People always think I'm strong. But I am not. I'm just good at putting on a show. At the end of the day, mask discarded, strong is the last word I would describe myself. But that's not something you need to know.
Attention. I used to love attention, so much that I thrive on people looking my way and noticing me. It brought a sense of satisfaction to be the centre of attention. My addiction to attention is not something people know because unlike bursting and sticking out like a sore thumb, it's more subtle and soft. People don't usually know they're giving me the attention I myself asked and somehow that's a good thing I supposed.
I guess I got tired of the spotlight. I got tired of trying my best to appease the public. I got tired of letting people see what I create and shape for them. I got tired of pretending. It was fun while it lasted. I wanna have fun for the sake of having fun and not because I wanna show the world how much fun I'm having. I've wasted so much memories trying to show people how much I enjoy my life instead of truly living it. I've wasted opportunities of enjoying the company I'm with, the people that matter and supposed to matter. It's sad really. I still love attention of course, but only from those worthy of mine too. Wouldn't it be better to pay attention to the friends next to you rather than hundreds of people on instagram/twitter who only feeds your attention based on what filter you use on you photos and how funny your tweets are. I'm done with that life. Often we took the things/people in front of us for granted. I've learned my lesson in ways I hope anyone else do not have to go through. I'm reminded of the things I took for granted when I myself was taken for granted, the wheels of life took its spin on me I guess.
So here's to 2017. Here's to more self discovering moments, more memories made and more appreciating of the people around me. Let's take it slow.
Red coffee cups. Packed highways. Grey skies. Stop sign. Yellow bushes. A flat tire. A kind stranger. Curious eyes. Empty bottles. A bag of cheetos. Dirty hands and blackened fingers.
You're so near but I've never felt so far. Slipping through my fingers right before my eyes. I can't reach you anymore. So tell me, where do we go from here?
It was dark. All I could see was an infinite stretch of nothingness in front of me. Deprived of my sight, my hearing heightened and I could pick up footsteps. Slow and heavy. What happened? My head hurts, trying to dig out memories of what lead me here but all I can recall was water, and blood and screams. It didn't make sense. The war was over. We've won. All divine creatures wiped clean, demons and angels alike. The footsteps grew louder. My limbs weak and my head was spinning. I felt shivers run down my spine when I realised I'm not the only one in the room. It's faint but I can hear breathing. Soft, almost like he or she was barely alive. And then I felt it. Cold and wet slimed fingers on the back of my neck. Its grip tight and I almost choke from the lack of oxygen. But then the grip loosen and it's soft, caressing as if telling me it's okay, I'm gonna be okay and then my heart stopped.
5 years old
A little girl on a swing. Her hair in a pony tail, swinging back and forth. She smiled as the summer breeze caressed her cheeks, eyes turning into crescents as she looked at the world upside down. Baby blue sky and scattering rays of gold. Skin flushed red in the summer sun, she learned to listen to mommy when it's time to go home.
12 years old
Pink shoes and pretty dresses. It's Halloween and everyone wanted to be a Princess, so did she. So mommy did her hair and daddy told her how pretty she looked, a girl with the whole universe in her eyes. Halloween passed and she learned to love her parents.
16 years old.
Boys and kisses. The little girl left her baby fat and thick glasses, she now wore skinny jeans and denim jacket. A boy took her to dates and give her flowers. She later realised that flowers die and hearts break. Mommy cried with her to sleep and daddy bought her ice cream. That spring she learned love comes in many ways.
23 years old
The semester was almost over. A whole month until graduation to figure out what's next. Paying bills have never looked so scary until this point. Could she afford to even feed her cats? But mommy said not to worry. Daddy said his little girl have always been strong. That day on graduation, she cried in her parents' arms.
31 years old
Two twin boys running across the yard. A mother of three, with one still hiding from the world. Her husband's out there fixing kiddy pools with his clothes half drenched, looking majestic as always. She told the boys not to play with the hose only to turn around and hear them screaming again. She's reminded of how daddy would bring her to play swings when it's summer, even when mommy said no. That night she called home.
50 years old
It's quiet. Her children just left after dinner. She made roasted duck, her youngest's favourite and they talked and laughed until their stomach hurt. She looked up to see her husband looking back, a fond smile on his face. The family photo on her right a stark contrast against the pale cream wall. Mommy and daddy was smiling back at her, their eyes glimmering. That night she wondered if she's ever been like mommy and daddy. Would her children look into her eyes and see constellations, ones they crafted with their own bare hands.
n.a.
n.a.
It's snowing. The night is crawling nearing daylight, I am still rendered restless with you taking a stroll down my thoughts. I wonder, where did we went wrong? Was it my fault? Was it yours? When did we stop choosing each other?
It's cold and I miss the warmth of your body pressed against mine.
A hand splayed on my waist, a familiar weight. These walls feel like bricks of ice. With every breath, it drew closer to me and I am counting every inhale and exhale only to suffocate.
I remember how you take your coffee. Cream and sugar. You've always liked your coffee sweet, maybe that's why you left. Maybe that's why I didn't stop you. My coffee have always tasted bitter.
It's cold and I miss the warmth of your body pressed against mine.
The curls of your hair tangled between my fingers, soft. I remember how you would prefer a breakfast date over dinner. How we would trade morning naps with sipping coffee down the street. You've always loved mornings, maybe that's why you left. Maybe that's why I didn't stop you. My life have always started as the night curtain falls.
I'm sorry that you prefer sunrise when I am sunset. I'm sorry for all the years you thought you've seen stars when I am just a stray meteor caught in your orbit. I'm sorry for what I said and what I whispered. I'm sorry for making you fall in love with a picture perfect illusion but not my skin and bones. I'm sorry I can't be your sunrise. I am a sun setting below the horizon, never the one rising from it.
n.a.
I am not your manic pixie dream girl. Not anymore. I do not exist to fulfil your dreams and desires. I do not exist to be your muse, your inspiration. I am not your only hope at grasping what little good is left in this world. Most importantly, I do not exist to keep you breathing and alive. I have my own dreams, a sky full of stars waiting for me to make that leap of faith. I am my own body. I am my own mind. Do not see me as a concept, an illusion of perfection that dances and twirls around you without a care in the world. You are not the centre of my universe and I am certainly not yours.
- I should've learned that sleeping at 5am when I have class as early as 10am in the morning is a bad idea
- I should've learned to never procrastinate my essay until the day before submission date
- I should've learned that going out without a proper jacket when it's 3 degrees celsius outside is as good as walking through the fiery pits of hell, except it's the opposite temperature
- I should've learned that if anyone is worth trusting, it's myself
- I should've learned that sometimes people are your friends because they do not have a choice
- I should've learned that heartbreaks never really heal, maybe they do but mine left a permanent scar, ones I do not know if I could ever proudly show the world
- I should've learned not to expect people around me to accept my flaws and insecurities, the skeleton in my closet, my darkest most dangerous thoughts
- I should've learned to not fall in love with someone or something I know well for a fact, is untouchable, beyond my grasp
- I should've learned that time, waits for nobody, it never does and it never will
- I should've learned that the only person I need to love right now is myself
I've always loved cities. The vibe it carries, just never fail to blow me away. You could literally feel the buzzing life of everyone and everything around and it's somehow so comforting to be lost between bodies you didn't recognise and faces you haven't seen. That's just what it's like with cities, you're never alone even when you are. Chaotic but it made me feel everything but that, almost calm. It's like a cold windy day on a summer afternoon, uninviting but soothing, always welcomed despite the blazing heat. The shiny lights decorating the heart of the city at night seemed almost magical. If anything could rival the twinkling of stars from a faraway green meadow, it's this. Not as spectacular but beautiful nonetheless. Sometimes I feel sorry how the magnificent night sky would dull in comparison to the light pollution below but I'm comforted knowing that mankind could never handle such beauty. Maybe that's why I love cities at night best. They remind me of how beautiful things could shine and sparkle, just like the stars.
People would often question why I like cities so much. To them, it's just another jungle of concrete, tall buildings and heavy traffic. But I see more than that, to me it's more than just buildings and cold expressionless citizens. It's the rush of adrenaline and the stupid risk you silently pledge to, when you commit yourself into living in big cities. It's not easy. It's never easy. Everything is expensive as shit, everyone's always on the rush, it's chaotic, some might say it's a living hell. But it's full of life. Full of people chasing their dreams, and making it work. I've been to a few big cities myself, and it's always different. The feeling is different. The people are different. The vibe each city carries are nothing compared to each other. Like I said, it's full of life. Stories of people trying to survive the concrete jungle, scraping of what's left of their sanity.
Maybe I can relate to that. Trying to find myself and explore my limits, I tend to want to be surrounded by all sorts of life. Not necessarily making friends because the one thing I suck at most is making friends. So big cities appeal to me, as I can indulge in these various walks of life. Amazing isn't it? To think that in one way or another, you've crossed path with these people and changed their lives whether either of you realise it or not. You could smile at your phone on the train and made a stranger's day a tad bit happier seeing your obnoxious smile albeit not directed to them. You can see someone reading a book at the coffee shop and the next thing you know you're in an old bookstore trying to find the exact book. Amazing. Life is amazing.
If love is a colour, it'd be red. Bright, with all its might. Intense. But falling in love with you feels more like baby blue. Soft and comforting, never once aggressive. Your touch feels like lilac, if ever colours could be touched. Hesitant and careful yet laced with certainty. Grey is for the days I've spend missing your smile. Dull. Like the sun stop shining for a while. Your kiss, can only be described in shades of gold. A colour that resembles worth. A colour that won't fade with time. Your kisses stay forever gold. And you? Of all the colours in the world, of all the shades artists could name, not one would suffice to embody you. For you are all the colours at once, bursting at its full intensity. You are your own light. And me? I am your deep dark secret. Always in the shadow. Always there for you, even if you can't always see me.
