Undone

   You lie on the grass next to me as we look up at the stars. I laugh as I feel the grass tickling my bare arms and feet. You sigh, a smile of deep contentment on your lips as you close your eyes.
   It is quite a cold night, but we keep each other warm. We always keep each other warm.
   I ask you where your thoughts are. You look at me and tell me you are thinking of the future. I make a face. You are always thinking of the future.
   You ask me what I am thinking of. I look at the full moon and tell you I am dreaming of what will come. You frown. You tell me that I always dream too much.
I just laugh and we both close our eyes and let our thoughts drift in the cool breeze.
   I was heartbroken when you had to move away. You held my hand and reminded me that you were only a thought away.
   Years later and here we are.
   You sit on the grass next to me as we look up at the night sky. It is very cold and the stars have decided to go some place else, somewhere warm. I shiver as I feel icy fingers touching my bare arms and feet. You sigh, then bite your lips in annoyance.
   You tell me I should have dressed warmer. Or that I should at least bring a shawl. You are dressed sensibly and the cold wind does not bother you.
   I nod and ask what is on your mind. You look at me and tell me you are thinking of the future. I smile for some things even time cannot touch. You are still thinking of the future.
   You ask me what my thoughts are. I gaze up at the dim crescent moon. I tell you that I still dream. You frown and almost look angry. You tell me that I should stop dreaming.
   I can only smile. You tell me you have to leave because you have a future to work for. I shiver again, but it has nothing to do with the cold. You stand up and walk away. I close my eyes and let my memories of you be carried off by the wind.
   Yes, I was heartbroken when you moved away.

Stranger

I'm sorry I didn't fight harder for you. I loved you. I still love you, more so now than ever before. I know more often than not it seems like I have forgotten about you or forsaken you for others, but trust me, you are always on my mind.
You were, and always will be, my first love. My one true love. You were always with me, right from the beginning. You stayed with me, all through the sleepless nights and all through the storms. Truth be told, sometimes I think you saved me.
And even though I turned my back on you, you stayed loyal. You stayed strong so I would stay strong. But lately I feel you slipping away from me. Maybe you finally realised that I'm not worthy of you.
After all, how long are you supposed to stand this abuse? I seek you out and then I reject you. I cry for you and then I leave you behind. I ask you for help and then I condemn you.
I'm surprised you even stayed this long.
I don't know if I should fight for you or let you go. Maybe if I let you go, you'll find someone who will treat you better. But if I let you go, will that mean letting my love go? Am I selfish? Am I a coward? No doubt about that. I am selfish and I am a coward.
I hide behind shadows and blame others. Excuse after excuse. It was never my fault. The blame always fell on the people around me.
I even blamed you sometimes. I mistreated you, misused you, twisted you this way and that way, and all the while claiming that I loved you.
You first came to me when I was hurting and offered me hope and companionship. I still need you. I'm still hurting. I'm still scared. I am so sorry for the way that I have behaved. I am so sorry for the way that I treated you. Please forgive me.
I am a coward.
All those times you wanted me to speak up for myself and I forced you away, choking on the bitter taste of swallowed words. All those times you told me to let you free so I could let myself be free, and I chained you up inside. All those times you urged me that my thoughts had value so I could recognise that you had value, and I erased you like you were worthless. I buried you along with my voice and I buried myself, and now I am constantly suffocating.
Somewhere along the line, I lost myself. Buried under a mountain of excuses, of hopelessness, of worthlessness.
Will you help dig me out? I'm alone in the dark like I was the first time you came to me. Help me find the light again?
Help me find me again.
So I can finally find you again.
My lost love. My lost words.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 9

When night spreads her dark cloak upon the horizon, I sit by my window, holding my breath. I hope he comes. After last night, he might have given up on me. The ticking of the clock is maddening. As the hands spin the hours, I feel my hope fading.
I close my eyes and send out a wish, so that he might hear me. I open my eyes and there he is. That wonderful smile of his restores my spirits.
He enters after I open the window for him.
"I'm sorry."
"Wendy, you did nothing wrong."
"I've been thinking of you all day long."
He takes my hand in his.
"Come."
Still holding my hand, he leads me outside. I smile, happy to follow him.
This time he takes me to an island. It seems to be deserted as I see no signs of life. We sit on the sand. His hand has not left mine since the moment he held it.
We watch the waves roll up. I draw little circles in the sand with my bare toe. He looks down and grins ruefully.
"Perhaps I should warn you to bring your shoes next time."
"I think that would be good. At least we're not standing on rocks."
"Sorry again. I should have thought of it. But I was excited to see you."
"Me too."
We sit there, talking, until dawn. When the first splashes of pink appear on the dark blue sky, he turns to me.
"I should take you home."
I nod reluctantly.
We stand, say our goodbyes, and he sends me home.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 8

My mother and I are out running errands all day long. By the time I reach my home, I am so tired I can barely walk up the stairs. I clean up and collapse onto my bed. The second my head hits my pillow, my eyes close and I fall blissfully into a deep slumber.
I dream of him again that night.
He is trying to convince me he is real, and I just smile and nod. But I know the truth. I simply play along. It is only a dream after all. There is no harm playing along and falling into the fantasy in a dream.
As soon as daybreak arrives, I awaken. Instead of feeling refreshed as I should after such a restful sleep, I feel disoriented and confused. And disturbed.
Something is niggling at me from the deep corner of my mind. I try to shake it off as I get up and start to clear my bed.
I lift up my pillow. There is nothing there.
The sun reaches my bed and decides to rest there.
It all comes rushing back at me.
Peter, holding my hand and pleading with me. Me, nodding along with every word.
Peter, telling me that he is here for me, trying to convince me that I have been calling for him.
Me, finally tiring of these illusions and shutting him out.
Peter, holding the star in his hands as he leaves my room, disappointed.
Peter, leaving a trail of silver dust from my bed to the window.
Peter, the one I have been calling for in my dreams.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 7

I am awakened by the sun's fierce glare. I open my eyes drowsily and look around, expecting to see the sun nearby.
I am on my wooden bed, on my comfortable mattress.
I am back in my room.
Disappointment surges through me and I flop back on my pillow.
Had it all been a dream?
It must be. I nearly laugh out loud if not for the deep disappointment. How silly I was to think that it was all real.
I look around my pillow, thinking that the star must have been part of the dream as well.
Sure enough, there was no star.
There is a knock on my door, then my mother enters.
"Wendy, wake up. We have a lot of work to do today."
I nod and she leaves. I close my eyes for a moment and recall the memory of holding the star in my hands.
Ridiculous, really.
Well, it was time to go back to reality.
I climb out of bed and head for the bathroom for a shower.
My mother calls for me to hurry because we are running late. I have a quick shower and dress hurriedly, rushing out the door without making my bed.
Had I looked back, I would have seen a corner of a star peeping from under the pillow.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 6

I take a tentative step forward. Peter is watching me and smiling encouragingly. I kneel and touch the cloud with my hand. It feels like the softest silk slipping through my fingers. It feels real enough.

My earlier denial is quickly dissipating. This is real. I stand up and begin walking, then skipping across the cloud. I go as close to the edge as I dared to and look down. A city, alive with lights, is sleeping below me.

No, not a city. A whole country. How high up were we?

Peter comes up behind me. He gently places a hand on my back and nudges me forward a little. "You can sit there on the edge. You won't fall."

"Uhm, no. I'm fine."
He laughs. To prove his point, he steps in front of me and walks to the outer edges of the cloud. He sits and carelessly dangles his legs in the empty air.
I am still unconvinced. I am perfectly happy where I am. I sigh and lay down happily, enjoying the silky caress of the cloud on my back. I stare up at the stars for some time, before feeling my eyes grow heavy.
I try to call out to Peter to take me home but my lips refuse to cooperate. My eyes are barely open and I decide to just give in to the floating sensation.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 5

"Will you come play with me tonight?"

I hesitate. The star was a very thoughtful and special gift but he is still a stranger.

Yet, there is something so familiar about him. As if he is a forgotten dream from the past.

He smiles and takes my hand.

"Shall we?"

I nod. I feel sure that I can trust him. He leads me to the window ledge, holding my hand firmly in his.

"Close your eyes," he whispers to me. "And think of the one place you would love to be in right now."

I close my eyes and one image pops into my mind immediately. I frown because it is impossible. I try to think of someplace else, but before I can he is calling to me.

"Wendy, open your eyes."

I do as he says. As soon as my brain registers what I see around me, my knees go weak and I almost collapse.

Almost. I did not fall because he catches me quickly, holding me tightly.

"Peter." The name escapes from my lips. I am surprised. I repeat the name again, looking at him.

He smiles and looks pleased. "You remember."

I shake my head weakly. I still feel shaken and unsteady.

"Not real. A dream," I mumble.

"It is real."

"No. A dream. So long ago." I look around me, half in wonder and half in denial.

He laughs. "This is real."

I look down at my feet. There is no way this is real. It is just not possible.

My bare toes are touching cotton candy.

He lets go of me and sits down on the cotton candy.

This cannot be real. I must have fallen asleep while waiting for him.

He starts playing with the fluffy candy while I have this mental debate with myself.

How else can you explain how I'm standing on a cloud?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 4

I awake the next morning with a smile. With the arrival of the sun, the star's brightness has faded but there is still a faint glow.

I find myself skipping about the house, which earned my mother's disapproving glance.

"A young lady does not prance about the house like a horse," she scolds me.

I bow my head in a show of regret at her reprimand, but I really bow my head to hide the huge smile on my lips.

The day seems to go on forever as I wait for nightfall.

Finally, darkness creeps into the house and it is time for bed.

I refrain from running up the stairs and force myself to take one small step after the other.

When I reach my room, I rush towards the window and look outside. The moon has come out, and the stars dancing, but there is no sign of him.

I am disappointed. I am surprised that I am disappointed. I sit on my bed and look at the star, which is shining brilliantly once again. I hold it and smile.

I am interrupted by a tapping. This time it is a welcome sound. I look up and, sure enough, there he is.

I walk over to the window to let him in.

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am. You have been calling for me."

I am thoroughly puzzled. He does not look familiar at all. And how could I call on a magical boy when I did not even know magic existed before last night?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 3

Despite my mother's voice screaming warnings in my head, I walk over to the window. There is something so innocent, yet wicked, about his face that fascinates me. I lift the window and he enters my room.

"Hey!" I snap. The nerve of him! I was only going to have a look at what he held in his hand, not have him flitting about my room.

He stops right in front of me and opens his cupped hand. The angry words disappear as I look down.

I gasp as I see it. There in his hand is the sweetest, most perfect star. It was brighter than any diamond I had ever seen.

"Here," he moves closer to me. "This is for you. To show you that magic is real."

I am frozen. I cannot move. I cannot speak. I am absolutely captivated by the star.

He gently takes my hand and lifts my fingers so they fold around the star.

After an eternity, I finally find my voice. "Thank you."

He nods.

"But, why are you giving me this?"

"Because I want to see you smile."

He gazes at my face for a moment and smiles. Without another word, he leaves my room and leaves me alone.

I walk back to my bed and place the star next to me. I wonder if he will come back tomorrow night.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 2

I wake early the next morning, feeling refreshed. That immediately put me in a cheerful mood and I begin to go about my day.

However, by lunchtime the cheerful mood was slowly fading. The boy from the night before is persistently in my thoughts, just as he was persistently tapping on my window last night.

I try to push him aside. Unfortunately, this time, Miss Mclachlan was unable to help me block him out.

By bedtime, I am in a foul mood. I have a nice, stable life and am perfectly content with things as they are and this, this boy dares to invade my life? Who does he think he is anyway?

As if he knows that I am thinking about him, the familiar tapping invades my private rant. I turn towards the window. Sure enough, there he is, grinning impishly and looking a right mess.

"Ah, but what an adorable mess," a voice whispers unexpectedly.

The voice in my head.

I frown and watch him as he waves at me. I will not go to him. I am a sensible girl and I do not allow strange boys into my room.

He sees my sour expression and stops tapping and waving. He looks at me for a moment before flying away.

Flying? Hold on, did he really fly? But that's impossible.

"Magic." His reply to my question last night pops into my mind.

I shake my head and tell myself not to be silly. Magic only exists in books and in dreams. Not in real life. I walk back to my bed and climb in.

Just as I am about to turn off the light, the tapping begins again. I look up in surprise. I thought my sour disposition was enough to turn him away.

Apparently not.

He is gesturing excitedly for me to come to him. There is something cupped in the palm of his hand.

I think he wants to show me what it is.

I hesitate.

Do I ignore him again or do I walk over to him?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 1

I'm looking out at the boy standing on the window ledge. He's tapping the glass insistently and is grinning cheekily at me. I'm a sensible girl. I'm not going to let some strange boy walk into my life like that.
But he keeps tapping away, eyes imploring me to open the window. I try to ignore him and hide beneath the covers. Tap, tap, tap. Oh, go away.
But the sound is really getting on my nerves. I throw back the covers and stomp over to the window, glaring at the boy. He stops tapping and starts waving, smiling cheerfully all the while. I lift up the window a little and snap at him, "What do you want?"
"Come play with me," he replies.
I'm ready to explode. "Are you insane? It's way past midnight! And I don't even know you!"
"I can bring magic into your world," he promises.
"How did you even get on the ledge?"
"Magic."
I slam the window shut and close the curtains. He immediately begins knocking on the glass again. I grab my iPod off the desk, crawl back under the covers, slip on the earphones and fall asleep to Sarah Mclachlan.

Wisdom Of The Ages

Every single time I walk past a shoe store with my mother and stop to peek in, she will say...

"You only have one pair of feet. How many pairs of shoes could you possibly need? You can't wear them all at the same time."

If we subscribe to this notion, I would then only have one top, one pair of trousers, one pair of shoes - basically, one of everything.

But I choose not to follow this particular advice.

Why?

She has more shoes than I do.

It just looks like I have more because she keeps passing her shoes on to me .

Reflection

I thought I was being quite cute and playful.
I was tired, I was drained, but I tried.
Then some innocent words cracked that already thin surface.
I was not quite so cute and playful anymore.
More like crazy.
A fork clattered loudly onto the floor of an empty restaurant.
One hand covering my face and the other groping wildly for a mirror.
To check for yet another imperfection.
Ah, how can I expect you to think I'm beautiful when I'm a host of so many imperfections?
You think I'm crazy because I would not let you look at me.
I can't look at me, why would I want you to look at me?
Go away.

There's nothing here.

The Magic Is Gone

I used to be afraid of the dark.

I would wake up in a panic if the room was shrouded in darkness.

Now I can only go to bed if the lights are out.

The light irritates me now.

The magic is gone.

The Things We Do For Love

As I mentioned in my previous post [ a couple of posts back], my friend/ex-housemate from my university days was here for a visit.

So, we were playing tourists. I've been loving the fact that I apparently can pass as a tourist too, so it's been great fun. Anyway, she managed to coax me [or was it coerce?] to visit the Batu Caves. I'm sure you'll find plenty of info on the Batu Caves on Google or Wikipedia.

We climbed about 272 steps of stairs whilst monkeys were freely roaming around practically molesting the visitors. My legs felt like jelly by the time we reached the top [after much whining and whinging on my part about how tired I was, though we completed the climb in under 10 minutes] and I took almost as long going down as going up. My friend stopped for a photo op, and I leaned back against the banisters. Big mistake. My hand touched this soggy, squishy thing which totally grossed me out. It turned out to be a half-eaten rice cake, the remnants of a monkey's meal.

I whipped out my Dettol Wipes [being the germaphobe that I am] and scrubbed my hands. Euwww... Monkey germs!

Once we reached the bottom, I was feeling dizzy from the climb and from the heat and was appeased [or bribed] with an isotonic drink and an Indian sweet. [Gosh, I'm easy.] We went somewhere for lunch before I took her to Petaling Street [also on Google, I'm sure - I'm too lazy to link it] to buy souvenirs.
Honestly, what a difference having a tourist by your side makes. The level of respect [read: greed] in the faces of vendors was palpable. We had to take the side lane because I was afraid she was going to get pounced on. Some guy even referred to us as "pretty ladies" to which my friend replied [under her breath], "Oy, mate. I'm not a lady. My name's Bryan," which left me in hysterics. Also, I was trying to avoid the smoke from a roasted chestnuts cart and nearly got run over by a taxi. Brilliant.
Ah, monkey germs and near-misses. The things we do for love and friendship.

P/S I know this is different from my usual poetry-style posts. Thought I'd give you a break from that. And also show you I'm not such a downer. =D

The Labyrinth

It's been awhile.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and I like what I see.

More often than not, I don't recognize what I see.

Sometimes I feel like the Ring Master.

More often than not, I feel like a clown.

Sometimes I feel like I hold the world in my hand.

More often than not, I feel like everything is slipping away.

Sometimes I feel like I'm on display at the zoo.

More often than not, I feel invisible.

Sometimes I feel the world around me is going crazy.

More often than not, I feel like I'm losing my mind.

Sometimes I feel like I have all the love in the world.

More often than not, I feel alone.

Sometimes I feel like I'm nice.

More often than not, I feel like the complete opposite.

Sometimes I feel like throwing a glass against the wall.

More often than not, I just keep silent.

Sometimes I feel like I'm home.

More often than not, I want to run away.

Sometimes I feel brave.

More often than not, my resolve crumbles.

Ah, yes.

It's been awhile.

Heavy, Heavy

Eyes too heavy to see clearly...

Throat too heavy to speak clearly...

Heart too heavy to breathe clearly...
Emotions too heavy to think clearly...

Come Join The Charade

Truth Or Dare?

Three simple words... a game...

Accompanied by loud laughter and triumphant shouts...

Might as well have been a magical chant by a dark witch.

Those three simple words...
And I'm frozen with fear...
When it was my turn, I always chose Truth.
Because Truth was safe.
And Dare, the Unknown, was a risk.

Now I don't play Truth Or Dare anymore.

Now I play Dare To Face The Truth?

Ah, Glory Days

Just a quick update. I've been rather quiet on the blog front because a friend from my university days is here for a visit and I have been having a grand time playing tourist with her.

Hope you're not missing me too much! [As if! =P]

Welcome To The Playground

Ah, the playing field...

From fresh grass, flying swings, full benches...

To threadbare floors, flying paper, creaking chairs...

Step up to the plate.

I nod, you nod.

We know the rules.

Cheat and pay the consequences.

Prepare for the judgement in their eyes.

I nod, you smirk.

We know the rules.

Cheat and reap the rewards.

Prepare for the admiration in their eyes.

Ah, the playing field...

No more fun and sense of wonder.

I'm stepping off the plate.

You nod, I wave goodbye.

Enjoy your glory and praises.

They will be good company for those sleepless nights.

Oh, Say It Is [Not] So!; Or, The Meaning Of Life

This is what it has come down to.

Me, desperately shaking a Magic 8 Ball for the answers I desperately seek.

Dear Magic 8 Ball, will I marry and have my happily-ever-after?

Without A Doubt.

[Oh, we're off to a fabulous start!]

Dear Magic 8 Ball, will I ever become a published writer?

My Sources Say No.

[Bloody 8 Ball!]

Dear Magic 8 Ball, will I at least live comfortably?

Yes.

[Simple and straightforward, I like it.]

Now to get down to business.

Dear Magic 8 Ball, will I ever figure out what that silver button belongs to?

Most Likely.

[Woohoo!]

Dear Magic 8 Ball, will I ever cure my addiction to shopping?

[Inconclusive - I received many glimpses to different answers.]

Dear Magic 8 Ball. are you telling me the truth?

Concentrate And Ask Again.

[Ok, I will.]

Dear Magic 8 Ball, are you telling me the truth?

Yes, Definitely.

[Ok, I trust you. I've got all the answers I need for now. Thanks! You have just enriched my life deeply. What would I do without you?]

No, seriously, will I ever be able to answer these deep questions without your insight?

Without A Doubt.

Well, then, why am I putting my trust in you?

No answer.

Not so smart now, are you?

As I See It, Yes.

Great. You have just destroyed the very foundations of my belief. Thanks a lot!

Nutrition For My Eyes

For a good friend, ScoMan.

Thanks for all the wonderful support.

Welcome To The Dollhouse

To sit in front of the mirror...
The lying mirror... or
The truthful mirror?

Choosing a colour...
Coral or crimson or raspberry...
Sweet or mysterious or natural?
Desert or sunrise or dusty rose?
Vulnerable princess or strong warrior... or
Lovely enchantress?

Cover those sad eyes.
Cover that pale complexion.
Cover those downturned lips.
It is time to face the outside world.

The gleam of diamonds to add shine to dull...
The inches of heels to elevate low to high...
The smoothness of silk to reduce the roughness of life...
The props to face the outside world.

No more sad eyes, but confident eyes...
No more pale complexion, but a glowing complexion...
No more downturned lips, but alluring lips...
To stare the world in the eyes...
To face the world and all it will bring...
To smile everyday...

Ready?
Welcome to the dollhouse.

Being Fabulous Takes Up 99% Of My Time

Forgive me then if I sleep a lot. It's exhausting being fabulous.

I've been meaning to get to this for a while now...

But as usual, I was... blablablabla...

ScoMan has deemed me to be fabulous! I'm so flattered, I'm blushing fabulously. =P Thanks, ScoMan!

Now, as is customary, when one receives an award, one must give a speech. The speech for receiving this particular award requires the recipient to list 5 addictions, which I shall fabulously do now.

My 5 addictions, some of which make my life so fabulous, include:

1. Writing. My coping mechanism that helps me deal with the drama. My catharsis for my constantly tempestuous emotions. My lifeline when I'm drowning. My true loyal companion through every step of the way.
2. Reading. See above.
3. Facebook. Fabulously entertaining me through those restless hours. And keeping me in touch with friends while allowing me to stalk some. =D
4. Crisps. Once I pop, I just can't stop. Well, technically, I'm addicted to Walker's, so it's more like once I tear into the packet, I can't tear myself away until it's empty.
5. Pampering sessions. Aromatherapy, bubble baths, shopping - all those little things to make me feel good.

Now to pass this on to 5 other fabulous bloggers:

1. A'a... from Dorothy, Eat Your Heart Out!
2. Maryam... from The Swanny Times
3. Adib... from A Corner Of My Soul
4. Nicole... from Me, Myselves And I
5. Cheryl... from Confessions Of A Twenty Something Year Old

Welcome To The Puppet Show

A string pulls me in the opposite direction. I go stiff and try to dig my feet into the ground. But I guess I didn't dig deep or hard enough. Or maybe the force behind the string is too strong to resist. I go flying across the wind, wishing the ground was quicksand that will hold me down firmly.

No such luck.

So I land at your feet. You said, "Let's go."

I nod and follow because that's where the string is leading me.

Ah, you're not a bad person. You can't help who and what you are.

I think I'm not such a bad person. But I am who and what I am.

I've been called into play. And play I shall.

Because it's not always about me. The captain needs to rest. And rest he shall.

So I give you a big smile. I take the string and begin to skip.

Welcome to the puppet show.

Stasis

He's watching me, studying my face for a frown, a smile, a wrinkling of the nose - anything to let him know what I'm thinking.

My lips curve into a smile but remain silent.

He smiles back and touches my hand.

I see the uncertainty in his eyes. I hope he doesn't feel the uncertainty in my heart.

He asks me a question. I answer but don't elaborate.

I feel him begin to panic as he grips my hand tighter.

I look at him and look away.

I want to pull away and I want to pull him into me.

His panic somewhat reassures me.

So this is where we stand.

Is this where we end? Or is this where we move on?

I don't know.

I'm not sure I want to know.

I know that I need to smile now. So I will.

But I wonder...

Is the loneliness worse when you're alone or when you're right beside someone?

The eternal question floats in my mind again.

Is it worth it?

Exclusive

   I feel so rejuvenated and invigorated and all such words. 

   Scented bubble baths, aromatherapy, essential oils, scalp massage, hair treatment, facial, facial and body scrub and foot massage all equal a totally blissed out and serene me.

   Spa treatments rock.

   Especially if you're the only client.

   Because you did it all at home.

   Now I have to go clean up those bowls of milk, eggs, green tea and cucumber. Yum! 

P/S My services will NOT be made available for the general public. Though your tips will be more than welcome.

Black Is The Colour Of My Mind

What once was, is now fragments of fleeting memories and torn pieces of paper.

A ticket drops down and lands on the ground. Where will it take me? Does it lead to a land of promise or to a land of nothingness? I refuse to bend down to pick it up. I turn my face and look up at the black sky.

A door opens up before me. I hesitate. What is on the other side of that door? Do I face a room full of scorpions or a room full of gold? I turn my face again and look down on the dark ground. There is nothing beneath me. There is nothing above me.

A hand taps me on the shoulder. I turn to look behind me. A smiling face offers me a golden goblet. Is the goblet full of honey or is it full of poison? I shake my head and turn my face away. This time I shut my eyes.

I feel longings whispering to me. Wish after wish reaching out for me. Dreams trying to touch me. I walk into shadows to hide from the unknown.

Now I'm covered in regrets and tears for what once was.

A Picture Can Say It All... And More

Because a picture is worth a thousand [and five] words...

You Can Throw That Tape Measure Out

Remember when you were in school and you've just received your report card? You take it home, show it to your parents and the usual spiel follows.

• You only got in the Top 10? What happened?
• How come you only got 63% for Science?
• What did [insert best friend's name here] get?
• See? He/She did better than you. How did that happen?

To which I only have one answer: I didn't study. Yes, I suffer from chronic laziness. Anyway, science never really caught my interest in school. But that's besides the point.

The point is... why does your success have to be measured against another person's? Does it not speak for itself? Does it mean that you have to push, trample, shove, beat down others on the way to the top?

A little friendly competition is good and all to motivate yourself to do better. I've seen friends go all out to beat each other. But then again, I've always been more on the coasting side of things. I suppose the key is in the balance, as it is in all other things. Balanced diet, balanced lifestyle. Balance of Type A and Type B.

It's not just education and exam results that people compare, though. It's everything. Especially in families, particularly Asian families.

• Look, your cousin is so pretty and so slim. You should watch your diet more.
• See, your cousin's husband is so successful and so rich. You should find one like that as well.
• Your cousin is doing so well at work, etc.

Honestly, I don't particularly give a fig. It's nice for them and I'm happy for them. But I'm content with what I have. Sure I have my own goals and dreams, but they have nothing to do with outshining or showing up anyone else.

So, for those people who think that they're better than someone else because they have nicer clothes or a more expensive car or have more money stuffed in their purse...

I say...

You know where you can stuff it.


P/S When you go to a posh boutique here but aren't dressed head-to-toe in designer gear, the people in the store [90% of the time] assume that you can't afford anything in there and either refuse to help you or follow you around with this disdainful attitude like you're tainting the store. You know who you are.