I'm Still Alive but Barely Breathing
20111006 @ Thursday, October 06, 2011
“My universe will never same,
I’m glad you came”
The Lark Ascending wasn’t such an illogical piece to be played at
his funeral. It was one of his favorites.
I didn’t want it to be played. I could not bear the thought of
losing all those mental pictures of him and all those memories and remembering The
Lark Ascending only as music from his funeral. There was a part of the piece,
the first part. It was a heartbreaking beautiful solo; it was the musical
ascent of the lark, haunted and lonely, before the verdant tones of the other
instruments joined in. Even more than losing the imagery of graceful dancers, I
couldn’t bear to have him leave in the company of that violin.
Victor chose to use The Lark Ascending, and as I feared, he chose
the violin solo. The man who played it, I had never met before. He stood in
front of all of us and coaxed the music from the violin very slowly, his eyes
closed. He was tall and muscular and looked foreign to me. With a lover’s touch
he drew the notes from the instrument; the thin sound became achingly sad. I
expected to cry then. Rynn, Alexis, Den, Mel and the rest of them were crying.
But I sat, separate and dry eyed and desperately lonesome for him. He left me
here and went away.
He tended to be very vocal about a few
things, and it made you believe he was saying a lot, which I suspect was what
he wanted. But in fact, I think most of his thoughts, he kept to himself.
The worst part for me
was discovering the casket was open. No one told me it would be, and I was
repulsed by the sight of it. Why would people want to look at him when he was
dead? Besides, it didn’t even look like him. It looked like one of those
figures in a wax museum, exceptionally life-like, but sterile and inanimate,
nonetheless. His love kissed him on the lips and placed a rose beside him. I
didn’t touch him.
When we returned to the
studio, I got out of the car, went into the studio, straight through it and out
the back door into the small yard. I walked to the other end of the backyard,
to the fence beside the lilac bushes that marked the end of the property. I had
no reason in mind for going there other than to escape the others. I wanted to
be alone. There weren’t many places around the studio to do so. I was still
dressed up, teetering uncertainly in a new suit.
There wasn’t much to
look at from where I was standing, just the chain-link fence, the alley and the
father studios on the other side. Distantly, between the father studios I could
see the plains encroaching, their emptiness never quite arrested, even in the
city. Easing out of my sneakers, I stood barefooted and felt the damp coolness
of grass on the soles of my feet. The air was heady with the smell of lilac and
a slight scent of cologne. Time passed and I remained fingering the chain-link
fence.
“Micky, aren’t you coming in?” It was Rynn.
I shook my head.
“I know how hard it must be for you”
“Please, just leave me alone”
I could hear him standing there, although he was doing no more
than standing. I didn’t turn to look at him.
“It’s no one’s fault, what happened” he said breaking the silence.
I did not answer.
“It’s easy to want to blame someone, something or yourself when a
truly terrible thing happens. That’s natural. But you shouldn’t do it. This is
devastating for you and also for all of us. Don’t make it worse for yourself.
Absently, I ran my hand back and forth along the cool metal in the
fence.
“I know you cared for
him dearly. We all did. You most of all. I know he had a difficult past, and
that made him a rather more complicated person.”
“I don’t need you to tell me about him, Rynn. I know all about
him. I don’t need you to tell me”
“Someone needs to, Micky” he said reaching out to touch my
shoulder. I jerked away.
“This isn’t your fault. I don’t want to see you blame yourself for
it, because you weren’t responsible for any of it. If you are to be blamed,
it’s for loving someone a little more imperfect than the rest of us.”
-
I shut myself in my room. After changing my clothes, I took out
the book I had been reading, curled up on my bed and opened it. It was a great
book. It must have been, because I found it so engrossing.
Den came to my door to
say that dinner was ready. I told him I didn’t want any, and that I wasn’t
coming down. Sometime, late night Den came up again. He didn’t bother to knock
this time; he simply let himself in and closed the door behind him. Crossing
the room, he grabbed the chair from my desk, put it alongside the bed and sat
down.
“Somehow,” he said, “I get the feeling you’re awfully upset with
me”.
“Not especially”
I continued to read.
“This is a difficult time for all of us”
Not only was I able to continue but I was able to concentrate on
the gist of the story.
“This has been nearly unbearable”
It was as if he weren’t there.
“This just isn’t the time for you to do this to me, Mi”
“I’m not doing anything” I said and kept reading.
For several seconds he watched me. I could feel him watching me.
Then he leaned over and put his hand across the page of the book. I looked up.
He was only inches away from my face.
“If you really want to know” I said “I do blame it on myself, the
others and you. We could’ve stopped him. If we really wanted to, we could have.
If we did, he wouldn’t be dead right now”
He flinched. Not in his body, but in his eyes. His pupils
contracted the dilated again. He shook his head.
“Den, we could have.”
“No.”
“I could have, Den. I could have, if I really tried”
He looked down.
“I know he was scarred badly, from all the things that happened in
his past. But I could have, we could have helped him get over that. If you love
somebody, sometimes you have to help them through things even though they don’t
want help. Anything would have been better than what happened. I could have
done something.” Slowly tears began to puddle at the corners of my eyes.
“Mi, you couldn’t ever have made him do what he didn’t want to do.
Never. No one could.”
“I could have at least tried!” I said as tears slowly began to
stream down my face.
Silence fell between us.
The guilt slowly killing me with each and
every breathe that I take.
Labels: The Author Within
A Thin Line
Thursday, October 06, 2011
“They say the worse things in life come free to
us”
2nd
day of PMR. I’ve been banned from the use of the internet, so I have no idea
when this post is going to be posted up.
“All around me are familiar faces, worn out
places,
Bright and early for the daily races,
going nowhere.
I find it kind of funny; I find it kind of sad,
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve
ever had,
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to
take,
When people run in circles,
It’s a very,
Mad world.”
Ever wonder how many
times you’ve been lied to? Ever counted how many times you’ve lied to others?
Lies hurt, I know. Yet
the circle never stops. You lie, you get lied to, you lie, you get lied to… it
just never ends.
You know what sucks?
When someone feels
hurt after being lied to, and stops talking to the ‘liar’ without ever thinking
how many times he’s lied to her.
Lying is forgivable;
it’s not something that’s impossible to forgive. The hardest part of forgiving
a ‘liar’ is when you find out that there was no legit reason behind hiding the
now uncovered truth.
I admit I have lied. I
have been lied to. Yet, life still goes on.
The one thing that
everyone has in common is the “I’m OK” lie. We’ve all said it.
I am a liar. I have
the guts to admit it. Do you?
-
I found that people
will question you on the big decisions you make in life, as though you hadn’t
thought about it all before, as though, through their 20 questions and many
dubious faces, they’re going to shine light on something that you missed the
first time or hundredth time round during your darkest hours.
They mean well, but to
me I find it rather pathetic. There are people who ask those 20 so questions
out of curiosity and care without crossing the line. But then there is always
the opposite.
-
One thing I realized
as PMR draws nearer was the fact that although almost every Form 3 across
Malaysia panics a little, most of them have already started planning what
they’re going to do after the examination. I find it rather odd.
Human behavior never
seizes to amaze me.
-
Anyway, lately I’ve
been catching up with some friends; Sie Mone, Benroy, and Julius.
It’s nice y’know
although sometimes it is quite sad having to ‘catch up’. To me, catching up
means I haven’t spent time with …whoever. I don’t like doing that. -.-
Julius told me that he
never quite seemed to be able to figure me out. I didn’t respond cause I wasn’t
sure whether that was a compliment or not. Then he went on to say that I was a
very complicated person. He even gave an example;
The
fact that I don’t expect much from someone makes that someone expect more from
his or herself.
My
reaction to it was “What crap are you crapping boy?”
Then
he continued with his little “Maria Monash is a very complicated person”
speech. I wasn’t listening half the time but I got the main idea of the entire
speech. He also stated that although I’m very open about my life, he feels that
I don’t tell him things, the things that I feel and how I am. He said that I
practically know his entire life yet the only things he and many others know
about me are the ‘tragedies’ that happen.
Other
than that, he stated that he finds it hard to have a one on one conversation
with me sometimes because he doesn’t know what to say and that my eyes always
seemed very dark to him.
Very
dark, metaphorically speaking.
Apparently,
to him I’m complicated.
Apparently to a lot of
people, I seem like a complicated person.
Even Phones Need To Be Destroyed
20111004 @ Tuesday, October 04, 2011
Ways to destroy a phone:
Drop it in a vat of nuclear waste.
Drop in a volcano.
Drop in toilet.
Drop in liquid of any kind.
Throw at ground.
Throw at wall.
Throw at particularly hard-headed person.
Smash with baseball bat.
Electrocute it.
Smash with cricket bat.
Throw onto train tracks.
Throw onto road.
Feed to dog.
Disembowel phone (pull apart).
Smash with hammer.
Smash with brick.
Smash with another slightly bigger phone.
Drop in vat of dry-ice.
Feed to elephant.
Plant small bomb inside and detonate it.
……………………………………………………………………………………….*This list was compiled on a day that our housephone continued to ring, thus disrupting the internet, over and over again.
Every Moment
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
And what if you knew each time you left them, that this could very well be the last time? Every parting could be the last. "What if today is the day we get ripped apart?" How do you cope, having this sickening fear that today is your last day together, what if they die while you're out? You would stop wasting your time fighting. Anger would spark up, and then quickly dissipate with a sadness and a fear to drown it out. Oh god, that raging sea of fear.
You overcome that fear with desire. Every moment means so much more. Everything counts. That last look, that trailing of fingertips across the skin. The way they set down their tea cup. Hearing the sound of their footsteps echoing down a hallway. You pretend that you have all the time in the world, while being painfully aware that you don't. Curling up on the couch together means more than going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. Commit every sound/smell/feeling to memory. Keep it forever. Hold them with all your heart for as long as you can. Don't miss a second.
Labels: The Author Within
Dear You
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
I love your laugh. It has such a lazy "It's sunday morning, and I was sleeping in, and you just woke me up" quality to it. I want to put it in a bottle, and store it somewhere inside me, labeled "Things that make me feel good." Because I probably won't get to keep the rest of you. I won't get a single piece of you, so at least let me keep this memory of that laugh. I'll store it next to the way a previous other smiled at me. And the look in the eyes of that stranger that walked past me once. Amongst the millions of good memories, I keep a particular shelf for the ones that seem to actually notice I'm not invisible. I love that laugh. I'd love to have the chance to love the rest of you, but for now, this is all I want.
Me.
Labels: I Wrote This For You
The Lights We Once Were
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
There is no pain.
Just atoms becoming humans and picnics, lovers and stars. And then something else. And sometimes it feels like if the wind blew too hard, it'd take us all with it. You don't have to close your eyes. There is no pain. Just atoms becoming the blood that pumps through your heart and the knot in your throat, the clouds above us and air inside your lungs. There's nothing to cry about. There is no pain. Just the light from distant suns and flocks of birds. The sensation of time passing. Waves against the sky. Those shudders than run through your body, aren't there. Your nose isn't blocked. There is no pain.
Labels: I Wrote This For You
The Cosmic Joke
20111002 @ Sunday, October 02, 2011
And yet, of all these things, we feel sadness the most. We are
never buoyed upon an ocean of apathy. We are never crushed by
complacency. We are never moved by the okayness of the world.
Sadness
and pain, to help us flee danger and hurt. To help us get away when
we're bleeding. You have a body and it screams "Something stirs like
broken glass in my chest, leave this place, before I die."
An animal part of us, still here after all these years, breaks our hearts.
Labels: I Wrote This For You
A Thought
20110921 @ Wednesday, September 21, 2011
And what if you knew each time you left them, that this could very well be the last time? Every parting could be the last. "What if today is the day we get ripped apart?" How do you cope, having this sickening fear that today is your last day together, what if they die while you're out? You would stop wasting your time fighting. Anger would spark up, and then quickly dissipate with a sadness and a fear to drown it out. Oh god, that raging sea of fear.
You overcome that fear with desire. Every moment means so much more. Everything counts. That last look, that trailing of fingertips across the skin. The way they set down their tea cup. Hearing the sound of their footsteps echoing down a hallway. You pretend that you have all the time in the world, while being painfully aware that you don't. Curling up on the couch together means more than going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. Commit every sound/smell/feeling to memory. Keep it forever. Hold them with all your heart for as long as you can. Don't miss a second.
I'm Still Alive but Barely Breathing
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
“My universe will never same,
I’m glad you came”
The Lark Ascending wasn’t such an illogical piece to be played at
his funeral. It was one of his favorites.
I didn’t want it to be played. I could not bear the thought of
losing all those mental pictures of him and all those memories and remembering The
Lark Ascending only as music from his funeral. There was a part of the piece,
the first part. It was a heartbreaking beautiful solo; it was the musical
ascent of the lark, haunted and lonely, before the verdant tones of the other
instruments joined in. Even more than losing the imagery of graceful dancers, I
couldn’t bear to have him leave in the company of that violin.
Victor chose to use The Lark Ascending, and as I feared, he chose
the violin solo. The man who played it, I had never met before. He stood in
front of all of us and coaxed the music from the violin very slowly, his eyes
closed. He was tall and muscular and looked foreign to me. With a lover’s touch
he drew the notes from the instrument; the thin sound became achingly sad. I
expected to cry then. Rynn, Alexis, Den, Mel and the rest of them were crying.
But I sat, separate and dry eyed and desperately lonesome for him. He left me
here and went away.
He tended to be very vocal about a few
things, and it made you believe he was saying a lot, which I suspect was what
he wanted. But in fact, I think most of his thoughts, he kept to himself.
The worst part for me
was discovering the casket was open. No one told me it would be, and I was
repulsed by the sight of it. Why would people want to look at him when he was
dead? Besides, it didn’t even look like him. It looked like one of those
figures in a wax museum, exceptionally life-like, but sterile and inanimate,
nonetheless. His love kissed him on the lips and placed a rose beside him. I
didn’t touch him.
When we returned to the
studio, I got out of the car, went into the studio, straight through it and out
the back door into the small yard. I walked to the other end of the backyard,
to the fence beside the lilac bushes that marked the end of the property. I had
no reason in mind for going there other than to escape the others. I wanted to
be alone. There weren’t many places around the studio to do so. I was still
dressed up, teetering uncertainly in a new suit.
There wasn’t much to
look at from where I was standing, just the chain-link fence, the alley and the
father studios on the other side. Distantly, between the father studios I could
see the plains encroaching, their emptiness never quite arrested, even in the
city. Easing out of my sneakers, I stood barefooted and felt the damp coolness
of grass on the soles of my feet. The air was heady with the smell of lilac and
a slight scent of cologne. Time passed and I remained fingering the chain-link
fence.
“Micky, aren’t you coming in?” It was Rynn.
I shook my head.
“I know how hard it must be for you”
“Please, just leave me alone”
I could hear him standing there, although he was doing no more
than standing. I didn’t turn to look at him.
“It’s no one’s fault, what happened” he said breaking the silence.
I did not answer.
“It’s easy to want to blame someone, something or yourself when a
truly terrible thing happens. That’s natural. But you shouldn’t do it. This is
devastating for you and also for all of us. Don’t make it worse for yourself.
Absently, I ran my hand back and forth along the cool metal in the
fence.
“I know you cared for
him dearly. We all did. You most of all. I know he had a difficult past, and
that made him a rather more complicated person.”
“I don’t need you to tell me about him, Rynn. I know all about
him. I don’t need you to tell me”
“Someone needs to, Micky” he said reaching out to touch my
shoulder. I jerked away.
“This isn’t your fault. I don’t want to see you blame yourself for
it, because you weren’t responsible for any of it. If you are to be blamed,
it’s for loving someone a little more imperfect than the rest of us.”
-
I shut myself in my room. After changing my clothes, I took out
the book I had been reading, curled up on my bed and opened it. It was a great
book. It must have been, because I found it so engrossing.
Den came to my door to
say that dinner was ready. I told him I didn’t want any, and that I wasn’t
coming down. Sometime, late night Den came up again. He didn’t bother to knock
this time; he simply let himself in and closed the door behind him. Crossing
the room, he grabbed the chair from my desk, put it alongside the bed and sat
down.
“Somehow,” he said, “I get the feeling you’re awfully upset with
me”.
“Not especially”
I continued to read.
“This is a difficult time for all of us”
Not only was I able to continue but I was able to concentrate on
the gist of the story.
“This has been nearly unbearable”
It was as if he weren’t there.
“This just isn’t the time for you to do this to me, Mi”
“I’m not doing anything” I said and kept reading.
For several seconds he watched me. I could feel him watching me.
Then he leaned over and put his hand across the page of the book. I looked up.
He was only inches away from my face.
“If you really want to know” I said “I do blame it on myself, the
others and you. We could’ve stopped him. If we really wanted to, we could have.
If we did, he wouldn’t be dead right now”
He flinched. Not in his body, but in his eyes. His pupils
contracted the dilated again. He shook his head.
“Den, we could have.”
“No.”
“I could have, Den. I could have, if I really tried”
He looked down.
“I know he was scarred badly, from all the things that happened in
his past. But I could have, we could have helped him get over that. If you love
somebody, sometimes you have to help them through things even though they don’t
want help. Anything would have been better than what happened. I could have
done something.” Slowly tears began to puddle at the corners of my eyes.
“Mi, you couldn’t ever have made him do what he didn’t want to do.
Never. No one could.”
“I could have at least tried!” I said as tears slowly began to
stream down my face.
Silence fell between us.
The guilt slowly killing me with each and
every breathe that I take.
Questions Remain
20110918 @ Sunday, September 18, 2011
hear 1 answer. 1 person changes the question. Everybody is none the wiser. clever work mr
health beurocrat. Very clever indeed. But the question remains. We'll just keep asking
Fairytale
Sunday, September 18, 2011
| Fairytale 'cause I don't care for your fairytales You're so worried about the maiden though you know She's only waiting on the next best thing Snow White is doing dishes again cause What else can you do With seven itty-bitty men? Sends them to bed and calls up a friend Says will you meet me at midnight? The tall blonde lets out a cry of despair says Would have cut it myself if I knew men could climb hair I'll have to find another tower somewhere and keep away from the windows |
Haunting yet Beautiful
20110917 @ Saturday, September 17, 2011
When you have done the things that you've done, all I can do is worry. Your words are haunting and beautiful yet I see no deeds to suggest you are sorry.
Your less beautiful words have foreshadowed my hitting the ground in most peculiar way. And I tell you now you will have reason to be sorry if it comes to bear.
Your actions are more than I can take. I've given you back to fate. You are filled with a depth of hate in this life - a hate and disregard for me, yourself and others, that gives me no reason to stay, to wait for you, for you to meet me at the door to tell me you are sorry; how sorry you really are. Sorry indeed. Even if you did, how could I ever believe what you say.
Your words, even in kindness, are nothing more than part of a peculiar pattern of abuse. It is more than I can take. You are more than I can take, Machiavelli.
Actions are everything.
Make a choice.
Not for me.
Not for us.
For yourself.
Your less beautiful words have foreshadowed my hitting the ground in most peculiar way. And I tell you now you will have reason to be sorry if it comes to bear.
Your actions are more than I can take. I've given you back to fate. You are filled with a depth of hate in this life - a hate and disregard for me, yourself and others, that gives me no reason to stay, to wait for you, for you to meet me at the door to tell me you are sorry; how sorry you really are. Sorry indeed. Even if you did, how could I ever believe what you say.
Your words, even in kindness, are nothing more than part of a peculiar pattern of abuse. It is more than I can take. You are more than I can take, Machiavelli.
Actions are everything.
Make a choice.
Not for me.
Not for us.
For yourself.
You're Worth It
Saturday, September 17, 2011
So I get up. I brush myself off. And I continue to wait for the light that is you. It seems my patience must be endless.
Because you are worth the wait. You are worth it all to me.
The Wind Almost Took You
Saturday, September 17, 2011
When you have done the things you've done.
When I tell you I'll meet you at the door. And you tell me you're sorry. That I have no reason left to worry.
When you hit the ground in a most peculiar way. And I tell you to wait. And you tell me I'll be sorry. That you have no reason left to worry.
When I am more than you can take, just give me back.
Labels: I Wrote This For You
Mother’s Sacrifice during the Japan Earthquake.
20110915 @ Thursday, September 15, 2011
This is a true story of Mother’s Sacrifice during the Japan Earthquake.
After the Earthquake had subsided, when the rescuers reached the ruins of a young woman’s house, they saw her dead body through the cracks. But her pose was somehow strange that she knelt on her knees like a person was worshiping; her body was leaning forward, and her two hands were supporting by an object. The collapsed house had crashed her back and her head.
With so many difficulties, the leader of the rescuer team put his hand through a narrow gap on the wall to reach the woman’s body. He was hoping that this woman could be still alive. However, the cold and stiff body told him that she had passed away for sure.
He and the rest of the team left this house and were going to search the next collapsed building. For some reasons, the team leader was driven by a compelling force to go back to the ruin house of the dead woman. Again, he knelt down and used his had through the narrow cracks to search the little space under the dead body. Suddenly, he screamed with excitement,” A child! There is a child! “
The whole team worked together; carefully they removed the piles of ruined objects around the dead woman. There was a 3 months old little boy wrapped in a flowery blanket under his mother’s dead body. Obviously, the woman had made an ultimate sacrifice for saving her son. When her house was falling, she used her body to make a cover to protect her son. The little boy was still sleeping peacefully when the team leader picked him up.
The medical doctor came quickly to exam the little boy. After he opened the blanket, he saw a cell phone inside the blanket. There was a text message on the screen. It said,” If you can survive, you must remember that I love you.” This cell phone was passing around from one hand to another. Every body that read the message wept. ” If you can survive, you must remember that I love you.” Such is the mother’s love for her child!!
Embracing Life
20110913 @ Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Acceptance is serenity embracing life*
pray that things were different pray that my prayers are answered
Labels: I Wrote This For You
The Sum Of Parts
20110912 @ Monday, September 12, 2011
The slightly above average intelligence part of the world exists to take advantage of the below average intelligence part of the world while the above average intelligence part of the world can only look on in despair.
You're here be help make the world more intelligent.
A Brother From Another Mother
Monday, September 12, 2011
Meet my brother from another mother. His name is Den, last name Ten. He is too comel to be Ben 10 okay?.
It was nice catching up with him after I left New Zealand, he's turned into a fine, young man.
He made me say that.
He's Korenese :) (Korean Japanese)
Trust me, he loves his watermelons and coconuts. He would marry you, if you gave him 1 each for his birthday.
I have no idea who this dude is, some friend of his XD
It's nice having him around.
I can't type much, because.... I'm too lazy.
Dear Den,
Can I keep you?
Sincerely,
Me.
You Never Know
Monday, September 12, 2011
When Tears Fall
20110911 @ Sunday, September 11, 2011
I was forced to cry, so that Rynn could take these pictures. Boedoh punya budak.
Labels: Photographic Evidence
Memories Of The Old Days
Sunday, September 11, 2011
This was the first Titanium shirt, we ever had :)
Alexis's drawing, was very the cacated.
Labels: Photographic Evidence
Optimism
20110910 @ Saturday, September 10, 2011
And you know what would hurt most? When someone dies unexpectedly. Heart attacks, car accidents and all that.
Part Of The World
Saturday, September 10, 2011
I have not yet sown it..
I read a lot of blogs, its like an addiction. Mostly the dark ones, which talk of love..unrequited love, love shared and lost, love losing its sheen
But this is not about those blogs, but is about the strange disconnect I feel when I read such blogs.Where people talk about that one bright star, that one person they loved and lost..its this disconnect which attracts me to such blogs I guess
And I am left thinking about myself.
When I close my eyes, there isn't that ONE face which comes to my mind, there is no one love which torments me day and night
Why isn't there a name which whispers in my ears..sweet nothings?
I feel little belittled, I feel envious of those people who have that fire in their hearts to love someone
And I feel the burden of not having loved enough to have a hole in the heart which does not heal...
Am I stoic? Hard heart-ed? Frivolous?
I have never had an intense longing in my heart for someone for a long time...
When I had, it was as intense as intense can be, but when I lost it..I never looked back
But I have loved, I have loved as love is meant to be..with every atom of my being
In each of you whom I love, I have loved myself even more fiercely
You, the ones I loved, are the testimony of all my notions of love
Maybe I have loved those frozen moments
And longed for those moments to keep appearing in my life, in succession like a chain of beginnings, with the same person, again and again
But beginnings end, and end happens
Sometimes I feel I could replace all my days and night, for that edgy heady feeling, which never lasts
But yes I have loved you, you who pulled me away from my mundane life..
You are that flicker of romance, I saw on beaches
And always imaged and wished for
And you fulfilled my prophecy
Of living a romance, as wild as ours
And you, who lifted me up and I was always aware of the lurking desire in you to pull me down
You were the deepest and darkest of my nightmares
you are all that torments me
you are all that takes it away
You, who was always telling me what I was,who tried deciphering me like an ancient scripture, things I never saw in myself, you saw
In you I saw the mystery that's me
A glimpse of it, scared I was
but I loved myself even more
I remember you too, for those small bouts of mirth and days laden with sweet talks
I can smell wine, when I see you from afar
The beauty of alcohol and inebriation
Is what you bring back to me
You were the one with whom I could drop my head and say, I dont want to be strong anymore
all that the world gives me
I offload it to you..you take away all of it
And I can see my pain dissipating in the air..
As my words fill you..and your lips touch mine
How could I forget you, who remembers me as his own ?
You were that painter who drew me in details
From arch of my heels to the mole on my finger
Sometimes I believe I existed more in your sketch and detailing of me
Than outside of it
Yes, I have loved
I have not loved to fill in the blanks of my life
I have loved cos you deserved it, and so did I
I too have lost myself for a while, broken and battered
I too have gone around the circles, but eventually I have found my center, within me
But how could I let any of you break me,
When I loved you with the very spirit thats me?
This spirit in me, which existed before you happened
And continues to live inside me?
I wonder if there is too much of life in my veins,
An overpowering tide
Which crushes and surpasses all of you and me too
Love is a curse, only if you let it be
I wake up with a wish to see new places, to read great books,
watch good movies and party hard
I tried being melancholic, to ascertain that I have been hurt and wronged
That I have loved and lost,
Thinking all these are the sure shot signs of being an elegant woman
But one Friday night and hopes of a rocking weekend takes its toll
And I am again wanting to be a part of the world
I am the world
Its time to live the moderates now
And the phoenix resurrects
The whole day I weave romance
The whole night I roam around like vagabond
My heart neither wants sympathy, nor a series of faithfulness
What Nobody Knows
20110908 @ Thursday, September 08, 2011
Nobody knows the real me. Nobody knows how many times I’ve sat in my room and cried, how many times I’ve lost hope, how many times I’ve been let down. Nobody knows how many times I’ve had to hold back the tears, how many times I’ve felt like I’m about to snap but don’t just for the sake of others. Nobody knows the thoughts that go through my head whenever I’m sad, how horrible they truly are. Nobody knows me, and thats what I hate the most.
Happy Birthday!
Thursday, September 08, 2011
I know there really is no point in me wishing you on your birthday, since you won't see it.
I know there's no point in me, trying to explain these things because you're no there to try to understand it.
Anyway, if not for you then I'm doing this for me.
Happy Birthday Nick! :)
I know I'm only blogging about this 6 days later, but I have legit reasons.
I've convinced myself that you're still around even though the painful memory of you still lingers, the fact that you're not here anymore. Why'd you go?
I remember those times when I would yell at you and ignore you because you did the most stupidest things. I can't do that anymore. although you have done THE MOST STUPIDEST THING IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE.
We could have gotten through it, you know. You would have gotten better.
Yet you still chose not to. The thing that really got to all of us , meaning
You were the second most annoying 'brother' I have, even though the most annoying one is still that little brat walking around here somewhere.
Fact is, I still haven't accepted the fact your gone. Saying that on my blog is very risky. This whole post is risky, knowing that once it's posted, people will ask questions, and they will start treating me as if I'm depressed.
Is that a good or bad thing? I have no idea.
I'm going to go watch Titanium feature in some video. Then 'we've' got a photoshoot. So this post shall be continued. . . eventually.
"Never say goodbye, because saying goddbye means going away and going away means forgetting"
-NCY
A Person
20110907 @ Wednesday, September 07, 2011
All I Have Is What I Don't
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
dcapriciousme: Your Craziness is My Reality
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
The Words You Wrote
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
I do not fully understand this right now. At first I believed it was not written for me. But then I realized that it is meant for me. For me to write down and store away for now, then when I do need it, your words will be waiting for me and will bring light back into my life. I love you, thank you for you.
The Shooting Cloud
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
If you're tired of trying to fall asleep, sleep on it and try again tomorrow.
If you're all out of promises, I have one left for you: The Earth is still here as long as you're alive.
If you want to yell out your frustrations, I'll understand, just understand that the whole world is screaming, mostly complaining about the noise.
If you're worried about having the poetry knocked out of you of you when you're older, don't. Old blood bleeds as good as new.
If you've got nothing left to feel, just pay the bill and walk away.
If there's anything else, let me know.