niksyahmiehafidz

Hotter Than Fire

2012-01-26T01:43:00.000+08:00

This is the night, I'm burning within.

Paradox

2012-01-25T01:18:00.001+08:00

The raven and the dove discuss their interpretations of love. Each inversely insightful yet so dissonant. The sky and the sea argued over elegance and beauty. "Watch my waves dance" said the sea. The sky replied "They wouldn't dance without me".

Sweet sound and vibrant light competed for the senses' delight. The sound blared them deaf and the light burned them blind.

Maybe we just belong equally oppositely attracted. Picture perfectly paradoxical.

Breathless

2012-01-24T01:18:00.000+08:00

Ethereal void

2011-12-29T14:36:00.000+08:00

Cloaked in invisible scars and surrounded by such happy hearts. No vibrant beating from my chest. A heart of stone at it's best. I cry out, but my voice dies. Again I howl, still no one hears. This lonely poison that consumes my soul. It's the only friend I'll ever know. The once warm heart is chilled to ice.

Drunk on the pain, I forget the rips.

Tomorrowland

2011-12-23T20:51:00.000+08:00

I want to be lost in the waves of trance.

Earthquake

2011-12-22T20:34:00.000+08:00

Tiny little ripples in the sand. That's how it all started. Like tears falling into a still pond. Then the earth begins to violently shake. Tearing itself apart like a massive and hungry pit bull with a steak tied to it's neck. Thunder roars from below instead of above.

The chain of screams begin. Wails of terror and of agony. A great cacophony of fear and pain. Towers toppling, bridges collapsing and lives ending. Then it all grows still. Some say that the silence afterwards is just as horrible as the event itself.

There's nothing beautiful about an earthquake.

Run

2011-12-20T16:49:00.000+08:00

You've been the only thing that's right, in all I've done.

Northern downpour

2011-12-14T19:38:00.001+08:00

And then she said she can't believe that genius only comes along in storms of fabled foreign tongues. Tripping eyes and flooded lungs, northern downpour sends its love.

Ignorance

2011-11-25T23:26:00.001+08:00

I live out of my lifetime. Not a single dictionary could define a word for me. You think of friends as close as one's you will always trust. It all seemed so clear to me. Now as I've gone out, I wish I could still have.

Ignorance. The blissful feeling, the knowledge of knowing none on how the days started out. Ignorance is a mind state I wish I'd never leave. I did not know diversity. Black and white were crayons in which they are the only colors that meant to me. As I walk down an alley way, people look at me differently. My skin is not making me belong.

It is something we all must see just the same as the fact we need air to breathe. I guess I need something new to believe.

Midnight run

2011-11-22T18:48:00.001+08:00

Live for now. Forget forever. December, we could still be here.

Details in the fabric

2011-11-19T14:19:00.000+08:00

There's no fear in the place where I'm going to be for the next couple of years. In the time it takes to tune a piano and in the decades of a dog's wagging tail, there's nothing scary there. When I'm as many years older, I'll still be cock-a-doodle-doing perfectly. Dandy in a yellow-spotted bouncy way.

When I've said and written as many words as there are to say on an afternoon, I'll see what I saw when I was the size of a bright laugh. That all the world in it's infantile grace is bursting with unexplained light. Even the if the places are nearly shaded from sight.

I never used to see the stars. Before, it was just the moon and the sun. Plain and simple. Before it was just the right and the wrong. Black and white. Now I see the stars tattooed in the intricate patterns in your eyes. I'm at a loss for words when it comes to you. The shades of grey and blue, the pigments of the rainbow and the details in the fabric slowly start to appear before me. Threads coming loose.

The threads make up the fabric. The letters make the words. The intentions make the actions. It's all about the little things. The thoughts resulted from a static cling. Everything will be fine.

My lovely pusher

2011-11-18T01:40:00.000+08:00

Breathe me in deeply and inhale me into your being. Consume me in and never stop. Navigate me into your veins. Let me course through you. Let me kiss you from the inside out. Let me sink into your arteries, into your heart, into your soul.

Let me be your drug. As much as you are mine.

Lost and found

2011-11-17T12:42:00.000+08:00

Shine a light through an open door.

Abide

2011-11-15T12:23:00.000+08:00

Drift with me on the face of the sea. The sweet sky is too bright for us, the tides are tempting and your eyes are gleaming. Listen to my heart, it whispers your name. A gentle melody and a tender tone. The piano notes are the recital of our minds. The duet is our matching breaths and my devotion is singing. I'll write you endless symphonies. I wish to wake up every morning tangled to you. I dream of indulging in your glassy eyes for hours before getting out of bed.

Every single detail about you astounds me. When you're sad, I want to be the one that lifts your sorrow and brings you peace. When you're overwhelmed with joy, I want to be the one you share it with. I want you to see yourself through my eyes, where you are loved, knowingly or not. I want you to witness how your little imperfections still pull me closer to you. I want you to know that these smiles are yours to keep. Reigning supreme over me, you deserve to be treated like a queen. You're afraid, but so am I.

Read the words I picked just for you. Your loveliness inspires to be my poetry.The elegant pages go on evermore and the expression of my life is laid down in an array of writings. There is something unfathomably calm and soothing about the idle belief of an eternity. That wild and wide endless expanse of time. Set out so very neatly before you, waiting to be embraced.

Though you must know, I won't be here for long. It is beyond me, for time has not been kind to me.

Uncharted waters

2011-11-15T11:12:00.000+08:00

I'm taking a chance into ambivalence. The prospect of ending up in a quandary on uncharted waters causes a sudden rise in my heartbeat. Even so, I left the secured and easy life on dry lands to be in the seas.

Because I trust in the overwhelming wonders that await me behind the blinding haze.

Stalemate

2011-11-14T01:02:00.001+08:00

The more you keep on looking, the more it's hard to take. Love, we're in stalemate. To never meet is surely where we're bound. There's one in every town, just there to grind you down.

Too busy with a mind on clever lines. You're slacking love, where have you been?

Theatre of dreams

2011-11-12T18:17:00.001+08:00

In my mental theatre you take shape, vibrating like a hologram as I tinker with your image. The scenario contains passive-aggressive clutching as I weave you into the natural elements of paranoia. Slowly, it flows you into the lavish.

You fumble as your gilded cage is lit by moonlight and osculated in a devious manner. After solicitations of salacious actions, a searing chemical rush kicks in. The rush extant vigorously but in waning composure. I grin. The sensual passion between the thighs is mounted and you unleash a silent scream.

Tenderly biting your finger, your eyes signal for more.

Hatrick

2011-11-11T21:26:00.001+08:00

The score is 7-4 now after what seems like a staggering bombardment of goals. Number 23 just scored a hatrick with stylish perfection ;)

Lord of trance

2011-11-10T02:48:00.000+08:00

Do come back, please.

Elation

2011-11-09T00:17:00.000+08:00

It starts as a tickle in the back of your mind, and it travels to the back of your throat. You don't know what it is at first, but you feel it moving upwards your trachea. Bubbles begin to appear in your mind, spiraling in circles, upwards, faster. The pressure is beginning to build up, bells are ringing gently, giddiness is emerging.

You can taste it on your tongue, the projection of joy, humor and fun. It's pushing against your teeth, sending tickling feathers into your stomach. Curious and prudent, you open your mouth and a sound of pure elation bursts forth, taking you by surprise. Startled, you let more out, marveling at the occurrence.

Laugh.

Peak

2011-11-08T01:36:00.000+08:00

The body spasms as it reaches the peak of ecstasy.

Bring it on!

2011-11-06T19:30:00.000+08:00

Hoorah!

Cuddles

2011-11-05T23:57:00.000+08:00

I wish you were here alongside me. Lying there with your head on my chest. So soft and soothing, sharing my warmth. In my dreams I can feel you beside me. The very vision of it is so warm and reassuring. Our skin is in love.

When I wake up,you are there. Either next to me or in my thoughts. Whispering to me, telling me you love me. Lying together, we're both on a mute. Our bodies speak their own language. This was how it was meant to be.

Together, you and me, cuddling all day.

Inapparent

2011-11-04T23:27:00.000+08:00

I've been longing for you. You thread through this place like a ghost, radiant floating and shrouded in shadows. You portray yourself like mist disrupting nothing in your pace and then whisk away through walls. I can read you through just as I can read a billboard that's faded and scratched raw by unforgiving winds but I can still decipher your secrets.

Fine scents remain hung in the air like dead silence and caught in spider webs. Diminished by savage train wreck and rendered sullied by emptiness yet I stand at your epicenter, swallowed by the thin trails of jet engines of your thought.

Your walls are fabricated arch and column that sustain my thirst for brighter, calmer and cooler waters. Your colors are comforting in this swampland dream. Oh I would tender if I could. A graceful touch from your claws. A burning word from your primrose lips that exists to quell all manner of inner demons. If only I could catch the sublime specter in this assembly of phoenix fire and empire dirt.

You move too fast, you work too much and you never see me coming.

Sweet and low

2011-11-04T10:04:00.000+08:00

Rain is gonna fall, the sun is gonna shine. The wind is gonna blow, the water's gonna rise. She said, "When the day comes, look into my eyes". No one's giving up quite yet cause we've got too much to lose. Hold me down, sweet and low, little girl. Hold me down, and I'll carry you home.

Hold me down, sweet and low, little girl. Hold me down, and I'll carry you home.

Ass back home

2011-11-03T09:18:00.000+08:00

No one holds me down like you do sweetheart
You keep doing that, I keep doing this
We’ll be alright in the end

A tera-scaled headache

2011-11-02T14:57:00.000+08:00

There's a pain in my head and my mind grows so weak. A blazing pain rushes as the head cramps in a vice. Blood pressure rising, tired of all the stress. Shooting spears of agony through my body, concealing all thoughts and hiding all comfort.

Nothing left but displeasure.

Nothing

2011-10-31T19:16:00.000+08:00

Those criminal smiles of my past are going to fade. Even if I have to beat them into dust and blow them away. These mirrors show me nothing I want to see. Time to run into your arms? Not on my rising tied, you are not so far away.

Clinging to the separation, I am melting together with my fears. You will not bury me in your existence. I am no longer a door to be walked through. Pacing the hallways in my mind and punching through these endless walls, I see I am not alone.

Fair enough, lunge yourself into my heart. You will not find the voice that screamed. You people sicken me. Is it so great, staking your claim in a meaningless world?

I wouldn't know. I own nothing and I am owned by none.

Titanium

2011-10-30T08:39:00.000+08:00

You shout it loud, but I can't hear a word you say. I'm talking loud, not saying much. I'm criticized, but all your bullets ricochet. You shoot me down, but I get up. I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose. Ricochet, you take your aim. Fire away, fire away. You shoot me down, but I won't fall.

I am titanium.

Ignorance

2011-10-28T21:29:00.000+08:00

In times of lasting social or imperial turmoil, I vote to eradicate the struggle by ignorance. I am happy to not be seen. I am happy to not be loud and proud. It really doesn't matter to me; clothing, popularity status or opinions.

Just as long as i am me, then I am ecstatic.

IMY

2011-10-26T08:41:00.000+08:00

Looking beyond the distant sky, I can't shake the thought of you. Not that I want to though. All the time and not a moment without each other. Braving this tide of unbreakable silence, holding onto a raft of truthful hopes.

When I’m not talking to you, I’m thinking of you. When you’re away, I’m hurting inside for you. When you're with me, I come alive.

I. Miss. You.

Unintended

2011-10-24T19:54:00.000+08:00

You could be my unintended choice to live my life extended. You could be the one who listens to my deepest inquisitions. You could be the one I'll always love.

I'll be there as soon as I can. But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before.

Reaching out

2011-10-24T09:37:00.000+08:00

You noticed me reaching out from behind opaque sheets of grey. Will your fears prevent you from taking my hand? Will you allow yourself to be brought to places unknown? To risk something for what you think i know. Having risked before, you know what pain can be.

Hesitant and cautious, you reach for me in return. Like a vice my hand grasps yours, sending waves of energy throughout your being.

Was it a mistake to reach for me? Have you become trapped in a world where all you will dream for is to escape? Or was there something else inside that powerful rush of energy that coursed through you? Something that gives you hope. Something that brings you peace and a harmony you have never seen before.

Could it be that I am only showing you your own reflection?

Sebastien Millon

2011-10-19T21:51:00.000+08:00

Coolness.

Sing

2011-10-18T18:40:00.000+08:00

Ancient shouts of a new dawned day, where whistles blow and troubles stray. Take no heart in lips that born cries. Never mind the quiet sigh. Peel the harmony in October lay and sing.

Let your voice fill the room as your soul sings the song. As the rhythm and the beat begin to brew, your heart starts to grow. The power of the music is free within your spirit.

Sing for the heavens, sing to tell of triumph and sing to free yourself.

Are we the waiting

2011-10-18T06:58:00.000+08:00

Starry nights and city lights coming down over me. Skyscrapers and stargazers in my head. Are we waiting the unknown. This dirty town was burning down in my dreams. A lost and found city, bound in my dreams.

Forget me not and second thoughts live in isolation. Heads or tails and fairy tales in my mind. Oh are we the waiting. The rage and love, the story of my life.

Sick

2011-10-16T19:26:00.000+08:00

The feeling won't go away from my stomach. Dry throat, light headed, sleepless eyes and trembling muscle pain. Advil doesn't cut it and sleeping doesn't help. Immense body ache. I hate this.

Must go to the gym. No matter what.

Last post

2011-10-15T22:47:00.000+08:00

Writing is a battle. A never-ending war of words where loss and victory are things that go unheard. Used to scorn another or give them the joy of praise. To tell a story of a mythical place or reminisce the grandeur of by-gone days.

Words are weapons of combat that humans learn to use from the their youngest age. Trained in this timeless art, they grow up and teaching the vernal generation in their own way. But the young become veterans and they eventually fall.

For even if the words do not age, time consumes all.

Pop

2011-10-15T16:30:00.000+08:00

I am a bubble. I hustle around the yards of people, searching for a place to land. At times I am transparent, at others I mix with the crowd. My insides are filled with air, and yet, I find it hard to breathe.

So fragile, and at the same time strong enough to withstand forces of nature, such as a curious kittens purring and chasing me, or a baby reaching to grab me. I shine at my lightest hour, and I soar without a care in the world. I see things from different point of views, and occasionally eavesdrop.

Through it all, I know one day my moment will end and I will eventually... pop.

Shower

2011-10-15T02:37:00.000+08:00

Every drop traces a frantic path down an uneven crust. Catapulting off peaks and ridges like lemmings are supposed to. Into crevices and cracks, sliding to form streams until gathering sedately into pools on a hungry ground. It slowly drips and vanish away.

Showering is a source of awe.

Question

2011-10-14T03:39:00.000+08:00

The dark and harmonius rhythm of death, how silently it comets over me as I stand here, upon the center of my room. As a sweet mother it embraces and as a dear distraction it entices. Blessed release, to sleep, and from dreams, never to awaken.

What would you say to me if you knew that I'm going some place far and I'm never coming back?

Riddle

2011-10-11T18:15:00.000+08:00

I'm that bored. (This is a statement, not an answer)

So far away

2011-10-10T18:19:00.000+08:00

I feel a void inside me. Miss you, bro.

Not like the movies

2011-10-10T17:47:00.000+08:00

If stars don't align, if it doesn't stop time, if you can't see the sign, then wait for it. One hundred percent worth every penny spent, he'll be the one that finishes your sentences. If it's not like the movies, that's how it should be. When he's the one, he'll come undone and your world will stop spinning.

And that's just the beginning.

Aphrodisiac

2011-10-09T16:55:00.000+08:00

Puzzled and confused, he doesn't really know what to say as she gazes out of the window, her eyes empty and hollow. He wants to reach out to her, hold her in his arms. It’s not as if he doesn’t care anymore after all. Quite the opposite, he cares so much and just the thought that this is his doing wrenches at his heart and makes his stomach sink.

He didn’t reach. He stands there, watching her fragile face fight the evils burning to pour out in flames and floods. Time, it seems, is working very slowly when it comes to healing these wounds. She takes a deep breath and turns to face him with glittering eyes and a brave smile.

"You know what I miss most?" She asks tenderly, almost whispering.

He didn't say anything. In a reply, simply shakes a silent head. She reaches out for his hand, which he gives to her. She lays his palm against her damp cheek, and it almost makes his fingertips sting. On her face, you can read sweet torture as she buries her head ever so slightly deeper into his hand, eyes shut, breath shallow and trembling.

"I miss the nights. I miss walking into my room after a hard day’s work, and seeing your head under covers. I miss you jumping as I get into bed, because my hands and feet are so cold." She laughs sadly to herself. "They’re always cold, so you’d wrap your legs around mine, clasp my hands tight, and hold me against your chest. I miss that warmth of your skin next to mine as I’m going to sleep, the sound of your heartbeat in my ear, and your breath against my neck."

He pushes a lock of hair out of her eyes, grief stricken beauty possesses her.

"I miss waking up and seeing your dreaming face next to mine. I miss the way you’d complain once you got up about how your hair was the biggest mess ever even though personally I thought it was a good look." They both give a slight chuckle at this. Finally she lets his hand drop from her face, as she couldn't contain the tears any longer.

"But what I miss most of all is the smell of you on my pillow." She goes to her bed, picks a pillow up and deeply inhales. "As hard as I try, it’s not there anymore… and it was all that was left… it was…" she starts to choke on her words. "It… was…" she can’t finish it.

She cradles the pillow in her arms before replacing it, and then walks back to him shaking. She reaches her lips up to his and gently brings herself to touch them… that slight touch is the greatest aphrodisiac and when she pulls away she’s gasping.

She leaves to join the others, her smiling mask hiding the wreck. He watches her go, but doesn't stop her. He runs his fingers along his lips, the sensation of her kiss still on them, through that gentle touch he could feel the everlasting passion burning. He walks over to the pillow and as he did, he inhales deeply.

"I miss it too…" he utters under his breath.

Shinra Tensei

2011-10-09T14:52:00.000+08:00

Heavenly subjugation of the omnipresent force.

Mercy

2011-10-09T13:16:00.000+08:00

Sing with me, sweetheart. Sing under tonight’s never-ending sky. Whisper sweet words into my waiting ears. Whisper sweet words that I have been longing to hear. Each and every day, each and every years to come. Far back as I can recall, I have been scared. To step out of the shadows that I haven’t dared, would be a tremendous leap.

In my solitude, such cold things I have bared. What do you understand from my stories that you've read? Pulled from my writings, desperate and hardened, only to find myself succumbed into a momentary fix. It's all my fault now. What a tragedy it seemed to be. You are more beautiful than I ever could have pictured. A beauty I've never heard of, not even in scripture.

To think that someone could owe justice to where injustice was due. I hunger for something I cannot find, of peace to my soul and light to my mind. Perhaps I'm over thinking things. Perhaps I'm dreaming of the unreachable.

Perhaps she's only doing it out of mercy.

T.U.A

2011-10-09T12:54:00.000+08:00

Astonishing!

Seize the day

2011-10-09T03:43:00.000+08:00

I see my vision burnt, I feel my memories fade with time. But I'm too young to worry. These streets we travel on will undergo our same lost past.

A melody, a memory or just one picture.

Last dance

2011-10-09T02:33:00.000+08:00

As she looked away, Lily turned and saw the look in his eyes. A tear gently blew from her cheek in the breeze like a flower that withers and dies. Everything that she has ever believed, became a question instead of another answer,

What do you do when you search for an answer and in the end all you find is a cancer? So numb you just can’t keep the moments together. That's what Lily is feeling in the current moment. She became a mirror's reflection to her heart's objection. Time takes away the precious moments. Melting away like sands in the hourglass, Daniel once looked in her eyes, and told her how long their love would last.

“Forever and a whisper darling,” he calmly said without a sigh.

And now Lily stands heartbroken by his side as he reaches for the sky.

Oblivious to her, Daniel was also fragmentized and secretly tormenting. He thought to himself; how did everything come to this? His life crumbled between his fingertips. To Daniel, it seems like all the sins of his past slipped away when he calmly touched Lily's lips. There was a time when Lily spoke of words that helped his life night after night. There was a time when she whispered to him that everything would be alright. For all the times that Lily has held his back from diving darker into the realms of the shadows, Daniel couldn't save her. A thought that now turns hallow.

Taken by a solemn whisking and raised from insanity, Lily took Daniel's hand and they danced for one last time. Together they will both be free. They lost all emotional connection that were ever inside with every step that they danced and with every movement made. Although they both stayed fast in the dark, Lily had the courage to reach out and let love caress her heart. Now here they are, dancing in the sunset, eyes still connected. Taking a chance on a failing romance, Lily had the courage to ask him.

"Up for one last dance?" she whispered softly in his ear.

Daniel gazed even deeper in her eyes. A crimson darling enveloped by a sphere of insanity, she was the home to his vanity. A match lit by his heart’s desire, and a smile starts to stretch on his face.

"Yes," he replied without a sound of hesitation in his voice.

Oblivious

2011-10-08T01:07:00.000+08:00

I'd like to keep, just being so. Ripped seams betrayed without knowledge or want. This needs to be seized. Numerous truth peeped out, hidden only by fresh imprints. Exploring fingers clumsily moved.

This has to stop. No more apparent signs.

Twinkling stars

2011-10-07T21:10:00.000+08:00

Sugar, spice and everything nice. That's what little girls are made of. Rosy cheeks and candy treats, their smiles are pure novacaine. Love and laughter sail the skies, it twinkles in their big bright eyes.

Dear god, I want two daughters and a son who would look after his two sisters.

Cutaneous senses

2011-10-07T21:09:00.000+08:00

The souls embrace the raveling of skins. Feeling the warm getting cold as the caress slips away. Eyes graced upon the curvature that was her. They always have. For the very moment they laid upon her, Unforgettable. Remembrances lasting beyond lifetimes.

That's what she is. Incredible.

Awake

2011-10-06T11:04:00.000+08:00

Every night he'd be sipping caffeine, trying to stay awake that little longer. For Haydar, staying awake was the only methodology to stay away from the nightmares. The ones that wake him with piercing screams and leave marked bruises as he goes through a mimic of seizure and it would normally take an eternity for him to come alive.

In every sense of apologetic ways, Haydar regrets that Fara's once pale flesh is violet and her skin is raked with burgundy. Despite the ravaged features, she still comes in every night to soothe him, to kiss the tears away as if they are precious pearls, to wipe the crystalline mask from his face, to caress the violent quivers from his vigorous yet fragile body.

Fara would always tell him that if she could, she would take the horrors away, and Haydar sadly tells her that he wouldn't be strong enough to see her shattered and glistening like that. But she keeps on saying that he's stronger than anyone, else the fear would strangle him.

Every single night Haydar lies trembling in Fara's arms, amazed at how she is never choked by the fear weighing down the air around them. He wonders if she sees the shadows prowling around them, but he couldn't care less, for they could never harm him, not with her besides him.

Pure fucking ecstasy

2011-10-05T03:34:00.000+08:00

The ashtray lies redundant in front of her. Alees stares at it and think of how, normally, great things are created with glass but no, this glass became an ashtray. An unemployable one at that. But she doesn't want to think about the ashtray, Alees puts it to the back of her mind and looked around her, to everything nice.

Nice girls and boys. Nice food and drink. Nice feeling. Nice lights.

Suddenly her shirt feels rough on her arms, feels rough on her back. Her hair feels too heavy, thick, greasy. Alees's breath catches and she coughs, once, twice. She gets a taste of whatever filth decided to live in her throat. Her laces are too loose, her pants too tight in the wrong places. She has had enough.

Alees gets up and started dancing to the rhythm of trance. And that is all she remembers.

Make me feel

2011-10-03T17:07:00.000+08:00

Ghost of the past

2011-10-02T23:28:00.000+08:00

Her whimsical grace attracts familiar faces. The ghost of her ignorance follows her footsteps and speaks of mundane daydreams.

Who am I to choose a girl that everyone adores.

Humor

2011-10-02T00:43:00.000+08:00

It's hilarious how you still make me anxious. Fingers interlaced and skins intertwined, yet I'm still scared to ask you questions or say something stupid.

It's funny how I want to hold your hand or tell you that you're beautiful. But I don't, because I'm intimidated of what you might think.

It's hysterical how I get butterflies. I think of clever things to say and I'll end up stumbling on my words later on. I want your attention, but I'm scared of what that would mean.

Immense convulsion

2011-09-30T23:38:00.000+08:00

Myra had never seen lightning so bright. Lightning is flashing through the sky like a massive iridescent wave crashing onto the treetops. It’s never one bolt zigzagging through the night sky and tearing it open like one would expect. It’s as if a defective electric blue light-bulb the size of a meteor is swinging violently over the quaint little place she likes to call Earth. A place, that in the past couple hours she has been wishing to be Hell instead.

Myra is doing what every woman at certain points in her life has to do, just as a result of being a woman. She's lying on her couch staring at her ceiling, trying to resist howling worthy of competition with the thunder rolling across the surely dilapidated heavens. If only she was so lucky for it to be out of pleasure. No, of course not. It is out of sheer pain, a series of spasmodic, just-bordering-on-numbing-but-not-quite, agony worthy of St. Agnes herself, known otherwise as menstrual cramps.

That’s right, the bull is charging, her aunt has officially flown in, the red flag is up and the communists are marching in. It’s the time when husbands dive head-first behind couches, daddies tip-toe out of rooms hoping not to be noticed, brothers escape next door for their own safety, and women clutch their hot water bags and pain killers scowling at the thought of grown men who normally think of them as beautiful little delicate flowers, being scared out of their skin of behavior just a little out of the norm. It’s not like we turn schizophrenic, she thought to herself.

On one hand though, Myra can understand where men are coming from. She gets it, some girls can get pretty bad. Irritable, emotional, bloated, upset, angry, weak, moody, and impossible to satisfy. She's glad she's nowhere near that bad. Sure, she swings sometimes, and want to throw things, she gets the headaches and the cramps hurt like hell, and once in a while she’ll burst into tears and be a little frustrated, but Myra's nowhere near as bad as some other women.

One man pointed out to her however, than although girl's are a little more difficult to handle, she also think that they are also much more in need of sexual attention, and much more sensitive to it as well. In guy-language, “score”. Must be quite a little challenge, that; getting lucky and treading on thin ice at the same moment exactly. He was either a true optimist, or a sex god. Myra is now wondering why she turned him down.

Oh, now she remembers. Guys are stupid, and that must’ve been the only half-intelligent thing he said, and even then it was a little degrading. Now, she's not one to expect too much mind-reading, but sometimes all it takes is a little bit of friction between the brain cells to read between the lines. Thankfully, Myra happens to be seeing someone rather sensitive to what she wants from him.

She picks up her phone and dialed the last number that she called on her phone. It says "Reza", but what she really see in the vivid display of her handheld machine is somewhat like "the guy who hasn't been picking up my calls for the past half an hour". Perhaps she was over thinking things. At least that's what she keep telling herself all this while.

"He'd better have a solid reason for this," Myra thought to herself.

She began to procrastinate in whether she should try calling again or just lie down in what seems to be a century of waiting and contemplate with her pain. By now, probably there's 28 missed calls from her on Reza's phone. What on earth could he be doing. Even throughout the pain and anguish of waiting, Myra kept a solid mindset that he's busy with work. That has always been the case for the past couple of months. She is always like this. An optimist of everything in their relationship.

The doorknob clicked and the wooden panel swings open gently. There he was, with one hand holding the knob and the other holding his bag. There was a mimic of surprise in his face. Perhaps Reza wasn't expecting her to be home since it was so quiet. Not even the television was turned on.

"Hey love. What are you doing in the dark?" he asked, while settling his bag on the coffee table next to the door. His voice had a sudden urge of worry in it. She could sense this. She always did.

"I fell asleep on the couch," Myra lied with a smile.

He sat down besides her on the couch and placed his palm on her forehead. Her lies were never impeccable. Reza always saw through it without failure. The worry on his face has gone haywire.

"You're not feeling well aren't you? Something troubling you?"

"No, i'm fine. I'm just hungry. That's all," she replied, still flashing her oscar winning smile.

Reza got up and loosen his tie. There was something disturbing him. She could tell. "I'm going to head for the showers now". And she watched as he walked to the bedroom. Puzzled, she couldn't help but sit there and think, where did it all go wrong? Every ounce of positiveness has been squeezed out of her with Reza's uncanny attitude. He definitely has someone else. That explains everything. The distance, the distinguished behavior and cold replies. Maybe it's the period, or maybe there's a relevance behind it. But she's definitely considering the possibility of a third party.

Her point of view changed from the floor to the bag on the table. She slowly looked behind her and listened carefully to the ambient sound of liquid. She could hear the water drops hitting the very foundation of the mosaics floor. Yeah, he was still in the showers.

She unzipped the bag and began dipping her hands in an array of files. She doesn't even know what she's looking for. Perhaps some sort of evidence that suggest that she was over thinking things. Perhaps nothing at all to clearly make a statement that she IS clouding her mind with coherent assumptions. Upon rummaging Reza's bag, she found a particular letter that broke her down. It was the feeling as if her world has crumbled right in front of her eyes. Tears ran down her puffy cheek, the bag slid down from her hand, knocking hard on the floor. Her other hand was clutching the letter tightly. Spherical droplets of tear begin to rest on the paper.

How ironic, the only part that was touched by her tears can still be read out; "diagnosed positive with brain tumor".

Dream

2011-09-30T03:27:00.000+08:00

A silent vigil that Naqi keeps is when he's watching Eli fall asleep. He gazed as her chest expanded when inhaling air. "You're beautiful like this," he thought to himself. Lying unconscious with her black hair disheveled and her face totally relaxed, Eli was even smiling a little as she hugged her pillow.

Naqi would really love to sleep longer so that Eli could held him instead of the pillow. But sleeping early is a luxury which he can't afford. There's always too much that he needed to do and too many things go wrong when he sleeps.

He wanted to wake her up and ask if she's dreaming about him when she was holding her pillow so tight, but Naqi didn't. Eli had spent her waking hours being strong and trying to protect him from all the negativity and harshness of the world. So Naqi let her sleep and continue to wonder if he has a place in Eli's dreams.

Soon the sun rises above the trees and Naqi could see her stirr and saw the mild surprise in Eli's eyes as she realize that he wasn't in bed with her and what she's holding isn't Naqi.

"Up early again, baby?"

"As ever", he smiled.

Eli yawn and stretch while saying "I dreamt of you..."

And that one sentence washed away any doubts.

Enter here

2011-09-28T22:35:00.000+08:00

Sometimes, those walls are there for a reason.

In any way how, there's always a door with your name on it.

Force

2011-09-27T15:39:00.000+08:00

There is a force that drives each and every one of us. To some, this force is chemical as well as spiritual. It's what brings us to the oceans, what brings us to the unknown. But more importantly, to each other. A force that is far from our understanding. A force so divine that we are not worthy of contemplating.

With open arms

2011-09-26T22:10:00.000+08:00

Yes, I can see through your walls.
Yes, I'll be waiting to catch you.

Lost in Greece

2011-09-24T21:12:00.000+08:00

Come and meet me on the side,
I'll be waiting patiently for you,
Trail my fingers in the water,

Watching as the boat comes swiftly,
The River of Erasinos keeps on flowing,
And I'd still be standing there,

Singing the song you love so much,
Listening to the quiet of depth's domain,
Until I feel your arms around me,

And together we'll leave this place,
Hand in our souls together,
Traipsing to our final stay,

In the fields of Elysian heaven.

Raindrops

2011-09-21T00:40:00.000+08:00

It was one of those elementary, ordinary evenings. One that can happen in any day, and is forgotten by the next morning. It was one of those thunder showers. There was no wind, no lightning, only distant rumbling thunder and soft, steady rain. The constant pattering of the rain seemed apathetic in moving, like a silent traveler who had found a place to rest for the night.

From a window, the crisp reflections of placid glowing lamps behind pulled window shades, could be seen in the dancing liquid over the undisturbed roads. Everything was still, everything was silent. The only motion left was the steady splashing of rain. It was an ordinary night.

She sat by the window, watching, listening. Her book sat in her lap, forgotten in the quiet of the storm. She was consumed with the beauty of the night. She loved nights like these. Nights when everything seemed to stand still, and a certain serenity swept over everything. She's been sitting there for quite some time, waiting. Endlessly waiting for a person, whom she'd known most her life, to come sit with her.

But he never showed up. He could never listen to the sound of raindrops on the roof with her anymore. He can never see her tears ever again. Her husband is so far away and she can't follow him past those walls.

A perfect chapter laid to rest, though time still turns the pages of the book it burnt.

First time ever

2011-09-20T01:16:00.000+08:00

Thank you. This song is now tattooed on my medula oblongata :)

3 am

2011-09-16T17:03:00.000+08:00

The inconsistent spiteful roar fragments the ethereal silence and all heaven's torment is suddenly released. Adam watched as the miniscule forms of angel tears slam onto the window, seeing it all happen as if there was a chrono-lock and time was moving slow. The rain rippled only for a moment, less even, and a single globule ricochet upwards from the impact. Millions hit the pavement outside with their liquid strolls a drum-like sound on the roof.

"When are you going to fix this clock?" Crackled a voice that broke his deep trance.

"Hmm..?" Adam responded, without much paying attention to his wife who was looking at an old piece of machinery that has was in freezing state, pointing 3 o'clock.

"It's been stuck at three for days now," Nasya added.

"Oh, I'll take a look at it later on when I get back."

"Okay. Well, at least it's correct two times a day," she says with a tiny laugh.

Adam just smiled back. He knows how Nasya hates it when he has to go on business trips.

"This is going to be a short trip, so I'll be back in no time. If you keep on looking at the clock, I will never have been gone at all," he joked, beaming her with another smile. She smiles softly and turned to the dishes in the sink. The sound of a car horn honking outside drowns the clicking of plates that she was cleaning. They looked at each other, knowing it was time for Adam to go. He grabbed his bags and head to the door.

"It's freezing outside," she says, while handling Adam his jacket. He smile. Nasya always worry about things like that. They kissed and said goodbye.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Kilometers away, the time seemed to pass by inattentively. Workloads and long consultations with client had really wore Adam off. The shrill of his phone suddenly drags him out of a dead sleep. Fumbling in pitch black, he found his phone.

"Baby?" comes a tender voice on the other end.

"It's 3 in the morning, what's wrong honey?" he replied to her, still groggy with weariness and sleep.

"I feel so lonely," Nasya whispers with a crackled voice that almost sound as if she's trying to hold back her tears.

"Mmm," Adam moans, rolling over to sit up. "I'll be home soon. Work is almost finished."

"That's good to hear. I miss you so much baby. It's still raining here. It almost feels like a flood is going to hit the house and wash away everything. I know that's ridiculous, but I can't help but be scared of it sometimes."

"Oh honey, I wish I were back at home already as much as you do. At least you sleep better when it rains." Adam replied.

"But I can't sleep at all now.."

"You want to talk until you feel ready to sleep? That always works when I'm home. I know I'm not there to hold you, but we can still talk." he said with a little worry inside him.

"Alright," Nasya replies, still sounding crackled.

"What have you been doing since I left?"

"I started reading a book."

"Yeah, what book are you reading now?"

"Oh I went to the bookstore and found this book and the prologue really reminds me of us. I want to tell you what's it about when you get home."

"That sounds wonderful dear. You haven't been read new books for awhile now. Can't wait to hear what this new one is about."

"I think you'll like it." she sounded so calm and happy.

They continue to talk for a while longer about lots of different stuff. Eventually, Adam could hear sleepiness creeping into her voice.

"You know what?' Nasya says sleepily.

"What?" Adam asked.

"It's still 3am," she giggles in such a cute manner.

Adam smiles and laugh, "Yeah, not a minute passes since the phone rang. I'll take a look at that clock when i get back."

"The strangest thing is that it's been ticking all these days but the hands are stuck."

"Strange."

"Yeah. Well, night baby. I love you and I miss you bunches," she says softly.

"Miss you more. And I love you too. Goodnight, sweet dreams. I'll call you tomorrow evening when I have a chance."

"Alright. Bye baby."

"Bye."

They both hang up and lay down. Sleep eventually came to the both of them.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

A couple of days later, a cab pulls up in front of their house after sunrise. Adam paid the driver and got out with his stuffs. He finished business sooner than expected and took an early flight home. Nasya would be surprised, he thought to himself. She has already changed the mat on the doorway in anticipation of Adam's return late tonight. He smiled. It's a picture of a happy face.

Adam got inside, drop his bags in the entryway and took off in search of his wife. Nasya's still tucked in bed, snuggling Adam's pillows.

Quietly, he climb into the bed with her. He wraps his arms around her and she snuggles into his chest. Slowly, she stir and starts to wake up. Nasya opens her eyes and stares at him. Adam smile and kiss her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips. Suddenly, in realization that her husband is home, she lets out a squeal of joy before holding him tight.

Supernova

2011-09-15T02:16:00.000+08:00

When the time comes, I'll know too :)

Lost

2011-09-13T00:14:00.000+08:00

Rekindle

2011-09-10T16:17:00.000+08:00

They were fifteen when they walked through the same road that they passed just now. During those days, his walls crumbled and fell to ashes as his heart started to beat again. She spoke of her dreams and her words breathed for him. Their life did not need brakes. Unsuspectingly during that very age, they were about to embark on the very journey that triggered a vantage point in their lives.

It's been seven years and they were climbing the stairs of the same crossover. Naqi listened to the rhythmic clicking of their footwear on the thin metal floors beneath them. Their umbrellas were suspended above them, tiny rivulets of water creeping down and dripping onto the already saturated ground. Rain no longer fell from the clouds, but still they kept the protective shields above their heads. It wasn't the rain that bothered him most in this place.

Tasha paused suddenly, staring off into the cold distance that was once vibrant. Her pale face was dabbed with a deep scarlet and a hint of calm. To him, she looked almost at peace with the chilling world around them. Naqi stopped in his own path, looking back at her while fingering the handle of his umbrella impatiently. He didn't like the idea of staying at that place any longer than they needed to. It had already been far too long in this grey atmosphere.

"I remember when we stood on this bridge," Tasha broke the silence.

Naqi looked at her attentively, pulling himself away from his own daydreams. "I remember eating ice cream and watching the cars go by underneath of us." She glided over to the chain-link railing and looked down over the edge.

He followed her and felt as though he was stepping into the past. For a slight moment, Naqi could have swore that he heard the far-off hum of an engine. He stopped himself short of reaching over for the cold metal fence, afraid of remembering the past. It was too dangerous. Tasha looked off to where the black pavement of the road dissipated into a blur of white. Her umbrella bobbed up and down on her shoulder, leaving icy drops of water in her flawless wavy hair.

"Do you remember, Naqi?" she asked him.

He heard a bit of humor in her voice and gave her a sidelong look

"Do you remember when we accidentally dropped a cone on someone's windshield?" she continued.

He nodded grimly, feeling that he's absent-mindedly lean over against the wet railing. Naqi remembered the driver swerving into the opposite lane, causing a traffic jam during the middle of rush hour. The line of cars reached back into the far distance.

"We hid in the the abandoned store for hours," Tasha laughed, throwing her head back freely. "You were so scared that we would get arrested." She became solemn for a moment, leaving a long silence dragging between them. Naqi looked over at her and watched her thin fingers dance along the metal rod of her umbrella. He flinched in fear as she almost let it drop.She smiled as she notice his tense look on her. "You don't think I would, do you?" Naqi could feel Tasha's toying with him. Her umbrella dipped again and he made to push it back up above her head. She was laughing again.

"It's not funny, Sya," he said, fuming.

This was no place for joking around. He couldn't figure out how Tasha could be able to to even think of anything remotely amusing here. Tasha, however, wasn't listening to him anymore.

"Do you think it's true what they say? About how the white takes you back to when you were happy?" She was asking too many questions that he didn't have the answers to. He didn't want to have the answers to them.
Naqi looked back to what was once his own town, sighing in a sort of sad way. The buildings rose from their steel roots, which nailed them to the ground. They climbed and grew a couple of stories up before their strong structures dissolved into the blur of white that surrounded everything around them. He shuddered and pulled his sweater tighter around his shoulders.

Tasha began speaking again, reciting the same line as before. "Do you remember?" Her voice seemed darker, and small clouds were forming in the thin air in front of her open mouth. Naqi watched them fade into nothing, trying his hardest not to listen to the words they carried.

"Do you remember that I used to live here?" Tasha continued, pointing to a two-story house on to their left. The building remains intact as it was 7 years ago. Even the walls are still the same color. Probably the new owner repainted it with the same ruddy complexion. He muttered a wish for her to stop talking,but she simply ignored it. Naqi looked away from Tasha, glaring down at his shoes.

"Sya, please stop," he demanded, louder this time. But, still, sheignored him.

"Do you remember when it happened?"

"Tasha, shut up," Naqi screamed,spinning around to look her in the face. Her eyes were wide and wild, taking ona quality he had never seen in her before. Tasha's hand reached up quickly and gripped his shoulder, and their lips met. Naqi was awestruck-ed. The umbrella in his hand slid and fell slamming on the ground. She hugged him, and whispered in his ears.

"You were my first, do you remember?".

Best things in life

2011-09-09T22:49:00.000+08:00

The best things in life are so simple. It’s a thought less action that can give everlasting happiness and memories. There are so many things.

It’s staying up way past your bed time, reading a book that makes you lose track of time.

It’s laughing with your friends, until you can’t breathe, about something ridiculously stupid.

It’s snuggling up near a warm fire, on a snowy night, under a blanket watching a movie in the dark.

It’s going to the beach and wordlessly watching the sun sinking into the horizon.

It’s having a splash contest in a pool with your family and/or friends.

It’s the celebration of a birthday, when you eat so much cake, you feel like your going to throw up.

It’s spinning in circles until you fall to the ground, laughing uncontrollably while the world spins around you.

It’s lying under a clear summer night sky, counting how many shooting stars you see, and wishing on every single one.

It’s talking on the phone with your friend for hours, talking about unnecessary nothings :)

On my way

2011-09-08T15:02:00.000+08:00

I wasn't there the moment you cried so hard that you can't breathe, but I'm on my way. I wasn't there the moment you got off your knees when the world was holding you down, but I'm on my way. And when you feel no saving grace, well I'm on my way.

For now, just wait until the morning light. Just close your eyes to see. The light at the end is worth the pain. So don't believe it's all in vain. I'll be there the morning you come out and wait, cause I'm on my way.

I'm on my way.

Wings of a butterfly

2011-09-07T12:46:00.000+08:00

   She first caught sight of it fluttering around in the city, its iridescentwings shimmering in the morning sunlight. Having never seen a butterfly in the urban city before, Nadia wasfascinated by its vivid hues and the carefree way by which it seemed to weavearound everything, a drop of colour in a black and white world. Somehow, itlifted her spirits and drew a smile on her tiny, pale pink lips.

   The little girl had been walking along the pavement holding her mother’s hand,but now she stopped and tugged against her mother's coat. Her mother turned andsmiled down at her affectionately, her worn, careworn face a network of finewrinkles etched by daily worries and problems.

"What is it, Nadia?"

"Mama, I want that flying animal up there," Nadia murmured, chewingon her plaits as she pointed a stubby finger at the butterfly fluttering abovethem.

   It was now high up in the darkening sky, swirling and tossing on the wind’scurrents. Puzzled, Nadia's mother lifted her head to look at whatever her sevenyear old daughter was pointing at. Then, she saw the butterfly. Her eyessoftened almost immediately. A tinge of sadness lingered in them as she gazedup at the sky.

"I'm sorry, darling, but these creatures are not meant to be kept as petscaged up. They are called butterflies and butterflies are meant to befree," she said in a faraway voice.

   Her wrinkles seemed to have disappeared and she was wearing a faint smile. Itappeared to Nadia's eyes that her mother looked like a different personentirely though it could simply have been a trick of the light. Free,this very word kept playing and rewinding itself in Nadia’s head. Free,that was what the butterfly had made her feel. And looking at her mother whonow seemed lost in her own world, Nadia knew better than to ask her again.

   That night, after Nadia was tucked into bed, she looked out of her bedroomwindow, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive creature she’d seen earlier. Shestared at the tall skyscrapers, the graying buildings and housing estates. Shesaw the lamp posts lining the pavement, the speeding cars that never stopped,and the briskly walking people each lost in their own private worries andproblems as they moved together on the same pavement.

   Suddenly, freedom in a concrete jungle, where everyone was only focused onmaking as much money as possible, felt more like a prison instead. Somethingheavy weighed on Nadia's tiny heart but the little girl did not know why.

   As she was looking out of the window moodily, the butterfly flew in. Beaming with joy, Nadia clamberedout of bed and stood on the cold linoleum floor as she watched the butterflydance in her bedroom. Its movements weren't fluid or graceful, yet the way itsfluttering wings captured the silver moonlight was enough to draw Nadia into atrance and she did not know how long she stood there watching it.

   Abruptly, the butterfly flew out of Nadia’s bedroom. She quickly slipped on hercoat and followed it, clad only in a thin night shift and fluffy bunnyslippers. It took her fifteen floors down her apartment house and out into thechilly night air. Yet she did not seem to feel the cold as she stared in awe atthe city spread out before her.

   The atmosphere seemed and felt so different at night; brooding and melancholy,it was as though the city was hiding secrets that were shrouded in the darknessand invisible in the daytime. The butterfly flew around her in circlesimpatiently, as though prodding her to move on. So Nadia continued to walk, hereyes wide with curiosity as she drank in the city’s night sights.

   A scantily clad hooker took a long drag on her cigarette and blew out rings ofsmoke through bright red lips, her sharp stilettos making tiny grooves on thegraffiti spattered wall she was leaning against.

   She was talking and laughing on her cell phone, flirting with some unknownstranger who was probably just another male client. Yet it appeared to Nadiathat the smile on her lips never seemed to quite reach her eyes; her everyaction stiff and mechanical. It was as if her soul had been sucked out of herand she was merely going through the motions of living, bound by the humaninstinct to survive. Bound by her need to make some quick bucks and not knowingany other easier way to do so. Nadia quickly averted her eyes, notunderstanding the emptiness she felt in her heart when she looked at thehooker.

   Her gaze fell onto two orphan children huddled together at one corner of thestreet with nothing more than the threadbare clothes on their backs and a dirtymat underneath their feet. Their pinched, drawn little faces and the bitternessin their eyes spoke more than what words could describe to the little girlwatching them. Homeless, unwanted and unloved, they were weighed down with theburden of finding their next meal and shelter; prisoners chained to the harshmasters of poverty and death. Shuddering, Nadia gathered her coat about hermore tightly and walked on.

   The butterfly flew on, leading her towards a deserted road with no lamp poststo guide anyone's way. Cloaked in darkness, Nadia could barely see anything atall let alone the butterfly. Forcing herself not to panic like a normal seven-yearold would, she continued to walk, stretching her hands out blindly to preventherself from bumping into something.

Eventually, she spotted a lamp post shining up ahead and like a moth attractedto light, she moved towards it.

Squinting under the sudden glareof the light, Nadia suddenly realized that there was a man clad in an expensivebusiness suit sitting listlessly at the pavement, his leather suitcase throwncarelessly to one side. The butterfly was perched on his shoulder but he didnot seem to notice it at all.

"Mister, are you lost?"Nadia asked timidly, even though she wasn't sure how she could help. After all,she was lost in the city herself with only a butterfly to guide her around.

In normal circumstances, this would have made any child feel terrified, but Nadiafelt an unexplainable eerie sense of calm. The businessman slowly looked up. Nadiawas shocked to see the hollow, sunken face and the dark eye rings circling hiswatery brown eyes. He did not appear to be poor or jobless so there seemed tobe no reason as to why he still looked so starved and hopeless.

"I'm lost all right,"the businessman muttered bitterly. "I have no idea where I'm going. I haveno idea what I want to do with my life. I slave my guts away at a job thatsteals not only my time but my soul. Freedom is just another word in mydictionary that doesn't exist anymore."

   At a loss for words, Nadia merely pointed at the butterfly resting on thebusinessman’s shoulder, her tiny face intent and solemn. She hoped the man wouldunderstand what she was trying to say.

Freedom still existed.

   The man's eyes slowly traveled to his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.Then he saw the butterfly. It was as though she had switched on something thathad gone rusty within. Tears sprang to the man's eyes as the butterfly flewfrom his shoulder to rest on his hand.

"Freedom ..." the man whispered to himself, as though hardly daringto believe that it was within his grasp.

He looked up to face the little girl standing in front of him, his face shiningwith gratitude.

"Thank you, my dear ..." he stood up and squared his shouldersresolutely. "I'm quitting my job first thing tomorrow morning."

   So saying, he walked off, his face set in quiet determination. There seemed tobe a spring in his step. Nadia looked at his receding figure with a faint smileon her lips. Then she walked on. The butterfly was nowhere to be seen but she did notnotice. Faint sobbing sounds started to reach her ears when she came to the endof the deserted road. Curious, the little girl walked towards the source of thesound until she came to a dark alley.

   The stench which greeted her was overpowering due to all the rubbish thrownthere by careless passers-by. Moldy, overripe banana skin peels, discarded foodcontainers and stale urine all contributed to the pungent odor. Yet, someonewas there, sitting at the end of the alley and crying to herself.

   As Nadia's eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw a young mother cradling achild in her arms and weeping as she rocked the baby to and fro. Her hair wasdisheveled and she did not look like she had had a good meal in ages. However,she was tense and when Nadia approached her; she stared wildly at the littlegirl with bloodshot eyes. Her grip on her baby tightened until Nadia could seethe whites of her trembling knuckles.

"Don't steal my baby, don't steal my baby ..." she mutteredrepeatedly to herself, half-mad with terror.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to take your baby away," Nadia saidsoothingly.

   She reached out to place a hand on the woman’s shoulder, wanting to ease herfright and reassure her that she was harmless. Still the woman shrieked as thoughshe had just been burned. Nadia quickly withdrew her hand. Then she had anidea. Running to the nearest convenience store, she pulled out a few coins fromher coat and bought a loaf of bread.

   Running back to the alley, she stood in front of the woman and offered the loafof bread silently, afraid to say anything lest the woman screamed again. Tensionhovered in the air as the woman stared at Nadia with disbelief and somethingthat looked like hope. Slowly, with quivering hands, she took the bread andstarted to gobble down huge chunks of it. So absorbed was she in eating thatshe did not even look up when Nadia came closer.

"Don't you want to feed your baby?" Nadia asked in concern.

   The woman nodded and tore off a small chunk of the bread which she pressedagainst the baby's lips. However, the baby did not open its mouth. In fact, itdid not move at all. Nadia was suddenly overwhelmed by a strong sense offoreboding. Something felt very wrong.

Trembling, she reached out to turn the baby's face towards her.

She screamed.

   The baby was dead, its skin a white-purplish hue. Pressing a fist against hermouth, Nadia fled the alley in horror. She ran and she ran, away from thatterrible nightmarish place. Away from an unexplained terror that hadoverwhelmed her. Then she stopped, breathingheavily as tears ran down her face. She could not believe what she’d just seen. An insane woman with a dead baby,bound to the belief that her child was still alive. She closed her eyes,wishing that she could simply erase the image from her mind.

After a while, she realized she was not alone.

   She opened her eyes and saw a little girl squatting at the pavement, drawing arepeated pattern of butterflies with white chalk. The girl was swathed inchains connecting to every single part of city, yet she seemed oblivious tothat fact as she concentrated on her drawing.

Just then, she looked up.

Nadia went numb with shock. She was staring at her own reflection. The girl’seyes were emotionless, but they were fixed onto Nadia when she spoke.

"Hardly anyone understands what freedom means any longer. Everyone ischained to their own obligations, their own duties. Captive to their ownworries, their own fears. They do not know the simple joys in life because theyhave forgotten. Do you truly understand what freedom is?"

   Nadia hung her head in shame. How could she explain something that she did notknow how to express in words? When Nadia couldn’t answer, a single tear droppedfrom the girl’s eye. Nadia felt as though she was viewing it in slow motion asit descended and landed on the pattern of butterflies drawn on the pavement.

   Vibrant colours flooded the butterfly drawings and Nadia watched, fascinated,as they slowly started to come alive. Wriggling their wings free from thepavement, they flew out in a swirling stream before dispersing in the open sky.Filled with awe and an unexplainable sense of sadness, Nadia turned to look atthe girl, but she was no longer there. The chains that had bound her were leftlying on the pavement.

Blinking in disbelief, she slowly walked towards the area where the girl hadonce been.

Nothing stirred.

   Suddenly, the chains lying on the floor hurled towards the little girl and wrappedthemselves around her. The last thing she could remember was the unbearableweight of the cold chains engulfing her tiny body, and her screaming to be free…

   She woke up the next morning to find herself back in her own bed. Feelingrather disorientated, Nadia rubbed her eyes and got out of bed. Nothing seemedout of place. Her bunny slippers were arranged neatly at one side while hercoat was still hanging in her closet. Then she saw the butterfly … the verysame butterfly … lying at the foot of her bed, its wings fluttering weakly. Shocked,she rushed to the foot of the bed and cupped the delicate creature in herhands.

"Oh, you poor thing," she murmured, stroking the outline of itspaper-thin wings tenderly. "What happened to you the night before?"

   On a sudden impulse, she kissed the tip of its wings. At first, nothing seemedto happen. Then, abruptly, the butterfly’s wings quivered and burst open in amagnificent display of blue; the colour of the sky. Nadia wiped away a tearthat had unknowingly leaked out from the corner of her eye.

"Thank you," she whispered to it. "For everything."

Smiling sadly, she watched as the butterfly flew off into the morning light,never to return again.

End of everything

2011-09-04T03:24:00.001+08:00

The worst kind of girl I've ever met. Even my all my ex-s are better, in simply everything. LOL.

Dear brother

2011-08-19T15:43:00.000+08:00

This post is for my brother, Nik Amirul Hakim. I don't even know if he reads my blog but I'm going to keep it brief :) Dude, I know I'm not much of a big brother to you. Never have I lead by a good example or set an achievement for you guys to be proud of. In fact, it's you who've achieved all the things that I can only dream of grasping. You're truly the pride of the family and I admit, a better son and brother than I ever have been.

Congratulations on your success dude. Thanks for always being there for me when I needed help. It really meant the world to me. I just want to say, you've made us really proud and I truly believe that your miracles won't stop. You will achieve so many great things in the near future. Love you bro! Study hard, never forget god and do know that we'll miss you back at homeland :)

Yours truly,
a not-so-good brother that really admires you :)

The end of all time.

2011-08-17T18:33:00.000+08:00

See the world through the faintest glow,
She breaks apart with one final blow? Really?
Your answer's no and all you hear is,
it's the end of all time.

Mad world

2011-08-16T07:58:00.000+08:00

All around me are familiar faces.
Worn out places, worn out faces.
Bright and early for their daily races.
Going nowhere, going nowhere.

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad.
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I ever had.

Strangers

2011-08-08T18:52:00.000+08:00

Day by day she was forced to wear a deliberate smile that wasn't hers. Every day she had to put on thick-layered-masks to hide the tears and pretend that she’s happy about watching him happy with someone else.

She avoids even a minute worth of spare time because she knows that if she allows herself time to think, her mind would end up thinking about him. The slightest thought of that boy means utter devastation and sleepless nights filled with tears. He's every shadow that she sees in the hallways. He's every face that she can't see from behind. He's in every essay she wrote in English.

All she wanted at the moment was one minute, just one, when she can be truly, and completely happy. That he would just come back, if only to just look into her eyes and remember everything that she’s remembering. Just one minute that he could be here and feel what she’s feeling. Because if he’s experiencing everything that she is, then she has no doubt that they would ever be apart again.

A couple of years passed by and fate finally decided that their paths would cross on a shady evening at a park. It started with a minute of frozen silence and awkwardness which felt like the world around them was on an overwhelmingly rapid motion, as if the leaves of the trees had already changed colors more than three times, it really felt as if years had passed while they remain frozen, just standing there and staring at each other. They were approximately three meters apart, but she could see his eyes crystal clear.

She gazed into the very eyes that used to portray a reflection of her own face and tries to ponder what’s going on behind them at the time. In those brown eyes, she caught a vision of his dreams lying shattered on the floor, and she can't even try to pick them up because he doesn't want her to touch them. She wants him to react, but he didn't. Shards endure. He stood his ground.

Now her eyes are asking him to do something, but he only stared past her at the pedestrian pathway behind her. The only thing that he did see in the eyes of the girl that he once held in his arm was a flicker of light that seemed like a candle. He could only watch the candle as it dies slowly on the mantle. He had the sudden desire to touch the wax and let it burn him but he didn't want to be the reason the flame goes out. A half-stretched smile decorated the boy’s face and there was a reply on her end too.

They both took a couple of small steps toward each other. His hands were clenching inside the pocket of his worn out jeans. Her hands were grasping her maroon leathered handbag tightly. The smiles were still on their face as they were at shoulder to shoulder with each other, but this time their eyes were looking away from the other. And without even breaking the silence, they past each other and walked on their own path, just like the strangers that they were once before they found each other.

Awesomeness please!

2011-08-04T08:29:00.000+08:00

I <3 you Ellie! :)

Los deutsche mannschaft!

2010-07-07T17:46:00.000+08:00

Heil Özil ! Die deutsche werden sieg weltmeisterschaft.

[Heil Ozil ! The germans will win the worldcup.]

Romance

2010-07-07T01:48:00.000+08:00

There is a superficial concept of romance amongst today's youth where passion, desire, and euphoria, coupled with the recurrent saline tears flow, there is romantic love. It's as if we teens do not think of love as a commitment and a time wherein intimacy is felt for the thought of an everlasting bond, but rather as a period wherein two people, joined by equity, share their days only because of the intense, overflowing emotion which brims their being. There is commitment here, yes, but there is no promise and no seriousness about a nuptial.

Put me in a bubble with achromic viscosity

2009-09-27T10:05:00.000+08:00

Now please pop the bubble so that i can get out

In 4 years time...

2009-03-06T07:33:00.000+08:00

[Background music : Soulmate by Natasya Bedingfield]

She was walking along the path in the campus when she saw him. Leaning against a tree a little bit off the path, probably waiting for someone. He wore a classic blue Padini shirt and faded blue jeans. In 4 years, he hadn’t changed much, except for the hairstyle. She decided to walk over and say hello.

“Hey there stranger, it’s been a while,” she said, giving him her brightest smile.

He looked back at her, surprise and slight suspicion in his face. He smiled nevertheless.

“Have we met before?” he asked cautiously.

She couldn’t help herself. Her face fell a little and she fought for composure. “You don’t remember me?” she asked playfully, hoping to hide the disappointment from her voice. She took off her sunglasses and placed it on her head. “Nothing?” she asked with a smile.

“No,” he answered regrettably, after a moment, as if he knew he said the wrong thing. “Am I supposed to?” he grinned sheepishly.

He really did not remember, she realized as she looked into his eyes, those brown pools that she could see whenever she closed her eyes. She wondered, briefly, if it was worth reminding him, revealing herself and opening herself up for the truth and quite possibly more hurt. Where it would get her, she wondered. It was four years later after all. She forced away the disappointment. So much the same and yet, so much changes. He still took her breath away.

“Do I know you?” he asked, intrigued by her silence and the sudden, sad look in her eyes.

Her face nagged at his memory, reminding him of someone a long time ago. But as he tried to capture it, to try to figure out the answer to his question, it only eluded him farther, leaving him grasping at empty space and looking into sad brown eyes.

She smiled softly, not really hearing him. She looked into his eyes and held her breath as she let the memories wash over her. “Maybe you do,” she answered as she let herself remember. She remembered the laughter, and the tears, the jokes, the lessons and the fears. She remembered high school, with all it’s glitz and its glitter, and secrets and trials. For a moment, she was 16 again instead of 20 and the man before her was a friend. She remembered his smiles, the inside jokes and their little game. The feelings that came with the memories came back with such a poignant rush she was almost knocked over.

“Mind giving me a clue then?” he teased when she continued to stare off past him with the same far away look.

His voice brought her back to the present. Slowly focus came back into her eyes and she released the breath she had kept inside. She blinked slowly, as if gathering her bearings. She looked at the smiling and mildly confused face before her and realized that he waited for an answer. She felt for her sunglasses and started to place them over her eyes. “I’m just… someone you…. used to know,” she said wistfully. As she turned to go, she lightly placed her hand on his arm, not knowing if she meant to reassure or as a thanks. The sunglasses covered her eyes now and hid her watery eyes. Behind them she said her silent goodbye. She forced a smile on her face as she slowly stepped back, waving her hand as she talked. “Just a forgotten face from your past,” she said softly to herself. She could tell that he wanted to know, but she wouldn’t be the one to tell him.

“A face perhaps better left unremembered,” she whispered to herself as she stepped back on the path she left behind only moments before.

24.12.08

2009-01-29T00:36:00.000+08:00

[Background music : About a Girl by The Academy Is..]

We’re in your apartment, watching the action movie I let you pick out on the couch, eating twisties, and drinking Coke. You know I like having something soft and warm around my body, so you have a blanket out in case I get cold. A fight breaks out in the movie, and I watch the excitement on your face grow with every punch and flip and dodge. It makes me so happy, just like it always has.

“Did you see that!? She is so freaking awesome!!”

I nod in agreement and laugh because I think it’s funny that you still get as excited about these things as you did back in high school. And that you swear just as often. But I really don’t mind because I’m used to it and I’m used to you.

“I’m gonna get another soda—do you want one?” you ask, getting up off the sofa.

I shake my head and watch as you walk into the kitchen wearing your fuzzy bunny slippers. I’m all alone now; I sit and stare at the paused TV screen— a half naked woman is holding a gun to the neck of a man she’s got straddled between her legs. I pull out my phone and look at the time. 11:33 pm. I can’t remember the last time I got to hang out with you so late at night, especially for something that wasn’t a school function.

“Press play!” I hear you yell.

You jump back onto the couch, soda in hand, and flash me the same face-teeth-lips smile I first met in the music before I even knew your name. I push the button and grab the blanket from the arm of the sofa and wrap it around myself. You sip your Coke and I just sit there, not really being anyone in particular.

It’s kind of hard to explain, but I can‘t think about what’s going on around me when I’m with you. I get envious of people who can do that, people who be around you and feel every little moment and instantly write poetry in their head. I can’t do that, even thought I’ve wanted to for years. And I wish I was witty enough to think of pretty, meaningful things to you on the spot. I actually rehearse my sweet little nothings in my sleep, hoping that they’ll actually be something one day.

But this day is different. This day is not a hanging-out-at-the-mall-with-you day. It is not a let-you-copy-my-math-homework day. I am alive and alone with you in your apartment and we are adults and not teenagers and I am sitting on the couch next to you, watching a movie, just to make you feel happy and not alone. Today I can feel the warmth of your body inches away from mine. Today I can hear your breathing. Today I can think and not pretend.

“Do you ever wonder if anything could happen with us anymore?”

You turn and look at me, and I know you don’t like my question. You don’t say anything and I start tearing up because you’re probably angry that I brought this up for the gazillionth time in the last four years and because you’re probably going to give me the same answer as before. But you don’t look upset—you just turn the DVD player off and sit and contemplate. Your eyes look at me with the saddest glaze and I can’t take it anymore.

I lean into you, grab your face, and kiss you for the very first time. And you kiss me back. I wrap my body around yours, almost the same way the lady in the movie was doing. I run my lips over your ears, down your neck, across your collarbone, and for the first time ever, I feel infinite. Your hands hold my waist as I hold your arms as we cross the line we once drew together on our hearts with thick black ink. But then you pull away and I see the frustrated look on your face.

“It’s too much, isn’t it? I pushed it, didn’t I?”

The words tumble out of my mouth too fast to make any sense. I get up, grab my keys, and head for the door. And I really hope you don’t stop me because that’ll mean things are still the same and we are still the same people and we can keep being friends. But you do, and my brain wants to kill my heart for how idiotically stupid it’s being right now.

“I’m sorry. You know I’m bad with these things. But I think I’m okay with it now. Like, really okay," you say.

I want to respond with something pretty and memorable, I can’t say all those things that I had planned out for a moment like this. My hands reach out reflexively and wrap around your waist and I start feeling really bad for putting you in this moment of awkwardness. You grab my face and smile at me.

“And I think it would be awesome if we could go back to the couch and finish watching the movie because this is starting to feel way too chick-flickey for me and I need to man it up by watching some guys blast each other’s brains out.”

I shake my head and grinned. Because you always make it better in the best way ever.

“I'm such a girl,” I said, looking into your eyes.

“Yeah, you are.”

You took my hand and walk me back to the couch like a little girl. We sit and you rest your head on my shoulder. And I really believe it’s really okay.

Status : Away

2008-12-24T03:50:00.001+08:00

Yes, I'm away.

Going back to the city of Cosa Nostras.
New semester coming up.

Friends with benefits (Chapter 6) - Passing the time

2008-12-23T12:09:00.000+08:00

"Are you okay?"

Naqi’s face was so close to Hana’s when he asked that question. It’s as if he’s examining something bizarre up close. From Hana’s point of view, Naqi had this puzzled look that was dangerously cute. Maybe it was cause of the fact that his face was only 30 centimeters apart from hers. It took her a couple of seconds to snap back from his alluring eyes.

"Huh? Say what?" Hana snapped.

"We’ve been walking in this mall for 15 minutes and you haven’t spoke a word."

"Owh. Sorry. My mind was elsewhere."

"Do you need to be somewhere else right now? I’m sorry if I ruin your plan or some sort by asking you to hang out today." There’s a worried tone in his voice.

"No no. It’s not that. I was just thinking…"

"About what?"

(About you, dammit!, she thought to herself)

"It’s okay. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Wanna grab some ice cream?" His thumb was pointing at the Baskin Robbins behind them.

"Sure." Smiling.

They sat at a table opposite of the cash register while waiting for his 'chocolate chip cookie dough' and her 'very berry strawberry'. Naqi was sitting in front of her. It was almost like they were on a date. She couldn’t be more happier right now. But she still need to redeem herself bout the 'what if' talk.

"About the other day."

"What about it?" Naqi said calmly, smiling.

"I wanna apologize. I don’t know what got into me." Staring down at her black and white converse. Lying seems so easy.

"There’s no need for apologies you know. It was just a game."

"I just thought that you might take it the wrong way."

"I’m not twelve okay. Let‘s just forget about it, kay?" Still smiling.

"Okay…"

Here comes the moment of awkwardness. The 30 seconds of silence.

"So… does Syahira knows that we’re hanging out right now?" Naqi asked alas breaking the seconds of silence.

"She wasn’t at home when I went out. Wait… you mean you didn’t tell her that we’re going out together?"

"Do I have to tell her everything that I do in my life?"

"But she’s your girlfriend." she said softly.

Naqi paused for awhile. His face expressed that he’s puzzled. Then he smiled faintly.

"So Ira told you, eh? You‘re the first to know then. I don‘t think she told Tania yet. That girl was bugging me all day long with the couple thingy."

"Don’t change the subject. You two ARE together, right?" Hana asked, her face showed how innocently confused she was.

"We’re not an item."

"What does that means? Don‘t you love my sister?"

"Love is a strong word. I’m just passing the time." Naqi wasn't looking at her when he spoke those words. He had his eyes on the ice-cream counter.

"Then why did you asked her to be your girlfriend?"

"She needs something to hold on to. She needs someone to turn to when everything seems to be falling apart."

"Sounds like false hope."

"I like to call it compassion." Naqi was smiling.

"Charming."

"Look, I‘m here to take care of her fragile heart. To mend it when someone hurts it. To pick up the pieces when someone shatters it. I'm providing her a safety net... That's my only reason of being with her. It's a win-win situation. Don't ask what i'm winning coz i won't tell you. Moving on."

"You know, you have to tell her sooner or later."

"Tell her what exactly?" he puzzles.

"About your real feelings, silly."

"It's no secret. She knows."

"Then why didn't you tell her bout right now? If it's not a secret that she knows how you really feels towards her, it wouldn't matter much if she knows that we're hanging out, right?"

"Coz i don't feel like telling her." Naqi had a grin on his face.

In a situation where she should feel sorry for her sister and at the same time be pissed with what she just heard, Hana is actually feeling a slight cheer inside her.

"I never thought you cared that much bout her. I mean, you used to hate her, don't you?" Naqi asked.

"I STILL hate her. That's not going to change"

"Then... what's with the questions?"

"Rafael...." Hana looked stunned.

"Huh?"

"Rafael!" Hana repeated herself.

"What does he has to do with you asking these things?"

"No silly. It's Rafael. He's here at the mall. Raf! Over here!" Hana was holding her hand up in the air, waving softly at someone behind Naqi. Her face expressed joy and happiness.

Naqi turned his back to the people passing by to have a look. It took him awhile to spot the dude wearing a blue shirt,faded jeans and white adidas sneakers. His hands were in his pockets.

Rafael was walking towards them, smiling.

Friends with benefits (Chapter 5) - Laundromat talk

2008-12-21T16:18:00.000+08:00

[Background music : Telescope eyes by Eisley]

"So. Are you guys together?"

Naqi glanced up at Tania in irritation as he tossed another towel into the washer.

"First Hana, now you. What’s wrong with the two of you? Haven't we had this conversation already? " He snapped.

"Yes, and you've yet to give me a straight answer." Tania replied evenly.

The laundromat where the two friends work on the weekends was still and silent. Rain pattered against the dirty windows, each droplet stained gold by the streetlights outside. Naqi had the strangest sensation that he and Tania were the only two people left in the city. It was a feeling that he usually enjoyed.

However, the current conversation topic, and Tania’s refusal to drop the subject were giving them second thoughts.

"Well? Naqi, are you or are you not Ira’s boyfriend?"

Naqi sighed, flipping a pair of boxers into the dangerously full machine. Something inside him snapped, and he found himself answering his friend.

"We don't call it that." He said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"We don't call it that...we're not like that."

"So there is a 'we'. I suspected as much." Tania said wisely.

"You’re her best friend. Why don‘t you just ask her yourself?"

"Because I wanted you to say it."

There was a short silence, as each of them rooted through their respective duffel bag, lobbing dirty clothes and towels into washer machines. Then Tania glanced over.

"So." Tania broke the silence.

"So what?"

"So...details, my friend, details."

Chewing his lip, Naqi cast about his mind for a scrap of memory to share, something that wasn't too personal, something that could encompass his relationship with Ira without transforming it into something cheap and common.

To buy himself time, he asked Tania, "What sort of details?"

"Oh, I don't know... what it's like, being with her."

From the way Tania’s voice slid over the words 'being' with her, Naqi knew she wasn't talking about the way Ira's voice sounded when she was happy, when you could hear the smile in her voice. Or the way her eyes sparkled when she looked at him from the other side of a crowded room, or the way she'd unconsciously lick her lips just before kissing him.

"It's...it's amazing. She's perfect."

"Dude, that's the most pathetic description of Ira I've ever heard. Come on, be a good lad and share some details. I‘m her best friend. Tell me something I don‘t know. Tell me something that only you see."

"Fine. She's shy, you know. I don’t believe that I'm her first or some such. But when you're kissing her, when you're laying with her, it's like...it's like time stops, and all you see is her, all you know is her, and the way her lips feel on yours, the way her hands feel on your body, or the way she moves against you...Tania, it's just...impossible to describe. It just is."

Tania was quiet for a moment.

"So are you guys exclusive?"

Naqi looked down at this now empty duffel bag, then stalked over to two washer machines,
and began dumping detergent into them.

"I'll take that as a no." Tania said softly.

"Tania, she said she hates how people treat their significant others, and she said that she thinks she'd be an awful girlfriend, and she said she'd feel claustrophobic and smothered after a single week, and she'd rather be free to make her own decisions, and do what she wants."

Tania said nothing for a moment, measuring out a precise amount of detergent before closing the lid on the washer and switching it on. Naqi was struck by the rugged beauty of Tania's hands. Smudged with paint, fingernails bitten to the quick, they shouldn't have been so attractive, but they were. Naqi supposed it was his attraction to flawed things speaking, but he thought that Tania's hands were beautiful, in their own right.

"I'm sorry, Naqi."

"For what? I'm content."

"You're not. You're in love with her. And she's seeing other boys, and getting off with other boys, and it's killing you."

Naqi gaped at his friend for a moment. Then he sighed. Strangely, there was a grin on his face.

"To be honest, I already know." Grinning.

"To be honest, I know you do. That’s why I’ve been bombing you with these questions. Ira was right.” There was a disgruntled look on her face.

"About what?”

"You’re weird”

"It's what makes us unique. Our mojo,” Smiling.

"And yours is by being weird? Haha. Why are you doing this? You already know how she is."

"Obviously you don‘t know a certain part of me," smiling.

"Tell me then, about this part of you that I don't know."

"Maybe later.” He said while signing out the employee's time book.

"Where are you going? We still have a 4 hours of boring labor."

"I told Mr Chua that I'm taking a half day off today." "

Why?"

"Meeting a friend at the mall."

He smiled, and pressed his back against the door and left the laundromat.

Friends with benefits (Chapter 4) - The call and the sms

2008-12-20T05:06:00.000+08:00

[Background music : Lucky by Jason Mraz feat Colbie Caillat]

As she sat in her room, Hana leaned against the wall, surrounded by the blankets of her bed and held on tight to her handphone. Rafael was on the other line.

"I'm fine, Raf. I'm sorry I didn't pick up earlier before. I accidentally left my phone at home. I went out with my friend", Hana said calmly, smiling.

"Wow, you have friends?", Rafael replied with a fake gasp, along with his usual charming laughter.

"More than you'll ever have", giggling.

"Haha. Glad to hear that you're finally having fun"

"I'm not that lame okayy."

"I beg to differ", laughing.

"Shut up..."

"Okay".

Then there was a moment of silence between them.

"Very funny Raf", Hana said with a frown.

Rafael was still on mute.

"QUIT IT RAF!!"

"Woa. Okay okay. Sorry...", Rafael's voice was so timid.

Hana's eyes was fixed at the other end of her bed. There was a sobbing coming from her end of the line. She can't hold it anymore. She wants to cry, but she can't. She's wishing that Rafael is sitting at the other end of her bed right now. She's wishing he's here. She wants a shoulder to cry on. Rafael has always been there for her; to wipe away her tears, to tell her that everything is going to be okay and to make her smile again whenever she's feeling down and empty. Yeah, he's always there for her. Countless of times.

"Sorry Raf, I didn't mean to yell at you."

"Hana, I'm going to ask this once again, are you okay?", Rafael's tone has changed. It's not his sarcasm tone anymore.

"I told you, I'm fine", she said softly.

"It's Naqi, isn't it?", Rafael replied confidently.

"What? No it isn't." Now she had stopped sobbing.

"Who are you trying to kid?"

Again, the moment of silence. Hana and Rafael share almost everything together. Almost the same way like Ira and Naqi. Only that she and Rafael weren't in love. Hana wasn't surprised with the fact that Rafael knows about her little crush towards Naqi. On the latter, she was surprised with how he knows that it's about that guy.

"You DO know me" she said with a sigh.

"Yeah, for two years and a half to be exact." Rafael replied with a small giggle.

"I think I just made the stupidest move ever."

"You told him that you like him?"

"What the.. how did you know?!" Hana was both amazed and freaked out with Rafael's ability to read her.

"Two years and a half, remember? Haha. You are so predictable."

"Well.. anyhow. I think that was the dumbest thing ever."

"You think?"

"Now I'm so embarrassed that I can't even bare to look him in the eyes." There was a drowning in her voice. It sounded as if she was about to burst in to tears.

"Hey now... don't be. What's done is done. It's not like you did anything bad or some sort."

"I've just made myself look silly in front of the guy I like. What's not bad about that?"

"Did he gave you a weird look after what you said?'

"Well... no. He just smiled."

"There, maybe he didn't take your words seriously. Words are just words. Maybe he won't take it so seriously. Who knows, right? Come on now, smile. Please?"

She can't help to think that he's right.

"Thanks Raf", Hana sobbed a bit. There was a beautiful smile on her face. If only Rafeal could see it.

"No need for that. By the way, what did he said when you told him that you like him?"

"I thought I was predictable?", giggling.

"Yeah, but the last time I checked, I'm no psychic. So how should I know what he said, you silly girl", chuckles.

"He asked whether if we're still playing 'what if'."

"Huh?Playing what?"

"Hold on. I got an sms"

The silence was slightly broken with the sound of Hana's fingers hitting the keypads.

"Doesn't really matter. What matters is that he just send me an sms!" Hana said delightfully.

"Saying..?"

"Let's hangout this Sunday. OMG! OMG! OMG! He asked me out! OMG! OMG! OMG!" Hana was
jumping frantically on her queen sized bed.

"Great.....(sigh)", Rafael's voice was drowning.

Friends with benefits (Chapter 3) - What if?

2008-12-18T02:06:00.000+08:00

[Background music : Northern downpour by Panic At The Disco]

The tense atmosphere of crowds was just too much for him. Naqi heads for the mall's entrance gate. Sat on a bench and lit a cigarette. Before his lighter could even burn the tip of his cigarette, he paused for a minute. Seems as if he went into a deep trance watching Syahira from outside the glass window. She's trying on some shoes. It's the 14th shoe already. The salesgirl's face has changed. It's no longer the cheery face that she had when they were entering the shop. Syahira's best friend, Tania, is on the phone with her boyfriend. Status report (heh). Hana is missing. "Probably went to the toilet", he thought.

His mind traveled back to a couple of hours back, trying to recall how he end up at the mall with Syahira, Hana and Tania all at once. It all started with a phone call. "I'm bored", Syahira exclaimed on the other line. "What entertains you then? Let's do that", Naqi replied with his usual husky voice. How he wish he didn't have said those words. How he wish he wasn't so nice. Girls and hours of shopping... he should have seen this coming. Sigh. He ignites the lighter once again.

"You like her, don't you?", Hana sprung on him.

"Woah, where the heck did you come from?"

"You'd think that you'd be used to that by now," smiling.

"You'd think," trying to light the cigarette once again.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yeah, I was planning on distracting you to avoid it, and now I forgot what the question was."

"Liar. But I'm repeating it anyways. You like her, don't you?"

Naqi exhaled what seems to be a thick fog of smoke. "Who?", with a puzzled look.

"You know who."

"......"

"......"

"I don't like her, she's more like a sister."

"What if pigs flew?", looking up to the beautiful blue sky.

"What do pigs have to do with my feelings?"

"I don't know. What if she was the last girl on Earth?", she looks back down at Naqi who's still smoking. There was an adorable smile on her face.

"Are we playing the what if game?"

"What if we were?". She still had the cute smile on her face.

"......"

"......". Now she's a bit embarrassed with herself.

"Ok, that's a yes. If she were the last girl on Earth, I wouldn't have much of a choice now, would I? "

"What if she loved you?"

"...Well, it wouldn't really matter, would it?"

"What if it did?"

"Are you implying something?"

"No, you're infering something."

"Stop using perplexing words, you're hurting my brain."

"Brain? What brain?", giggling.

"Don't push it.", frowning.

"Well?", making a cute face.

"If she did, and it did matter...I...I don't know. Why are you asking me all these questions, anyways? Do you-"

"What if I loved you?"

"......"

"......"

"Are we still playing 'what if'?"

A talk with mama

2008-12-02T00:33:00.000+08:00

I love that feeling.

The cold water grazing my face, the cold broken concrete beneath me, the warm air in my lungs and the rain lulling me halfway to sleep.

It's raining. The conversation took place in the car. Me and mum are going to Tanah Merah to see some client. Mama asked me to accompany her. I don't see the logic of me tagging along. When she starts to talk about Baba, i saw the logic in it. Never mind...

After a half an hour talk about my social life, she hits the headshot...

mama : are u sure u can get 3 pointer for this sem?
nik : this is the 8th time u ask the same question. i'm not going to answer that
mama : becoz i want u to finish things up by next year. no more extending your semesters
nik : yea yea
mama : pardon me?
nik : after i finish diploma, then what?
mama : work with baba
nik : huh?

I don't know if it's just me but the rain began to fall even heavier. The cold weather outside combined with the freezing aircond inside nearly gave me a frostbite... and i'm not exaggerating.

nik : what does that mean?
mama : as what it seems
nik : it SEEMS as if i'm not doing my degree
mama : u will do your degree, after u gain some work experience. u'll take a course for 3 months. then come back and learn with baba while working
nik : learn what?
mama : auditing. baba will open up another branch at kelantan, u and some staff do the paper work for the audit and baba signs the worksheet for recognition. i'll be handling the marketing of the firm.
nik : wait. why can't i just do my degree?
mama : u are not going to apply for a degree in accounting with that kind of cgpa
nik : then maybe i don't have to apply for accounting *frowning*

mama : i don't want u to take anything but accounting. work with baba for a certain period and then continue your degree in accounting. u'll get a salary and u can gain some work experience. that doesn't sound so bad now does it? *smiling*
nik : .................... *looking out the window*

oh, how i "love" the rain.

sigh...

All the small things

2008-11-29T07:06:00.000+08:00

Funny thing how a passed pencil can brighten up someone's day. Or a helping hand, a smile, even a glance in their direction. How strange is it that such little things, that to someone else would mean nothing more than politeness, could be the one thing that makes that day worth going through? How ironic is it that only certain others have the effect on them?

It's surprising how small matters can move big things.

Whenever I'm feeling empty and slightly lonely, all i need is a friend, a pack of cigarettes, and 3bucks for 2 teh o ais at the mamak. To some, this may be a normal boring hangout. But to me, it's everything.

For most people, they know what it feels like, but it's just a little feeling, insignificant compared to all the other feelings and emotions running through them. But for a few, this feeling is their existence, their reason for being.

When that feeling is gone, those people who lived only for that feeling, those looks and laughs; what do they live for once it's gone? What would they have lived for, had it never been there in the first place? The answer is all around us, in the people we live with, and the strangers we pass on the street. Everyone has had that special person in their lives, and a lot have had that special person taken from them.

We each have stories, and only time can limit how they are told, and how many are heard. Our stories are spread about the world. Most who read our stories read them for what they seem to be. A story. A tale written to entertain the human mind and create alternate scenarios from the ones we live in. But a few, very few of them, understand. A few share this same feeling. And within the little time it took for them to read our story, they realize that they're one of us.

Who are we exactly? We don't know, no one does and honesty, I don't think anyone ever will to the fullest extent. All that we know is that we are who we are because of this one trait that ties us all together. Without it, we would be just like the rest. And so the question arises:

Are you one of us, or one of the rest?

The 'F' word

2008-11-12T13:24:00.000+08:00

zaini.wuj.nik

A weekend. Plans made over the phone and through passing. Through schedules, we find time and arrange the event. Hype, happiness, sleepless nights, non-stop anticipation. The day finally comes and united we stand, hug, laugh. Pure bliss fills the air as we greet and speak. There is no greater moment than this. Wallowing in the time we have together, we converse of ideas, thoughts, and hope.

wan.meo.halim

Nights are long and eyes are heavy. As time rolls, conversation shifts, laughter is heard as a guinea pig rustles in a cardboard condo. Life is good like this: just like this. Again, bliss, comfort, warmth meet and smiles plaster onto faces without thought - this is living in its fullest.

Looking back, on a bus, onto streets of lights, I remember. I recall it all and think a head. You're not here yet you're okay. I'm okay.

A long hug, a farewell wave, all passed, all gone. 'Sinkage' of heart occurs while departure leaves a deep mark to be filled through time. Yes, time... Another time indeed. Another hope, another weekend.

"F" for friends.through the ageing of life

Staring at the carnage,
Praying that the sun would never rise.
Living another day in disguise.

6 years gone

2008-11-05T17:40:00.000+08:00

I asked myself today if I loved you in the way I want to, would I walk away before you fell into the final drop of my heart. Used to bitter reality have I been so conditioned to turn away from hope? Is it love that makes me feel I should keep moving, keep running away, or is love this still soft pull I feel asking me to stay. Dare I ask that much from you, should I have waited to pull the words from your lips until a later day? Did my haste in needing someone to see my glow ruin the end of our, what might have been fairy tale?

Our lives will spin, and pick up speed and I worry that our love will hold us back. Is my assumption that your not ready based more upon the fact I’m afraid you’ll out grow me like the rest of your childish toys? Six years ago I was but thirteen trapped in an old castle full of bitter children and my own tears. Six years ago I couldn’t have told you about today. So how can I be sure that in another six years the tears will have gone away, how do I know you’ll still be there?

Silently screaming in a room made for one I don’t understand if this is about me or you. I’m having trouble with this conception that someone might love me purely and I could love them back. I want to think this is just some odd pent up emotion being realised based on buttons pushed earlier today, yet would I really sell out that way?

To save you from me I might lock my self away, burn the pages that might have told our story. I keep telling the world I’m a lost little boy, but you know how much I hate asking for help. Yet you’ve exposed all my weaknesses, made me cry and yet stopped the normal “Wish I would die” mantra that normally follows tears. I expect the world to lean on me but so scared to lean on you.

Scream

2008-10-30T21:58:00.001+08:00

So there I sat. On that empty street.

Just sitting there, alone. Nothing but my iPod with me, and Avenged Sevenfold flooded my ears. I sat there, with my palms open and my emotions, secrets, and dreams on them. Slowly, one by one, they vanished. Maybe someone used one and took advantage of it. One might have lost it's importantce and evaporated. Maybe it was used and thrown back, unwanted, and it decomposed in the pavement as it slipped through my fingertips.

I sat there crosslegged until only one thing was left: anger. Anything else you can imagine was gone. Because no one wanted my anger, and if it made me that way it was certainly important so it stuck to my hand as if it was glued there. It dissolved into my skin. Blood rushed, heart beated, eyebrows furrowed, and jaws clenched.

The music that entered me became a faint buzzing sound and I screamed. A barking dog in the distance shut up, and a young couple one street over shot me a look as if they had never lost their mind. Maybe they never screamed on the outside, only on the inside. Maybe they think I've lost it, but I'm sure they're going crazy inside too.

As anger released itself from my pores, I realized how sorry I felt for them.

To see but not to look

2008-10-29T21:26:00.000+08:00

To sleep, perchance to dream—aye, there’s the rub. I love but am afraid to be loved, only slightly less than I am of not being loved. I dream when I’m awake because that is easier than seeing all I lack. Which is the most painful thing because I have so much. A normal person, a good person, would be happy with all that is in my life.

Yet am I bad, because I am not good? Is the world really so two-dimensional, so black-and-white? Isn’t there shades of gray?

A letter to oneself

2008-10-23T21:37:00.000+08:00

Dear Self,

Surprised to hear from me? Yes, I would be too. I've come to offer you a little constructive critique which may just be useful in creating your chosen piece, Life. Obviously this is a tricky subject and I hope you will not find yourself offended at, shall we say, the bluntness of my approach to this. I'm sure that, by the end, you will understand why it was necessary for me to do so.

To begin with, stop being a pussy. Everything about your painting is sludgy, grey or otherwise revolting, and you cannot blame your upbringing, your friends, your exes, your parents, or anything else for using these colours. They are ruining your picture horribly, but you are staring too closely at it to notice. Take a step back from the painting for a moment so that you can see the mess. Look at your hand - it is you who holds the brush, not they. Why should you be confined to such dismal, depressing shades? What profit is it to you? You are merely wasting yourself.

You can protest - it is all you have been given, you could not control that - and yes, that may be true: you cannot control the actions of others. But here is a secret: draw from within yourself the colours you deserve. You do not have to be limited. You have good resources hidden away; find them, use them, be brave. They will complain of course, but be brave - you do not have to listen. Every shade of rainbow is waiting to be used, waiting to be found, and if you cannot find it here, do not linger. Go in search of more, fight for it if you have to. Dream.

But, of course, this is simply a critique. You may have something better planned for it; I wouldn't know. I do hope you make it your best, though.

Sincerely,
Your Higher Self.

PS - You are on my Watch List, and if you ever need more advice, feel free to Note me. :)

What if?

2008-10-20T21:15:00.000+08:00

What do I say today?

What do I feel? Restless, but not exactly. Just here. This is a little scary, this not-really-feeling thing.

What if, without my anger or sadness or joy, I lose myself? What defines humanity more than the actions that follow thoughts or emotions? What is a human, but an animal who accepts conscience? What can I do without my emotions as fuel for my actions? For my words, my precious words?

What if we stopped asking “what if”?

What if, why now, who said?

What are we, you and I, he and she, without questions and thoughts or words?

tick... tock... grin

2008-09-24T07:24:00.000+08:00

Tick.
Wake up.
Tock.
Wake up.
The future is now. All that you will ever be you are becoming now.
Tick.
Breathe in that air. Inhale. That’s all you can do.
Take in that sweet, life-giving air. It will never taste the way it does today again.
Tock.

My name is not important. Who you think you are isn’t either.
This is how it all began.
Now.
Inhale.

If you’d care to know, I grew up in suburbia. The same suburbia in which you sit reading this. Surrounded by walls to keep people out, I feel apprehensive, cold.
In case somebody tells you different later, I chose to leave.

One pack of Dunhill king size.
Three pairs of black shirts. Two pairs jeans. One toothbrush. A pen.
This is all I need now, and all I have.

Later, they will search.
What just happened?
What was wrong?
All I can think of is that sometimes there are no reasons.
Sometimes things just happen, and there’s nothing you can do.

I know what you want. It’s what they want too.
An explanation.
I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do for you now.

Inhale.

I could tell you to keep on reading, you could read this through and through and never know anything. Everything from now is fiction.
Your fiction.

I could tell you to get off your sorry ass and make something of your life.
But I won’t.

I can tell how my story began.
My fiction.

I open the door. And step away from this empty house. It’s walls bereft of hope, of meaning.

I can’t tell you how this is going to end. But this is how it began.

Tick.

remembering you helps me

2008-09-21T17:00:00.000+08:00

I look up to the ceiling and its blank. One single light bulb shining down to me. A bug (probably a mosquito) flies around it, almost as if it was dancing to the techno that's blasting into my ear from my headphones. I sit and wonder, is there anything more to life?

Time passes and I'm still sitting around contemplate what I am to make of myself. Should I choose the direction of being strictly business minded and become successful enough to have anything that I have ever wanted? Or should i choose pure romance and have no care to where i end up as long as its with that one person?

It seems very hard to have a balance of both, and to make a decision at such a young age. Why do i even have to decide if all its going to bring me is a dead end?

There's no point to life except to simply exist and serve. We are only living to create more to live. Whats the fucking point? The more intelligent we become the more likely we are to destroy ourselves. With each new generation is one gone. And all the lost generation will be is just a memory. I don't care if I'm not to be remembered for all ages. I just hope something better will come of this life, maybe a better understanding of life itself, before I'm forgotten.

Some seek fame, I guess I seek love. Love may seem pointless to the famous, but then again being famous could be pointless for those who are in love. To each their own it seems.

Someone will remember you, until they're dead and then you could be completely forgotten. Maybe it would be better that way: no fame, no money, no society...life would be truly simple and pure.

It would be nice to forget.

I tune out the techno and try to remember to forget. I failed.

A thursday morning

2008-09-05T00:02:00.000+08:00

[Background music : Ternyata by Estrella]

This is a tale of a thursday morning.

Aqeef is up early.

Guess what he's having for breakfast. Maggi. This lil' dude has a disturbed diet. Thomas Huckleberry Finn Sawyer is also at the table. Yeah, he's family too.

We have a new member in our "enlarging" family. Nasya calls her Mimie, but i like to address the little feline as Cow. Check out her black and white spots. She's a cow stuck in a cat's body.

Aqeef isn't playing with Cow, he is deliberately attempting to murder her by bullying her to death. Besides that, he's checking if Cow have eye problems. That's what the glasses are for (that's what the dude says). Silly boy.

After a period of torturing Cow, the cat finally broke free and ran away from him. The dude was bored and went outside to bug his sister, Nasya. The sister got annoyed and leaves him. Haha.

I don't really understand what he's doing, but i strongly believe that it has something to do with a serious case of frustration since Cow ran away from him and Nasya went inside the house. Or maybe he's trying to find some hidden switch on the tiles (i don't know why i came up with that. don't ask).

Oh well, who cares. Dude, let's play ball.Yeah!

Yeah, it's a lame post. So?