Deception

The moon doesn't stay in shape. Occasionally eluded by the clouds that have camouflaged within the nightsky. They spread across the horizon, all the way from where it gathers light from the moon, till where it almost disappears, at the back where my eyes wouldn't reach. Lumps that come in different sizes. If they represent people I miss, I reckon you'd be the one right above me. The spot on the sky where my gaze shoots straight up and reach. You wanted to be free. Yet you longed to linger in a part of me, wishing you hadn't become like this. When I face you again I don't understand how you managed to pull through that state. Of desolation. Eyes incredibly earnest to fight yet on the flipside what grew deep into you was emptiness. Now the moon and clouds resemble the shadow of a ship that's sailing nowhere. Is that you? Crazy, is that what most people would label? In a place you lived on your own, like the strips of metal flanked by two bars right in front of me. Or the glass sphere that has turned too hostile and chosen to be coated with an inner shimmer. Too ready to take risks. To protect yourself. They are all joined up now, and they fill in the spot which was previously empty. Were you taken away? Too many reasons tell me you didn't have a choice. The mind is proven untrustworthy - you were obliterated as quickly as how a simple white adhesive would colour a blemish. As though even your shadow missed the beat of a heart. If you lose what's under your feet, you get to realise what you missed. And maybe between us, we'd find nothing but a shard of mirror.

Vacant

Down the dark hallway, I watched something glisten. I couldn't tell if they were angry tears or regrettably a sign of your exhaustion. I wanted so much to walk out that door and be freed from your lies. My lies. Instead I kept silent. I didn't want to break your heart. But more than that I was too terrified of leaving. I knew what you were capable of; Yet even what little I knew was only part of what I could have risked finding out. In your frustration you could have walked right up to my face and given it a punch. Easily. I never fought back because I hadn't the strength and courage. Instead you picked up the bin at the corner, raised it above your head and flew it down to the ground. Your face is filled with anguish, completely bent on having things your way. My body stiffened as I broke into tears. What else can I do? I just wasn't.....brave enough. In a quivering voice slightly lower than a whisper, I murmured something in compliance. If I kept up the front, you wouldn't have to scare me. In time to come I realised that either way, I'd never have had it any easier. What eventually left me with an ache was that I never mattered enough to even break your heart.

Someone extraodinary

Through the heavy lids of my eyes I watch you lazily. You place your arms on the cool marble and stretch your legs, your body ramrod straight, inclined at the same angle against the ground. I hear your voice gently calling my name. Completely harmless and of no haste; like how seashells softly crunch under the sole of my shoe.

I put on the socks before playing with the velcro. You lock the door behind me and I wait for the usual 'Let's go'. I wonder if that is a habit of yours that I have gotten used to. Four letters are inked onto the faded grey beneath our weight. Bad word, said you to me when I ask you what it reads. I do not know how to pronounce the peculiar vulgarity that I'm seeing for the first time, and in such big print.

I love our morning jogs like these. Across the road, up a slope onto the path with the green on my right. We stop by the fitness corner and I watch you do the monkey bars. You always urge me to try but my arms carry me past no less than three because I don't like my feet in the air.

When we walk back home you hold out a clenched fist. Show me the back of it. You teach me how to tell the number of days in a month by looking at my knuckles and each depression in between. I gawk at my hand in disbelief. You ask me the colours of the rainbow and I ponder my thoughts aloud. Fumbling by the time I reach the last finger. Richard of York gains battle in vain, this acronym you teach me. It wasn't until Physics that I recalled that this is ROYGBIV.

In the afternoon you bring out a bucket of water that foams with bubbles at the surface. I carry the heavy scrubs and we start cleaning the blemished grey we saw in the morning. Scrub all four letters, one by one. While watching the paint lose its initial starkness I think of why you are doing this. The stubborn black refuses to come off completely.

You're the first kindest man I met.

Exception

Imagination, is the most powerful part of me. I don't want to stop believing in spite of all my tears and the painful truths I have to learn. I dream of having my own column. I aspire to write to move something in everyone's hearts. People read it and give a good-natured laugh but deep within they suddenly have a resolution. They pledge to let go of all setbacks, and they are not afraid to face what's ahead. People never have to compete anymore. Even watching a flower's petals as the wind wafts through their hair makes them smile. People exchange hugs under the sun and dance in the rain. They watch for rainbows when the sky clears. No one asks for the time because there's nothing to rush for. They take slow walks by the lakes and understand how life is precious even as a fish hurriedly swims, as a bird stops by the stone pavement to take a break. People learn to stretch out their hands to feel the soft heat of the sun instead of clenching their fists. I dream that eveyone has the opportunity to love. To love and understand how it can also bring pain. No one takes love lightly because it is a gift. And when the sun slowly falls, marbles on the asphalt glimmer. Like hope...and everyone goes to sleep with reassurance. I dream that the world can be a pretty place.

I miss Joey

xsmokedham

I remember laughing so hard at this.

Parallel

"Look at the clouds. See the part where the shade's darker? It's like a reflection of that above."
The clouds made me feel so near to the sky. Like if I reached out my hand and stretched a little I would touch heaven. On the far right, I see a trail of lights glimmering. Traced them and found a kite at the end of the invisible thread. So that was how you flew a kite when the sky's no longer bright. Unafraid that it'll lose its way because you believe the lights will guide you. So you give your best and let the kite go far. Watch it soar and rise, tasting a little of peace when it gets to breathe above everything else. You can look away for a second but you hold onto the thread in your hands. When you look again, follow the lights and there your kite is. It's like freedom, when people put their trust in each other. You don't hold it tightly to your side all the time because then it'd never get to see what the other side under the sky is like. What you have in your hands is enough for you to believe that the connection is safely present. The lights will guide you if it loses its direction or falls along the way. Such a subtle expression in what a tangible activity. It speaks of an aspect of love that I've yet come to terms with.

Kids

I used to count the alternate white and black as I crossed the road when I was young. And now as I step on the last I'm thinking this will also be the last time I'll ever cross this road. The void deck with the stone benches. Six round seats. I remember how I used to sit there and wait while observing in silence. Right behind is a choice between a slope and a small flight of stairs. I always chose the latter. Face the clinic that has undergone renovation so many times. And out to the carpark because the badminton court site has been fenced with barricades. Lift upgrading, the signage reads. I recall us hauling the rackets and net down the stairs. I was always the lazy one who stood by and watched them tie the net to the poles. She would look at us from the window while we waved frantically and pretended like we were too carried away with the game. When she signalled that she'd be going to the kitchen to prepare dinner we'd wink at each other, then fish out the coins in our tiny pockets and race to the vending machine a block away. We had to be quick, because she didn't allow if she knew. This is how we grew up.

Indelible

Past midnight. Through the dim lights. We watched on as they incessantly gave you a diagnosis every few minutes. Each one lasted eternity. We're silent, while the smell of drugs hung heavy in the air. Perhaps at that point of time, we all knew. But no one dared mention a word. Because it would be real the minute we say anything. And we were all just deceiving ourselves. Hoping against vacant hope, that what we're thinking of isn't true. We wanted somebody to walk out that corner and reassure us that our fears were unnecessary because you'd be fine. But none did. And we finally had to face what had to come. Too quickly, but not unexpected. We had to make a choice. Let go and spare you the agony, or cling onto every possible way in a bid too desperate to keep you by our side? Amongst us, some were relenting. Finally the tears came. On every single face. As we each walked to your bedside and let you watch us for the last time. You were too tired to speak, while my voice faltered as I attempted to. I held your hand tightly in mine, hoping that you would suddenly be strengthened to pull through this. I knew you could, because you did. But in the end you chose to stop battling. Too weary. You made your decision, and I found it the hardest to respect. But God taught me to see this beauty in letting go. Till today, I never forgot how you chose to finally breathe for the last time when no one was by your side. Alone you came and alone you left. To be with the one who has blessed me with your very presence for more than half of my life. I miss you.

Overrated

I awake to the smell of cinnamon and inhale the air. Dense. Still, quiet. The road's in solitude and its tranquility murmurs of reluctance. Reluctance, that makes things too apparent. When do we know we're no longer what we are? There comes a point when we have to learn to let things go. Not because it's the right option, but because holding on wouldn't make things better. We will all be reluctant. Who's to say we've never wanted this more than anything? At the end we all just settle. It's when we realise we're just like everyone else. It's when we stop trying to be different because there's no way. It's when we tread our toes on soft sand and forget how we used to build sandcastles. It's when we stop doing what we love. Because we think there's little time we should afford for ourselves. We all hear and speak about our lofty ambitions. Dreams that are seemingly unattainable, but made believable when we pat each other on the shoulders. And so we work hard, thinking that we are in control and that what we do today determines the results we will face. But growing up also means you have to learn to accept. That we have no idea how our life really turns out albeit meticulous planning. We write them down, make oaths to ourselves. We clench our fists and say we're determined. We focus on nothing but what we design and eventually label as goals. We get distracted along the way and wake up to the ugly side. Realise that life isn't all pretty. And struggle to come to terms with the truth that ultimately we'll never know how things pan out in our lives. So this makes the idea of having dreams moot. There's no point, isn't it? We search for information, get obssessed and busy ourselves with the whole planning of our future, battling against the parts of our selves that tell us it's impossible.
We listen to inspiring stories and listen to all the successful accounts, and finally believe that if we really put in more than enough, we would be where we want to be. But we all forget too easily: we too are in the midst of people who're just living the norm. They're not exactly unsuccessful, they just don't hold anything impressive. And this is majority. Which means a greater probability of us being one of them. So when all has dissolved, what do we hold on to?
Consider finding joy amidst all the drudgery and reluctance. A road less traveled indeed, but maybe this is the way I want it.

Live to deserve

By the water flanked by green. I observe the grass and notice a bird perched on a cupcake discarded by the traffic lights. It takes a leap backwards and I frown. I scrutinise the creature and catch a glimpse of its injury. It tries again and narrowly misses a fall this time. I quickly write. The wind's unsettling the papers. As though it were fanning the embers of wistfulness that has found its way into my heart, about to be born out of my eyes in the form of water.

A helpful reminder that I'll always like to keep. The point where your face was reflected off every wall I crashed. Where every light screamed of your presence. Every sound, your name. I couldn't look anywhere. You remained vivid, the evil smell of your presence lingered in every breath I took. To the last image of a helpless shadow, under the swollen sheen of the moon. Desperately wanting to break free and find a new way. Watching it come down so close. To the part that connects to the heart. Before it finally made the mark and had the figure crumbling in angry tears. Freedom-is this the way you want it?

Blood, that has washed the sun this evening. It hasn't rained. The road is peaceful and the sound of the crickets fill the humid air. A symphony of desolation. It amplifies the agony sprinting through my blood that wants you to hurt so bad. Yet the gentleness of the water resonates: Pain propels me. Just like how we bleed sometimes to remind ourselves that we are in life. And in life, we can't expect everything to be forgotten.

You are far away.

Twinkle

When I'm on my own I like staring at the sky while I think. It reminds me of people I love. And how all the disappointments pale in comparison to its vastness. Where does the sky end? In the morning I look up and see it filled with soft wisps of clouds while I feel the warmth of the light on my face. In the dark when everything else disappears I see the moon which stays in sight no matter where I go. Like a sort of quiet. Because everyone gets to have his own part of the sky and no one can stop anyone. In this rat race with so many papier-mache friendships where everyone wants to have the upper hand, how many actually stop to lift up their chins and give the sky a look? And realise that life isn't all about competing?
So many traipse through the same routine everyday not knowing where they're heading. But if you could just give it a little thought, you'd realise that no matter how much we've become, we're all still under the same sky. The sky that is always there when you look up. The sky speaks of hope we all unknowingly long for. A connection between people separated geographically. A reminder of how much more life is about. A solace in this broken world of distraught.
Everyone gets the chance to witness the rainbow. But only if one faithfully watches the sky often enough. And the rainbow reminds us of the covenant God made. His promise to us. And like the sky, his love endures. And provides hope. I'm reminded that despite every agony I'm going through, He's safely in control of the bigger picture.
When the rain starts to fall on my face, I can gently close my eyes and feel safe because I know when the rain stops and I look again, the light remains. Even in the dark, the moon never fails to be the brightest.

I LOVE JOEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

rapidhopeloss

Power Of The Cross

Oh, to see my name
Written in the wounds,
For through Your suffering I am free.
Death is crushed to death
Life is mine to live,
Won through Your selfless love.


And we stand forgiven at the cross.

This Good Friday and Easter, I'm again reminded deeply of how God promises to take away the past. And that I'm freed by Christ's death for me. Believe me, He's real.
How can I ever thank You enough?

Trigger

A song. A video. An exact same idea. And I'm breaking down in tears.
It has been years since I've cried into the wee hours like that. And I hate myself for this. A thousand times over. But I was never supposed to be strong.

FRIENDS 4EVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR :)

Give it up for my two favourites

fffriends

Joey: ‘Sup? ‘Sup dude?
Chandler: Take whatever you want, just please don’t hurt me.

Joey: So you’re playing a little Playstation, huh? That’s whack! Playstation is whack! ‘Sup with the whack Playstation, ‘sup?! Huh? Come on, am I 19 or what?!

Chandler: Yes, on a scale from 1 to 10, 10 being the dumbest a person can look, you are definitely 19.

One of my favourite scenes

fffriends
Joey: Ross? You okay?

Ross: They’re still, they’re still not coming on man and the lotion and the powder have made a paste!

Joey: Really?! Uhh, what color is it?

Ross: What difference does that make?!

Joey: Well, I’m just—if the paste matches the pants, you can make yourself a pair of paste pants and she won’t know the difference!

Crankyyyyyyyyyyyyy

I know how everyone has reasons for loathing exams and i can probably name a list here but what really makes exams so irksome is that i have little time for my diary. I'm used to writing whatever I feel, running after every thought that goes through my heart and head because forgetting is one of my fears. The meaningless preparation for the ultimately pointless grades gives me zilch time to write. What I would give to be in someplace quiet now! I'd sing to my notebook, take me somewhere we can be alone. I can write pages and pages of diary for hours just sitting and thinking. It provides me refreshment for my weary soul. People ought to have the choice to listen to their hearts. So one more day. I will survive.

These woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep.

From one of my favourite poems. Because it always reminds me of how helpless we are in reality.

Quick thoughts before I lose them

Randomly browsing through videos as usual and I'm suddenly filled with so much emotions. Pretty unbelievable but not impossible. A girl who's fifteen and married broke the TV and actually resorted to setting herself on fire because she was deprived of the right to have any say in the family. Marriage has become a need, a process that such girls have to go through in order to fulfil social expectations. To prove their worth, even at an age as young as 3. I wonder what goes through their hearts when they undergo the whole process. Utterly robbed of all say and what little right they had. Surely their parents didn't wish for this to happen, but faced with intense social pressure, how many people are actually able to stand out from the crowd, fight the norm and possibly risk losing everything they have? People don't really have a choice sometimes. Most can fight and try making a difference but will ultimately find themselves conforming. Then going through rough patches, sticking it out, crossing the boudaries between life and death. And what is marriage to these people after so much turmoil they have to experience? It's no longer love but responsibility, accountability and paradoxically, protection. Because despite the evils and wickedness they have to face they would be worse off without marriage.
Love...has dwindled to such a state. And in most circumstances like these, I'm presuming most would never ever get to understand how amazing this thing called love is. So if you ever experience even a slightest tingle of love, treasure it. Because most people take it for granted and never give second thoughts to what beautiful things love could do to so many people in this world. I really wished everyone had a chance to love.

Valentine's

"I cannot behold you without emotion; my heart still answers to your voice, my blood in my veins to your footsteps."

I love how love letters were written in the past, where people conveyed their emotions with just pen and paper, in the most primitive fashion. So few words, yet with so much feelings. Diction that's so powerfully strong it reaches the depths of hearts.

I've always loved pouring out my musings on paper but I really wished I could write like that. So personal and delicate. I need to stop and listen more quietly. And forget the world that I'm in.

Almost clear

Recently I've been thinking a lot about the notion of love. Everybody interprets it differently. And I think I'm getting my answer soon. Blurred images of how love looks like are gradually becoming more vivid. Took me years. I'd soon come to realise what exactly love is in my mind and heart. And I'm most honest when I say I'm really writing these thoughts down because I want to face myself clearly. Unafraid, to reveal that a part of me may indeed be vulnerable.

Notes of the past

I was reading my previous blog -- well yes previous blog that had a blogskin and tagboard and which I left off about 2 years ago?-- and I feel that people should never delete blogs they have started even if they decide to abandon them because they bring back so much flashbacks. I used to blog in a more casual manner with random insertion of hysteria that revolves around school, friends and God. Comparing myself now with that of the past, I must say I have indeed grown so much more in my thoughts. Deeper, more sensitive. And I like it that God's such a big part of my life I blog with Him written either explicitly or in between the lines in my posts.
People do change but some things always stay the same - The immense amount of words on both blogs remind me that I have always loved writing. I wonder if anybody could ever understand this quiet passion of mine.

Hello 2010

Photos always remind you of the past because that's when the fun in that instant is captured to remind us years down the road why we shouldn't stop taking them.

I was just looking through the tons of albums we have on Facebook and I really miss you all 5 babies.

>:(