Where the pieces fall

A moment passed by me in the glimpse of a second,
On the road of an end I know not where,
Taking in everything from the cool air around,
I just want to run away.

So many things left untouched.

Where do I find my way back?
Would she be there waiting for me?
Running beyond the speed of sound,
Crossing borders and ignoring all bounds.

We broke so many laws of the world.

Pressured for a quick escape,
I find myself talking to the mirror,
It refuses to smile back at me,
The eyes cutting me.

I turn the lights off.

Falling to my knees and feeling the cool floor,
The dust moves from the fall,
Like a small cloud,
I scream back at the darkened figure before me.

I pick up a stone.

A ray of light shine through the curtains,
Onto to the cutting eyes like an impetus,
I scream at it as I prepare to throw,
A sudden jolt like lightning throughout me.

The shattering glass reveals the one who waited for me.
-The return

Welcome back, a long break from this place has left it rather old and untouched. A return to an old friend, a return to my mirror mask. The call like an impetus from an audience calling an actor back onto the stage, the burning desire to once more weave words that I’ve long since stopped due to unforeseen circumstances.

It’s been a month plus since my computer went down. And for the longest time, I’ve not written a single poem. With the failure of my motherboard, came the unintentional hiatus of my writing. My over reliance of a keyboard as my pen, and word document as my paper makes me realize, that my inspiration does get scribbled or penned out, it gets typed out, and not having a computer to work on when I have the inspiration kind of turns off my mood to write.

I am actually glad my computer is not working, because I no longer have the distraction of computer games, and online chatting which took up a large part of my daily time. The down side is, I don’t get to download new music and update my Ipod, and thus the music I listen to tends to get rather old. With the new time I gained due to lack of distractions, I had more time to go out, spend time with friends, read and enjoy more of the world around me.

I’ve experience much in my time away from my computer. Right now, I am in the very last stage of my national service, and don’t really have to go back to work anymore, except for a cohesion and the final clearance day when I become a civilian once more. No more threat of a detention barracks for this boy anymore, just plain old jail.

I’ve had a chance to see more of a world I never really saw, which gave me much insight to myself, and how certain people can be really outgoing and fun. A close friend told me not to deliberate so much, classify things and categorize everything, because when I did, I lost sight of the beauty of the object, person or event. Of course it’s rather difficult to get out of the instilled norms of society that have been wired in for years, it makes us categorize nearly everything in life. From sexual orientation to education and jobs. I try not to, but I still do, which makes it harder for me to truly judge a person without biasness. Almost all of us have this sort of biasness, no matter how we consider ourselves as unbiased when judging new people, we still categorize a person rather quickly and then make a judgment of them according to the category we placed them in.

I’ve met so many colorful personalities through this close friend of mine, who shared with me many of his life experiences that could relate to mine. I’ve seen so much that most people would normally not see or experience, which makes me grateful for knowing him and getting to be his close friend. If I had to describe him in simply one word, it would be peace, and to describe our friendship it would be amazing.

One of the notable personalities that I met through my close friend was Hossan Leong, an interesting and funny character whom I respect greatly in terms of his acting ability and wittiness on the go. I’ve had the chance to see him perform on stage a few times and heard some of the songs he sang which were posted on you-tube, their really funny.

Another notable person I’ve gotten to know more in my life is this girl whom I’ve met many years ago, only on an off chance (Breaking a toe and being bored at home kind of chance) Someone whom is one of the best conversationalist I’ve ever met in my life, thus being able to converse on hours on end without getting bored, and her similar interest in writing and poetry, and not to mention having a scary ability of predicting what the heck I am doing (That freaks me out, as if she might be spying on me) I’d have to say, she’s become one of my close friends in such a short time, a new person to share my thoughts with, and thus a exchange of thoughts, and a mash of intellectual conversation which I must say is nothing short of yum. Their like a delicious food for thought, which reaffirms that in this world, there are people to enjoy the beauty of the mind with.


Droplets form against the window,
Reflecting the light as it glows,
Rolling down the blinds slowly,
I see a face staring back at me.

Across to the other house.

The single light shining towards me,
She stretches out her hand,
The rain droplets land softly on it,
A sudden gust of wind blows her hair across.

She laughs gently.

Turning the knob of the window,
I push it open and step out onto the cold tiles,
My heart beats to a sudden pulse,
Knowing this isn’t just some simple wile.

The distance between us feels so real.

Shining the ray of light to show a path to walk,
Beckoning and guiding me towards her,
Towards the final steps,
The very edge.

A leap of faith.

I take in the cool damp air as I prepare to hold it.
Rushing forward in one long breath.
I cross the edge of my sanity,
To bridge the final jump.

Into her arms.
-Into her arms.

Of things once broken

At a glance I saw what’s real,
I hope you’d listen to my appeal,
I’ve kept my lips closed with this seal,
Please stop time.

I wondered how much I would fare,
But I’ve held back for I did not dare,
As I worry for those whom I care,
Please don’t stare.

I fell to both knees in front of you,
I felt the grass beneath us two,
I wondered if you knew who,
What I had gone through.

A resonance.

Dizzy as I rested my head in your lap,
I left my writings laid bare,
Of the things I wanted to say and do,
Of the things I wrote.

I cried slowly.

I looked up and reached for your face,
Holding your hair that feels like lace,
As I was cradled in your grace,
Protected by your wings and comforted by your gaze.

All I wanted to do was to follow a path,
I never knew what fate I had cast,
The angels knew my draft,
That I’d never have enough.

Of you.

-Turn the lights off

The champagne bottle came ajar, from the top shelf of the wine fridge, as the bottles came crashing down, I reached out, catching what I could, and I caught almost all, except for one. The champagne bottle fell, and in my mind imagined it shattering into many pieces. It never broke, something else did. That something broke its fall, my littlest toe.

I had broken the bone in my little toe, and now I am once again on medical leave. Considering that the previous week I had a fever and I had been on medical leave for 4 days since the week before’s Monday, now I am on another 3 days since yesterday. I have yet to go to work for such a long time. I’ve never had so much sleep in my life, the energy is there, but the complications of my toe, doesn’t allow me to do that much. As I look out the window, at those who run by my house outside and I could not help but stop and stare. It’s been so long since I had a good run. I’ve lost so much weight due to being sick last week, so much that I increased the number of pull-ups I could do without training. For such a long time I had been stuck at twelve, now I am at fifteen, how astonishing to me it is. All this rest must be getting to me, and weight loss too.

Being stuck at home has been a bore, though I had a lot of time to work on my writings, plan my life and future, with the comfort of a twelve pack of light coke (I love light coke, it’s pretty much my favorite drink, not for the diet factor, but the taste and feeling, it makes me high!) I’ve become pretty restless. My close female friend visited me twice during this time, to keep me company, which I gratefully appreciate. A change of pace and someone to sit down and have dinner with, and with her ranting of her life to keep my day interesting. She also reminded me that I have not baked in a long time.

I realize I only bake when I am truly happy. I guess I’ve been alright, but I’ve not been satisfied with my life so far, only when I am truly contented, perhaps then I’ll bake once more. I do cook here and there, some pasta, some risotto, a baked fish, fried pork knuckles, it’s not that often that I cook though. The desire isn’t really there. I’m at the state where I am waiting for what I’ve planned out. Army doesn’t really put much purpose in and meaning to my life. Dota is not life, though its fun, it’s just that, its just entertainment. I want to feel achievement and purpose. Army will not have much impact on my future, and with it coming to a close, I am just waiting for the move, the transition which I’m wondering if I am ready for. Whether I am ready or not, I know I want it.

Well, till I’m contented, ginger bread men and peanut butter cookies will have to wait.

The moment of change feels so real, as much as my toe is really broken, I feel the change coming, the world slowing down in the last moments of this part of my life. This chapter is in its final paragraph, and the future plays I wish to do, the poems I am to write, the stories to conjure, the new chapter to begin. I’ve touched the parchment on which to write the next chapter, now is to prepare for its prologue. It makes me curious and excited about what I’ll get to learn and experience, the people whom I will get to meet and interact with. It feels so real, because it is.

I look through the tainted glass,
And see what has come to pass,
Of the commitments that never last,
Why did they end so fast?

Some choices were better than some,
Of all the things I wanted to say,
I wanted to feel,
At the end of tragedy.

I showed no mercy,
I sundered hearts with urgency,
To an extent of pure gluttony,
Was hurt the true currency?

And so the souls left broken,
In my wake I left then empty,
Only for them to return wanting,
I offer them no reprieve.

And when the shadows cast a cloth,
Covering the lights that are turned off,
Their tears dried like a dry cough,
There I find the revenge they sought.

I turn the lights off,
And close my eyes,
I let the glass fly,
And let myself come undone.
-A simple tragedy

Well the days where I left much broken souls in my wake is long past. I stare down at the shadows long cast, in the light, it casts one long shadow. I found that the past haunts are nothing to worry about anymore. The ghosts have given up, though perhaps not forgiven. I wonder if eventually the spirits will be laid to rest.

Was I wrong to be what I was last time? I lived my life, I betrayed no one, and I just lived it. Was that so wrong? And being true to myself, not lying to myself, and not to the other person who I was with, was that wrong? I questioned it several times myself, and each time, I knew that it wasn’t, I would never experienced what I have had if I did not. In which it makes culminates to what I am, for to me also learn what is it in life that I want. Would you know what you want straight away? I know I did not, I had to try, I had to see, I had to learn, I had to explore and experience.

Still, I can’t help how some people have reacted to ending of a relationship. As much as some people found it hard to let go, they turned to blame the other person. No matter how amiable or appropriate the circumstances. I guess some people will always victimize themselves, and in order to do it, they have to villanize someone, and I guess I had to be that one. So much for being their superman, now I am their Lex Luther.

The difference between them blaming me, and me not blaming them for anything, I believe in myself.



The journey seems so perilous,
I’ve reached the end of the Sabbath,
Surrounded from tyrants all around,
I create my path in this requiem of dreams.

Treading in this icy water,
Numbing the cold silence,
The waves hitting me gently,
As I close my eyes and see the dagger.

I cut my way through my demons,
To the summit of my destiny,
Where the angel of mercy resides,
The moment a coup de ceour.

Reaching for her,
I take her into my arms,
Spreading my wings,
Believing in myself.
-Believing in myself.

Temperature Rising

Holding onto the feelings as I kneel on the ground,
Knowing that if things need be I’d apologize,
Before it’s too late.

Taking in all the words in a blinding heartbeat,
I hear the sirens blaring constantly,
I can’t make a sound.

Drifting away from the narrow lines,
I hear the cracks beneath the ice,
I breathe deep.

As I turn around,
The lights flash across the river,
The temperature is rising.
-Temperature Rising


I had fever a few days ago, and it was the most draining thing, 3 days on and off high fever where I had two distinct dreams. Today being the first day my head is clear, I spent the day recollecting, and reflecting about my dreams and I guess I felt like writing. In one of those dreams, I dreamt about meeting a group I met a long time ago who were biased against me before they even got to know me, due to someone bad mouthing me:


The jury passed its judgement long before the evidence was presented. It was too late, I did not need to say another word, or even apologize for being who I was. I turned to look at them with my hurt eyes; they did not acknowledge it the slightest bit. It was as if they were cutting me down with their cold stares.

Words of another about you can often crack the thin ice that everyone starts with when making new friends. People often make their judgements about a person early, and stick with that judgement. A prejudice, especially when someone else tells them something about the other. Positive comments help a bit, but negative comments often break the ice that everyone treads when meeting for the first time.

Those were the times in the past, I remember about such things, I have a personality that can make enemies without me knowing. Because often, those who don’t like me are quite two-faced, wearing masks in front of me, pretending to like me, acting as a friend towards me, but behind my back revealing their true dislike for me. These to me are the worst people I meet, but I’ve come to accept it as part of life. There will always be two-faced people, and I know there are people out there who I’d not like but not show it, and there are a few who I warn people about, from my various experiences with them. Thus, it can’t be blamed, we all work that way right? Some people may not like me, I may not like them, all of those who I’ve warned about are generally those with low EQ, not that I have high EQ myself, but I guess and hope I have relatively decent EQ. I think I’ve gotten better as I’ve gotten older, learning what are traits I posses that should be toned down or featured less except on certain occasions (I rather not talk about that today, perhaps another)

Another dream I had was about a time I had to say goodbye to a close friend who passed away a long time ago. Here is a poem I wrote a long while ago, as a tribute to him.


As I heard the music of the funeral band,
I reached out for her hand,
Only to stumble and be lost.

As the first drop came,
An endless pour,
Caught in a world of endless doors,
I began to cry,
And then a hand grasped mine.

I was out of my daze,
And I was met with many a gaze,
I heard the speech of praise,
From a priest of heavenly grace,

The hearts had been bled,
The tears were shed,
At the end of everything said,
I said my goodbye as I cried in my bed.

- Goodbye

When I wrote that poem, I felt every word bleed out from my heart, along with my tears, it is something I will never forget. He was young, and his death struck a loss in my heart, and it showed me the mortality in the world we all live in. Death can come at any time, to anyone. For him it was too early, and I know that no matter what I do, I can’t make a difference. It makes me feel so weak. I can’t change the past, I can’t change death.

What I can do, is make a difference in the lives of others who are still there. The very people I can reach out to, those whose lives I can still affect. That’s why, I intend to go far in life, achieve my goals and reach out to those who need help. With my very effort and money, I will directly help, and not with some organization that takes the money, stuffs it in a bank and takes out a fraction of the money to use to help people. Donating to a charity is like paying someone else to care for another, it’s so easy to pay, but are you truly affecting another person’s life?

Everyone has a limited time on this world, but it doesn’t mean they have to suffer. For those who are better off, more fortunate, they should reach out to help someone. Even just one person, it would make a difference. When someone who is blind who needs help to get somewhere, an elderly who needs help to carry something up a flight of stairs, teaching English to underprivileged children, when someone has fallen down, all these acts of charity make a big difference in their lives, even if it may seem small, it meant that there was someone there to offer aid, support, help. Although it may seem like one small act, you should remember, that every act is important because it affects the person you’re helping. Remember that every person you help has feelings too and, how much joy or ease you bring to their lives when you help them. I guess that’s why I help, I want to make a difference, and I want to affect people’s lives in a positive manner, even if it may bring a perceived inconvenience, I find that its better to help the person in need. Don’t donate to an organization where volunteers reach out for you, reach out with your very own hands.

From everything that is given,
Of the trust emplaced upon,
I cross the line once again,
Pushing you wayward.

Sometimes I find things ajar.

Broken glasses across the floor,
Scented candles lay beside me,
The wind rushing through my hair,
On my shirt there is a tear.

Wearing the past long torn.

Memories of times of lust,
Long since the dream’s bust.

Of the times I’ve felt guilty,
Fallen into a place,
Where you cannot follow me,
I close my eyes and pray.

Please let me stay.
-Calm

When I write

Where the words have fallen,
Of the thoughts left separated,
I hear her voice in my head,
The image replayed a thousand times.


The odds are stacked.

Faded into the shadows,
Memories of the dream,
Winds of fate had blown past,
Leaving a void so vast.

Hallowed dreams.

The importance is long forgotten,
Yet secondary to none,
I reach for the shadow,
Why have I lost it?

A troubled soul.

A being I had left sundered,
Dreams of which I had plundered,
Broken,
Ethereal.

Nobody sees her.

I reach my hand out,
To undo my faults,
To untie the knots,
To break the chains.

To set her free.
-Free

“Where we stand”

It was late, I had taken a ride from a friend who dropped me off at a place that was further from the destination that we started from. I felt slightly sore about the choice I had made about following his car, in a hope of getting home faster, and where I got off, had no bus to my place. So I had a good ten minutes walk to the bus stop that I needed to go to. I had just begun to discuss over the phone with my friend over some important topics.

Across the road there was a man in dark glasses walking with a stick, as I crossed it, I saw he was about to cross and he was rather hesitant, and so I asked him if he needed help. The man was blind.

Ending the conversation with my friend, I forgot about my bus, though there was a slight feeling of being late scratching at me, I knew that the man needed help, and I was there, and one should never wait for another person to help a person in need. Many people suffer from the inactions of others.

And so I stretched my arm forward when he reached out. And so he explained to me where he needed to go. He had to cross the road to take a bus, so I took him across to the bus stop, and just as I was about to leave him there after helping him, I saw him asking blindly at the bus stop for someone to help him with looking out for the bus. I saw the people at the stop simply stare at him, without uttering a single word, they simply look frightened. So I turned back to tell the people of his condition, and the bus he needed to take. Immediately, two girls agreed to help, I could see their uncertainty over the whole situation before I stepped in to tell them.

Most people don’t know how to react, and often they are often frozen in their actions. Leaving the man in their care, I proceeded to cross the road again, realizing that I had increased my walk from 10 minutes to fifteen. Despite the increase in the distance, I felt that I rather walk the fifteen than let the man suffer the danger of crossing the road since he was blind, and I shuddered to think that he was all alone, traveling around, in a world where people were often apprehensive and reluctant to help, he was willing to take a chance that there will be people to aid him.

As I walked to the bus stop, I thought about my helping the man, the short conversation we had, I had introduced myself, and the silliest thing I did was point at where we had to go, when he could not see. I felt stupid, but I realized that I was inexperienced with helping a blind person, and I could only imagine how stupid I looked when I talked to the blind man and pointed at things at the same time. Who was going to see but me and the rest of people? While the intended person could not.

His trust in me, was strong, as he gripped my arm firmly and followed my every step, not hesitating when I brought him along. It was quite a distance to take him, it was a pity I’d never get to know him any further. And would he remember me? I don’t think so, maybe he’ll remember someone helped him across the road to the bus stop, but will he recognize me? The voice of that person? I did give him my name, but then that was it, in the world we live in, despite how small it might be, is vast enough. I don’t think I’d every get a chance to know that person, to know more of his world. A world without vision, but heightened sense of hearing, taste and touch.

I wish I could have gotten his contact, and perhaps learn about his experiences. It is a world that I would never want to experience, but it’s something I’d like to learn more about, so that I might understand them better in order to help them more.



“Competition”

As the sun bore down on me, as I looked up at the sky, the heat warmed me greatly, the feeling of where I was, reminding me that there was much to do in my life, many plans still left incomplete. At the poolside, a friend asks me to race across to the other side. The challenge reminded me of when I was younger, when I would be the one challenging. Here I was, being challenged, and so off we went. I won that race, like many that I have done, but then again, there was always someone who was better, so most of the people I raced were not better to begin with. If it was a large competition with many competitors, I’d usually end up second.

Why second?

As I ask myself that question, and now that I write it out, I feel that I commit much of my mind to the task, but at the last moment, there would usually be a slight doubt, even if it was just for a split second, it often would cost me the win, and I end up second. I could say, I’m quite used to second place by now.

So when do I get first? Usually when the actual no.1 isn’t there. So every victory in that event or sport, when I am the first, I feel that it’s not worth the win because I never competed against the best.

If only there was never a sense of doubt. I know I can control my feelings a lot, and remain calm, but a small slight insecurity tends to creep up especially against an opponent who is stronger, many of which will never sense and I can still win, but those that do, capitalize on it, and those tend to be the ones who rise to the top.

Defeat your opponent not only through your strength, but also through his weakness. That’s how I compete, I analyze my opponents, or the people I compete with.

And there I was, after that race, on the other side of the pool, my friend wanted to race again, but I was tired, and I would rather reflect about what I was thinking about during that race. I was not thinking of winning it, which was I usually thought of most of the time during competitions, but rather about the past and how I was like then, so much went through my mind as I swam.

And for a while I realized the most important thing, the thing that causes the moment of doubt, when I was serious, I never really enjoyed what I was doing, and I’d become too critical of my actions, and others, thus when the slightest mistake occurs, it creates a snowball effect which I often can never get out of. I normally never let that happen, but against the best, its never smooth sailing, the true test I guess, is to get back from the losing end.

That’s something I’m very weak at. It’s easy to dominate an opponent, but to turn being dominated to becoming the winner is probably the hardest thing. Something I must learn, and not be over critical about what I do, and remember that I am not simply just there to win, but to enjoy myself, and do well.

And so here I sit, the evening after the race, thinking about my reflections and realizing more about how I live my life. It is important to see the direction I am headed, and not fall short of what I am doing. Enough of being second, in fact, its time to stop thinking of me ending up as second, and getting the task done.

Perhaps I have fallen short, but training myself to overcome a situation when the odds are stacked will make me much stronger. Of which I can apply to my life.

As I reach out to feel the silver wings,
I seek to fine out the divine plans,
Holding onto what is most precious,
Knowing that nothing more can be true.

Of the hope.

It is through her eyes I am seeing through,
A reflection of the time spent,
Having faith in the both of us,
For our choices in life are for two.

Life is so brittle.

So many paths to choose,
With so much left to lose,
Our fate is such a fragile thing,
Which needs special handling.

Of the things I’ve put you through.
-Silver wings.

For that moment past

Sometimes I wonder about the shadows long cast,
And during those moments everything returns,
Like flashing light moving at the speed of sound,
The emotions come spilling as if to drown.

At that point of time I’d drop my knees to the ground.

Caught in between the blur of memories,
My head swirls with the flow of the moment,
I think of the faces in my past,
The eyes that once flowed with lust.

Forgive my faults, for I left it unrequited.

With the beat of her heart,
I remember about the moments shared,
The sound of her voice in my ears,
I look back into those eyes.

I saw something broken.

Try as I might to mend the tear,
It was there even before I began,
It was not mine to fix,
Neither was it mine to make.

The frustration as the words never touched.

The subtleties of her actions,
Destroying me slowly with her trust,
I lean against her one last time,
And whisper into her ear.

Goodbye.
-Times long past

I was blind once upon a time, I could not judge as well as I could, I could not see myself through her eyes then, but now I can. I guess I meant a lot, but what am I to do? I made a choice, I tried, but the conversations went dry. And nothing was left to carry it on; I did not feel the love. The realization that there wasn’t love to begin with.

Now that’s quite a while ago, I pray to this day those eyes of lust have calmed and have been requited by someone else. I learnt a very important lesson long before that incident, and that was I had to be true to myself. A person once told me about relationships, “It was just the shades of grey in life, the inbetween, that long lasting relationships never lasted on love, sure it may have started on infatuation that felt like love, but after the infatuation was long gone, after the lust had been cleared, the eyes would see nothing else, and for it to work that had to be a common idea, a sort of agreement between two people to take care of each other. People could never live off love, but rather responsibility as a couple.”

When I think about it, I don’t really agree with that. Even after infatuation is gone, it doesn’t mean love has to go. If you like the person, you have to like that person for what they are, every detail of them, their feelings, manners and actions. If the choice was made simply on the way they looked or their status, then of course there would not be love to begin with. It’s still possible to find love that way though, but when the infatuation and lust is over, you begin to see the person for who they are, and if you don’t like what you see, then I guess you wouldn’t love the person.

Love, requires one to really be able to want to be with the person, past the infatuation, past the lust, past the image of being with someone, its about actually about wanting to be with that person, that smile, that manner, that person.

I once wrote a long time ago, as a prologue for a story, my definition of true love. It’s changed slightly along the way, but remains mostly the same, here is a part of it:

“ True love, how does it happen? Love at first sight? I do not really believe in such things, for even when you look into the eyes of the person, and see their emotions within them, it is like a story without a start or ending. No matter how much you judge a person by their looks, you cannot tell what they are truly like, until you have been with them. For me, I judge women like a bottle of wine, the appearance of the bottle maybe attractive or seductive, but you can never know what its like or whether you would love it until you have tasted its contents. The contents are the women’s true self, her personality and her essence. A woman can be sweet or sour, strong or mildly pleasant, intoxicating or weak. She could have a great after taste that leaves you wanting for more, she could make you addicted to her. Addiction, the start of infatuation, that eventually leads to love. To me, infatuation is the part and parcel of life that eventually leads to love or rejection if it is given the chance. And like wine, women can get better with age or become the sour vinegar that would be undrinkable. It depends on her, she is the one who defines how she ages and changes. If she becomes better with age, her beauty is more enhanced and her personality becomes more refined.”

The original was written during my O levels, when I was sixteen. Over the years, I’ve added new lines or changed a few words. Most of it however, is the same as before. The title of the story is crying angel, in all, I wrote three chapters. I had planned to write a total of twelve chapters to finish my first novel.

I never finished, till this day I don’t think I’ll find it till I find the muse that allows me to complete that story. Till then, I’ll write other stories, and of course more poetry. A poem for my thoughts, a line for my emotions, every word representing my life.



Haste overcomes us,
Stay for a moment,
I look out the window.

When do we arrive?

I feel your goodbye,
As we chase our lives,
To where the path returns.

Where did we begin?

I listen to the whispers,
Where the emotions rise,
Where the souls divide.

For time does not lie.

When the sleep returns,
I hope to see your smile,
To see if the truth is there.

Looking at the void between.

So many excuses heard too often,
Cold as we are left standing around,
So much left unspoken.

So much to say.

-For that moment.

Reality Surge

Volatile the circumstance on this window sill,
Yet the urge to tamper with it,
To see what is on the other side,
Breathe in the air.

A face appears at the window.

As I look into her eyes,
The exchange of our expressions,
Like telepathy,
She beckons to me.

The passion is so divine.

Her hand gestures like a dove,
The words mouthed filled with sweet returns,
Yet with all its clearness,
There is such a veil of mystery.

The attraction undeniable.

The hot breath from her lips,
Placing her hand on the glass,
It seems to melt it away,
For a moment.

Our hands touched.

She pulls away beckoning me to come,
I feel drawn towards the beyond,
Into the shadows that lies behind her,
With her.

I turn the lock,
As the cold wind blows,
Cutting my eyes as I try to look forward,
A hand reaches out before me.

I feel no trust.

Closing the window,
Turning my back,
She rushes to the window,
I reach down for the brick.

Some windows were never meant to be open.
I pull my hand back slowly,
She screams at what I am about to do,
I know what was needed,
I let myself go.

Some windows were meant to be broken through.

The lines were written between the latitude,
Shrinking into the darkness,
Not wanting me to see,
Revealed for what she is.

For only at the edge of reality can I recover my sanity.
-Reality Surge

Where does a choice begin and a decision occur? All the while, in my life, the choices I’ve been presented with were spread far and wide. The very one’s placed in front of my face seemed like the most obvious choices, yet in the end, I chose something else, something that I felt was right.

Sometimes, when someone is given choices, many people try to influence their decision, to the point, it can be hard to think. I’ve seen all my friends stuck in similar positions as me, and the choices they make are often heavily influenced by what people think they should do, rather than what they feel they want to do. For the decision to be made, I’ve had time to think, to decide, I didn’t rush, but most of my friends never took the time. Some do regret their decisions, and bear grudges against those who influenced them, but in the end, it’s not those people’s fault, it’s theirs for making it. Unless they were forced, the choice they made was theirs.

My older sister wanted to do theatre studies, she was well suited for it, an arts student in junior college who was in the debates team, represented Singapore overseas and did drama at the same time for the ACJC drama company. She had just gotten her results, and applications for universities were to be made. My parents did not condone what she wanted to do, rather they tried through active persuasion and long debating to convince her that she would be better off going to study hotel management in Switzerland. Fast forward six years later, she got a degree from one of the top hotel management schools in the world and came back to Singapore to work for my parents. Being the eldest, I guess she felt obligated, and influenced to do the degree which ultimately brought her back to the family business. I guess she is fine with the job she currently has, and she has the drive, though she gave up her passion for acting to do what was considered the responsible choice, she made her decision.

As for me, I was at that path, between the responsible choice which was my parents believe I should do and the choice of me doing what I wanted. At that point, I did not really know what I wanted, so I took the responsible choice. Fast forward two and three quarter years later, in national service which was a break from the responsible choice, I found that it wasn’t what I wanted. I was fine with it, but it was not what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted something more.

The responsible choice I had made was doing a bachelor degree in business. It was a general degree, which would allow me to apply for many different office jobs, but it did not specialize in anything either than managing a business or people. What I wanted was more than that, I know business is practical, but what I wanted was something that involved the body. The decision I had made, was a degree in sports and nutrition. It was something that fit in to what I have enjoyed so much in my life, my interests. The love of sports, fitness and good nutrition. My love for keeping fit and cooking culminated with my desire and drive to learn new methods of exercise, the reasons and science behind it, the techniques that suited a person and nutrition that was best to reach a certain goal. It was something I knew I wanted to do for my life. Thus, the decision was made.

The time I spent in the army, had given me the time and chance to reflect on what I want to do with my life. Thus, I decided that what I wanted was feasible, and responsible, so I set about convincing those around me about it. Thus, I influenced the others who were supposed to influence my choice. Now, I await the moment, to move forward and live that choice. A future I look forward to, and must prepare rigorously, perhaps it’ll satisfy all the desires I have in life, and maybe it may not, but the most important thing was it was a decision made by me, after careful thinking.

Now the shadows of my life are stretching behind me, and now facing the start of the bridge, I see much to be climbed, of which I am enthusiastic about, one which I will meet with full vigor. And when I am done crossing that bridge, I look forward to seeing what is there on the other side.

Her hope swirls downwards,
The feeling of draining away,
Wishing for a pill,
To take her pain away.

To escape.


Fallen into the shadows,
A hint of her warmth remains,
Feathers lay upon the floor,
Closing her eyes as if to shut out the world.

A crimson drop falls to the floor.

The shadows begin to fade,
Clinging on to her own,
She wishes not to be seen,
To not be judged.

The world can be cruel.

A streak of warmth strikes her face,
Turning to the person reaching out,
A hand stretched out before her,
Her eyes can’t see past it.

She is unsure.

Borne into a world so cold,
Memories of pain,
Given empty promises,
People’s hidden agendas.

Finding it hard to trust.

From a time long forgot,
A slow sonata of old,
Of unrequited desires,
Of dreams long lost.

He holds her hand.


She feels as though she is falling,
Yet she finds herself rising,
She opens her eyes to the world,
A world of possibilities.

Where the pieces be

Where I stare to now,
Of the tears you shed,
Pleas you had made.

Things get broken.

You asked for a reason,
Its not that you never tried,
But something in you died.

You were lost to me.

I tried to understand,
Even when the dust has settled,
And the slice of pie has gone cold.

Many words left unspoken.

As the hot breath escapes me,
I breathe in deep the air around me,
I noticed the letter on the floor.

Hoping that one day the wounds would heal.

Torn halfway a ragged piece,
The anger of the words showed no peace,
Reflecting a hint of sanity’s eclipse.

Letting go of what was once precious.

I step out through the door,
Closing it gently as it creaks behind me,
The door is shut.

The room had been forgotten.
-A forgotten room

A long time ago, I made a wish, about someone who was precious to me. It was like a dream within a snow globe, perfect. But then upon sanity’s eclipse, the snow globe had fallen to the floor, shattered.

Many a tear was shed, a plea was made, but I guess I turned my back to the plea, though I still offered my comfort. Now, it’s been a long while, so I guess I’d take the time to reflect about it, and silently apologize for it was a failure on both sides.

The torn letters given to me remind me about how much was put into it, and what was lost, and filled with anger and hate.

Attempts at peace were not taken in well. That’s why; I left it all behind for the best, as a room that was best left forgotten. But of course, its part of my past, thus it can never be forgotten, it serves as a lesson, a scar. A memory of which I hold no regret, as I moved on, hoping that the other has.

Many lessons have been learnt since then; I’ve seen much more and took in more of the world’s light. For I must say, it is truly blinding.

As the light shines through the looking glass,
I notice the break within its center,
A change of direction.

It changes course.

It shines on the teddy on the floor,
Collecting dust from neglect,
Several coins lay around it.

What was the value of her intent?

Soft vibrations all around,
The wind chimes sound,
Blowing away the dust of old.

A reflection catches my attention.

I notice the gleam in the bear’s eye,
The expression seemed of warmth,
Yet the room was so cold.

What was it I had forgotten?

It feels soft within my hands.
So I put my arms around it.
It looks at me with conviction.

Remember the reason.

Her intent was something positive,
I had forgotten her touch.
I wondered why it was forgotten.

I had forgotten how to trust.
-Remembering myself.

As I think of the bears I’d been given in my time, I find it odd for a guy to get one, but I don’t recall how I got them all, and now I have so few left, most of them were lost, why they were lost I am unsure. Their collecting dust shows I’ve neglected them, and perhaps forgotten them.

She was always happy when I got them, I remember. All those who given them to me, all their faces seem a blur now, totally forgot. I wish I could remember all those who had given me gifts. An album where I could see the face with each gift I ever received. To be grateful for what I received.

She was all smiles when I was younger, and then she began to become less cheery and open as I got older. The world had taken its toil, sometimes slow, sometimes rapidly. It bore its weight down on her and she’d just break down. It tears me inside when she break’s down.

I guess I lost her often, because she had been hurt so many times, but I’ve gotten her back, with lots of determination. She was naïve, and always positive, until she got crushed one too many times, shrunk away into a cave, into the darkness, afraid to even feel. She lets few in, and even then, among those few, there were those who betrayed it. Who even, trampled upon her.

She is my innocence, and who is she? She is my sense of trust in people. It’s been hurt quite a few times, and yes she is one who feels a lot. I guess that’s why I am not that close to that many people, my true friends are few, my acquaintances are many. I guess for me, she is often left forgotten, and it’s so rare for her to truly trust someone.

And will she learn to trust more? I don’t know, my faith in my fellow man is skeptical; the only way to see how a person really is when the relationship is called into question or placed under strain, only then is it possible to see it for what it is. The world is full of masked faces, it’s so hard to tell, and honestly, it’s so hard to trust a masked face.

Can one judge another purely by look and first impressions? It takes time to trust another still, no matter how good an impression that person made. Of course that person would have peaked my interest, and I would like to understand them more. That’s when; I guess she comes out, out of the darkness, though warily and always ready to shrink back into the darkness never to return.

Those who’ve she’d let in, those angels over her shoulder where she can spread her wings without worry, those who have not let her down for so many years, I salute them. Those who are my closest, my true partners in life, I cherish them all, and look forward to so many more years.

The white feathers float slowly to the ground,
I look over and see,
The angels over my shoulder.

For all the wishes I’ve ever made.

Of the dreams within my head,
Of the love in my heart,
Of the smile upon my face.

Learning what it is to be happy.

Of the world’s light,
That fills our eyes,
And the joy’s we’ve had.

It’s glorious to see us all grow.

Cherishing that which is precious,
Beauty of the words spoke,
Bringing the feeling of content.

Is it too late to remind you?

Of the times even in silence,
How we enjoyed every bit,
For the lives we lived.

Doing the things we wanted to do.
-Cherish

Reflection

When will we get there?
A pause within a moment,
Promises with a smile,
What is there to right?
I think I see a lot in plain sight,
But so little worth fighting for.

Severance from reality,
The truth seems to breaking,
Everyone seems to be waiting,
A fallen tear shed,
Many years ago,
With many more to come.

What was lost?
Pity about the loss,
Forgive it for what it was,
Frightened by the toss,
Shrouded by the frenzy,
Becoming a forgotten cause.

What is there worth fighting for?
Issues thrown into the fray,
But which to fix?
Frowns upon the promises made,
A pause within a moment,
When will we get there?
-When will we get there?

The mist clouds much before me, on an empty road. A cold morning it was, around two. The road stretched out before me, I could not see very far, and there as I walked I thought about where I was now.

Right now, a gap in my life was soon to end, two years that I’d never get back, of which I had no choice, but to serve. I’ve met many people, learnt and matured much from my interactions and experiences. Saw the ugly side of people, and of course much of my own, people were my mirror. Given a better understanding of life, I know that as I see more of the bigger picture, knowing more and more and seeing past the word “I” and seeing and feeling of the word “us”.

When I contemplate about what I have done for the most of my national service, I actually regret much of what I have done. For the first time, I truly regret having lived the slack vocation of which I got. I would rather have done more, become what I am physically and mentally capable of. But what is one to do when the government doesn’t allow it? I did not choose to be born with this minor flaw, yes I have a kryptonite, but everyone has his or her kryptonite in one way or another. Like a clause within a contract that forbids one, which perhaps if I actually fought for, I might have gotten, but I guess in a way it was fear of fighting the system stopped me; to me it was a moment of weakness, because I did nothing to change what was given to me, although I wanted more. And here I thought I’d never regret anything in my life because it always taught me and gave me experiences. I made it a point to live life without regret, yet the experiences I got were not something I felt was worth the two years. The slack life of army was never what I wanted, I wanted the hardest bit national service could throw at me, the toughest training and best appointment a national serviceman could get. A commando officer. But that’s wishful thinking, too late, the damage had been done, I’ve loss a good chunk of time already and have not been as fit as I was originally was before army. In fact people would think I’m stupid or crazy for not wanting what I was given, and that I should be grateful for the easy life I got, and that I was a fool for wanting the toughest training an national serviceman could get. But I wanted the experience, to learn from it, to know what it was like to be one of the elite soldiers in the army, in a way it was a dream. However, a consolation that I got was that I got to meet a really good marital artist, whose skill and strength was far beyond what I had. For the first time in my life, I met someone who actually practiced something that paled every unarmed combat I’ve seen, learnt and practiced. It was mixed martial arts; it brought together all the best aspects of different martial arts.

I’ve learnt much from then, becoming a stronger person, physically and mentally. What I lost was my ability to run, and gained weight, due to a year of little physical activity and too much food. Of course, I’ve managed to work a lot back since the year of slacking off, but I have yet to get back to my peak. I’ve perhaps more strength, but less athletic ability. I’d rather have more speed and endurance over being able to lift more weight.

Perhaps, the reason for my regret is because of the slack life I got in the army as it made me slack and unfit. What I wanted was the tough training, of course, it might be different when it isn’t voluntary. But I was willing to go for it. That’s why I knew I’d prefer it. Physically and mentally prepared, until my enlistment, I had trained hard for to ensure that I could endure, and perhaps surpass the requirements. I wanted it, pity it all came to naught.

What I got to see in the end, were several groups of people who had genuine physical problems, people who wanted to avoid physical training and people who had physical problems and wanted to avoid training. Those who wanted to avoid training tried to “keng” or bluff that they were not well or fit for physical duty. For those who “keng” they reflected poor characters. Of course what I found was, it reflected on me too, I was affected by those around me who were like that, so much that it rubbed off on me.

It’s what made me regret ending up where I was. I wished I never had that flaw, so that I would have had a different military life. That perhaps I would have had a stronger discipline with the different vocation. I wanted what was on the other side of the coin. I’ve become better in certain aspects, but horribly undisciplined, which I had to struggle to fix.

And so it is coming to an end, I’ve lived most of the slack life, and can’t change much about the work, and neither do I want to change anything now as it would amount to nothing much. The only the thing I can do, is work towards my future. Leaving behind an army life I’d rather have done differently, I can now focus on things I must get done.

Fulfill what I want to do for my life, studies, charity work, acting, physical training. The rest of the aspects I’ve not mentioned are pretty much alright right now, those that I’ve mentioned have yet to fulfilled. I guess that’s where I ask myself, “When will we get there?”

I am on that road, which is misted up, and I can’t see very far in front. It’s starting to get cold. And though I can’t see far, I must walk on.

I breathe deeply before the contemplation,
Of the many things that I can’t escape,
Of the thoughts the mind would weave,
Where much of which I’ve said,
Had been left unanswered.

Just a little insight to this plight,
Perhaps a hint of the truth,
Was all I’d ask,
So that my thoughts would not take flight,
Yet the silence was all I got.

All those around,
Well aware,
Yet they say nothing,
The silence was deafening,
What was their cause?

Standing before the jury,
Before the evidence of my pass,
The judgment was already made,
Cut down by their unforgiving stares,
Frozen hearts of ice.

Stepping forward and away from the cage,
Ignoring the cage of their judgment,
I am no merchant of emotion,
I have no heart of ice,
But neither do I punish others with silence.

The jury fades in the shadows,
They cry out,
The mute are no more,
They have no hold,
Their just forgotten shadows now.
-Finding one’s self.

Her cold breath

Looking around at the still grey,
Once again standing on that spot,
Unable to explain the reason for the cause,
I feel a sense of immense dismay.

A figure stands before me,
The curves fill the light,
Eyes covered by the shadows,
Her lips so red.

Leaping out from the darkness,
Arms wrapping around me,
Like a searing bolt of lighting,
I am star struck.

Lips against mine,
My eyes closed in the sweet sensation,
A dream of honey and wine,
Of a taste so divine.
-She’s a star

There was a sudden crash, people began to get excited, and I turned to see an old lady had fallen at the train door, I rushed forward and for one moment when one man reached there first, I stopped in hesitation.

The bell rang to signal the closing doors, her legs were still outside the train; I rushed to grab one of her arms as the other man helped her with the other. It was over. No one had even moved from their seats, they simply stirred to see what was happening. They did not even bother to help.

My hesitation, hit me deeply as I sat down in a seat, reflecting on that pause. It could have meant the difference between someone being seriously hurt and being saved. Why did I even hesitate? I believe in helping others, and I learnt so many times, that one must not wait for others to help, but help if one can.

Was I afraid of what others might think from my actions? Was that why I hesitated? Yes, my vanity made me pause, when it was something I should not have even thought about what others thought, but rather focusing on aiding the person in need. My vanity flaws my moral of helping without hesitation. Again I feel I failed, despite being able to help that person.

The crowd rushing by,
Standing to see the troubadours,
With their manners and satire,
Caring not of what others thought.

They played for a cause,
Instrumental chaos,
Pleasing the demure crowd,
Ignorant to their true purpose.

A table by the side,
Seated four,
The leaders of a cause,
Charity a noble goal.

Fatally doomed to be ignored,
Efforts flawed by the crowd,
The people see not,
They give not.
-Ignored cause

Rushing into the cool air of the shopping mall, it had been hot and I had been walking with a close female friend for quite a distance in the sun, the welcoming air brought a great relief. We had arrived to a crowd that surrounded a stage of musicians. A Jap rock band, Singaporeans they were, the lead singer could be singled out purely by his shoes, bright shiny leather shoes with pointed tips. Their makeup and hairstyles made them look feminine, accompanied by their petite builds, it made them look androgynous. Even my friend thought one of them was a girl.

They were preparing for the performance, ignoring the looks of the crowd, caring not about letting them wait. Making no gestures whatsoever on when it would start, or even acknowledging the crowd that waited attentively, eagerly. As the minutes went by, my friend and I had already gone from shop to shop, and people from each floor had gathered at the atrium looking down on the band that was about to perform.

Just as we were about to leave, the band began to play, my friend pulled me to see the performance. We were blocked by the endless crowd that surrounded the stage, so we moved to an empty area where we could have full view. To an area where a table was placed. There were signs and a newspaper cutting, and there sat four girls before a table filled with chocolates. And then, I realized the reason for the performance, these girls had brought together the entire event for charity. I felt awed by their effort, four girls who managed to start with an idea and make it into reality. But it hurt me terribly that no one even looked at their table, there was only a tiny donation can, and I looked around if people even donated.

I took out a note and placed it in the tin. It was money for a movie ticket, since I decided that my friend I would go for a run instead, since it allowed her to save her money, and I had no need for the money I had set aside. It would fit a better cause, and at least make the day of these four, and so I smiled, and they quickly offered bags of chocolates which I declined. Of course, they pursued my female friend and gave it to her instead.

It was a worthy cause, these four worked hard, unlike charitable organizations which hoarded money and squandered it for the wrong reasons. These were the few I would gladly donate to. So noble, so grand, yet terribly doomed to waste.

The society we live in, doesn’t appreciate such causes, and most people will not stir to help others. But rather they seem to prefer to be entertained by what happens. In a way, their speech never really went beyond the word “I”

An action without respite,
The words cut down to the core,
Hardened shells crack from the strikes,

The fallen pieces melt away.
Tear drops on the floor stain the way,
Leaving wounds bare.

Forgive his actions,
A penny wish away from bankruptcy,
For he was poor of wisdom.
-Foolish words

Dream Supernova


The spoon has long since been bent,
The moldy letters left unsent,
Touching the empty glass on the table,
The cold air makes me feel faint.

Eyes are blurring.

Holding my head in my hands,
Cradling my thoughts gently,
Breathing deep within myself,
Holding onto the shadows.

The memories long forgotten.

Flickers of light from a lighted sparkler,
Feeling a shiver on my hardened skin,
I look up at the hole in the roof,
A broken shelter of my emotions.

It is protected poorly.

Fallen to my knees on the hard floor,
I feel the energy in my fingers,
Holding myself tight,
Closing my head as I bow from the blinding light.

Reality changes.

Paradigms shift beyond past,
Every part of my life surrounds me,
And I draw it in deep within me,
My skin glows white.

Electricity fills the air.

I close my eyes and hear the whispers,
The shine fills my eyes,
Letting my emotion flow,
The world becomes bright.
-Dream Supernova.

Sometimes in life, there are times when one’s perception can change. The world may be the same, but the way it’s viewed by different people is greatly varied. For example, in a picture where there is a man eating an apple underneath the tree, one person may notice how the tree is so big while the man seems so small, or how the man’s face looks as he bites the apple, or how the shadow that is cast by the tree looks like. So many things to look at or view the picture, and perception is about the first thing you see.

That’s why as your moving along in life, you may see the same thing you see everyday in a certain way, like a park with trees, then one day, as your moving along your perception changes and you simply see a fountain within the park surrounded by trees. To me, that happens once in awhile, and it allows me to see the world differently which allows me to contemplate.

As I was walking along a bridge, listening to my ipod and music drowning out all the traffic noise, my senses seemed to change. It was night, the dark cool air was fogged ever so slightly, and as I breathed deep when I got to the top of the bridge, then it occurred to me as I looked straight forward, the world disappeared, and I saw only the bridge itself, I was standing on that bridge representing my life.

I looked down the path and I then noticed the railings of the bridge seeming to enclose around me, and then I thought about my life, which was guarded by railings similar to this bridge, from the darkness outside the path, guiding me along with lights overhead to show me the way in the darkness, in safety. The lights were in one straight line, just like how my life was being guided. It was being guided along one straight line, and then as I breathed deep as I was about to finish crossing the bridge, I looked around me and I realized, that it wasn’t simply just darkness in the void, that there were lights and sounds, it made me also realize that despite the protected guidance, there was always more to just the path I had been given to walk.

That’s when I thought on how many choices were already made for me when I was born, it began with a climb up the steps of life, where when you get there, you realized the path was already set for you, guarded already by railings and brightly lit to show you the way. But now more than ever, I’d like to see the light outside the bridge, to be different.

To be able to know what other options I have in my life. Stepping over those boundaries set to protect me. So many of us have been protected in one way or another in our lives, guided along a certain path, groomed for an ideal that was never ours to begin with. In that ideal, that sought instill in us, but have they allowed us to find out what was it we really wanted? What I wanted?

There is nothing wrong in the set path, it worked for many people, though it probably killed most of their creativity, their ability to choose for themselves. There is a lot of wisdom behind the set paths, because it protects, it nourishes life in its own way. It ensures order. To stray from the path, is a means of falling and most likely disapproval by those around you and especially by the people who have guided you along this path. But in order to fly high, to know what you want to do in life, what you want out of life, to form your own ideals, you have to fall, fall away from the path, jump off that bridge that you’ve been walking for so long, into the shrouded darkness, into the unknown. Until you’ve done that, you will never be able to see what’s beyond the bridge, beyond the railings, beyond the blinding darkness.



Walking on this bridge of my life,
Darkness fills the void around it,
The railings close in on both sides,
Above me are lights guiding me along.

The lights are leading in one straight line.

Close to the end,
I see the descent to the end of the bridge,
I see what was laid out before me,
A ray of light cuts through the darkness from the side.

There is something more than just this.

I see the false sense of security surrounding me,
Shrouded by tales of darkness,
The warnings of beyond the path,
I shut my mind to the conformity.

Challenge it.

Climbing over the railing,
It cuts those who try to pass it,
Others scream in horror trying to stop me,
I step over the other side of it.
The air is so divine.

Breathe deep.

I spread my hands and lift my head high,
Spreading my wings,
I let myself fall,
In order to fly.
-The bridge of life.

Two mirrors

Bright colors surround me,
Hold my hand,
Siding all and none.
Enjoying the endless conversations.

The lights are fading around me,
I am rising,
The shooting star,
Words of grandeur flow about.

People look at me as I smile,
The knives in my heart,
Bled so hard,
Reaching out to the turned backs.

Disbelief in their eyes,
They stand so far away,
It seems that they no longer care,
But I will continue to dare.

The light side of the coin,
The dark of the night,
Surprised by the replies,
I see hell in their eyes,
The people surrounding me,
I have been forsaken.
Why do they smile like that?
Why don’t they smile back?

Essences of two hearts laid bare.
Two mirrors of my soul,
The ray of sunlight and the abyss,
The two entwined around my fate,
Similar to me,
Yet so different,
Mirrors they have been.
-The twins

There are two girls I’ve met in my life whom I feel are like the female versions of me. One is the actress, the persona of my public self, a bright voice that is the lighter side of me. The other, the story teller, the painter of words, the darker side of me.

I saw so much of the way I am in them, that it allowed me to understand myself better from a third person point of view, an insight that I never had until I met both of them. Both of them, have had a significant but brief part in my life, of which I regret neither.

Both girls were talkative, and both liked attention, but the way they got it was entirely different. That was the difference between the light one and the dark one.

The light one had naivety and cheerfulness. Having endless energy that seemed to explode out of her, some what like what I was when I was younger. She loved to talk to everyone, be friends with everyone; she basically was the kind of person who liked to please and to be everyone’s friend, no matter who you were, from fellow student, to teacher etc. I am somewhat like that, I try to be friends with everyone, and I do not have problems with making friends with authority figures, like teachers, or officers. I never saw superiors as people who could not be one’s friends, though others thought differently.

She was like me, making friends with teachers; there were people who resented her for that just like I was resented for it too. And in the background, she was disliked or backstabbed, pretty much like I was when I was younger. Friendliness came with a drawback, people found it irritating at times, my befriending or being nice to authority figures made me look like I was sucking up to them, when all I wanted to be was friends with them, and did not expect any form of favoritism.

I saw it more clearly when even some of her close friends told me bad things about her. It made me wonder if they were even her friends at all. Her popularity and unpopularity came into contrast, it allowed me to see the divide on who resented her for being such a person. It also allowed me to understand, that the way I am may make people dislike or resent me, because I don’t think that making friends or being friendly towards authority figures is wrong, I treat each person equally when it comes to being friends. So is it wrong to be friendly towards authority? At the end of the day, she was seen as a teachers pet, her very own friends betrayed her, and it hurt her badly, but fortunately she got back from it and moved on, though it probably left a scar on her. For me, I’ve not had a huge group turn on me, rather individuals did such things.

The dark one was a story teller, a kind of female Loki, spinner of tales and lies. I must say, in my youth I’ve told many grand stories, and I’ve used it in my writing to help me a lot. Though the uses of those grand stories were to fool or bluff people as to whom I was when I was younger. It painted a picture, grand as it was, making me look great, when I was a person who had nothing at that point of time to show for, and so I used stories. As time went by, I’ve had more things to show for, and thus stories that I once told, ceased to be said, but became writing and were not used to bluff. Perhaps that’s the reason why I can write better than I did last time, but then again, it could be experience and development of my mind. Now to not diverge anymore, back to the lass, the Loki, the story teller.

She is perhaps one of the best conversationalists I ever met. Whom I loved just listening to, and there are few people whom I would sit down and listen to for hours. Of course much of what she told me is hard to believe, and several have been refuted by people who know her and know me. And I learnt that she was good at telling stuff that weren’t true. She was someone who wasn’t well liked by people around her, but the friends she had were really good friends with her, though they did keep their distance. This is somewhat how my situation was once when I was younger, I had many friends from people outside my class, but the ones in my class did not like me, due to the combination of both traits.

I’ve learnt along the way from what made people dislike me. My obnoxious and dislikable traits and improved myself, and realized that it’s important to understand one’s follies, and why people would dislike me. It’s perhaps made me a better person, who still has a lot more room to improve. But by understanding these two, who are like my mirrors of myself, help me to understand my past mistakes and improve myself better.


The shadows slowly forgotten,
Relationships that were forsaken,
Realizing that no one waited,
Many a word left unsaid.

A connection between two souls.

Emotions all surrounding,
A connection of everlasting memory,
Like a blinding ray of light,
Like an ocean of promises.

No one is standing at the door.

An empty entrance before me,
It leads to end of my journey,
My life laid bare,
I feel it pulling away from me.

The door seems so far away.

It disappears rapidly into the darkness,
Like a boat over the horizon,
Returning to my senses,
Finding what was long forgot.

Thus it was greatly neglected.

As tears flow down her eyes,
Wanting to will her emotions away,
Held in my arms with a listening ear,
She opens up her ocean of emotions.
Twenty years of waiting.

-Journey of two souls.