Archive for 2012

Of 2012

Thursday, December 27, 2012 Comments Off

Here's what I think about 2012:
The best year of my life so far.
This year has taught me to be someone better, made me understand who I could trust and who could run to. This year has taught me to be a better me. Everything that has happened to me this year really built me up to someone that can go through something that will be tougher and crazier than what I experienced this year. This year has taught myself to be the anchor that I need, the shoulder to lean on and the hugs I need. This year has been a year that answered everything (except obviously my love life), especially my prayers to meet the first love of my life and live my own life for six weeks in one of the most adorable and lovable countries in the world. This year has been an exhilarating journey for me, the ups and downs and the joy was indescribable. The world and fate have been kind enough to make me feel what I had to. So, thank you 2012, thank you.

XXX/XXX. Future

Monday, December 24, 2012 Comments Off

All I do lately was collecting some strangers' photos. Lovely women with their kids, shop clerks, some hot dog sellers, dog walkers with their colorful leashes, kids with their cotton-candys or ice cream cones, falling leaves, gardeners, some busy business people with their smartphone and some other, otherwise faceless, strangers that I captured during my time in here. I guess you could say that it was waste of films; but the beauty of it all was that, while they were doing their own stuff, busy building up their future (or at least for some they were doing those just to make it to the future), I was here, connected but unattached at the same time. I was there, blended with the crowd, but as an individual at the same time. I became one with scenery, an ignored faceless stranger that by chance got into those people life even just for some seconds. I never stopped loving that fact, the fact that everyone is a crowd but an individual at the same time. A collective group of individuals that are searching for their future, building their future and fighting for their future.

XXIX/XXX. Simple

Sunday, December 23, 2012 Comments Off

She was wearing a simple dress with silver linings. An empire waist and floor-length dress; something you could see in any shop that sell dresses for girls to go to their prom nights or debutante night. The dress was not found in a hurry, she found it when she was accompanying her friend to the flea market; the shop that sold it did not look like they would carry such stuff, but when she peeked inside, there were rows of pretty dresses, however that white dress was the only one that caught her eyes and she did not need to be measured, it fitted her perfectly. Next, came the shoes. Unlike the dress, she saw it in one of those fancy shops down the street; the silver strappy heels matched the color of her dress's linings and her eyes. As for the bouquet, a certain flowershop near her office caught her eyes and she made them do white anemones and cryshantheums bouquet that was arranged exclusively for her.
The day of the wedding, after the exchange of vows and at the reception, she gave him her bouquet, saying, "Good luck with your marriage."

Top 9 Fictional Boyfriends

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Let's face it, I'm one of those kids. I have imaginary boyfriend (boyfriends if you count fictional characters) that I built upon my own criteria that I've seen over the past 18 years from tv shows and films. Now, here is my top ten imaginary/fictional boyfriends:
  1. Colonel Brandon from Sense and Sensibility
    You probably have heard of him before. He's one of Jane Austen's perfect specimens. He is like one of those familiar characters that you meet once in a while; he loves to read, has a passion for music and he sacrifices himself for someone he loves. His heart got broken once, because of the love of his life went with someone else and produced a love child, then he got to be the one that raised the child. He has the softest heart. He matures gracefully. In other words, he is perfect.
  2. Beast from Beauty and The Beast
    We don't know who his real name is, but he is one hell of a guy (or beast). He is one of the animated characters that's developed through the movie. At first he has a tough guy routine then he turns to this annoying guy and finally Belle manages to soothe him up. Beside the character development, this prince has a giant-like library that is filled with books (even though he couldn't read at first) and he has his own ballroom. The Stockholm Syndrome story and the cute applicable-to-life circumstances (the townsfolk hates something that they don't know, Gaston wants Belle only for her looks, the townsfolk hates Belle for being different, etc) attract me the most. And let's be honest, when he turns into the human version, you can't help but want to kill Belle for being with a person with big biceps and wide chest.
  4. Logan Echolls from Veronica Mars.
    This guy has the best bad boy attitude I've seen so far. The broken misunderstood rich boy that looks like he has every right to be naughty, considering he has a broken home; a father that has a criminal record, a mother that jumped off a bridge and an adopted sister. He loved Veronica's best friend so much, that he didn't dare to move on until he was sure with himself. Let's not forget how many uncountable times he had save Veronica from troubles. The tough guy with squishy and soft interior is really charming. And you can't ignore his yellow jeep and cheeky comebacks. Oh and there is an episode where he watches Sense and Sensibility with Veronica, isn't that just cute?
  5. Ninth Doctor from Doctor Who
    Well, by now, I think you can predict my type: the misunderstood guys who turn out to be nice. Ninth Doctor is one of them. In his reincarnation, he only understood destruction before he met Rose, now that he has met her (assuming we are talking about the AU starts from Father's Day where the original The Doctor and Rose fades behind the wall of bricks in the background and they are off to some adventures in another planet), he turns into this guy that will sacrifice everything for her (remember "I could save the world, but lose you" and that sweet episode in the dungeon in Cardiff?)-- that's a nice gesture coming from a 900 years old alien that has destructed his own race to save the whole universe. He does not walk, he stalks, like a panther to a prey.
  6. Nick from Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist
    Nick is one of those people that you sometimes sympathizes with because he has an unrequited infatuation that leads to a hell of a night with a girl that is his musical soulmate. Don't we all need him with his yellow car and goofy attitude, and reassuring smiles and awkward hugs. His love for music and his passion for other people (especially his adventurous bandmates) make me melt and want to give him warm cookies. He is the kind of person that you want to settle down and have kids with, the kind of person that will make you feel happy everyday with sincere "I love you"s and warm cuddles.
  7. Warren from Sky High
    One of the, literally, hottest characters that the world has ever invented. He has the tall, dark, mysterious guy thing going on. And he reads during lunch. And he also works to earn his own money. He drives badass motorcycle. But he treats women nicely. He is one of the characters that make you want to patiently fix him with love and hope that one day he will fall in love with you. I can only wish that his smile belongs to me and I belong to his arms.
  8. Peter from Forgetting Sarah Marshall
    The cutest depressed guy ever. His obsession with his ex makes you want to turn him to love you too, makes you want to kiss away his pain by letting him into your life and buying him endless tubes of ice cream. He was willing to sacrifice everything for her, but she left him and went with a rockstar that was not as loyal as Peter, and the three of them meet in a place where Peter is supposed to enjoy and get over her. You also hope that you are the one he's obsessed with, not her.
  9. Matt from 13 Going On 30
    The good best friend type. The type of guy that will perpetually be the same no matter what you do, his childish quirks will continue to stay there even when he's old. The kind of guy that you will always trust and lean on. The kind of guy that some lucky girls never dreamed to marry but they married those guys eventually. His likable personality and humbleness really attract me the most; he will stay with you through everything, especially the rise and falls. I want to marry him.
  10. Michael from Sundays At Tiffany's
    Meet Michael, he's an imaginary friend that turns into this real grown-up guy. His down-to-earth and naivete really draw me to him. And the fact that he turns himself into a real human being also makes me want to marry him instantly. He really cares about Jane a lot and he sacrifices a lot, too. Plus, he's a great cook and he has lots of talents.

pictures belong to various people that I found through Tumblr


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We were standing alone on the platform. Each carrying a bag from some chain-store near the station. We were both ignoring the world and each other; we were stuck inside our own head, thinking and clarifying the circumstance that occurred just few hours ago that was interconnected with the promise that was made years ago. We were each standing next to each other, but did not touch each other. Our eyes tried to avoid each other and were successful. We could never let go of what happened earlier today or that day years ago. Before, we were naïve, but now, we were just plain selfish. We had to do what we needed to do, but it was not what we promised to each other. During the years of endless tv subscribes, newsletters, weddings, funerals, births and soccer games, we lost the meaning of our promise. And now here we were, standing close to each other, connected by the warmth of each others bodies, but not having the true connection of the heart.

XXVII/XXX. Letters

Friday, December 21, 2012 Comments Off

Twenty-six letters; the combination is endless, but there is only one combination that matters to me. Your name. Six letters and two syllables. I always chant your name in my head, it's therapeutic doing so; your name is like a symbol for what I can hold on to, a symbol of someone that I can trust, a symbol of something that I love. Your name does not define you, but you define your name. When I think of you, I do not think of your name, I think of what you've done and what you've achieved. I think of how sweet it is to pronounce your name slowly in my lips, how my tongue caresses the tip of my lips and how it ends with a lovely sigh. Six letters and two syllables have never felt so right.

XXVI/XXX. Diamond

Thursday, December 20, 2012 Comments Off

The best thing about her is her ring. No, not because it is a diamond ring, but because what the ring symbolises. It symbolises of us, of her and I. Of the union that we chose. Of the life that we lead together, the life that is closely linked and tightly knitted together to form a bigger picture that we cannot see now. Of the happiness and struggles that lie ahead. Of endless birthday partys and baby showers. Of her life and mine. Of us. The ring becomes something that I secretly idolizes, not because it is the most expensive tiny handcuff I've ever came across (and purchased) in my life, but because it reminds me that I have fought for something, that I have fought for being with her and that I have fought for something that actually matter. I love her, not because she is wearing the ring, but because she prefers to.

XXV/XXX. Winter

Wednesday, December 19, 2012 Comments Off

I don't know what Winter is like. They all say Winter days are cold and short, while the nights are even colder and longer, like a breath that you hold inside, waiting to be let out in the morning. I only know Summer days and nights, since I don't live in the northern part of the Earth. But from what I've heard, I think I will love Winter months, with their dark nights and yellow streetlights. With their hot chocolates and toasty rooms. With their ability to make everything turn into a long-run silent soap opera; the contrast of the pitch-dark sky and the white snow. I will love Winter months because of their ability to make everything to become silent, the constant parade of people around you (with their headphones, with their phones, with their girl friends, with their mothers, with their sisters, with their employees, with their employers, with their own monologues) will turn into these harmless hums, respecting the mother nature's way of voluming down the noise that the human often creates. I think the coldness of Winter will teach us that you will find more warmth when you are cold, you will find more generosity of some people when they are facing the harshness of the Winter. I think, one day, I will learn how to love the cold, because they bear the warmest of things.

XXIV/XXX. Outside

Tuesday, December 18, 2012 Comments Off

Her insides are not the reflection of what is outside.
Outside, like everyone else, she wears a facade with a smile drawn upon her lips. She hates her lips, though. It's not pouty, but it's not sexy thin either, it's just... there, under her nose. She hates her hair too, it's too fuzzy and unable to be tamed, so sometimes she just pulls it into a tight bun and let her body looks like it's bigger than it actually is. She hates her body too, especially her skin, it looks unhealthily, lifelessly pale and dry. So, she does not know what to do with herself. Her insides are breaking down into million pieces too, like unexplainable little pieces of leaves that you often see when you sit down on the ground, squished and fallen apart. Often her lips try to say beautiful words, but as it turns out, those beautiful words are swallowed by her need to be silent and mysterious. Cutting herself sometimes comes to her mind, but no, she cannot do that, she has dreams that are bigger than the demons inside her head. She hates facing the lackluster reality, that's why she does something that is destructible to her insides, not to her physical features. She would often abuse herself in ways that will hurt her head even more. But how to face the demons, when they are more alluring than the angels?

XXIII/XXX. Thousand

Monday, December 17, 2012 Comments Off

Now I understand why you want to destroy yourself, why the majority of your time is spent to abuse yourself mentally and physically. I think I can understand why now. The alluring life of the dark false God tempts you more than the dull reality. Thousands of billions of seconds you spent to kill the dark thoughts in your head by turning yourself to the false God, yet, I know deep down you understand that the false God does not really help you with your problems. Your kind of life does not beguile me, but sometimes I wish I spend my thousands of billions of second turning to your false God, instead of leading this lackluster reality where I feel like my world conspires against me. I don't know if I prefer to regret life or not; then even if I do choose your kind of life, will I love your kind of life or mine?


Sunday, December 16, 2012 Comments Off

The world is mad. The human nature is mad because of their need to be impeccable in any and every occasion that is known to the human nature; dances, meal times and the get-togethers. Since the beginning of time, human are known to throw parties, eat exquisite dinners and talk. We should wear the perfect dress, the lovely jewelry, the highest heels, but our bodies should be unblemished too. From year to year, there are certain criteria for human; be it their degree, their etiquette, or even their type of body. We seek acceptance to the people that thoughtlessly created them and we set our own standards.

This is why I love our time when we are creating our own world. Where, after our tiring jobs and endless tasks, we could just sit down, drink some tea and start to do the make-believe; where I will be the prettiest girl in the world and you will be the luckiest guy in the world. But you know what? I feel like we already are in real live.

XXI/XXX. Sunset

Saturday, December 15, 2012 Comments Off

Do you know that I don't like sunsets, that I prefer gazing at the sunrise. Do you want to know why?
Even though they are beautiful and colorful, but they are deceitful. You see, the sky paints colorful color; pink, blue, red or even sometimes green, but afterwards, you can see the whole sky is darkening, like creeping up into some kind of sadness or even guilt as an aftertaste of the happiness they sold to the world. I know they are just doing their job, for concluding the light with burst of color (with supposedly hidden meanings) and for making that part of the Earth feel rested. But to be honest, I've never liked it.
I prefer sunrises, especially when you see them on the beach. They are so peaceful. They slowly, tentatively, innocently creep on you, making you watch them in child-like wonder and admiration. After the whole dark sky that is filled with twinkling stars, you can see the fresh new breath of another day, another hope. I like sleeping at sunrises, too. When the sky is lighting up, dawn is near, the weather crushes the fear. When they still have the glory of the night but the hope of a new day.

And of course, sunrise is my favorite part of the day, because I get to wake up and curl next to you, and I become the first person that you see every morning.

XX/XXX. Tremble

Friday, December 14, 2012 Comments Off

The leaves trembled. The trunk gave away new breaths. Underneath, the minuscule roots travelled. The birds gathered. The sky rotated. The grass danced. The lion groaned. The fish laughed.

But you and I,
we trembled on the bed. Your hands travelled on my hair. I was gathered in your arms. We rotated and danced in the kitchen. You groaned as you cut your hand with the kitchen knife. We laughed as we took new breaths.
Good morning.

XIX/XXX. Transformation

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Lips: painted. Eyelids: brushed. Cheeks: swept. Hair: curled. Eyelashes: thickened. Skin: tanned.

She smiled to the mirror, wondering if there was any spot that missed and pondering if her smile was as fake as the handbag that was perched on top of her desk.
"Well, no use for going back now. It is all settled. I need to do this." she whispered to herself, after months of doing prep talks with herself and watching her own gestures in front of the mirror, she was finally ready.
She sighed and looked at herself again in the mirror. The transformation was necessary. The lips, hair, eyelids, checks, skin and even eyelashes were altered slightly to accomodate her plan. This was what she needed and what she wanted. A transformation of herself to become someone else, in order to be loved by him. Shallow, she knew. But she only got two months to live, why would not she become someone else, at least she could feel like she was loved by the only person that she loved.


Wednesday, December 12, 2012 Comments Off

You are pink cloves in the summer. Blossoming and blooming wildly around the garden, untamed and free.
You are snow blizzard in the winter. Calming the constant chattering of people, enchanting and soothing.
You are rainy days in the spring. Pouring gently and freely, instantly making everything purer.
You are the leaves turning their color in the autumn. Maturing every single second, growing into something better to prepare for the coldest of winter.

You are the sun and the sky. The moon and the night. The love inside my heart. The whispers of heartbeats inside my body. The light of my soul. The friend to my darkness. I love you, I love you, I love you.


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I'm fond of the sea and the forest, he said once.
The sand is my bed and the trees are my playground, he wrote.
The smell of the sand meets the ocean always calms me and the sound of the forest always soothes me, he uttered.
The beach and I, we share the same look. The same fondness of being swept away all of the sudden in the middle of the night. When it tides. We both share the same wonder for the moon, he told me.

But never once, he said about me, the girl who looked out for him when we are in the forest and at the sea.

XVI/XXX. Thanks

Tuesday, December 11, 2012 Comments Off

"Thanks for letting me stay in here." I said to his chest, my fingers curled on top of his chest.
My head on his chest, hearing the steady thump of his heartbeat and smelling the lovely manly musk of his neck. I traced the lines of his neck, feeling the veins throbbed lulling me to sleep. His chest rose and fell rhythmically.
"Where? This low-ceiling building?" he chuckled. His chest rumbled.
I shook my head.
"Where then?" he asked. One of his hands sneaked to my hair and played with them, twirling and tugging them.
"Here." I said, pointing at his chest.
"My arms?" he asked.
"No, your heart."

Of Cold Days

Sunday, December 9, 2012 Comments Off

Cold days feel even colder when I realize that these are the times that make me feel the solitude. Perhaps not the kind of solitude that will stab my very bones, but still, these cold days remind me that I have no one in particular to share all of my cold skin with. No one that could stroke my arms. No one that could hold me when I need some strength to do what I must under the harsh rainy days. No one that could share a cup of hot peppermint tea with me. No one that could help me find the blessing of sunlight at these time of a season.
This makes me feel like somehow my existence is ignored by the whole part of humanity. I think it has something to do with the part that I have no one when everyone is snuggling and cuddling like there is no tomorrow.
Cold days make people do harsher things. The fact that the weather cannot cooperate with anything that they are trying to do currently. Their mood got darker or even moodier than usual. They spend more time to do things more than usual.

And where can I run?

XV/XXX. Order

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She is destructive, she herself notes.
Not to her family, not to her friends, but to herself. To her own mind, to her own physical body, and to her own heart. Her soul itself has been long gone of natural cause, a certain heartbreak that she always refuses to tell to anyone why. The truth is she doesn't even know why she doesn't have a heart, she just woke up one day and she couldn't feel anything but a hovering emptiness in the middle of her chest, between the lungs. Her heart, from then, is out of order.
She does not really care if she is actually destructive to herself. Again, no one has ever loved her, so why should she care about herself? And the part of her body that actually can love herself has already ran away. So the question is: where can she run when she herself no longer care about her?


Saturday, December 8, 2012 Comments Off

She took a gold lighter from her bag. The lighter was engraved with poetical words that her Dad carved one day under the heavy sunlight of midsummer day. One would imagine that she would then pull a cigarette from her bag, but no, she did not do such thing, instead she lighted it up and put it close to a small pink box that contained a large size of heavily decorated cupcake. There were three skinny colorful candlesticks on top of the cupcake, she put the lighter closer to the cupcake and then the candlelight lighted up.
"There." she breathed.
The wind breezily blew around her, the candlelight wavered, and she sighed. She looked around, her beanie was about to fall off from her head, but a hand pulled it up.
"Have you been waiting for a long time?" the other person asked, guiltily.
She smiled cheekily. "Yes, but the wind blew you to me."
The person kissed the top of her head. "Well, I know you've been metaphorically and literally waiting for me for a long time, so, I'm sorry."
She glanced up and smiled. "It's okay."
"Am I worth it?"
She nodded. "Happy birthday, husband."
"Indeed, wife, indeed."

XIII/XXX. Denial

Friday, December 7, 2012 Comments Off

A couple of thousand times I told her that she was pretty.

But she denied it. She always denied the fact that she was pretty.
My Dad always said that I should never tell someone that they were ugly, there was no such word that hurt everyone the most like "ugly" and we should always tell the women that they were pretty and graceful. But as they say, it was harder to convince them that they were pretty more than to say the truth in front of their face. However, I always fought and I always told her every time I saw her, that she was pretty and even prettier if she was in my arms.

But she denied it, always. The twinkling sound of her laughter told me that the denial was, in fact, her version of the truth. She always believed that she was not pretty, never ugly, but just the opposite of pretty. She always told herself that, she was not pretty. But, I thought of the opposite.

A couple of thousand times I told her that she was pretty.

XII/XXX. Knowledge

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Since I was a kid, I loved putting my wristwatch to my ear. I loved listening to their ticking hands, it was therapeutic for me. I would literally spent hours just listening to the ticking hands as I watched the world went by. I saw the sky turned dark, felt the air grew colder and smelt the night sky, the realization of what I was doing hit me: I spent the three hours of my life away for just listening the ticking hands and watched the surrounding.

But you know what?
The knowledge of it all calmed me more than it should have. And I was grateful for it.

X/XXX. Silver

Wednesday, December 5, 2012 Comments Off

Onyx was the colour of your hair when we met. Some of the curls tucked behind your ears, while the others jumping around; they grew like the wild grass, but I did not have the same urge to pull them. They were rightfully there. I loved the way you ruffled your hair sometimes, like one of those indie guys when they were playing on stage. To come and think about it, you went to that phase too once, didn't you? When you and your friends were trying to be one of the top three indie bands in our neighborhood? We had our laughs about that when you got into university, you found yourself there, didn't you? Then you forgot all about indie songs and music when you got your first paycheck and we stupidly spent it on Indian food and five pints of ice cream that weekend. After that, we promised ourselves to never spend it on food anymore. Next came promotions, weddings and baby showers; somewhere in between were ours. Then everything, that was spinning around so fast, got slower and slower.

Some silver hair are already spread on your temples when I am writing this. You are nervous and looking over the mirror, as if something weird will suddenly turn out on your clothing or your hair will turn to be blue or pink. You are such a nervous wreck right now, keep looking on your suits, but you are doing good, love. You are doing good. I can't help but keep smiling when I see you rubbing your temples, a definite sign when you are having anxiety attacks. And I can't help but kissing away all of your fears, especially the part when you are saying "I'll kill him if he mess up our daughter

XI/XXX. Prepared

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Everything was thoroughly planned and prepared. From the beginning until the end.
Her shoes were off the rack, her books were off the shelves, even her little trinkets that she placed around her room wer off. Some of them were packed neatly at her trunks that she would give to the nearest homeless shelter, while she kept the rest with some money she had earned for the past four years. She did not leave anything significant. You see, the first time she got there, she took a Polaroid, it was intended to be inside her ever-present diary, however, it was proven useless, but she kept it on her wallet, just in case. When she created the plan, she knew that the Polaroid was, as it turned out, useful. As it was, she gradually took things off their respective places and put them on her trunk. Now, the room was as spotless as the first time she was in.
As she stood in the middle of the room, she said goodbye for the last time and then she smiled.
It was as if she was never there.

IX/XXX. Move

Monday, December 3, 2012 Comments Off

Someone once told me that we are the children of the stars, as we carry their atoms inside of us. When I was a kid, I did not know the meaning of 'the children of the stars', but now, when I finally get to know you, I think I can grasp the idea of it.

You see, you remind me of stars. As exquisite as the stars when they rotate; I could never help but look at your bones when you flex your muscles, as the skin of your body moves to accomodate the change in the way you stand (or sleep, or eat, or drink, etc), because your movements are as graceful and as enchanting.
You remind me of stars. As unique as each stars, they rotate in their own constellations, their own path, none of them are the same; I could not help but admire the way you think, the way you pick roads less traveled, the way you find small passages through the difficulties in your life that could make you breathe easier.
You remind me of stars. As blinding to the darkness around the stars, because stars were born in the darkness, but they guide themselves.

You see. I still have many reasons, do you need to hear them?

VII/XXX. Formal

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They say blood is thicker than water. But in my life, family is just a title. A name to be called.
The family of Nash.
It sounds odd in my lips. Go on, try it, it sounds odd in yours too, I bet. But the name of Nash has created an empire of wealth. Of long-night business meetings, room services food, and concrete playgrounds. I don't think I have ever spent an entire night doing nothing since I was a kid. I was raised into the family that speaks in the name of diamonds. We got along when needed, other times, we just succumb into silence and watch as the global enterprise becomes something more giant, trying take over other small businesses all at once. My siblings and I were raised with sitters that we called surrogate mothers. We have gala dinners every night that require formal attires and table manners. Etiquette was the first thing we learned as a child, not how to use pencils properly, but how to hold your utensils properly. Family for me is just formality. 

VIII/XXX. Companion

Sunday, December 2, 2012 Comments Off

I want my companion now.
Someone that can be my soulmate, my friend, my lover, my bedtime story teller, my personal psychiatric, my wrestling partner, my personal shopper, my adventure partner, my talker-during-cinema, my fight club fighter, my food taster, my happy pill, my 9-to-5 worker, my warm blanket during cold nights, my literal shoulder to cry on, my scene stealer and above all, a physical version of my soul.

VI/XXX. Flame

Friday, November 30, 2012 Comments Off

My Mum promised to me that one day I would find someone that would love me like a moth to a flame. The flame would be everlasting and would never fail to ignite in the darkest of night. The flame would be my guidance to make me see the truth about life, about the nature and about the twinkling lights of stars in the night. The flame would give me warmth when I need them and burn the memories of unwanted past. The flame would stand by my side when I only deserve the dark.

But I also wanted a love like the water. Water could find ways through all the rough of life. Water could soothe your throat and your eyes. Water could cleanse everything, the past would have no meaning for the water, for it would wash away anything that could not be washed. Water's presence was everywhere, in the sky with the clouds, near your bed with your favorite mug, inside the trees, inside you and inside me. Water could reflect everything, like the Lunar Eclipse in the sky and the colour of your hair. Water could hide secrets in the depth of itself. Water could sense anything. Water could always become pure, even though humans were corrupted.

So tell me, my heart, which one would you choose?

V/XXX. Haze

Thursday, November 29, 2012 Comments Off

We were born to the town where the haze never left the sky, it was always there, layered carefully with the real colour of the sky above. We never knew anything beside that shade of colour that hung in the sky. It had always been there since we were kids and would always continue to be there until the kids of our grandkids live. We never tried to live another way anyway. We figured, that, because the sky was the same, our lives would therefore be the same too, following the patterns with the sky. We were guided by the sky. The sky told us what we needed to do. The bright hazy morning told us that we needed to get up. The enchanting misty afternoon told us that we needed to go back to our house. And the captivating night sky told us to sleep. The same pattern always.

But we always asked ourselves: "What if the sky wasn't like this? Or that there was a possibility that another place with haze-less sky exist? Would we go there? Or stay here like the ever-present haze in the sky?"
And we always answered: "We'll never know."

IV/XXX. Snowflake

Wednesday, November 28, 2012 Comments Off

1. Some snowflakes caught in her eyelashes, causing her to blink and pushing them aside. The snowflakes were casted aside with her left hand and when she tried to pull it back, she caught someone else's hand instead. The other person smiled and shook her hand. "Hello." he said, "My name is Rick."

2. The snowflakes were bothering her coat. She shook her coat and put it on her coat hanger. Some droplets of water and some snowflakes fell to the floor. "Oh shoot." she said at the same time when her front door opened and Rick's head popped in. "Hullo."

3. They were opening the door of the cafe, before they could even properly walk out of the cafe, snowflakes fell from the roof. "Perfect." she said. "Oh, my dear, what's up with us and snow?". He smiled and pointed her ring on her left ring finger, "It's a blessing you know. Look how perfect your ring look when it's covered with snowflakes."

4. As she held their first baby against her chest, some snowflakes fell to her baby's nose, the small girl yawned but she slept again. She and him laughed at the gesture. "Snowflakes mark our life." he pointed out.

III/XXX. Restless

Tuesday, November 27, 2012 Comments Off

Raindrops were falling hard outside.
The window was right next to him, so he could hear the sound of raindrops clearly. Some people might say that raindrops were soothing and calming to your soul, but today, he might beg to differ. Raindrops could only make things more annoying and bothering than they already were. He was restless that night. He couldn't find anything else to do beside drumming his fingers to his knees. His eyes were blank and his mouth was whispering prayers to the God above.
He was restless.

Until the doctor opened the doors and let out the sound of wailing baby.

II/XXX. Accusation

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The accused: Me, Charlie Ted
The accusation: I cheated on you
The reason behind the accusation: Because your friend constantly saw me going out with a woman that looked like one of my colleagues.
The choice that you made: You left me with everything that we've built, everything that we've created, you left me with everything that we once knew. You left me with our house, our memories and our library.
The only thing that you left me: Our dreams. My laughter and my happiness are no longer here. Our apartment is void of our laughter, of our dreams and hopes. Our apartment is no longer filled with your warmth, your makeups and your expanding closet. It is now left with dark dawns and long nights. No longer cuddling time or even your tummy-rubbing time every month. No more collecting raindrops and sunshine, no longer making burned sushis and listening to classical music. It is dark and empty.
The truth behind the reason of the accusation: I was getting ready for my speech to marry you. I had one of my colleagues pretended to be you and she taught me how to say the speech. But now, I guess, it no longer matters.

I/XXX. Beginning

Sunday, November 25, 2012 Comments Off

The car was old, we could tell from the smell. The smell of worn leathers, dusty dashboards and buried secrets in between the seams of the seats. But we didn't care. It was the first car that we purchased together. The first thing that we could afford together. Our first baby.

I still remembered the first day we showed it to everyone. Smiles were in our face. We could feel our checks were forming tight lines because of too much smiling. Everyone congratulated us for accomplishing such a small, but significant thing. It was the physical form of our love. The only thing that reminded us that we were together.

Then, we impulsively moved to the other side of the country. To the seaside town, where the smell of the ocean blended with the smell of your clothes, or even the leaves that had fallen to your laps when you sat on a bench that overlooked the sea. When we saw the ocean for the first time, we could feel it was the beginning of something. It was the beginning of our life.

Thirty by Thirty

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This is something that I came across in Tumblr.
You basically have to make stories based upon these words for thirty days. I think the challenge is good for my soul, so I'm able to write something more; not sadness, grief or longing.
If I don't write anything in one day, I will compensate on doing it on the next day.

The words are:
beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.
I'm going to start the challenge tonight with the word //beginning//. 

I Have Never

Thursday, November 22, 2012 Comments Off

Have you ever love someone so much that you want to grow inside them as an invisible soul? Or trade places with their lungs so you can be lulled to oblivion with their heartbeats. Or live in their shadows so you can be with them all the time, curled up perfectly when they are asleep. Or trap yourself inside one of their veins, so you can feel the steady thump of blood every second, telling you that they are alive and well. Or become their favorite blue socks that warm them up at night, so you can be there on his coldest moments. Or open a small ice cream parlor where they can get their favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream when they are down. Or turn yourself into their book spines, so that they can stroke you when they come across you. Or sleep under their fingertips, so you can be rubbed by his fingers all the time.


Monday, November 19, 2012 Comments Off

I want to know how it feels like to hold your hand at night
and how it feels like to wear your oversized button-down
how your collarbones smell like in the morning
how your hair smells like after shower in the middle of the night
how long your stubble needs to grow into beards

I want to know if you prefer the smell of rose over lily for your clothes
if you prefer to write on the bed, not on top of the kitchen table
if you prefer the black part of the oreo, and leave the cream part aside
if you have a favorite blanket when you were a kid
if you have a favorite store that sells the best ice cream in town

I want to know which book do you have in your library
is it Harry Potter or
Jane Austen's or
War And Peace or
Alice In Wonderland

I want to know do you have baggy clothes or fitted ones
do you have any secret tattoos
do you have any band t-shirts
do you have any guilty pleasure songs
do you have any favorite fictional characters

I want to know how it feels like to be your number one
and how it feels like to hold your heart
how it feels like to have your arms catch me
how it feels like to know your uttermost secret


Saturday, November 10, 2012 Comments Off

  1. What eye color do you find sexiest?
    Anything piercing. Black really appeals to me currently. You know as they say, black encompasses all colour, it knows more than the others.
  2. White, milk, or dark chocolate mocha?
    Dark chocolate definitely. The bitter the better.
  3. If you could get a Sharpie tattoo on your back, what would it be?
    I think I would like a quote run across my shoulder. Something that reminds me that I should never forget my dreams. Something along that line.
  4. Did you grow up in a small or big town? Did you like it?
    I grew up in both, but mainly in the big town. I have the loyalty of small town people, but the bravery of big town people. I am not sure whether or not I like the life I had, but it had been very educational and it really tested my ability to survive.
  5. Pirates or ninjas? Why?
    Definitely pirates. They live a very adventurous lives that I wish I could be a part of.
  6. If you could have any pet in the world, illegal or not, what would you get?
    A wolf that I will name 'Snow', a polar bear that I will name 'Glimmer' and a shark (of any kind) that I will name 'Killer'
  7. What's the most delicious food you've ever eaten in your life? I don't have 'the most', but I think these food are the tastiest food ever: Nachos from Odeon, Rib-eye steak from Outback steakhouse, any Indian food in any restaurant in London, this small Chinese restaurant in Southwark, this pub-like Thai restaurant in Southwark. That is all that I can think of. Any additional thing I will add later on.
  8. If you had to look at one city skyline for the rest of your life, which would it be?
    I don't think it would be a city skyline, but I think it would be a small English town sky where you can see the mix of the globalization and the humbleness of small town folk.
  9. If you had to move to another country, where would you move?
    Sweden. I think. Because UK is overpopulated for now, but I think I would travel around, like a Gypsy.
  10. Do you like horror movies? How about thrillers?
    I have a soft spot for good horror and/or thriller movies. My favorite horror movies are Silent Hill and a Thai movie called Coming Soon, but I'd never watch them again. I don't have any favorite thriller movies, but I love movies like The Cell.
  11. Do you want to get married? Have kids?
    One of the things that I want to accomplish is to get married with someone that I will never grow out of love. And we will live together happily with two kids that have my nose, hair, lips and his eyes.
  12. City or nature person?
    I'm a city person, but I love to get lost in the nature from time to time. I tend to be more peaceful in places with perpetual rain and green scenery. And I think one day I will live somewhere in the small countryside house.
  13. You’re in a tattoo parlor about to get inked. What are you getting done?
    Probably that quote across my shoulder. Or maybe a star on my wrist, or perhaps a sun. Something delicate, but unquestionably me.
  14. What’s something you can see yourself going to jail for?
    Stalking some celebrities to the point of obsession.
  15. If you could be any character, from any literary work, who would you choose to be?
    I think I want to be Aomame from 1Q84.
  16. You’re given $10,000…under one condition: you cannot keep the money for yourself. Who would you give it to?
    My parents, brother and my other family members.
  17. If you had to go back in time and change one thing, what would it be?
    I think I want to tell my past self to stalk celebrities when I was in the land of perpetual rain where they held Olympics in the summer 2012.
  18. If you were an element on the Periodic Table, which would you be and why?
    I would be Carbon, because I can be everyone's necessity.
  19. If you had to delete one year of your life completely, which would it be?
    My third grade.
  20. If you could design an amusement park ride, what would it be like?
    It would be huge, with indoor, outdoor and water rides. You can swim with the dolphins and everyone will be happy.
  21. Currently wanting to see anyone?
    Yes. Someone that could support me take away all of my pain.
  22. Is the cup half full or half empty for you right now?
    I'm a half-empty kind of girl, but lately I'm trying to think in a more optimistic way.
  23. Do you believe in fate/destiny?
    Yes, because coincidence is just fate misnamed.
  24. Do you believe in aliens or life on other planets?
    I believe in those sort of things. Because it would be terribly lonely if we are truly alone in this infinite universe.
  25. If you could change one thing in the world, what would you change?

Find Me Before Someone Else Does

Sunday, November 4, 2012 Comments Off

Rainy days make you ponder. And search about life's meanings. They make you question everything. Not God, no. God's existence, for those who believe in God religiously, is unquestionable because God has God's own purpose and God's entire existence cannot be doubted.

But what about humans? The individuals? The people you see everyday. The people that walk past by you when you are purchasing an ice cold orange juice when it's hot outside. Or the people that sit next to your table when you are sipping your hot chocolate. What are they purpose in this life? Or at least, in yours?

I think the melancholy of the modern world, the world that is built upon two world wars and political conspiracies, is that our own brooding of our existence and to some extent, identity. We are grown by the world that no longer has the threats of the survival of the citizens, because this world no longer recognizes the pain of being scared of what tomorrow brings.

But this world, we, as the future leaders of our own generations, are grown by the world where they ask your own true identity and contribution in this world. We even question ourselves, are we truly living or merely existing?

We seem to be more critical, but even more confused than the generations that precede us. We question almost everything, but never really search the answers. We question our own existence, but never search for ourselves. We are the lost generations. Because it seems that no one can answer any of our questions. We are just floating here, hoping the stream will take us somewhere, anywhere. The shelters we have are in the form of false Gods, temporarily assuring us that we are meant to be like that. But some people know better, some people tend to be better in that sense, some people try to be better but failed. We are doing this because we need something to identify us, to make each of us different from the other seven billion human entities in this planet. We are doing this because we are lost.

We don't want to be boxed either. We do not want to name ourselves as 'the middle children' or even 'the lost children' or perhaps, my favorite, 'the children who fills the in-between'. We want someone to remember us the reason why we exist, why we bother living in this world at all. Why we wake up every morning doing the same routine over and over again. The same, dull, boring and restless routine. And why we are doing what our precede generations are doing. School, college, work, retirement, school, college, work, retirement, school, college, work...

Some of us try to be different and succeeded. They are now being called as the idols. As the rescuers of our void-fill hearts. They are our gurus, the musicians and the singers. The writers and the actors. The designers and the hermits. The travelers and the storytellers. These are the people we run into. The people that make a simple difference. The people that can be differed from any other normal people. These people have found their own twinkles. Something inside of them that makes them different and they project them to the world. Their self-actualizations.

We love to hear the tales of the storytellers. They have been everywhere. They have finally found their homes. While the rest of us, we have this, incurable until further notice, homesickness and longing for a world and a place that we have never been, or for places that we are longing to come back to. A place that make, at least, our hearts at ease. A place where we truly belong. Our own personal niches.

But I think, there is a good thing in being lost. We can be found. Maybe not the whole self identity, but at least, by someone who cares. Someone who understands, or perhaps has lived through, the pain of being lost once. We can both be lost and found at the same time, because we are lost in the feeling of being found and understood by someone. The same other entities that have their own needs to be founded or to be cured from their voids.

Our melancholy is this void in our heart. And we cannot fill them until we know what can. But before that can be done, here is the things you can do to at least temporarily fill them: get utterly lost in cities you've never been to, make friends out of strangers in the streets, make cupcakes, make chocolate, drink hot chocolate, write something (anything) in your book, read a book (preferably those that are easy to enjoy), cry yourself to sleep, make a project with some friends, eat food you've never tasted before, draw a painting of some wild flowers, make a road trip. Find someone that accepts you completely, flaws and all, because someday, only this someone that will remember you for you and this someone will get lost with you. So, what about you, sir? Do you want to get lost with me? 

After The Storm

Sunday, October 28, 2012 Comments Off

Here you go, True. Read this near the windows when it's pouring with a cup of warm green tea.


"Sweater weather." Petrichor said to Caim when she saw first droplets of rain making their way to the ground. Caim smiled and brushed his fingers over her cheek, causing her to smile and giggle.
"So, do you want to start first, Mrs. Hershey?" asked Petrichor, both of her hands were on the table, stroking Caim's hands lovingly.
"Yes. So, what are you guys going to do if you guys have 5 million pounds and you need to use it only for a day?" True asked, like Petrichor, she was also stroking her beau's hands, but the only difference was that their hands were on top of her lap.
Hershey smiled at her lovingly and somewhat longingly, showing his famous dimple. "Easy, love. I'm going to spend it to buy tickets for us to use to go around the world, before both of us settle down somewhere, but preferably in the States."
"Well, I'm going to spend it on vouchers and coupons and lots of those things so that I can use it in the future." answered Petrichor cheekily.
"You know, you can always buy everything you want." said Caim, his hands were not on hers anymore, but one of them was making a journey on her hair.
"Well... we might not know what's gonna happen in the future, right? So it's best to prepare."
Taking a sip of his hot cappuccino, Caim smiled secretively. "I think I'm going to spend my money on houses."
"Why?" asked True.
"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? She'll need a lot of house to keep all of her things that she'll buy with her vouchers and coupons." answered Caim, making Petrichor blushed and nuzzled at his hand even more.

"Alright, second question from me." said Hershey.
"Shoot." said Petrichor.
"If you can have one superpower, what it's going to be and why? Go." Hershey nuzzled his nose to True's curls.
Caim went first. "I want to be able to read minds. Because this girl right here, she is the most indecisive person I know. I just want to know what's going on inside her head, anytime, anywhere. And sometimes she is a closed book, I just want to know what's going on, that's pretty much it. I don't really want to know any other people's mind, just hers."
True smiled knowingly while Petrichor could only hide hers behind her cup of green tea. "I think," True started to talk. "I think I want the ability to be anywhere anytime and can take one person with me. Because I get to be sick with the reality from time to time and I just want to take it all away for awhile and I want to be able to do it with him."
Petrichor's turn. She bit her lower lip that was already bruised because of her chewing. "Well, I think, I think I want to be able to take away someone's pain, especially his, knowing that he's more secretive than I am."

"What about you, Caim? Got any Q's?" asked Hershey, his fingers were drumming on the top of the table and he was playfully biting his lower lip. His eyes wandered around from time to time but always ended up on True.
Caim contemplated for awhile. His eyes were fixed on his cup of coffee. "If you guys are able to know one thing right now, be it from the future or from the past, or even something that is absurd, what would it be?"
"Easy. How many kids we are going to have in the future." answered Hershey straightforwardly.
"For me... well... will they inherit my personality or his or both of us? And what they are going to be in the future." added True.
"Love?" asked Caim, noticing his love was looking at her green tea pensively as if it was holding the key to the future.
"Hmmm… what kind of life we lead in the future with our family." answered Petrichor with little less certainty than her answers before.

"Your turn, love." said Caim, putting his oversized sweater on her shoulder.
"Alright." the glint in her eyes was obvious to her peers. "I know this is absurd, but this is the question that I've been longing to ask you guys, so here it goes, if you know when the world will end, what will you guys do? Or rather, what you'll guys do to spend those remaining moments? Will you guys go insane? Or just lead the normal life."
Petrichor succeeded to make her peers looked thoughtful and reduced them into silence.
Hershey went on first. "I think, I'm going to spend it with my family and friends. Like, share my time with them, not exactly normal, but not exactly crazy either."
True nodded. "I think I'm going to spend my time with my friends and then spend the last days praying and waiting for it to end with him."
Caim stayed silent for a few minutes, making the other three worried about what was going on inside his mind. And then, after a few minutes he talked, "For me, I think, I'm going to marry Petrichor and go on trips everywhere, living the lives that we would otherwise not live."

Things I Need To Survive

Saturday, October 27, 2012 Comments Off

  • Books, the kinds that you can really lose yourself into, the kind that really speaks the mind of both the reader and the writer; the writer, because they create the whole world that does not really exist, and the reader, because they become the characters that they could never be in real life.
  • Tea, especially TWG's Alexandria and L'Orchidée Creme Caramel. They say tea is a drink that dims the world's din. And when you sniff the first scent that ooze from the boiling blend of its exquisiteness, you can make the world go away just for a few seconds of your life. You can jump into one memory to the next, or even live a life you've never led. Their smell soothe you like warm wool black jumper after being left in front of a roaring fire. They make you feel at home.
  • Sweaters. Or jackets. Something that warm me up, like a warm invisible body that will always be there for you to snuggle you and cuddle you until you feel safe and loved, even only by the miraculously tiny strands of threads that could join together and become such a warm article.
  • Interesting and stimulating conversations, like the one I had yesterday night with my dear cousin. Suffice it to say, the conversation was helpful and insightful for both of us; for me because he brought some new ideas and new perspectives on how to live a life and the way we see life. Not merely the currently trending you only live once propaganda, but also how to enjoy life immensely, to fulfill that ever-mention void in our hearts, the emptiness that haunts everyone because their lack of fulfillment in their souls. Not only living as mindless creatures that are needed by the world because we fill our parts in the system, but to fulfill the need of answering questions that we can cause. A new way of thinking and living. A way that some may not accept because, for some their current mindset is not as liberal as mine, but for the others, not as conservative as mine. No matter how weird the conversations go, I immensely enjoy good conversations.
  • Music. May sound cliche and overrated, but it is the simplest of truth. Music can drown me in their own worlds, worlds that are different from the ones that are created from books. Their worlds are more pronounced and indestructible. More colorful and less detailed. But their magic is as powerful as the books'. They provide worlds where we can imagine our own life if we could have lived another ones or even relive the memories that had been haunting us since we were six. Music affects us in ways that people cannot put in words. The relations between sound wave and the chemicals in our brains may not be comprehendible for my brain, but they are there, they exist physically and metaphorically. To numb the throbbing pain. To block the noise from the world. To relive certain moments that we had when we were with our loved ones. To help us memorize certain facts. To be there with us when no one else cannot. They are essentially our companions.
  • Writing, to some extent, notebooks and pens (and pencils). I honestly cannot live without writing something every one day. Just some simple phrases, nothing significant. But I cannot live without doing that. They embody the days and the nights I live. They make me remember days, when I want to revisit them one day in the future. They make me forget the whole world. They make me honest with myself. They make me tell things that I do not dare to tell. They make me ponder. They make me feel alive.
Do you want me to add you on the list?

Where Can You Run?

Friday, October 26, 2012 Comments Off

Dear a man who interestingly and curiously owns numerous of sweaters that could mirror my own collection,
Here is a letter that I will never be able to give to you, given the circumstances we are currently in. Because, frankly, we are strangers to each other. We never exchange a simple polite "hello" to each other, because I'm a coward I know. We have never even talked to each other for more than few lines, that moments were not even our own, because our mutual friends were there beside us. Our physical beings often collided even though never touched, but almost close enough to feel the presence of each other. And then I would move around, or you would in some cases, because I was (and still am) too afraid if I stand close enough, then I would lose it. I would tell you how you currently fill my thoughts and my dreams-- yes, literally, I dreamt of you even though we never exchange greetings.

I honestly do not know what to do with my feelings for you. This is a simple crush, I know, but I'm afraid it is beginning to become something that is even bigger, but not love, no, not now. Something that first started from a simple adoration to a giant, heart-wrenching crush. I'm afraid I'm just a girl who simply does not understand how to react with these feelings for you, I don't know whether or not I should be pursuing you or just sitting here and waiting until the feelings gradually begin to fade. Which one do you prefer?

My insecurity complicates things even further. What should have been a silly little adoration turned into what we nowadays call crush that needs a little assurance about whether or not your like me back. What cause these negative and self-harming thoughts are my historical baggages. I have too many baggages, that I hope I could tell you all about it, that need to be load off and they make me think what I am not supposed to think.

Should I describe you more? So that, when, by chance, you are reading this, you will understand that you are the person that I am talking about. Or the clues are enough, Mr. Sweater? You are oblivious to the fact that I like you, but I hope not for long, because I really want to get to know you even more. I am not asking for Romeo and Juliet kind of relationship, just a companionship from someone who knows me better than I do and who loves myself more than I love myself. Can you be that guy?

I'm questioning myself, "Where can I run to?" "Who will love me?"
Can you be that guy, Mr. Sweater?


Friday, October 19, 2012 Comments Off

Morning. Summer.
Hello, glittering blackness, how I love when you flicker in excitement. Especially when you shield yourselves with your corresponding brown curly lashes and then you open yourselves to the bright and vast world with wonder and adoration. You go back and forth, to me and the rest of me. To the ticking clock above us and then to our bookcases near the treasure chest. Your expressions change from time to time. Sometimes with ease, another time with lack of joy--or is it lack of longing? You trace our apartment, like a kid on its first trip to the candy store, searching for everything, like every single piece of furniture is alive, checking one by one if there is something missing. Then you shield yourselves again. Then you open it and look into me. Without seeing your lips, I can tell that you are smiling. At me. At the whole world we created together. Just the two of us.

Evening. Autumn.
Hello, protective cape, so wide, I will never be able to reach all of you in one hug. Tonight is one of the nights I seek your warmth. The organic matter that could mold itself to be some layers of irreplaceable and renewable warmth. The smell that ooze out from you is also undeniably addictive and it will perpetually be the same. Something that I could trust in you, something that will never change from you. The homey smell. Of spice and sandalwood. Of uncountable tea and endless buttondowns. Of happy dreams and early mornings. You fill my day and night.

Night. Spring.
Hello, where-I-come-from. You make a good pillow. Warm and soft at the same time. And you hypnotize me all the time, because of your constant rise and fall. Don't forget your hums that sometimes changes note because your pretty brain sends some adrenalines and you react instantly, changing pattern and waking me up of your screams. As you gradually back to sleep, I smile and sleep on my own pillow. I sigh, I belong here.

Evening. Spring.
Hello, the creator of my destiny. You look tired today. Did you go miles and miles before you reach your destination? I know you did before you met me. And I you. Did the shoes protect you like your arms protect me? You look worn out. I'll make you some hot water to soak yourself to. With some salt, I heard they are good to ease the pain and make your skin softer. Afterwards, I will bring you some mint scented body butter to smoothens every part of you. Even the part that tickles. Because you are important. You brought me you. Without you we wouldn't be here, laying together in front of the TV. We wouldn't be what we are right now.

Afternoon. Summer.
Hello, the whisperer, you look chapped today. Maybe you haven't tasted anything good lately. And the afternoon breeze does not help either. Should we move to the Hyde Park? Where you can relieve yourself with £1.50 ice cream that comes with edible chocolate sticks and cone. Where you can discreetly use my Hershey's flavored lipbalm. Or do you prefer the tasteless Banana Boat one? And I can also discreetly relieve your pain by kissing you. Gently. Deliberately. With no rush or need. Just patience. Just like what you did when you saw me struggling. Just like we did when we were starting to learn how to love each other, without guilt or restraint.

Night. Autumn.
Hello, my confidant. You are looking exceptionally fresh today. And smells like our hazelnut scented body lotion and body bath. Are you ready to be my confidant? To do your one job. To listen about me rambling about my day, about how Birdy just went by to my office and borrow £300. How my boss gave me assignments about things that he could do by himself (yes,, walking his dog was included). How my colleagues were just looking forward for the weekend, just like me. You are very patient, aren't you? You never fails to make me feel like I'm loved and that my existence matter because every word that comes out of my mouth matter. That my ideas are being heard. Thank you.

Morning. Summer.
Good morning, my everything. Thank you for existing.


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My heart still needs its companion. Though it is now almost complete, it cannot be denied that this metaphysical thing is in need of something that could ease its life. Almost nineteen years of its existence, it had gone through alive, through all the bruises, cuts and spontaneous free fall. And all those years, it ash needs a similar piece like its own that could soothe all of the evidence of the inconsolable past. Every now and then, it throbs, like signaling me of how lonely it is. And, every now and then, it reminds me of its homemade void. A void that needs to be filled with the companionship of others. A void that cannot be filled alone, for it is built upon loneliness and seasonal heartaches.

Heart is a funny thing. It does not exist physically, but it often cause physical hurt that could suffocate your chest and it will yell, "I need to be loved". It still carries on living alone, sometimes it meets other lonely hearts and tries to relieve each other, even only with small talks and laughters. But they all know that they cannot fill each others void. They all need other hearts that are complete, or at least have void in different places.

My heart often cries. Alone. In the dark. When everyone else is sleeping or watching movies with their loved ones, it cries alone. While listening to some music that makes it feel like it belongs elsewhere, somewhere before or after this period of time. It soars. It roars. It cries. Alone. Its need for companionship never fails to make itself cry. How sometimes it just wish it could end it all. Juvenile, I know, but you cannot be juvenile when you have been doing this for the past years. It had it rougher and tougher than others had, but the others are blind to that fact, thinking that it has always been so happy, that it never went to hell and back.

It often laughs on the absurdity of its mind. How it is possible to fall in love with something that is not even there. Or for the fact that it longs for something in the past. For something that it doesn't really know or doesn't really happen. A home that is not physically real. It only knows one thing: longing.

The one thing that is even more sad, is that the fact that it never feels like it deserves companionship from the others that it attracts to.

Never Be

Wednesday, October 17, 2012 Comments Off

You could teach me how to drive better.
And teach me how to be calmer when I drive.
You could teach me how to organize my head better, because I obviously need it.
You could hug me until I fall asleep.
or maybe until I become calmer.
You could stroke my hair and my arm, until my bad feelings gone.
You could rent (or buy) some action movies (or even horror ones) to watch together in my house.
You could show up at my doorstep and bring me some ice cream. With some chocolate bars.
You could take me out to my favorite restaurant and we could eat all of the desserts.
You could compile a mixtape that is filled with my favorite songs.
You could borrow me your ever present sweater and I will wear it like a protective cape.
You could bring me cupcakes, with my name on it. Cheesecake flavored please.
You could cuddle me, until I feel like I'm safe. But then again, I bet your arms are the best hiding place.
You could hold my hand until I feel like I belong somewhere. And never let go. Ever.
You could take away the physical pain of the void in my heart by being there. Always.
You could be a constant reminder of how happy I am.
You could be mine. But, you will never be.

Thank You, Fate.

Friday, September 28, 2012 Comments Off

I guess you can never forget your first love. Your genuine and honest-to-goodness love. The first person that you spent your night thinking about, the first person that made you cry and laugh at the same time, the first person that will never be replaced by any other person that succeeded him-- if that is even possible. This person can be a fictional character, someone from your bedtime story, an unsung hero you found when you were walking down the street with your grandparents because this person bought food for some homeless guy, a hollywood actor/actress, a deceased painter or even someone who baked that delicious homemade pie apple that you loved so much. They are the kind of people that you want to be and you want to be with.
And it is insane how small gestures could really burst your heart because of uncontainable happiness and joy.
And it is ridiculous how you could feel something so deep for someone that was a stranger to you. And idealized idolized beautified person that you thought they were humbly yours. For an insane moment, you thought they were. You thought they were this godlike creatures coming from the galaxy far from Milky Way.
But when you got to know them even more, they were just these humans who were conveniently there at the precise time and at the precise moment. They were these normal everyday people who you didn't know before-- before they entered your life and made a twist.

For me, even though it is absurd, but my first love would always be Chris Eccleston. I recognize myself as a fan. A fan that flew thousands of miles from her own land to seek some refugee from an unknown land for her. And she did. She found refugee amongst the daily life of the locals. And to top it all off, she met her Prince-- even though she knew that the said prince will never belong to her and will always live in the land of far far away. She did not mind. She will never mind. At least she saw her first love. She will never forget that fact; the fact is that she finally met the person that if you asked her six months ago, she would say that she would never meet him in this lifetime, or any, ever. But, as it turned out, fate was generous enough to get her a chance of meeting the person that she had always idolized, a person that she thought she would never meet.

And for this, thank you fate for bringing that chance.
And please head, stop missing him. You don't even know him.

Picture by my beautiful Russian friend, Sonya Ermolina

Six Weeks

Sunday, September 23, 2012 Comments Off

I've accepted myself. Flaws and all.
Six weeks taught me that.
Six weeks helped me to accept myself and everything that had happened to me.
Six weeks made me understand that I was enough.
I am enough.
And this whole void in my heart fiasco is not real, I came to understand that,
I created the void and I chose to indulge that void by mourning, crying and blaming everything.
And as it turned out, nothing is wrong
everything feels right
I love myself.


Saturday, August 25, 2012 Comments Off

We could have been strangers, storing each other faces into our minds and labeling them as "faceless nameless stranger", in which we put the data on how we looked that day (maybe when you wore that black hoodie over blue washed button-downs and maybe when I wore that maroon cape that I purchased the day before we met) even though somehow and sometimes we could even confuse each other's clothes with other strangers that we do not know, we could become another stranger that we eventually forget the very existence of each other. We could have forgotten each other's eyes, that sparkle of golden dust in your irises and the golden sphere in one of my irises. We could have not remembered the way each other breathes, how you usually took large gulps of air and how I usually took my short breaths. I could have forgotten how I look in your black hoodie, you could have forgotten the fact that my umbrella saved us from the sudden bad weather. I could have forgotten those blue veins that made the shape of the trees on your veins, I could have forgotten how they feel underneath my fingertips and you could have forgotten the feel of my fingertips grazing your one and only tattoo. We could have categorized each other as "stranger I've met once under the sunny sky".

However we are not strangers. Fate chose to meet us up in that Chinese restaurant when both of us had to share a table because there weren't any tables left. Fate chose us to like the same food and made us order the same food and the same drink. Steamed chicken over fried rice and chinese tea. We laughed and talked, and then ordered another pot of chinese tea because we talked about anything and everything that day like we've known each other for years and years. They kicked us out because we stayed for too long. We laughed again.

And for the next three weeks, we went on the same routine. Talked over food, but occasionally we met up to watch some movies (mostly action and science fiction, we both hated typical romantic comedy movies) and we dined afterwards at the nearby restaurant. Often Chinese restaurants, but not always.

We made up stories and timelines if we remained strangers and did not meet each other. In one case I would still be that grumpy lonely girl and you would still be that happy-go-lucky guy. And in other case, we would meet each other again in a bookstore because we argued about a same book.  But, we also laughed about the fact that both of us were insane for thinking that there were other timelines and reality. We acknowledged the fact that, if we have not met, we would still think that other people were luckier than us or they did not fight hard battles everyday; we taught each other that we sometimes neglected the fact that other people were humans and they fought wars, either inside their heads or real physical fights. We taught each other about lives that we knew.

And then you left.


They Exist

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As it turned out, fairy tales aren't urban legends.
Fairy tales do exist.

Even though it is fleeting and short-lived, like colorful exotic butterflies flying in the sky of a humid paradise. And sometimes, it is better that way, because nobody writes a fairy tale that does not end, either with tragic or happy ending. For what its worth my fairy tale was pretty much ended in a good way. It ended where and when it should be, even though I would often wonder what could have happened if I stayed longer or if he started earlier, but, then again, I think about fate, because everything falls to their own places and if I mess with them, if I change the timeline, I wouldn't have the same memories, the magic and the moments wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't have gone to Cambridge, I wouldn't have taken a walk in the park, I wouldn't have bought my eau de toilette, I wouldn't have watched the movies; I wouldn't have been the same person as I am today, I wouldn't have been me.

Memories were made because the timings were right, because they all fell to their own respective places and corresponded rhythmically, to produce a chapter in my life that is incredibly exquisite and irreplaceable. I believe that everyone has their own special parts in your life, either they came to build you, to break you, or in rare cases, both-- and they all had their own times, maybe his time in my life is done and my time in his life is done, we don't need to carry extra baggage in ourselves if we ended up in a bad term with each other, the fairy tale ended in the right time.

Having said that, everyone is different, because they have to be somewhere on the right time to do the exact purpose that caused by their own selves. I know it is a widely acknowledge fact, but, for me, their importance are like those of food. On my seemingly endless trip, I met couple of people that I could relay on to. The first person was, B. B was like an expensive dark chocolate. Alluring, mysterious, high class. An enigma, basically. He was the kind of person that you had to fight for or trade something before you could get him. Another person was S. He was like water, you needed him everyday. He was an anchor. You ignored his presence from time to time, but, from some experiences and mistakes, you knew that he was important, that he was the key. Some others were like vegetables you didn’t like, they tasted bad, but they were good for you, because they build you up.

I've found out that I don't love you, maybe a mild obsession in addition to my lonely existence could add up into something that clouded up my mind, but, I know it is not love, because my definition of love is when you don't have to think about your own feeling, when you don't have anything in your mind and when you just let go completely and absolutely trust him to take the wheel and drive you to anywhere or even nowhere. My definition of love is not as simple as being with you all the time, but it is more like the exchange of our minds, our ideas, our thoughts, fears and dreams, hopes and nightmares and clinging to each other. I came to understand that...

Love is different for everyone. For one person, love is another form of obsession; you love someone in a way that you want to know everything that has been happening to that person, you’d feel bad, or even sad, when they do not respond you. For the other, love is a mere myth, something that never happened, something that you see everyday but never felt before. And for another person, love is as simple as missing that other person when they are not next to you; missing their hugs, kisses and missing their laughs. Therefore, we can conclude this point by saying,  everyone is loved. Maybe not in the way that you wish they would, but in their own ways. Maybe you need to be loved in a way like Romeo loved Juliet, an obsessed and full of passion. But also, you need to be loved the way an old couple love each other, willingly, trustfully and still going strong for many many decades.

And I need that old couple love. I know it's still a long way to go, but I have my own share of youth. And I know,
fairy tales do exist.
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