Tuesday Afternoon. 

“I am the architect of my own disaster.” 

I remember reading that quote from somewhere, and today, I am feeling this very strongly at the core of my being.

I am bleeding, literally and metaphorically, and my thoughts are as empty, messy and frozen in time as a headless mannequin stuck in the past. 

But sometimes, disasters and destructions may bring about new promises as well. 

Sometimes. 

Not just a person.

You are not just a person. 

No, you are not. 

You are not even your emotions or the words you say or the tears you manage to shed. 

I look beyond your skin, flesh, bones and the tones or pigments that decorate them. I feel the histories of your bruises and scars, the fear in the habitual peeling of skin and tiredness from the lines across your palms. I sense beyond the gaze behind those brown eyes, the strength of your trained legs and the intensity of thoughts within the skull. 

You are an entire universe on your own. 

The way your tiny planets inside revolve around your beating heart of red and gold. How your lips draw into a smile as the sunlight spreads across your face during dawn. Me, mesmerised by you having a natural rhythm to everything that you do, but you do not notice it at all. You do not ask yourself why. After all, that is like questioning why we breathe oxygen and salute the sun. 

The stars are in your eyes, and if I look close enough, I will spot the Milky Way. Form a couple of constellations. Observe which is burning brighter than the others. Wonder if they ever die when I am closer or away. Get lost in space. Float. 

And the different territories shine from under your skin like a hidden map of treasure and affection. 

I submit to temptation. Who doesn’t like an adventure? 

Visit the tender elusive moon of the night and enjoy the beauty of shadow and light. Dancing on the cold surface of Pluto and being careful not to break it. Burning myself and let the wounds sting on Mercury. (Accidents happen, and they heal. Sometimes.)

But right now, you are just a chance I am not willing to take. 

I am not a trained astronaut, and this spaceship is just not taking off. I cannot breathe and I am afraid. 

Maybe I am too small to take the big leap for mankind on the moon. And you are too complicated for me to grow into. 

(P.s. Before you, I never knew foreign galaxies could taste so bittersweet on my tongue.)

First Week. Second Term. 

I shall type a short post since I am currently at work with an empty studio space surrounding me.

It has been a long and tiring week for me. 

Be it at home or at school or even commitments outside of school, everything just seemed to make the days drag on for so long. Even going out to spend time with friends become a slight chore. 

The days start too early and the nights come too late, even though I am still facing the same 24-hour cycle as before. Strange how tiredness makes me view time so differently each time I open my eyes to a new day. 

And I have been thinking about this tiredness. Is it the echoes of my bones? Is it the working of the muscles? Is it the mechanical beating of the heart? Is it the lack of energy in the spirit? 

Or is it just the mind playing its dirty tricks on me yet again? 

I am not sure if there is only one answer, or all of the above. (Not that getting an answer is all that important at the moment.) 

Maybe it is because I was put into situations where I am made to grow up fast and really start confronting the things I have been avoiding almost all my life. 

Maybe I am relearning how to love this skin that I usually do not even recognise as my own. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

But I am so glad the week is almost over. It has been good, don’t get me wrong, but I am still glad it is over. 

Here’s to hoping that the sunshine will seep through this skin of mine, so that the days to come will be brighter and happier. xx 

I Wonder.

Is it possible to miss someone standing right next to you?

Is it possible to not recognise a face you have touched over a thousand times?

Is it possible to live with a human-being you do not even trust?

Is it possible to wake up one day and decide that this is no longer the way you want to live?

Is it possible that one’s imagination can be one’s reality?

Is is possible to know what love really is without experiencing the kind of happiness it promises?

Is it possible to truly know oneself when you are constantly changing and influenced by everything around you?

Is it possible to find a fixed answer to any of these questions?

Is it possible that fixed answers do exist in this world?

Is it possible?

Thoughts of You.

(Scrolled through my phone notes, discovered bits and pieces of text that I typed out and paused. They are all incomplete and left alone after the initial emotions that spurred me to write left my spirit. Now, I am just going to immortalise them here and let them go from my memory. Maybe this will give other people a glimpse into what we are like, or what we are like in my mind, or maybe I will give nothing away at all. These are my words we are using, and the moments will naturally be tainted by my point of view. They are not all romantic, because we are not like that and I think that will be the most truthful part of this whole post.)   

March 2015 – You said you would never need second chances, but now you end up asking for three, four. Maybe you did seem different from the last the first time you walked through the door, but right now, you do not seem all that different from him at all.

 

February 2015 – I feel like I am caught in a waterfall or the rush of the big sapphire sea. No, I am not drowning or kicking with desperation to stay afloat. I am riding the currents to a territory that is unfamiliar and unmarked. Is this how liberation feels like? Maybe it is. And it surprises me how content I am simply by having someone listen to what I have to say, take the words as they are and stayed in that moment until the inner chaos calmed down. My mind is a calm body of water after a passing storm, and I have never felt more alive. 

 
January 2015 – We are the poisoned youth. / Is it love if the sudden thought of him no longer wanting you scares you and fills you with emptiness? Or is it just you not having found home yet? 

 December 2014 – He took me aside and as I leaned back against a wall, he leaned in. And we kissed. After weeks of avoiding physical closeness (because I knew touch would demand intimacy of the mind as well), it was a slight comfort to realise that our lips still recognised each other. Hesitation shed its thin skin, giving way to gentle caresses on sensitive skin and the rhythm of gentle breathing. Time slowed down, and for that moment, I wanted to stay there for a while longer. Eyes closed, but seeing more than my heart could ever ask for. 

 November 2014 – You have got the green eyes, because I will always be the one with the sunrise.      

Skin.

Believe me when I say that if I could pinch and tear

My delicate skin off like a silk coat for you to wear

Just to feel what it is like to walk and breathe

Under these pores, cells to live

A lifetime of memories, dreams and fights

Worries, plans and feelings that have not taken flight

So you could stop and look through my brown tired eyes

That no longer speak but only reflect goodbyes

I would, I would.