To the valleys of yore.

Maybe it's sadness, maybe it's confusion. But sometimes you come to the realization of the various mistakes you made. Those mistakes you so difficultly tried to bury.


There is one particular thing I would like to change..but it's too late now.

Unpaid bills

The other day I dialled a number

Haven’t done so since forever

I hoped to hear your voice

But all I heard was the beeping noise.

I was disconnected

All my hopes fell ill fated.

I picked up the phone again

Just in case it was a slip

But I couldn’t dial again

I couldn’t bear the risk

Of hearing that beeping sound

Of being disconnected.

So instead I lay back in my dreams

Where possibilities were vast

And the oceans rough

Where deserts were calm

But the heat was real.

Where the icebergs never melted

But had edges that could cut through stone.

I lay there.

Waiting.

If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me

Or leave me all alone?

Moments of darkness.

Yesterday, I painfully drove home, every muscle of my being aching, entered y bedroom, and crashed into bed. No energy to even wash my face, I whimpered into my cold, unmade bed. I felt defeated, deflated, depressed, and pathetic. I wished I had someone to reach out to. Someone I cold tell who would care, and rush to my side. Someone who would hold my hand and coax me out of bed. But I have none of that. And that makes me sad.

An afternoon's pondering.

I had a large detergent bottle, and a paper bag full of recyclables. Normal stuff like contact lens solution bottles, small cardboard boxes, stuff like that. I was on my way to go grocery shopping so I thought I’d bring them down and put them near the dumpster in case any of those people who collect recyclables come. Out of the apartment, lock the door, wait for the elevator, ‘Ding’, and the doors slide open. A boy is inside. Sweaty, pudgy, and looking impatient. Probably going down to play with his friends. He looks at me. He presses the ‘close’ button several times. I told you he was impatient right?

He moves closer forward to the elevator doors, as if that would make him reach his destination just a bit faster. He looked at me up and down again. I stared at him right in the eyes. What d’you want, kid? Kid looks like he’s suppressing a smile. Like he’s thinking of something. Door opens. We step out. He goes forward, I turn backwards towards the dumpster. I hear him calling out to me.  Turn to look at him.

“Are you throwing that away?” he asks in a heavy accent, gesturing towards my detergent bottle.

“Yup”

“Can I have it?”

I hold it out to him. He peeks at the paper bag in my hand.

“Do you have anything else?”

“These are boxes. Do you want them?” I ask.

He eagerly nods. I hand them to him. He thanks me and trots away happily.

I hope you achieve great things, kid.

Before it's too late.

Sometimes your dreams feel so near, you can already reach them. Have they really been out of reach or are you the one keeping them out of reach?

I will get there someday.

What makes the news these days...

I saw in the news about this new invention: a robotic tail to be attached to a human being. Yup, don’t bother reading that again, you got it right the first time. A tail for a human. A human tail. Man-tail. It apparently is taking off and there’s a market for it. As in, it’s been able to find actual humans who buy it. Question is, who????

Ok, it’s (I guess) near October, so maybe people are buying it to complete their costumes; give it a “natural” wag to it…but then, the people who have been selling it must’ve been selling it for the past few months (at least) in order for them to report that “there was a market for the tails”. Is this something like the horse head fiasco where there was this ridiculous horse head mask that was being sold online and at first it was like a joke like “who would buy that?” but then suddenly surfaced like a gazillion photos of people who (probably have bought) were playing pranks and taking wedding shots with these horse head masks which is even more ridiculous because it was a ridiculous prop in the first place.

Well, if you can get how ridiculous the horse mask thing was, then you can imagine my horror when I saw this news about the tails. I mean, these were robotic tails, which, according to the news, could be wagged in different modes to display “moods” the way that animal tails do. Why might you want that? To attract chicks?  [In Johnny Bravo voice] Hey girl, check out what my tail’s sayin’ bout what I think of you...

But seriously, can you imagine people wearing these to actual dates and be like, swish swish all across the floors? And then it becomes this fashion thing where you wear your tail to display your mood the way that a long time ago people started to dress/make up according to how they feel. I’m sure somebody thought that was ridiculous when it started. But look at things today; it’s a perfect norm with people accepting it as a part of life.

Coming back to the tails, I just can’t help but to wonder, what if our human anatomy gets a signal of a need for tails…I mean, throughout evolution, the human anatomy had gone through several changes. Less hairiness, softer skin, refined features, all that came with how civilisation evolved and with it, the unnecessary body details. We don’t need as much hair because we mostly wear clothes and stay indoors to keep ourselves warm. We don’t need rough skin because we are not as susceptible to dangerous insect bites to render the need for a thick hide.

There’s this parody of how human bodies might grow an extra thumb to accommodate game consoles, one eyeball tilted upwards to accommodate a certain type of internet-enable glass. It’s not entirely dismissible that if our bodies felt that we were bringing forth a need for a tail, that it would then generate the necessary equipment. It would take several generations, and the apocalypse might happen before the evolution completes, but it is possible. Well, according to my logic, it is.

And can you believe all this madness just out of watching one (perhaps made up) piece of news.

Sunken.

She thought that it was time, that it was what was supposed to be done. It was like the universe had aligned to make it come true. Or so she thought.

She hurried, getting there was an agony of time. Parked her car, she trotted quickly, dazedly, looking at the signs up above her head trying to figure out where he could be. Her heart thumping, she couldn’t wait to see him. She looked up, and there he was.

He wasn’t alone.

He was looking up at the most dazzling creature you ever set eyes on, her eyes glistening as she spoke to him. He had never looked so happy in his life. Ill as he must have been, his eyes shone like the bright sun over a lush meadow. He was happy.

Return to the car, no tears could come. The grief was too great for any tears. You chose this. You chose this, she tells herself.

To err is human.

I believe that in order to move forward, you should make continuous changes to yourself. Whether its small things like your daily habits, how you dress, or bigger things like your moral standings. People shouldn’t be like Pokemon; staying stagnant for a while then suddenly “evolving” into something that looks drastically different with greatly different capabilities. Even the basic concept of the word “evolve” implies that it happens gradually. To constantly change is human. But then, there are parts of you that stay with you forever. That intangible essence that makes you the person that you are. It’s that untouchable, indescribable thing that makes you different from other people.

I hope I will always notice.

I hope I will always ponder.

I hope I will always learn.

I hope I will always be able to convey what I learn in such a way that it inspires others to learn as well.

But right now, in this weak moment, I pray that I will always have hope. For without it, the others just come crashing down.

Dementia setting in.

I want to pick up the phone, ask if you’re okay. Maybe hear your voice, ‘cause that would make my day. But I’m scared I’ll make a mistake, of thinking of you. I’ll be thinking day and night, I’d be telling myself that I’m losing my own fight. I feel like I’m going a bit crazy. Maybe it’s the solitude of my four walls; maybe it’s the pressure cooker, brewing on the other side of the plate. I feel anger rising where I though it had subsided, and I wonder if the hormones have collided.

Do what you're not supposed to do.

Laundry’s dry. Haul it from the drying rack into the bedroom. A hanger drops. Perhaps this is how hangers disappear. Like socks. They just seem to disappear without cause or reason. Devillish creatures. One hug-load of clean laundry plopped onto the bed. Sigh. It was a big hug-load this time. If it weren’t so big, a drape-load would’ve sufficed.

Grumble grumble. Uggh, now I’m hungry. [Looks at laundry gorgeously dumped onto the bed]. Trudge towards the kitchen in search of noms. Nom nom nom. Back into the bedroom. Has the laundry grown bigger? Hmm, now I’m sleepy. [Pushes laundry to one side of the bed]. Zzzz….

Breaking the cocoon.

Baby’s eyes look pleadingly up at Mama. He needs his Mama. He’s Papa’s boy but right now he needs his Mama.

“What am I going to do…? I don’t know what to do…” he pleads her.

Her heart breaks. She wants to hold him tight and kiss all his worries away. But it’s not her place. She knows he needs more than hugs and cuddles. He needs her wisdom. He needs her to give him the words that can unlock his very own wisdom. She knows; he has that wisdom. As childish as he may be, as baby-ish as he behaves, he has that wisdom that he needs. He can help himself up. All he needs is for Mama to give him the confidence to see his own strength.

She knows, coddling him and suffocating him with crutches and pillows won’t make him stronger. She can’t tell him what to do. He has to figure it out for himself. She also knows that whatever she imparts (or fails to impart) to him now is her final say. He’s going off. Away from her. Fly away my baby, be strong, be wise, be free, be happy. Mama loves you, boy. So does Papa.

Finding that escape.

I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough

I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we’re told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all

Snow Patrol, “Chasing Cars”

I don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t know what I should want. Right now, in this moment, I just pretty much want to be wanted. It’s a nice feeling, to be wanted. To feel like you mean something to someone. Like if you were gone it would matter to someone; not because they needed your money, or needed you to do stuff for them, but maybe just to lay together and forget the world for a moment.

Backtrack.

We love our bread,

We love our butter.

But most of all,

We love each other.

There are morsels of life that we love. Those little joys that we cherish oh so much. But what does it matter if there is no one to share those joys with. For that, we need each other. I need you, and you need me.

One final gift

Today, on this sad, depressing, unspecial day, I would like to beg you. I beg you to stop making me think of you. Yes, I am thankful for all you have given, all the love and attention, all the kindness and thought. But it’s all in the past now. You have nothing more for me. And constantly reminding me of that is just plain cruel. Reminding me constantly, even if it’s just with that one word “Hello”, that there is nothing more to look forward to between us, that is just cruel. I don’t envision myself having any more pointless friendships. And a relationship where only singular words are exchanged is nothing but a courtesy. A courtesy I do not wish to uphold.

I do not hate you. I do not have bad wishes for you. I have made peace with what has happened and I accept it as part of what has made me the person that I am today. I want to move forward with my life. If you can’t bring me there then set me free to find my own path. Let go of my hands and set me free. I cannot move forward if I am stuck thinking of the past, if I am stuck thinking of what could have been, what should have been, what failed to be. I am tired of the endless tug and pitfalls that I have been dragged through. I have no more strength to face this. And I face all of this alone.

I cannot beg your understanding. There is no way I could explain to you what it is that I want for I myself no longer know. All I know is that I do not want constant reminders of the cinders we left behind. I do not want to see the ashes of a flame that will no longer burn again. All I can do is, here, now, get down on my knees with my head bent down, and beg for you to walk away. Take away all our memories and lock it up in the attic for no one to see. I deserve at least that. I deserve to move on, even if it means always being alone. And in these forlorn four walls, I sit here with only one request: cut away all the strings and set me adrift.

I am not your responsibility. My happiness is up to me and me alone. Singular wishes will not help me. They make my day worse for they remind me of what I used to have. It reminds me of what I had given up. It reminds me of what I am no longer willing to fight for. Please, let me go. In my humblest, weakest point, I beg you to let me go. I have no more strength to fight. I have no more will to do so, either. Let me remain in these barren solid four walls where I won’t be disappointed by foolish hopes and dreams anymore.

I wish I could wave my white flag to show that I surrender. But I honestly have no more strength. Some days, I wish I could take one last trip to the beach, lay down on the sands and let the waves take me away. I want to go away. I have nothing more for me here. I spent all my life fighting for so much and now I have nothing except these four barren walls. And each time I am reminded that once upon a time I had plenty to fight for, it brings me down. Each time they ask of you and I have no answer, it broke me down. I failed. Not you. Not us. I just gave up, and therefore I failed.

I no longer want to fight. I no longer want to forgive, I no longer want to forget, I no longer want to feel, I no longer want a chance. I no longer want. I give up. There is nothing left to fight for because I give up. Whatever chance there could’ve been, whatever time could have healed, it doesn’t matter because I give up. And despite how lonely and depressed I am in these silent four walls, I don’t wish to give anything a try anymore. I don’t wish.

If you could remember how hard it was for me to ask for help, then understand what magnitude it is for me to ask you for this help right now. I ask you to take the dagger and strike it down. Kill whatever remnants of what we had and throw them away, burn them if you please. It will be painful, but not as cruel as those constant reminders of how nothing we are now. And make no mistake, we are nothing. Saying hello every once in a blue moon does not make it something, and to me it is only cruel. It doesn’t show me you care. It just shows me that you exist. In your world, you exist. Not mine. So go forth, thrive in that world you so cherish. Close this pathetic portal you keep open and erase all the evidence that it ever existed.

Don’t give me sad goodbyes because we are past that. We are separate people leading separate lives. You have no idea of how my days go and I have no idea of yours. Don’t give me un-subtle clues of how you stalk the spiders of my existence. Please, just go. We have nothing left between us and to dangle that in front of me endlessly by saying how you want to be friends; that is just cruel. Go forth, be happy. But there is no need to share that happiness with me because it was very clear that you wanted to make your own happiness; separate from me. You never made plans for our future because there never was any future. You would never admit that, but that is how you made me feel. Now every time I see clues of your existence I am reminded of that. So please, give me this final gift.

The old, haggard, and beat,

Sir Rant-A-Lot.

It's here.

Park the car, turn out the headlights.

Out the car, grab the briefcase.

Make sure the car’s locked.

Walk to the back door, unlock it.

Leave the keys on the counter.

The kitchen’s dark, only the outdoor lights illuminate the room.

No matter.

Open the fridge, there’s bottled water, an apple, and some cheese.

Close the fridge.

Grab briefcase and handbag.

Trudge upstairs.

Put the bags at the edge of the bed.

Sit down at the dressing table.

Take off each earring

Take a deep breath.

Remove all the make up.

Undress and reach for the bath robe.

Turn on the heater for a shower.

Feel the warmth of the covers.

Curl up with a book in the dim bedroom lights.

Goodnight.

Wrath

                Sometimes you feel angry. Frustrated. You feel like tearing down walls and hurting anything and everything in your path. Destroy them because you can’t destroy yourself. Or maybe you can. Maybe it just hurts less to tear yourself, slice off bits and pieces of your own flesh, and maybe it won’t hurt as much as all the anger you have pent up inside. You can’t hurt them; you can’t make them suffer the anguish they make you feel so you suffer it yourself. And you hate them for it. You hate every single one of them for it. But there’s nothing you can do. So you hurt yourself instead, because somehow, it hurts just a little less that way.