell me he was grateful for the fact that I didn't judge him for anything he said.
September came. His best friend and I had our first breakup, which he had been involved in. Maybe we had gotten a little too much closer than we were supposed to.
Things between the faggot and I were fine again, and I was just randomly playing with his phone when I saw his best friend's texts to him. He mentioned how I was an annoying little prick and that he was thankful that "at least now I don't have to layan that girl anymore".
That really hurt me, I couldn't hide that. All along, I really thought he liked talking to me, that he was grateful to have me because no one else ever listened to him. He really said that, and I really thought that, but I guess I was wrong. I was so angry and from then on I called him nothing but a hypocrite.
One day in October he sent me a long text, explaining that he'd only been saying mean stuff about me so that the faggot wouldn't get the wrong idea about us. Kind of protecting our friendship. I tried to shun it and call it an excuse and remain angry at him, but a larger part of me decided to take it, forgive him, and revert our friendship back to before. Just not closer than the faggot would've liked.
We seldom hung out, but this friend and I developed a real special friendship there. I liked to think the three of us as a happy family, the faggot being the husband and this special friend as our son. Because that's how he was like; I liked how he would always whine to me, or tell me about his fears, or get angry at me when I was having pizza and he was not. He was like a spoilt brat, but a really loveable one. Like how your own son or daughter would be to you.
I was constantly asking him more and more questions about Science, and he was also one of the first few people I'd told I wanted to be an engineer. He talked to me about anything Science, from stars to pumping of blood to some carbon monoxide shit. Because I asked.
And the time this friend and I went town together, as a replacement for the faggot who backed out last minute. How we hunted for the perfect pair of shoes for him, because he had mentioned wanting new shoes, for such a long time, and I was so hell bent on getting those for him.
Once, he mentioned that I was closer to him than his own best friend was, and that I knew him better than he did. I felt terrible for that, I was betraying the faggot, I was making his best friend betray him; but it was nice to know that I meant something to someone.
Every time I had problems with the faggot, I'd try talking to this friend first, because he was after all the one who knows him the best. Sure, most of the time when I'm being sad to him, his response would be annoying, the jokes coming at the absolutely wrong timing.
I'm not sure when he said this, but I remember so fucking clearly how he once said: "If he ever left you, for real, without ever coming back, I promise I'll be the first person to lend you a shoulder to cry on."
I'm not sure if he remembers this, or was it really said in this one simple sentence, maybe it was lines exchanged between us, but hey guess what. He kept the promise. He kept it, he listened to me whine last Monday, he stroked my hair and held me while I cried, he struggled bringing me back to the MRT station while I was tipsy as hell.
That's why, along with this incident, you keeping your promise, I believe you're a good guy. You were an awesome good friend to me, and I know for a fact that you're gonna go further than your best friend, despite having the least experience in love among your group of friends.
I can tell, that when you find someone, you're gonna be a fucking prince who treats her like she's the only person in your eyes. I may not know you before, I may not know you like how your other classmates do, but fuck it I know a good guy when I see one. I'd like to believe that whatever you've told me, your fears and your dreams, are true and sincere, and you mean every fucking thing you've ever said to me, and for that,... I really believe you're gonna be awesome in love someday.
Honestly, a part of me wishes that I can be that girl. It's a tiny crush that I've gotten since that night with you, after my break-up. When I realised how pretty your brown eyes were, and that little fang at the side of your mouth when it's open ajar. You're really handsome you know that, and you're such a loveable character on the inside too. As much as I wish it'd be me, I hope you find someone soon. Someone who loves you as much as you love her, like how you told me you'd wanted.
You don't have to return me the money for your shoes. You deserve to keep the money more than I do, and just take it as a thank you from me. Because, well, thank you. For being a really good friend, for being there when I needed cheering up, for being annoying and making me angry, for being my only hope in moving on.
P.s. a side note: the thing in September makes me realise that he may or may not still be a hypocrite, he may be still bad-mouthing me to the faggot and their other classmates, I don't know, but I'd like to believe not.
Before I met him I was judging him, I'd thought he was the kind who's open, noisy as hell at first meeting, shit like that. But when we met, he was so shy and awkward, even with a mutual companion between us. I could see him shivering, though at that time I thought it was just the cold.
He was cute too, with his little fang at the side of his mouth when he smiled. Together with his best friend, they were super annoying, and I remember how they purposely held hands to spite me, and how I tried so hard to come between them.
The first time we talked, without having the faggot as our mutual friend, was in April, two days before my first day of school. At that time the two of them were having their bitch fight, quite a horrible one I must say, and I was caught in between.
This one time, I tried to get them to eat pizza with me, without knowing that the other was gonna be present. The faggot came, but his best friend realised my trick, and refused to come because he was there. I was such a failure.
I should have tried harder to patch them up, and I did, but I thought it was a good time to learn more about him. At that time I hadn't had my own best friend, and I was really jealous of their close friendship. I guess that's how my own friendship with this special friend evolved.
Just a few days of conversation and he was already picking on me the way a best friend would. I felt bad that I was stealing someone's best friend when I was supposed to patch them up, but up til now I've no regrets. Because he is an amazing person.
I'd always known about how he really liked all things Science. I tried to make our conversations revolve around such topics, asked him some questions to get him talking. It was a great way to get him talking, and I really liked listening to him go on about what he really liked.
Time passed and our conversations became more random and sillier, talking about all kinds of shit, especially when his best friend was neglecting me. It was nice talking to this friend, and listening to him; I really appreciated how we talked about anything without being afraid of getting judged of the other. And he did tell me he was grateful for the fact that I didn't judge him for anything he said.
September came. His best friend and I had our first breakup, which he had been involved in. Maybe we had gotten a little too much closer than we were supposed to.
Things between the faggot and I were fine again, and I was just randomly playing with his phone when I saw his best friend's texts to him. He mentioned how I was an annoying little prick and that he was thankful that "at least now I don't have to layan that girl anymore".
That really hurt me, I couldn't hide that. All along, I really thought he liked talking to me, that he was grateful to have me because no one else ever listened to him. He really said that, and I really thought that, but I guess I was wrong. I was so angry and from then on I called him nothing but a hypocrite.
One day in October he sent me a long text, explaining that he'd only been saying mean stuff about me so that the faggot wouldn't get the wrong idea about us. Kind of protecting our friendship. I tried to shun it and call it an excuse and remain angry at him, but a larger part of me decided to take it, forgive him, and revert our friendship back to before. Just not closer than the faggot would've liked.
We seldom hung out, but this friend and I developed a real special friendship there. I liked to think the three of us as a happy family, the faggot being the husband and this special friend as our son. Because that's how he was like; I liked how he would always whine to me, or tell me about his fears, or get angry at me when I was having pizza and he was not. He was like a spoilt brat, but a really loveable one. Like how your own son or daughter would be to you.
I was constantly asking him more and more questions about Science, and he was also one of the first few people I'd told I wanted to be an engineer. He talked to me about anything Science, from stars to pumping of blood to some carbon monoxide shit. Because I asked.
And the time this friend and I went town together, as a replacement for the faggot who backed out last minute. How we hunted for the perfect pair of shoes for him, because he had mentioned wanting new shoes, for such a long time, and I was so hell bent on getting those for him.
Once, he mentioned that I was closer to him than his own best friend was, and that I knew him better than he did. I felt terrible for that, I was betraying the faggot, I was making his best friend betray him; but it was nice to know that I meant something to someone.
Every time I had problems with the faggot, I'd try talking to this friend first, because he was after all the one who knows him the best. Sure, most of the time when I'm being sad to him, his response would be annoying, the jokes coming at the absolutely wrong timing.
I'm not sure when he said this, but I remember so fucking clearly how he once said: "If he ever left you, for real, without ever coming back, I promise I'll be the first person to lend you a shoulder to cry on."
I'm not sure if he remembers this, or was it really said in this one simple sentence, maybe it was lines exchanged between us, but hey guess what. He kept the promise. He kept it, he listened to me whine last Monday, he stroked my hair and held me while I cried, he struggled bringing me back to the MRT station while I was tipsy as hell.
That's why, along with this incident, you keeping your promise, I believe you're a good guy. You were an awesome good friend to me, and I know for a fact that you're gonna go further than your best friend, despite having the least experience in love among your group of friends.
I can tell, that when you find someone, you're gonna be a fucking prince who treats her like she's the only person in your eyes. I may not know you before, I may not know you like how your other classmates do, but fuck it I know a good guy when I see one. I'd like to believe that whatever you've told me, your fears and your dreams, are true and sincere, and you mean every fucking thing you've ever said to me, and for that,... I really believe you're gonna be awesome in love someday.
Honestly, a part of me wishes that I can be that girl. It's a tiny crush that I've gotten since that night with you, after my break-up. When I realised how pretty your brown eyes were, and that little fang at the side of your mouth when it's open ajar. You're really handsome you know that, and you're such a loveable character on the inside too. As much as I wish it'd be me, I hope you find someone soon. Someone who loves you as much as you love her, like how you told me you'd wanted.
You don't have to return me the money for your shoes. You deserve to keep the money more than I do, and just take it as a thank you from me. Because, well, thank you. For being a really good friend, for being there when I needed cheering up, for being annoying and making me angry, for being my only hope in moving on.
P.s. a side note: the thing in September makes me realise that he may or may not still be a hypocrite, he may be still bad-mouthing me to the faggot and their other classmates, I don't know, but I'd like to believe not.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
I deserve being held like this
I'm not sure where to start this story from. The wee hours of yesterday? The first day of the year? Or back to October?
If I start this story from the wee hours of yesterday, you'll know that he had just texted me at 1 in the morning, saying we can't meet or go out anymore, but we can still be together and just text. I saw no point of that, so I ignored him; but the very next morning, 6 hours later, I had to tell him, Please take back whatever you said last night back. All he could say was I was serious about that.
If I start this story from the first day of the year, you'll know that I had not been a bitch to him those days, and before that even, and that I did not do anything wrong and I do not deserve this.
If I start this story from back in October, you'll know that he had suddenly told me, "I think I'm in love with you." "What do you mean?", I had asked; and he had answered, that he had just fallen in love with me and that the whole time before since January, he never had any feelings like that for me. And if I continue the story from this point, you'll know that his most recent reason of dumping me was "I don't have feelings for you anymore." If this does not make him the asshole of this story I don't know what does.
He said we were meeting for the last time. I did not get what that meant, but I had hoped I could make him change his mind. I tried to write a letter, but I had lost that skill. My handwriting was in shambles, and I did not know what I was saying so I tossed it aside.
I went up to him with a frown on his face. I did not deserve that. He brought me somewhere we could talk, and once we were seated I just lashed out whatever was on my mind. I did not tell him the story about Kate and James, which would have been a good argument on my side.
I hated how he got up when I wasn't finished talking. I'm not sure when, but at one point when he told me to accept his decision, it was all I could do not to wail. I interlocked his arm with both of mine and kept wailing, "Don't leave, just stay."
"You're making a scene," he said, but I was not. "You're making things difficult for me," but I was not. He was.
"I don't deserve this," I said.
"Nobody does."
I did not understand.
And I still did not understand when he just said he had "lost his feelings" for me. I thought I did my best to make him happy and listen to him and to not pull him further from God anymore. I thought I gave him space and checked on him sometimes and not be a bitch when he made me upset, I thought I did everything I could, why would he suddenly say that?
It was all I could do to persuade him I'll try harder, harder than I ever had if he weren't pleased with my efforts. I was trying not to cry but that was an absolute failure, like my persuasions were. I had to take his bag from him and not return it before he totally snapped.
"Then what the hell did you save me for, what the hell did you make me stop all my habits for?"
"I cleaned you up for someone else to have you, okay?" his voice was raised, but he lowered it in his next sentence. "You deserve someone else, you're so pretty who wouldn't want you?"
"It'll take me long to have someone accept the way I am on the inside, like you did! And I don't want anyone else, I want you!"
"You don't have a choice," he muttered.
"When have I ever had a choice?" was all I could say, because it was true: he never let me have a say in his decisions that involved us, and even with my parents, I never had a choice.
"You are making things hard for me," he kept saying, which I could only answer with "Then just say you'll stay and I won't make it hard for you." I was getting frustrated by the minute, and it was slowly evolving into anger. What happened to the things I had told him? About how you gotta think of what you've ever done for me and vice versa, you can't let that all go to waste.
It was so unfair. So many times, I'd thought of giving up but I'd always given him the chances I thought he deserved, because it was not all about me, it was all about us. What happened to the promises we made? He said he would only stay if he was sure I would, and I definitely did. He was being so unfair, I did not deserve it!
I did not deserve it at all.
When he was gone, I didn't know what to do. I wanted a drink, and I wanted something strong enough to make me forget everything for a while, but I was scared because nobody would take care of me. The despicable side of me told me to call his best friend; so I did. I rang Luke up. I tried to tell him what happened but my voice just went into shambles; he just told me to come to Marsiling.
So many places here with memories already. It's gonna be hard for me to travel now, especially in the North, because of the asshole of this story.
I kept repeating to myself: "I don't deserve this."
The clinking sound of the glass bottles in my plastic bag was the only sound accompanying me, as I walked through this tiny field in front of 402, where Luke was waiting. I saw him from afar with his hand raised, so high in the air. I gave a small wave in return.
"What the hell happened?" was the first thing he asked, and I tried not to cry. I said: "He dumped me." "Again?" Luke had to say, but he was right. "It's serious this time." I mumbled.
We sat down on these little benches under a hut, and I tried to say what happened. I told him about what happened between us before, while taking sips of my alcohol; he kept quiet when I was done, but he eventually said, "I'm sorry to say this, but I knew this all along. He did tell me about it, how he had already lost his interest in you for so long now."
All I could say: "I don't deserve this."
All Luke could say, exactly what his best friend said: "Nobody does."
I still did not understand.
Luke said: "It's the way he is. He's super selfish. He just wanted you because what?; you were pretty. He just wanted to show you off and shit. And as usual he loses interest and just dumps you."
"I thought I was special. He never had any of his crushes becoming his girlfriends before, he said that. Why would he do this?"
"He will always be him, he will always put aside girls he doesn't like anymore, after a period of time."
I finished my first bottle.
By this time, Luke and I were talking about other subjects, mainly crap. After a few false alarms of wanting to puke, I was done with my bottles. I tried to let out my feelings, I tried to laugh but there only came out tiny burps. Luke laughed and said I was cute. I just started to cry again because I didn't want him to call me cute.
It was all I could do not to cry. The world started spinning and I could just lower myself down til my head was in his lap. I buried my face in my hair and started groaning, which slowly became wails, and then loud Banshee bawls [as he would call it], calling out the asshole of this story's name.
One of his arms wrapped around me, while he used his other hand to stroke my hair. He tried to coax me, with his shushes, while I kept bawling, occasionally saying his best friend's name. The gesture of comfort from Luke just made me cry harder, I deserved being held like that, but I kept mumbling: "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve this."
"Nobody does."
And I just cried harder.
I'm not sure how long we stayed that way, but it was getting late; I could barely get up, my head was throbbing so bad. Luke held out his hand for me, and I held onto it for whatever support I could have. His fingers interlocked with mine and that just made me want to cry some more.
I tried to walk, but I remember seeing messy shots of the floor; I was walking here, and then I was walking there. I was walking forwards, and then I was walking back. My bag slipped off my shoulder, and Luke tried his damndest to help me carry my backpack by both straps so it wouldn't keep falling.
He was the best support ever, I know because I remember everything. Maybe because my tipsy behaviour this time was the worst ever. I felt like I was dancing instead of walking, forward, back, left, and right. I laughed a lot too. Gotta salute Luke for whatever patience he'd had for me.
I saw the ground, spinning, but I could hear what Luke was saying. "No, no, E'indah, this way... Stop going backwards E'indah, there you go..." His tone was so gentle and patient, I wouldn't have believed it was him. I wouldn't have believed the arm around me and the hand in mine were his either.
"I've never had 8.4 percent before!" I remember I kept saying. "My alcohol tolerance is so weak!!" and then I laughed, and Luke just had to keep me entertained.
Because of how I had observed traffic lights at a cross junction, I knew when the red man was turning green, so I tried to cross the street before it did, to show off. All Luke could do was grab me from behind and say, "No no E'indah, not yet kay.", even with that patient tone of his.
We crossed the road with his hand on my backpack, a tight grip, and I remembered how I had held him by his backpack like that when we were crossing roads.
I kept calling him by his best friend's name. This I remember, because when at one point I was about to say Luqman instead, I'd choked back the word and told myself No, this is not Luqman, this is the love of your life, things are okay now.
But you know what? I couldn't be fooled. If I had been drunk like that around 'Aamir, he would have just literally left me like that at the side of the road.
When I looked up I saw Luqman, and his face was so stressed out, I felt so bad for making him do this. Yet at the same time I was glad he was there and not anybody else, and I just, yeah. Cried harder.
If I start this story from the wee hours of yesterday, you'll know that he had just texted me at 1 in the morning, saying we can't meet or go out anymore, but we can still be together and just text. I saw no point of that, so I ignored him; but the very next morning, 6 hours later, I had to tell him, Please take back whatever you said last night back. All he could say was I was serious about that.
If I start this story from the first day of the year, you'll know that I had not been a bitch to him those days, and before that even, and that I did not do anything wrong and I do not deserve this.
If I start this story from back in October, you'll know that he had suddenly told me, "I think I'm in love with you." "What do you mean?", I had asked; and he had answered, that he had just fallen in love with me and that the whole time before since January, he never had any feelings like that for me. And if I continue the story from this point, you'll know that his most recent reason of dumping me was "I don't have feelings for you anymore." If this does not make him the asshole of this story I don't know what does.
____
I went up to him with a frown on his face. I did not deserve that. He brought me somewhere we could talk, and once we were seated I just lashed out whatever was on my mind. I did not tell him the story about Kate and James, which would have been a good argument on my side.
I hated how he got up when I wasn't finished talking. I'm not sure when, but at one point when he told me to accept his decision, it was all I could do not to wail. I interlocked his arm with both of mine and kept wailing, "Don't leave, just stay."
"You're making a scene," he said, but I was not. "You're making things difficult for me," but I was not. He was.
"I don't deserve this," I said.
"Nobody does."
I did not understand.
And I still did not understand when he just said he had "lost his feelings" for me. I thought I did my best to make him happy and listen to him and to not pull him further from God anymore. I thought I gave him space and checked on him sometimes and not be a bitch when he made me upset, I thought I did everything I could, why would he suddenly say that?
It was all I could do to persuade him I'll try harder, harder than I ever had if he weren't pleased with my efforts. I was trying not to cry but that was an absolute failure, like my persuasions were. I had to take his bag from him and not return it before he totally snapped.
"Then what the hell did you save me for, what the hell did you make me stop all my habits for?"
"I cleaned you up for someone else to have you, okay?" his voice was raised, but he lowered it in his next sentence. "You deserve someone else, you're so pretty who wouldn't want you?"
"It'll take me long to have someone accept the way I am on the inside, like you did! And I don't want anyone else, I want you!"
"You don't have a choice," he muttered.
"When have I ever had a choice?" was all I could say, because it was true: he never let me have a say in his decisions that involved us, and even with my parents, I never had a choice.
"You are making things hard for me," he kept saying, which I could only answer with "Then just say you'll stay and I won't make it hard for you." I was getting frustrated by the minute, and it was slowly evolving into anger. What happened to the things I had told him? About how you gotta think of what you've ever done for me and vice versa, you can't let that all go to waste.
It was so unfair. So many times, I'd thought of giving up but I'd always given him the chances I thought he deserved, because it was not all about me, it was all about us. What happened to the promises we made? He said he would only stay if he was sure I would, and I definitely did. He was being so unfair, I did not deserve it!
I did not deserve it at all.
When he was gone, I didn't know what to do. I wanted a drink, and I wanted something strong enough to make me forget everything for a while, but I was scared because nobody would take care of me. The despicable side of me told me to call his best friend; so I did. I rang Luke up. I tried to tell him what happened but my voice just went into shambles; he just told me to come to Marsiling.
____
I kept repeating to myself: "I don't deserve this."
The clinking sound of the glass bottles in my plastic bag was the only sound accompanying me, as I walked through this tiny field in front of 402, where Luke was waiting. I saw him from afar with his hand raised, so high in the air. I gave a small wave in return.
"What the hell happened?" was the first thing he asked, and I tried not to cry. I said: "He dumped me." "Again?" Luke had to say, but he was right. "It's serious this time." I mumbled.
We sat down on these little benches under a hut, and I tried to say what happened. I told him about what happened between us before, while taking sips of my alcohol; he kept quiet when I was done, but he eventually said, "I'm sorry to say this, but I knew this all along. He did tell me about it, how he had already lost his interest in you for so long now."
All I could say: "I don't deserve this."
All Luke could say, exactly what his best friend said: "Nobody does."
I still did not understand.
Luke said: "It's the way he is. He's super selfish. He just wanted you because what?; you were pretty. He just wanted to show you off and shit. And as usual he loses interest and just dumps you."
"I thought I was special. He never had any of his crushes becoming his girlfriends before, he said that. Why would he do this?"
"He will always be him, he will always put aside girls he doesn't like anymore, after a period of time."
I finished my first bottle.
By this time, Luke and I were talking about other subjects, mainly crap. After a few false alarms of wanting to puke, I was done with my bottles. I tried to let out my feelings, I tried to laugh but there only came out tiny burps. Luke laughed and said I was cute. I just started to cry again because I didn't want him to call me cute.
It was all I could do not to cry. The world started spinning and I could just lower myself down til my head was in his lap. I buried my face in my hair and started groaning, which slowly became wails, and then loud Banshee bawls [as he would call it], calling out the asshole of this story's name.
One of his arms wrapped around me, while he used his other hand to stroke my hair. He tried to coax me, with his shushes, while I kept bawling, occasionally saying his best friend's name. The gesture of comfort from Luke just made me cry harder, I deserved being held like that, but I kept mumbling: "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve this."
"Nobody does."
And I just cried harder.
____
I tried to walk, but I remember seeing messy shots of the floor; I was walking here, and then I was walking there. I was walking forwards, and then I was walking back. My bag slipped off my shoulder, and Luke tried his damndest to help me carry my backpack by both straps so it wouldn't keep falling.
He was the best support ever, I know because I remember everything. Maybe because my tipsy behaviour this time was the worst ever. I felt like I was dancing instead of walking, forward, back, left, and right. I laughed a lot too. Gotta salute Luke for whatever patience he'd had for me.
I saw the ground, spinning, but I could hear what Luke was saying. "No, no, E'indah, this way... Stop going backwards E'indah, there you go..." His tone was so gentle and patient, I wouldn't have believed it was him. I wouldn't have believed the arm around me and the hand in mine were his either.
"I've never had 8.4 percent before!" I remember I kept saying. "My alcohol tolerance is so weak!!" and then I laughed, and Luke just had to keep me entertained.
Because of how I had observed traffic lights at a cross junction, I knew when the red man was turning green, so I tried to cross the street before it did, to show off. All Luke could do was grab me from behind and say, "No no E'indah, not yet kay.", even with that patient tone of his.
We crossed the road with his hand on my backpack, a tight grip, and I remembered how I had held him by his backpack like that when we were crossing roads.
I kept calling him by his best friend's name. This I remember, because when at one point I was about to say Luqman instead, I'd choked back the word and told myself No, this is not Luqman, this is the love of your life, things are okay now.
But you know what? I couldn't be fooled. If I had been drunk like that around 'Aamir, he would have just literally left me like that at the side of the road.
When I looked up I saw Luqman, and his face was so stressed out, I felt so bad for making him do this. Yet at the same time I was glad he was there and not anybody else, and I just, yeah. Cried harder.
Saturday, January 04, 2014
Coolest trio ever with our knives and shit
It started off innocently. There I was, leaning against 'Aamir while he was drawn into his game. He and his best friend Luqman were engrossed with the PS4, while I sat between them watching. We were in the living room of my own home, as I spotted one of the cats laid down in front of the television.
Soon after 'Aamir and I had gone for a walk downstairs, pass a provision shop where people were gathered. Upon closer inspection we realised most of those people were boys my age, some a little older. No idea why they were gathered, we just moved along.
I'm not sure why, but those guys had caught sight of us and taken a certain unhappiness towards us, judging by the looks they gave. I didn't like it, so I quickly tried to get 'Aamir back home to where Luke was. He gave a slight frown at the direction of the guys but he followed me anyway.
However back home, we realised that there was also a group of boys raiding our home. We were greeted by five of them, probably one or two years older me, with knives in their hands. Luke was nowhere to be found. Of course the first instinct for me and 'Aamir was to get the fuck out of there.
We ran to the eighth floor of the flat, where there was this cement ground of space beside the staircase, sheltered by the floorings of the ninth storey. [you'd get it if you know the layout of my home's flat] We saw the lift coming, and we just suspected it to be the guys from before.
'Aamir told me to stay put and hide, so I did while he ran off. I peeked around the corner, saw that the lift had arrived at the floor and sure enough, it was those hooligans. They didn't notice me, but I saw some running up the stairs, while the rest, down.
When I was sure everything was clear, I ran back down all the way to my own home. It was like a game of block catching, only with knives and hell angry bastards.
After making sure none of them were in my home anymore, I went in to see that all my cats were still safe, though looking shocked. My neighbour crept up on me and told me he had called the police, but I'd had to wait if I needed them; and that way I had to sacrifice 'Aamir. I wasn't gonna do that, so I gave a frown and turned my back on the neighbour.
Back at home, I changed into a comfortable outfit; basically my usual of jeans and my thinnest sweater. I filled my sling bag with knives before hanging it over my shoulder, and slipped on my boots. I passed by the neighbour's house, and he stood in front of his door looking at me, shaking his head.
I checked my phone to see a bunch of missed calls from 'Aamir. There were too a few texts, telling me to hurry up and back him up. I tried calling him but he didn't answer; I took the lift back up to the eighth storey. Making sure no one was outside, I crept to the space beside the stairs, to see blood all over the floor.
I peeked over the railings, to see that some of the guys had gathered about three storeys down; another level which also had that space beside the stairs, where I could overlook from above. I threw knives, killing the three guys which had gathered there.
Done with that, I proceeded to the stairs to go one storey up. I heard something, and got a knife ready in case something jumped at me. I could hear whoever it was just around the corner, and I was prepared to slit his throat before he could have his chance.
I realised it was Luke. We both had knives pointed at the other, along with matching shocked faces. He frowned. "Where the hell is 'Aamir?" he demanded, without lowering his weapon one inch.
I didn't let my guard down either. "Ask yourself. For all we know you could have had something to do with those bastards."
Before I could blink, Luke shot a knife at my direction; he had taken out one of those guys who was creeping up on me. "Would I kill my ally?" he smirked.
"No." I frowned.
I received a call from 'Aamir, and picked up to know that he had ran off to the next block. "I don't see any of them, but I'm pretty sure some of them are still on my trail. There're loads of them..!" he cried.
Luke and I had our turn running to the next block, losing more of our knives on the way killing those people. We reunited with 'Aamir, and gave him a few more of what was left. "Who are those people?" was the first thing he demanded to know. We shrugged.
All three of us now, as we ran back to the block that was raided with the boys. We didn't know who they were, or what they wanted for us, but all we were aware of was that we had to kill them. Even if the only weapons we had were those knives.
We gathered at the fourth floor, the space that resembled a balcony, overlooked from the eighth floor and over the railings at the staircases of the other levels. We made sure we could be seen, yet unreachable by any of their weapons.
Sure enough, very soon the remainder of the gang appeared around us. The three of us stayed in a circle in the middle, keeping one another's backs covered.
When all the bastards [as we had called them] all laid around us blood-soaked and very much dead, the three of us turned to eye one another. We didn't rejoice in our victory; instead, at the same time we took out one last knife, the sharpest we had saved, and pointed at one another's eye; Luke at 'Aamir's, 'Aamir at mine, me at Luke's.
Yes, I am the type to get all kinds of dreams every single time I sleep. I don't know why or how, but I've always had no trouble at all remembering the dreams I had at night. And I'm glad I remember them, because they make great stories.
I thought this one was cool at first, but now that I've written it it just seems funny instead. The three of us being that cool, can you even imagine? It makes me laugh! I CAN'T. [and I swear to you I'm not that fit or good with knives in reality, so fuck me]
Soon after 'Aamir and I had gone for a walk downstairs, pass a provision shop where people were gathered. Upon closer inspection we realised most of those people were boys my age, some a little older. No idea why they were gathered, we just moved along.
I'm not sure why, but those guys had caught sight of us and taken a certain unhappiness towards us, judging by the looks they gave. I didn't like it, so I quickly tried to get 'Aamir back home to where Luke was. He gave a slight frown at the direction of the guys but he followed me anyway.
However back home, we realised that there was also a group of boys raiding our home. We were greeted by five of them, probably one or two years older me, with knives in their hands. Luke was nowhere to be found. Of course the first instinct for me and 'Aamir was to get the fuck out of there.
We ran to the eighth floor of the flat, where there was this cement ground of space beside the staircase, sheltered by the floorings of the ninth storey. [you'd get it if you know the layout of my home's flat] We saw the lift coming, and we just suspected it to be the guys from before.
'Aamir told me to stay put and hide, so I did while he ran off. I peeked around the corner, saw that the lift had arrived at the floor and sure enough, it was those hooligans. They didn't notice me, but I saw some running up the stairs, while the rest, down.
When I was sure everything was clear, I ran back down all the way to my own home. It was like a game of block catching, only with knives and hell angry bastards.
After making sure none of them were in my home anymore, I went in to see that all my cats were still safe, though looking shocked. My neighbour crept up on me and told me he had called the police, but I'd had to wait if I needed them; and that way I had to sacrifice 'Aamir. I wasn't gonna do that, so I gave a frown and turned my back on the neighbour.
Back at home, I changed into a comfortable outfit; basically my usual of jeans and my thinnest sweater. I filled my sling bag with knives before hanging it over my shoulder, and slipped on my boots. I passed by the neighbour's house, and he stood in front of his door looking at me, shaking his head.
I checked my phone to see a bunch of missed calls from 'Aamir. There were too a few texts, telling me to hurry up and back him up. I tried calling him but he didn't answer; I took the lift back up to the eighth storey. Making sure no one was outside, I crept to the space beside the stairs, to see blood all over the floor.
I peeked over the railings, to see that some of the guys had gathered about three storeys down; another level which also had that space beside the stairs, where I could overlook from above. I threw knives, killing the three guys which had gathered there.
Done with that, I proceeded to the stairs to go one storey up. I heard something, and got a knife ready in case something jumped at me. I could hear whoever it was just around the corner, and I was prepared to slit his throat before he could have his chance.
I realised it was Luke. We both had knives pointed at the other, along with matching shocked faces. He frowned. "Where the hell is 'Aamir?" he demanded, without lowering his weapon one inch.
I didn't let my guard down either. "Ask yourself. For all we know you could have had something to do with those bastards."
Before I could blink, Luke shot a knife at my direction; he had taken out one of those guys who was creeping up on me. "Would I kill my ally?" he smirked.
"No." I frowned.
I received a call from 'Aamir, and picked up to know that he had ran off to the next block. "I don't see any of them, but I'm pretty sure some of them are still on my trail. There're loads of them..!" he cried.
Luke and I had our turn running to the next block, losing more of our knives on the way killing those people. We reunited with 'Aamir, and gave him a few more of what was left. "Who are those people?" was the first thing he demanded to know. We shrugged.
All three of us now, as we ran back to the block that was raided with the boys. We didn't know who they were, or what they wanted for us, but all we were aware of was that we had to kill them. Even if the only weapons we had were those knives.
We gathered at the fourth floor, the space that resembled a balcony, overlooked from the eighth floor and over the railings at the staircases of the other levels. We made sure we could be seen, yet unreachable by any of their weapons.
Sure enough, very soon the remainder of the gang appeared around us. The three of us stayed in a circle in the middle, keeping one another's backs covered.
When all the bastards [as we had called them] all laid around us blood-soaked and very much dead, the three of us turned to eye one another. We didn't rejoice in our victory; instead, at the same time we took out one last knife, the sharpest we had saved, and pointed at one another's eye; Luke at 'Aamir's, 'Aamir at mine, me at Luke's.
And then I woke up.
I thought this one was cool at first, but now that I've written it it just seems funny instead. The three of us being that cool, can you even imagine? It makes me laugh! I CAN'T. [and I swear to you I'm not that fit or good with knives in reality, so fuck me]
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