Too Familiar. 

This is too familiar a narrative to the point of choked up tears and a sense of shame. Perhaps we are bent on reliving the phrase that we always tend to hurt the ones we love, simply because the phrase has to exist for a reason. Perhaps we are all just cruel. 

Maybe it is how love is really just about choice, that makes everything sharper at the edges and scarier. 

Because we all know that years of relationships mean nothing in the end. The moment you choose to have out and to search for the greener grass on sides you have yet to visit, the love evaporates and ceases to exist. 

(Of course it depends on the intentions of the relationship in the first place, the reasons for leaving, the level of honesty and how the hurt is being discovered. Every relationship is different, and that’s why we may fail in so many ways with no one with a clear answer to share with.)

Suddenly you are free and the other person is free falling. You look at this face of years loved and feel nothing. To go from sparks to nothingness is a darkness in itself; never to realise how you found yourself in this place. The hands you yearned for are now let go off, with your own arms hugging another body, another soul so similarly but different enough for excitement. The crying face that used to break your heart and keep you up for days, now merely stains you with guilt that you can shrug off. Not think about. Not care about. 

After all, that love is no longer your burden to bear. Yes, it has become a burden, a bane and a burnt out flame of used to bes. 

And the entire process starts again. Never-ending. (Marriage is not a destination nor a remedy. Just a hope for stronger commitment and a legal bond that will hopefully strengthen resolve.) 

How do you say you love, only to turn your back on them when someone comes along? When you choose to hurt them deliberately? 

This has always puzzled me, though this narrative is too familiar for comfort. 

At this point in my life, I have found an answer that will keep morphing as I live but I hold on to for comfort now. 

I think this happens, because the choice of love was simply not strong enough for you to resist fulfilling your own desires (that probably weren’t communicated or swept under the carpet). Because your fear of disappointment, your being afraid of the consequences, laziness in not saying that you didn’t want to work on this anymore, was greater than “us”. 

You felt you were more important, than the other person you fawned over and wanted to protect with your life. But really, you wanted to protect yourself first and only when that was fulfilled did you open up your arms for someone else. 

Is that love though? No one knows the answer, but this question is worth thinking over. 

And would the problem be solved, if it was ever that simple, if two people came together only to love the other person more. 

Has that always been what we are all searching for? 

On a separate note, have we all thought about and are aware that love changes the way a person grows and someone being in a relationship, you might have contributed to the change that started to drive you away? 

How do you love a changing person? How does anybody love you? 

How do you love yourself? 

My heart is tired of hurting for other people, and I am tired of all this unanswerable questions. 

Last Semester. 

It was change after change after change. Be it within my myself, or my situations and surroundings, everything kept evolving and I was holding on to nothing but air. 

It was an experience. I would like to think that I grew up a lot – for better or for worse. 

There were days when the decisions I made months ago came back to lift me off the ground when I fell. Other days, it all just felt like a conspiracy to get me to give up on whatever I wanted. Either way, it is just a reminder that nothing that is ever worth it is easy, and maybe whatever that is easy will not be staying for the long run. 

I remain quiet and speak only when the conviction comes. I choose stillness and pray my heart will pick the same. I moved on from some friendships and stayed with loves I committed to. 

Leaving, moving on and forgetting are all different but can lead to the same beginning. 

Some disappointments cannot be bettered. Maybe they are meant to happen, or just a lesson to be learnt. 

Optimism and pessimism are just ways to look at things. And through tiredness, realism and pessimism have become the easier ways for me to view life at this point in time.

But I remain hopeful. 

After all, you can cloud the Rays of the sun and all the light may disappear. But the sun will still be the sun – the biggest burning star that never dies. 


(When do we ever truly to ourselves, or do we always belong to someone else – the land, the lover and the longing?)

When the blood of family becomes suffocation 
When the ties of friendship become obligation 
When the love of relationship become convenience 
When the life of self become a brainless product of the system


I look at the lines of my palm 

And turn my back to the unhappy life 

I have learnt to want ;

Journeying back to my roots and my heart’s calling 

The song my entire being has always wanted to sing 


I am at the point of holding on and letting go.

The thread playfully tangling, slipping and burning my fingertips. Sometimes, I see where it leads. Sometimes, it is as naked and invisible as the emperor with his new clothes on. 

Thin. Frail. Delicate. 

It is difficult to hold on, but it is also not the easiest decision to just let go. 

Moving on and moving forward can be so similar yet different at the same time. 

So where do I go? 

Only the subconscious and the mysterious powers of Mother Earth will be able to answer this silent question rooted in my heart. 

This thread has gotten my heartstrings all tangled up and knotted. 

I know that suffering is inevitable in life, and it can be dramatic to use the word “suffering” so loosely. 

After all, it is relative. 

But right now, I just want to cut it off and breathe. 

Listen, listen, listen. 


Just tie up this tongue, and speak no more. 

Voiceless is a common tribe. 


Who knew trying to explain the self can be such a draining task? 

Who placed the names to emotions and thoughts to writing, hoping for understanding? 

Who would have thought that looking at bright red cabinet doors can still make you feel like crying if you are sad enough? 

Who ate the family of poisonous mushrooms by the roadside that I was reserving for myself? 

Who can take this careful heart and gently unknot it so that it can finally breathe? 


It has been tiring. 

What’s new anymore? I always come to this space to say that word. 


Such a soft word. No pressure on the mouth to whisper it or spit it out. Laced with subtle melancholy, before falling back into the shadows. 

Speaking of shadows and eight-hour darkness and the blacks-and-blues, I do not like to pick fights and try to avoid the confrontational approach as much as I can. 

If you think I enjoy drawing blood, then maybe you never knew me right from the moment you said, “hello.”

Maybe I am too big an Universe for you under thin skin and stubborn bones. 

Pause. Breathe. Swallow. 

I am speaking from the heart, and not with sarcasm, defence mechanisms and shameless facades. 

I do that a lot. 

I hide to survive; to know who to trust and avoid the temporary spirits. 

And that makes me wonder who I really am if I peeled off all these layers and stood under the Sun. 


I have almost everything in order, except matters of the heart. And that’s the most painful part. 

May the Moon cradle me for long nights. 

Goodbye – Kesha.

Every single time I listen to this song, it has never been about lovers for some strange reason.

To me, this song is a lot about losing myself. Maybe it is because of how I have been feeling lately but have not been able to really talk about it with anybody yet. Or maybe it just speaks to me on a different level.

Like, a bittersweet anthem of simply giving up.

“This is goodbye.”