I emerged from the subway station on my own and crossed the street to take the bus. Another instance of me doing things on my own. Maybe I secretly crave companionship. But this freedom to go wherever I wish serves me well when I need to think. Yet we don't always spend this time thinking, sometimes we spend it in our silent little worlds, taking time out on our own to indulge in our solitude. This is what it feels to be on your own, a lone leaf floating pass the duckweed and twigs, moving through the river of life, going about on its own.

The wind whipped around my face, and for a moment I felt like screaming. I want to know that my solitude is chosen, that I don't really crave to love and be loved. But I do crave, and I do fear that this going about on my own is exactly what it is - going about life and becoming insignificant.

I want to feel your fingers digging into my hand right now.

I lay here warm, enveloped by bubbly soapy water, sleepy, at peace. The vapours of soothing lavender filled my own little space as I hummed a familiar tune, allowing my unfamiliar voice to echo gently in this quiet place. I closed my eyes and let myself slip under, the water embracing me, turning my reality into this still and soundless bubble. I held my breathe and allowed my thoughts to wander. Here where I am, I am free, free to think. I let my thoughts form like clouds on a clear summer day, each cotton coloured shaped morphing, changings into other things. Your brown eyes melt into the inky earth as oceans of daffodils blossom magically, leaving stardust in their wake. Your arms become oak trees reaching Sky wards to touch my face as I tremble earthward to embrace you, meeting at the horizon. I exhaled and this moment like my breathe reached quickly for the surface as I find myself alone again, back within the threshhold of reality in this simple bathtub, alone with thoughts of you. I lean back to feel the warm comforting water cover my back, allowing just enough water to submerge my ears as I let the silence take me again. This moment I was silent, the same song I was humming became louder and louder, in my mind's ear this song played, our song.

I dreamt of you again last night, darling. Such a sweet smile you had, those sparkling eyes. I cannot remember much of the dream except that you were in it and you smiled. Everything was beautiful because you were there.

How much I want to hold you close, feel your arms slipping through mine. Feel you tugging at my elbow and pleading with those pretty eyes for some affection. Where are you now? Do you know how much I long to be by your side?

Perhaps its me, I should have called you. But I fear hearing your nonchalance, or having the call go unanswered. You flit from activity to activity like a butterfly, free and happy. Would you want to be tied down to me? I don't know. I cannot enter a life like that, a life of fast paced happiness and giddy ignorance. You are streaking by life happily, but that pace of life will only make me wonder whether I'd overlooked anything. And wondering makes me melancholic and melancholy makes me uninteresting.

You see, dear girl, I want to be as giddy and as happy as you. But at the same time, I prefer to savour any droplet of emotions I have, negative though they might be. You, on the other hand, savour joy as the fragrant wine of life. We belong to two different worlds.

Bliss

Anger consumes me. I want to burn all the daggers they hurled at me. Better, I want them to burn. I would swirl the clouds into a boiling grey cauldron and hurl it at them if I could. But there I stood in the scorching afternoon sun, being whitewashed by the light. Just like everyone else.

At that moment, I really needed your voice. Give me a sign, anything. Beg me to love you, beg me to stay. Beg me to walk away from everything but you because you are all that I need to sustain my life. Take me away and I will go with you.

The sounds of vehicles, the shuffling of feet on the sidewalks and the silent yet deafening glare of the sunlight. Nothing happened, or rather, nothing I hoped for happened. Nothingness everywhere.

Yes, the whine entry, not wine entry sadly. I really really hate it when school work sweeps me off my feet, stealing me away from all thing good and precious. But then again, studying is important to me too. But for today, I'm not going to be defending academics, today I'm just going to indulge in whining, and perhaps after go wine-ing :D

Ok here goes.

1. Early morning seminars. They are dreadful, a bane to my existence. Havent the smarter people out there running the show figure out that people like me need more time in the mornings! Even my sister sky does not show up all bright and cheery first thing in the morning. Sky is grouchy, ugly, absolutely unlovable in the mornings. Damn you evil Patriachy and all you evil men running the show (except you honey!). Waking up before the sky lightens is banal. Period.

2. Public Transportation. Dear God why wont those sleazy old men at the driving centre just pass me already! Thank you for being concerned about the dangers I may pose to other road users but i swear its just the nerves. How do you expect me to drive comfortably while one is blatantly being objectified by a pervy individual who is sitting right beside you and is legitimately in a position to gawk and stare. pssst. Thus the daily morning rush, where countless countless amounts of rude and ill mannered individuals rough up a harmless helpless girl struggling with her monster of a laptop on an almost daily basis. Sob.

3. Assignments. Rawr! Why kill the joy of academics with so much work! Why capture how much one can grapple with a subject based on lenghty uninspired rote work? Honestly, I love classes so much, but all this work, it kills me. How does one call it work? Work is stuff you love to do, take great pride in, almost like a little child of your own! Poetry is work, prose is work, novels are works, the rest mere labour! Assignments are like the daily act of brushing your teeth, you dont love it but you simply have to do it. grr...

It is so banal to even be giving such things any sort of creative thought. I just stifles it and kills it off. It darkens the sky. It makes me very sad, and very uncreative. But I guess I am only human, more mortal than most, not as strong or independent as I try to make myself out to be. I doubt these words would reach the eyes of my colleagues, but I do wish that they would spot those performed smiles. (I must apologies to Sarah someday, I broke down into tears for seemingly no apparent reason when she hugged me the other day . I must seem to all to be a strange, silly, puzzling girl.) 

Sometimes, I wonder why I still bother going through the motions of things expected of me, things that I obliged to do but hate. 

"Sky you must go get a good degree". "Sky why arent you doing Law?" "Sky why are you seeing that boy?" Sky this, Sky that, criticisms, comments, all unwelcomed. Leave me the heck alone already, I know that you care Dad and I will always be your little girl. But I'm a lady now, a woman. Please care for me and love me but give me this space to grow, this place to breathe, this space to love.

But alas, how I long to hear your voice, it is not long now. A phonecall away, I know you will be there listening, I know you will tell me that everything is alright, I know you will tell me the most important three words to me right now.

"I Love You"

A thousand daggers flew at me today and I was covered in blood that no one could see. It was all so easy for people to point the daggers at me, wasn't it? It was never difficult to cut, it was always the healing that is.

I stood outside the company with blood gushing invisibly from all the wounds no one could see. And in my mind, you would appear and hold me close, and whisper into my ear that I could just tell them to fuck off and leave. That you would be there and support me in whatever decision I make because you believe in my dignity. That we would drop everything, get our pens and papers and our creativity, turn our backs on this life and embrace a nomadic life of beauty appreciation. In my mind, we could have had the world because we know beauty from the so-called reality, the perfect excuse to be mean and exploit others.

The sky rumbled but there was no solution.

Here I am again, alone here on this familiar roof top, not completely alone, because you promise to be here with me always in spirit. The wind is cool today, a restful breeze that eases the toil of day away from weary sky. I sit here quietly in the dark, still momentarily amidst the gentle hum of vehicles traveling miles below me. A lone candle lights my vigil as it illuminates the pages of my contemplation. A quiet moment, an aching moment. I smile to ease away the frown and tears that would always come with it. This throbbing pain in my chest as I feel my own heart beating quickly as I take labored breathe. I never understood this feeling, this screaming emptiness that threatens to dissolve any calm my mind tries to bring. I pen to reach you, I write to reach you, hoping sincerely that someday these words would come again under your gaze and carry with them my voice. Do you miss me? I believe you do, I really do. I try to imagine you sharing with me the same longing I bear for you, this irrational irritability. This wanting to scream out to an indifferent city how much I do Love you and miss you. Alas the rain fell, metaphorical rain as Sky begins to shed vials of crystal tears that would fall and shatter unseen, unheard upon this dark quiet roof. I do truly miss you. Across the horizon, into the zenith, over the ocean, in another land. Over there the sky is bright. Where you are my other shines brightly for you as does you very own Sky so very far away. My heart flies out to you but finds herself mortal, unable to transcend the thickened time and space. For now, I have the hourglass, a testament that this time you are away from me is finite. When the sands in this cruel glass deplete, I know that you will be at my side again. You will be here to take me in your arms and wipe away these tears. You will, I need you to.

Some nights like these, I feel the love I have for you morph into something greater. It happens when I look out my balcony, to see the roads lying in the dim glow of the orange street lamps. And the nearby houses in darkness save a few windows, behind which people live lives hidden from my view. But it is all beautiful, this world, this planet, this moment.

I feel my love for you extend to all the people in this world. I love this world for being the way it is, for being alive, for having come this far and for bringing you into my life. You have a life that excludes me, and yet we are entangled in each others' existence. Perhaps when we die, we could see the whole picture of who we are to others, who others are to us, and all the could-haves that we never paid attention to when we were alive.

But right now, breathing in the cool crisp night air, listening to the distant whirl of vehicles on the nearby highway and watching the city lights, I am in love with life and you are a part of it.

The pages flutter as I run my fingers through my Zebra friend, letting the words ascend like old perfume, lingering but strong enough to fly. It is kinda funny how when I read my own writing, I can almost picture a silly Sky looking up at me reading in a voice i never knew I had. 

Your world is a mystery to me. Not because I am not able to understand it, but because I cannot enter it. You're so self-satisfied in your life, will you still be able to find space for me? I am nothing spectacular. I am not a rock star, I am not that star basketballer that every girl giggles over. I am not that carefree playboy whose megawatt grin can make you believe he is your prince charming. I am not the poet or artist whose windblown hair or paintbrush can melt your heart in an instant.

All I am is just me, Avon. I'm just Avon to you, to me, to everyone around me. There is nothing for you to be amazed or intrigued by. So I cannot enter your world just like this. There must be something that you see in those people you hang out with. There must be something you're not seeing in me.

There is something I see in you that draws me to you. Its the way you smile, the way your eyes sparkle when you smile. The way you're stunned speechless when I poke fun at you. The way you are sometimes awkward around people. Its how you marvel at your own unhappiness with the world, with yourself and with every other thing. And how you're not seeing the beautiful creature you are to me.

Why bother putting a name, a term, a theory and an explanation to everything that goes on? I can't be bothered. All I know is contained in that left rib cage. Things happen that you just know, because of what happens there. A thrill, a jump, a feeling. And its that feeling that tells us whom we are willing to accomodate no matter who she is, what she has done and why I shouldn't.

Sometimes I watch you from behind and wonder whether you feel like me. Maybe you think that you're nothing special and that it takes that one and only soulmate to understand and love you and give you eternity. Sometimes I want to hold you from the back, to protect you from your own insecurities and mine.

If you are only special in someone's eyes, let him be me.

Sometimes I wonder why I still pen these things. Why I would somehow obsessively pen down these hourglass moments into my little felt zebra printed notebook. It is almost a treasure trove of my most personal recollection, thoughts and poetry. You had been like that once. I remember a season when words went silent and the world existed in the now and was vibrantly filled with laughter. Now all I have are mere words - lines and curves coughing into life as the paper pages gradually become smudged by tears and the coming rain. Somehow I wonder how legible I would be when i start huffing and puffing up that final stretch of stairs that would lead me to where I want to go.

Sky
Avon
Dreaming Writing Believing


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