Friday, October 3, 2014

Bottles of wine strewn about, most empty of its contents, dripping liquid gold, staining the white carpet a dark shade of red, like the stained souls that they are. Two beings facing each other, talking, whispering, laughing, crying. Spiffs lying about as they sink into each others' arms, passion and lust hovering around the air like moths to the flame. Dangerous, enticing, neither of them able to pull away from each other.

Kush clouds obscuring their judgment. The air is tense. They are tense. What's right and what's wrong no longer matter. Two souls clinging onto each other. Two lonely, empty souls who've been broken, over and over again. Falling. Not falling. Wanting. Needing. Understanding.

His smile. His kiss. His touch. Her tears. Her hug. Her warmth. He knows this feeling. She misses this feeling. He yearns for another. She craves for another. They embrace. They loved. They lived. They parted.

Two souls going two different ways. Gone forever. Never looking back. He's satisfied. She's satisfied. They continue on.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Allowing.

Allow your heart to fall for someone.
Allow someone to fall for you.
Allow your soul to feel total happiness.
Allow your eyes to weep tears of sorrow. Or joy.
Allow the people around you an entry to the deepest, darkest corners of your heart.
Allow yourself to connect with other people.
Allow yourself to feel, to emote.
Allow your body the freedom of being able to dance around in the rain.
Allow your smile to radiate through you, touching others.
Allow yourself the release of saying goodbye, the acceptance that some people just aren't meant to be there.
But most of all, allow yourself to just be.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Stagnant.

*Again, written months ago, when I had the inspiration, and the crazy urges to write*

Two months ago, I kept hoping again and again to get out of this crazy, downwards 'rut' that I am in, to be free, to be able to do things that I want to do, to meet people, to dance, to laugh, to go crazy. I felt like I wasn't going anywhere, even when I was interning, that my life is going down this path that leads to a damned soul. I think I most probably was having an identity crisis, but it certainly took its toll on me. It was hard for me to be happy, or at least satisfied. I was constantly breaking down, having anxiety attacks because I felt like I was living a life I swore I'd never live. A life where nothing is worth looking forward to, a dull, dreary affair.

But then a few days ago it struck me. Being stagnant actually led to all these ripples I'm having now, and I finally learned to appreciate that few months of soulless living. My life is most probably heading back to stagnant waters, since I'm going back to that boring, old routine of university life. But then maybe I can inject some excitement into it, eh? *shrugs* I don't know... I need a car. Lol.

I remember talking about all this to my friend. And he told me that after hearing all these, one big thing he admires about me is I did not choose to go down the path of destruction after having swayed to the wrong road once. It would've been easy, going into drugs and alcohol, because of all the people I am surrounded by, the place I'm in; but I chose not to, and he said that that was a huge achievement. (Then I basked in my pride by jokingly saying maybe I did go down that path. That led to a raised eyebrow by said friend. Hahahahaha. I didn't, btw. XD)



Your mum reads my blog.
Playing every game.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Rebounds.

*wrote this months ago, I ended up not having anything going on with the guy mentioned XD*

"I don't want to be in a relationship with you because I don't want to be your rebound. And I don't want you to be my rebound either." When he said that to me I couldn't stop laughing. To think that the though of being in a relationship with him didn't even cross my mind. XD And then I asked him how long it'd take until he thinks that he's not my rebound. And he said "not until you get a rebound and dump that rebound."

Gosh. Guys' logic. It's like when I say I'm over my breakup and no one believes me. He said that it might take me a year or so. And I was like "what the hell are rebounds anyways?" And here's his definition (in written form because he 'needed time to think about the correct definition') :

"A rebound is someone who you date to get over the previous person (or some other previous person) who broke your heart. Your feelings towards that rebound is menial, to say the least. It doesn't have to be intense, nor does it have to be there at all. If that person is there for you after your breakup, and there's a mixture of chemistry and lust, and you let him be there for you, and you rely on him to get over your heartache, then there's a high chance he'll be your rebound. You might think you're falling for him, but the truth is, you're falling for that security of having someone to lean onto, the comfort of knowing that even after someone else stopped being in love with you there's another guy out there who is in love with you.

You'll use him, and if this whole rebound thing is not mutual, he'll let himself be used (without using you in return). He'll love you, care for you, and yet throughout the whole relationship you'll be hoping that this guy is the guy who left you. You'll think about the times you had with your ex, threading over memories like it's a fragile glass string, wanting to recreate the memories just so you could remember, or forget, or remember to forget.

I'm not saying rebounds are bad, Lynnie. There are instances where people realize their true feelings towards someone they know after they leave the relationship that they were in (and I know this hurts, but your ex is a good example). But you were dumped. And most of us saw how heartbroken you were. Yes, you're so much happier now than you were towards the end of your relationship, but are you as happy as when you were in that relationship? Are you ready to be in a relationship?"

I laughed out loud, after reading the whole thing. It's funny because to tell you the truth, the thought of being in a relationship so soon after a breakup never occurred to me. Seeing how much I love being single and alone, I might never be in a relationship with someone (unless he's busy with his own life and am willing to let me have my own freedom while we're together). But then again, seeing how easily it is for me to fall for people, and how I seem to easily rely on people for comfort and love and security, I might get back into a relationship. Note the might. But one thing's for sure : I'm definitely not going to let that person be a rebound.



Your mum reads my blog.
Your hands. Your touch.

Two Years.

For the past two years of my diploma, I've learned to love, to hurt, to laugh, to cry, to  live. And none of it would've happened without the people that appeared (and stayed) in my life. Call it fate, call it a mere coincidence, call it me being lucky to have them in my life. But I am. I am lucky to have all of them leaving a mark, be it small enough I rarely ever think about it, or big enough to cause a violent repercussion.

To my family : thank you. Well, what can I say? Thanks for the financial support XD. Okay, fine, not just that. Thanks for the emotional support as well. The being concerned, the paying for me to fly back when I had my heartbroken, the driving over when I lost my phone, the taking care of me when I was sick. The tears shed when you dropped me off in KL for the first time, the smile formed every time I came back. I love you all.

To the friends who might or might not have directly been there : thank you. For listening to me, for being there for me, for laughing with me, for being concerned about me, for befriending me. I've always been an introvert, always preferring to be alone, never wanting to open up to people who I think wouldn't be a constant factor in life, but that changed when I met all of you. Endless streams of movies, meals, coffees, desserts, shishas, alcohols, games, tears, laughs, anger; situations that will impact our lives in a way where none of us will ever remember about it.

To the two lovers I had (and the few other scandals) : thank you. For loving me; for leaving me; for teaching me how to love, to accept myself, to accept someone else in life; for allowing me to live on my own by setting me free. I have always been a skeptic, and though neither of you managed to kill that skepticism (in fact, I think some of you managed to make it worst), I now have faith. In love, and in my ability to love and be loved. **

To the lecturers who taught me : thank you. I don't know what to say, lol. I think I might be one of the noisiest, nosiest, thinks-she-knows-it-all student you've ever had. Never one to study, I hope I didn't make anyone's life a living hell (like how I know some students do). You guys taught me more than what's taught in the course structure : some of you taught me how to savor the little things in life, most of you taught me how to respect, to listen, to ask, to understand. A few even went to the extent that lead to my blossoming to the lady that I am now.

They say words can't express much, and indeed it can't. But here's a text of words of gratitude nonetheless, from the girl (or lady) who is embarking on another journey in life.



Lynnie A.

Monday, September 8, 2014

Writer's block.

23 unfinished drafts... I can't seem to write about anything these days (except, maybe, my inability to write). My mind is just so distracted, so... scattered. No thoughts are sound enough, no feelings linger long enough. I type, I delete, I retype, delete, edit, stop typing. It's just not flowing. I seem to be able to do better with a pen and paper nowadays than this keyboard. Oh well. I guess I just need to find my mojo all over again, no?



Your mum reads my blog.
Except for you.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Love?

"We all have our own romanticized notions of what it will be like when we find true love

We imagine how it'll go. What it'll feel like. What he or she will look like, sound like, act like, kiss like. And every once in a while, we actually meet that person. There they are! In the bar standing next to us! Or down the hall at work! Or in the line at the bookstore! They're perfect. Everything we imagined. And so we engage. Chase. Pursue. And assume our very best behavior. And fight for a chance at that perfect union we've imagined in our heads for so long.

And sometimes it works! We get their phone number. And a date! And a second date! And sometimes it even goes a month or two! But then at some point, it runs afoul.

What once seemed effortless becomes arduous. The perfect conversations suddenly don't flow as easily. Something's gone awry. What once was easy is now work. And who has time for that? And here's where many a relationship come to an unfortunate end.

Because the other person thinks it should only be constant magic. That everything else is merely a false symbol. But we still chase them! We want it back! We think of what we can do to possibly salvage this sinking ship. Should we change ourselves? Adjust our behavior? Change our whole personality?

After all : this is love. Surely it's worth sacrificing for, no?

No, I'm here to say. It's not.

Because there's a big horrible idea out there in the world of romance. That if it's not hard, it's not real. True romance must be earned, we believe. Struggled for. Barely survived. If it comes easy, it's wrong. Shallow. Too simple. We must suffer for love. We must cry with certain regularity. Lose our faith time and time again only to barely regain it.

I humbly submit that such a belief is the romantic equivalent of 100 percent grade-A bullshit.

Perhaps it comes from our culture's puritanical beginnings. The notion that anything great is worth suffering for.

And while I agree that love takes work, patience, laughter, tears and forgiveness, I don't think it should involve perpetual, ongoing damage-control.

If the relationship you're in takes constant, multiple acrobatic maneuvers to keep it in flight, then it's not a relationship; it's a doomsday project. Relationships, in general, should be easy. If they're taking a tonne of work, a tonne of time, something's wrong. Chances are either that :

A) One (or both) of you is not a stable enough person to even be in a relationship to begin with, and you need to go off on your own to learn how to keep yourself perfectly happy with nothing more that yourself to sustain you. (And yes, I've been this unstable person myself.)

B) One of you has unrealistic expectations of what the other is supposed to provide them on a regular basis. (And yes, I've been this person, too.) They think you're supposed to keep them constantly entertained. Or wined and dined. Or sexually pleasured. Or emotionally rescued. Or financially bailed out.

Neither of which is sustainable. Which is why I say the following :

Don't chase the person you can barely hold on to when you're at the top of your game. Seek out the person you can be happy with even when you're having a bad day. Or week. Or month. Because those days will happen, many, many times over the course of a relationship. And the person who's only happy with you when you're a superhero will not stick around when you finally become a mortal again - and need them to be there for you, instead.

So skip the supermodel. The pursuit of your own personal dream person. It might be heaven for a week or two, but they'd probably dump you (or string you along) as soon as you failed to be the emblem of perfection for more than 2-3 seconds in a row. That perfect pairing with the Mister or Miss Right we've all imagined in our hearts isn't going to survive the endless ordinary days that real life is fraught with.

The person who's truly right for you is probably cleverly disguised as the one you work with every day/ Or the one who you've casually known in your circle of friends for five years. Who has seen you at your best and at your worst. And is still there, a big believer in your immense potential. And is probably an amazing kisser if you'd just give them a chance.

That's the person it's going to be genuinely easy with over the long haul.

So the next time you're looking for the one, don't look up on some stage or pedestal for some shining realization of your fantasies. Turn around and look behind you. At the person you might have overlooked. The person who you let go. The person who is waiting for you. The person who is quietly everything you need them to be and more, but might have missed.

You just have to give them a deeper look."

So do me a favor, and ask yourself these questions :

Will the easy, nice times you have with me be worth the few hardships you will go through as all relationships will?

Will I truly, really make you a happy person?

Will you be able to love me for the person that I am?

Am I worth sacrificing for?

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Dear Mr. Anonymous

"Who's going to love you and hold you when you're at your worst?

Who's going to love you and give you their best even when you hurt them so bad and you just don't give as much as they do?

Who is always going to be there even without regular talks and communications, but still manages to always know what to do when you break down and need support?

Who's that one person who stays even when the times are hard?

Who's that one person who stays after knowing the darkest, most embarrassing secret from your past that not even a single soul ever know before?

Who's that one amazing person who stands so strong on their own and supports you to go after your dreams?

Who's that one person who sees you breaking apart and pushes you so hard to get you back on your feet?

Who's going to take care of you when you're sick, and looking so horrible, and they still find you the most attractive human being on this Earth?

Who's that one amazing person who puts up such a fight and gives an enormous effort even when you don't acknowledge them?

Who's willing to stay awake at 3am in the morning just so they can listen to all the things you need to talk about when you had a rough day?

And while you read this, who popped into your mind? You remember that person at this very moment, don't you? You remember the time when you told them your secrets and how relieved you were when you did not see any judgment from their eyes. You remember your first date. The first time you told them that you love them, and the amazing feeling when they told you that they loved you, too. You remember the time they cried over you, and how you witnessed how sincere their love and affections for you were.

You remember giving them a list of reasons for why it would not work, and how they should find someone else. You remember giving them reasons why they should just walk away. But they did not go anywhere, they told you that they don't want anyone else and they refused to let go. But you let them go anyway. No one can do quite like they did, is that it? And you're pretty sure that no one will ever love you the way they did, aren't you?"

Mr. Anonymous, my answer to all those questions above is you. It has always been. You asked me if things between us would be okay. It would, if it wasn't for these feelings I have for you. I love you. I always have; and I always will. And your answer for all these questions is not me, and that's where the problem lies. Will you be able to ignore my feelings and treat me like a friend without feeling bad? Will I be the one dragging you down like I always had? I don't want to stop you from finding the person you truly love. I lost that game; the game that I kept wishing, on and on, that I will not lose. A game that I try to stop playing but could never stop. A game that has to be played multiplayer, but here I am, playing it alone.

So, mr. anonymous, tell me, are you really, truly, ready to patch the cracks that I have?

Friday, August 22, 2014

Broken.

Love me. Love the broken, torn me. The one that's always gasping for air. The one that's always trying to grasp life like it's going to disappear. The one who's so scared she shies away from touch, from affection, from love. The one who's burned and burn.

"Because you will fall in love with a broken person, at least once in your life. It happens to everyone. The odds are stacked against us that somebody or something will have gotten there first and wrenched somebody's affection apart and left scars in those things we call our hearts. And the broken person you love will be hesitant and skittish and nervous, but that doesn't mean they deserve any less love just because they're afraid of being burned again.

All you can do is love them. All you can do is be there for them. And if you're lucky, they will learn to love you, too.

If you're not, and if you wind up breaking, too, well, you're not alone. And if there's anything love stories teach us, it's that you can heal. You can grow. You can try again.

Because often, the broken people we find and fall in love with and help heal wind up being ourselves."



Your mum reads my blog.
Traces of love.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Drugs.

The laughter. The smile. The light in her eyes. "Are you high? Because you're so happy all the time it's almost impossible to see any sadness in you." Well, maybe she is. Maybe she is. She remembers how she used to smoke up almost every day, savoring the freedom that a few puffs could give her. Addiction was an understatement. Needed it to live was more like it. It helped her get through with life, to just be, to exist. 

There was a darker time when coke and meth was constantly available for her, and that hit her life the worst, spiraling it out of control. An OD and days spent in the hospital fighting for her life later, she's off it. Though, the truth is, that few moments when she felt her life slipping away, she wanted it to slip away. She wanted to just die, to give up. But no, the doctors saved her, her liver lost almost 50% of its function but there she is, still alive.

Woke up days after the OD, feeling the worst (physically) that she's ever felt. Her friends, all of them sleeping, strewn about in the hospital she could never afford to be admitted into. Having an IV hooked on her arm was awful; having a catheter down there was worst. Her friends were sober, the first time she's seen them so, having been taking care of her for days.

"Am I alive?" She started crying, all over again, asking them why is she alive, why didn't they let her die, why did they find her hours earlier than they were meant to. "You cannot die on us. You're not supposed to. We need you to be alive. You're going to stop all these. And we're going to help you through it."

The withdrawal was awful. Heck, it was hell. School has started, and there she was, trying to adjust to the innocence amongst her university peers while the lures of losing control of her mind was taunting her. She had no money, no suppliers, her friends refused to give her anything other than their support, and there she was, struggling, but she made it through.

It's been 7 months now. 7 months since she last snuffed up the white powder they used to jokingly name as baby powder. 7 months of not having to worry if she'll get caught doing it. 7 months of trying to stay sober while craving to go home and lose it. 7 months of not having to pretend that she is clean. It's been worthwhile, though.

She's seen things. She's done things. She's tasted some. Craved some. Got some. She took care of a friend losing his function, slowly slipping away as she begged him to live. She handed someone over to death when meth took over the life of her best man, causing him to turn into this crazy, hallucinating guy who in his moment of sobriety, begged for her to take his life.

"You will never see life the way I do. You're too innocent, too sheltered." When he said that to her, all she could do was smile, agreeing. Because what does he know? What do you know about the life of a girl who successfully hid every demon of hers?



Your mum reads my blog.
Plots and betrayals.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Blood and vile.

She looks into the mirror and sees a monster : a twisted, broken, spoiled, trampled on, horrendous creature. Others look at her and say she's beautiful, she's perfect, she's happy, she's smart, but that girl, staring back at her through the mirror, that girl isn't her.

Instinctively, she slammed her fist against the mirror, in that last vain attempt to cancel out the image she sees of herself; to be what they say she is. This time around, like her heart, the mirror couldn't stand her punch. It broke into pieces, like what's left of her. She surveyed the damage, broken mirror, perfect fist. Ironically, the ring that he gave her after she wrecked her hands the last time from breaking mirrors is what kept it uncut.

The thought of him made her smile; one of the few things that's able to do that these days. Then she remembered. How he left her, how she left him, how they ended before they even started. The guilt that she's been carrying around for 2 years, the guys she replaced him with only to stray away from them when her mind brings her to that part of her life.

Scrambling around for paracetamols that is able to numb everything. No, there's none left. Only last week she took all her stash in an attempt to just stop feeling, and ended up having to have her stomach pumped, feeling sick throughout her exams and still laughing and smiling and hiding her dark side in a corner. Tears and snot and blood mangling as she looks around for something, anything, to stop missing him.

Shards. Picking up the piece of broken mirror, taking it in her hand, cutting herself. 'Strategically placed incisions' was what they used to call it. She's been cutting all along, only once on her wrist, never wanting anyone to see the pain she's in. No one's ever suspected anything, and she's happy wallowing in her own misery, all alone, not wanting anyone to help her.

Promises to not cut broken all over again. She sees the blood flow and she feels it. The ecstasy, the rush, of having cut after stopping for 3 months. She's tired. She lies down. She cries. She falls asleep, getting ready to lick her wounds and put on that oh-so-convincing facade of hers tomorrow.



Your mum reads my blog.
How long more do you have?

Monday, July 28, 2014

Be Crazy.

I remember I met with this crossroad in my life where I was torn between being who I am and who everyone else wants me to be. And me being lonely and stuffs and trying to fit in; I chose the latter. I became the person who everyone expected a girl to be. I was so grounded, personality wise. And gosh, that was torture. It was just me struggling to be someone who I'm not.

And then Reek fell in love with that girl. And there I was, holding on to that cute, sweet girl image for the 11 months we were together. And then I guess after that, it sort of became my sense of identity. I lost who I was, and I didn't know where to look for to find it back.

Then he came along. I remember him asking me what's still keeping me grounded, why I'm still acting like the person I'm not. My answer to him was easy : it's my comfort zone. Everyone loves that Lynnie; and I don't think anyone would love the actual Lynnie.

And then he gave me a lecture on how nice it is to stop being the lady that I try to be and start being crazy. That was sometime during February, I think. So here you are. Lynnie. Courtesy of the guy who never knew me before I faked everything. Funny how some people can just see through facades like they're made out of plastic.



Your mum reads my blog.
Am I glamorous?

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Thank You For Calling Me Fat

A perfect BMI. A healthy body. A good stamina. And I end up looking chubby, and by Asian standards, 'overweight'. Now, I start this piece mentioning my BMI because that's the standard, and the truth is, I'm normal. So normal, in fact, that doctors are happy of what they're seeing and is asking me to maintain my weight.

But then again, I'm in Asia. The land where girls are scrawny little matchsticks but is labelled sexy and curvy girls like me are frowned upon and is labelled as fat and unhealthy. Love handles, my ex used to call them.

The thing is, I've always been very comfortable with the way I look. Confident, even. I don't mind strutting in a bikini or anything that I want to wear (or nothing at all... just kidding XD). But people around me... well damnit the way they criticize is as if me being the way I am is going to give them eye cancer or something. I was involved in some modeling gigs lately and trust me, it was a competition that I joined for fun and never expect to win but turns out I got into the finals.

I've never intentionally went around and introduce myself as a model. I've never intended to showcase my 'beauty' in that sense. All I've ever wanted is the freedom to be comfortable in my own skin. To have guys who will love me (fats and all) for who I am. To be able to be Lynnie without having someone say "that girl is fat".

Honestly though, I owe all of you a word of gratitude. Thank you for calling me fat. For making me see how evil girls actually are towards each other. For showering me with 'support' and 'love'. For proving to me that looks matters so much for guys. For not accepting me so that I will appreciate those people who love me for who I am. For rejecting me because I'm fat so that I'm able to learn how to handle rejection well. Thank you, thank you thank you thank you. I still hate you though.



Your mum reads my blog.
Got enough on my mind.

Saturday, July 26, 2014

What I'd Like To Be Able To Do

I'd like to be able to tell you I like you and yes I want to grab a beer and have a drink and listen to you tell me what you think my problem is and how you knew I have problems in the first place.

I'd like to be able to be brave enough to go to your place without worrying that I might get into trouble or you might get into trouble or we might get into trouble together (gasp!).

I'd like to be able to think that all of it will be worthwhile because I'm Lynnie, and I bend the rules, and I'm attracted to older guys, and I want to have some fun, and I want to take the leap, and I want to just do what I want to do.

I'd like to be able to defend you when people warn me about who you are, how much you flirt, how there are others before me, how I'd be a victim, how I'm being played. But the truth is, I don't really mind. I trust you enough to naively think that it's not true, but even if it is, gosh, it's not that big of a deal duh.

I'd like to be able to try to understand who you are as a person instead of the person I know you as. I'd like to be able to treat you as a friend, a peer, someone I look up to, even.

I'd like to be able to jokingly call you my scandal like I did to all the other people who came close to actually becoming scandals for me.

Oh, lord. That's so many things I'd want to do with you. So many things I can't do with you. So many emotions and experiences I'm missing out on. Oh well. C'est la vie.



Your mum reads my blog.
A dollar and a dime.

Friday, July 25, 2014

An Open Letter to The Guy Who Told Me Sacrifice Is Inevitable In Love

Dear Mr. Hunter,

Remember when you told me that in love, sacrifice is inevitable? That there will be a point in your relationship where you'd have to sacrifice for love? Well, the truth is, I think you're wrong, and it's time for you to think of yourself and be selfish for once.

Now, don't get me the wrong way. I'm not saying that there's anything wrong in sacrificing your needs for someone else. Heck, I fell for that part of you. The part of you who was willing to drop everything just to help a friend in need. That caring soul behind the brick wall facade you always, always have on.

But have you thought that maybe, just maybe, it's time for you to put your own needs ahead of everyone else's? To be a tad selfish? It's ironic, though, when I got around to thinking of your whole concept of sacrificing for love. Are they really sacrifices? Or are they more of a compromise everyone will eventually go through when they're in relationships?

Maybe this is the exact reason why you said I'm not worthy of your emotional investment, because the truth is, I really am not. Having done so much sacrificing in the past, I'm tired. I'm tired of putting everyone else above me. I'm tired of having to prioritize. I'm tired of sacrificing what makes a human human : their freedom.

But you, hunter, well.... You're so much more complicated than just sacrifices and selflessness. I remember you telling me I'd never understand life the way you do, that I'd never get it. And I guess you're right. Maybe I never will. But one look at you and I can tell you this : I can see how torn you are. You are so torn in being "a good person, a good friend, a good companion, a valuable asset",... you're missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer someone as magnificent as you. I remember halfway through being with you, thinking how you are so busy sacrificing your own needs for everyone else's that the facade you have on is getting thicker by the day.

So here's a toast. A toast to you. And a toast to the girl who will understand you and your outlook in life. That girl who is worth all the emotional investment you can invest in her (and more). Here's a toast to the sacrifices I can never make, and the sacrifices that you will always make.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

When You Let Go of The Wrong Person.

I woke up in the morning and there it was : a text from a friend. "After months of trying to convince myself I made the right decision breaking up with her, I think it's time for me to say that I'm wrong." This is for you, Melvin.

So you broke up with her. It doesn't matter what the reason is; it might be as insignificant to me as it is significant to you. But you two broke up, and you 'moved on'. You ignored her messages, her calls. You went out, tasted your new found freedom, hooked up with girls, got high with your bros, got wasted, went away. Coming back, you heard them talking about how the breakup affected her, and you don't bother.

A few months pass. She moved on, you moved on. You're with someone now, someone you think makes you happy. From what you heard, she's still alone, though she seems so much happier than when you two first broke up. And then you see her. And all the memories come rushing back. You miss her. Her touch, her smile, the way she took care of you, the way she talked to you. And then you realize something : you still love her. You made the wrong decision letting her go.

But you see her, all happy without you, and you think you ought to just let things go, to let her live her life. You're pulled back by the fear that you'll hurt her all over again. You think you caused her too much pain to take your decision back. And there you are, rotting in regret.

You know what I think you should do? You should stop finding girls who you hope would make you as happy as she did. You should start winning back the girl who you know will make you happy. You should tell her how you feel. Get a slap or two, but hear what she feels. If she really don't have anything for you, move on. There'll be a lot more of her to come in the future. But at least you wouldn't live through every relationship wishing you told her how much you actually love her.

And if she has feelings for you, then congratulations. Mend things. Don't repeat the mistakes you did in the past. Appreciate her. Love her. If eventually, it doesn't work for whatever different reasons, then you will also know, that you tried, and you gave the relationship a second chance, and you two truly aren't meant to be with each other.



Your mum reads my blog.
Because I can't fix him.

Monday, July 7, 2014

Short-lived Romances.

Sometimes I think I'm going crazy, judging by how happy I've been feeling this past few days. I think this is what it feels to really, truly obtain freedom. This exhilaration might end soon, but, hey, I'm enjoying it while I can :P

This is why I love short-lived romances. It's a pity, the whole breaking up when there's still so much potential to 'us'. But then it's also eye-opening, giving you a push that you wouldn't have had. It's inspiring, knowing that you can actually move on from the person who broke your heart and fall for someone else. And, surprisingly, him leaving brought me so many new people, new friends. New guys. Heh.

Now I truly believe there are some people who are just pit stops in your life. They appear, they let you rest while teaching you some worthy life lessons, then they leave, because it's time for you to go. Reek, Melv, Patrick, Jordan, Karim, D,... all these guys opened my eyes in so many ways. These stepping stones, impulsive romances, crazy getaways, hormones, pitiful companions, smoke-up partners they all gave me a different chapter in my book, and I'm so, so thankful for their presence.

Heartbroken, breaking hearts, mutual heartaches. These things has to happen to everyone eventually, and I'm truly glad I felt most of it now. I might never get the fairy tale that every girl craves for, but fairy tales are boring, predictable. I'd much rather be able to steal kisses, hugs, experiences and memories while giving them in return. Because I am Lynnie, after all.



Your mum reads my blog.
Give it to me.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Revenge.

When it all happened I told myself I won't write about it, that it wouldn't matter to anyone, that I won't want to tarnish my blog with more of my rants about things that has happened and has ended. But here I am, finding comfort, wanting to write.

"Knowing that there's nothing she can do to have him back, she's letting go of the hunter. Gave him back that one thing that has been helping her feel safe throughout this whole ordeal, walking away with tears in her eyes, not wanting to ruin the whole facade she had on.

And then she contacted him. Damien. That one person who ruined everything for her, who has been in control of her life, her actions, her reactions. She held on to her facade, sounding like the person she always is, when deep down, the only thing she has inside is hatred, and the need for revenge.

She told him what he wants to hear. She's wrong, he's right; the hunter left her, she has no one now, can she meet him? And they did. They patched things up, like nothing has ever happened, like they were the friends that they were before he ruined his life.

At first, he was suspicious, naturally. He wondered why she didn't hate him, why she acted so normal. She had her reasons. She told him she don't have anyone anymore, that he's the only person she could lean on to, and will he help her move on with life? Knowing him and his ego, she kept feeding it, until he was convinced.

And then there's that day. He had enemies, people like him always have enemies. They always think things will go their way, that they're safe and sound and nothing can ever go wrong. But what if the person who you trust the most switched sides without you knowing? He never trusted her, but there was one person who he really trusted who helped her plot everything.

Everything happened so fast. The accident, the being dragged out all groggy, the waking up to concerned looks, the relief in seeing him all beat up and lying there. She wanted to ask him why, she always have. She needed that closure. She waited for him to wake up, ignoring the throbs in her head and the ache in her body.

And when he did, she looked him in the eyes, and asked him why. Why did he have to ruin everything in her life. "Because I can." And that was it. The closure that she needed. The freedom to spread her wings and fly away. She looked at his former best friend, "You can have him now." She turned her back and walked away, and upon hearing the sound of the shot being fired, turned to see the light dim in his eyes. And strangely enough, she felt nothing. No remorse, no pain, no sadness.

She's paying for that, that nothingness she felt, only because it scared her that she felt nothing. But she's not worried. She's free.

Because I am no longer the other woman; I belong to myself."

Just a day.


This feels weird... Talking about my day-to-day life. To think I used to be able to do all these (and more) without feeling weird, lol. Anyways, went out the other day with Javier, thought I could write about it, but realized there's nothing much to write because this is what I do all the time, lol. Go out, eat, watch movies, shop for a bit, go home...

The pictures are just a snippet of the things we do. Went shopping for, erm, basic stuffs so nothing to write about there. :P

But I could end my post with an OOTD!
Dress : Random shop in Asian Avenue, Sunway Pyramid
Shoes : Payless

Heh.



Your mum reads my blog.
Take a picture.

Friday, July 4, 2014

Change.

That's my hair one week ago, and that's my hair now. Huge change. Dyed my hair for the first time, cut it short, all this done last Saturday. It was part of something huge in my life that I can't really talk about right now, but I will definitely update everyone once I get the green light! Only a few friends and family know what it's about, so, yeah...

Anyways. Just wanted to tell everyone about the new change. I actually updated my Facebook and Instagram about it, but I couldn't really fully abandon this blog, no? I have to admit there are a few cobwebs here and there. Gosh having no laptop for, like, 2 months (?) made me this way. It's never nice to update this blog with the school comp, what with everyone staring and all...

But that's gonna change! Just like my hair! I hope I can blog more now that I have my laptop back (along with a new mouse to boot!). I also finally refound my DSLR so yay me! Haha. XOXO!



Your mum reads my blog.
Your light is bright as ever.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Changes.

I don't know why, but every time I'm left alone after a relationship, my life seems to turn around into a totally different direction altogether, throwing me off guard, keeping my mind off the breakup, the drama. I guess it's the universe's way of retribution. Okay, maybe not that much of a retribution, but a consolation. You lose some, you win some, eh?

In case it wasn't obvious a few months ago I started something with this guy I had a crush on for so long, and he ended it about a few weeks ago. Things were messed up, I was messed up, everything crumbled. Funny, thinking about it now, how calm I was when he ended things, how everything took a turn for the worst, and how I just went downhill.

But then that downhill feat lasted for about 2 weeks, maybe? After that everything was smooth sailing. From me finding out I went into the semi finals of a competition I was on, to me finding out I actually am one of the finalists. It was crazy. I've been swimming, a lot, travelling to and fro KL just to get some swim lol.

It was a short, uphill relationship where both of us pulled each other up steps that led to nowhere, taking risks none of us wanted to take, me not wanting to settle down, to have my freedom taken away, him wanting me to trust him so badly, to tell him everything, me still trying to open up about my feelings. How we even ended up together is weird, funny, sudden, even.

And it's time to let go. It was hard, knowing that it was my fault, but the actual realization that it's my fault actually liberated me, because ultimately, that fault wasn't something I intended to do, and there was nothing I could do to change it.

So here I am now, pass my second relationship, my heart a bit numb, my feelings a bit dampened, my faith a bit wavered. Love is what is is, eh?


Your mum reads my blog.
Take me away.

Saturday, June 21, 2014

Breaking point.

"Are you ready for this?" "Yes I am." As she sit herself on his chair she knew that she have to do this. There are snippets of that night, scenes that she can barely remember. The only thing that she remembers clearly is waking up to the coldness of the barrel touching her neck. Everything else is a blur, a hazy line between fear and subconsciousness and panic and adrenaline.

Hypnotism. Closing her eyes and transporting herself back to the calm she felt on that day, him trying to invoke the exact moment she woke up, to let her memories sort itself out, override the fears she have inside and enlighten her. She closed the eyes, focused, and she felt it. She felt the gun.

The cold steel. Her waking up. Her phone. His picture. The person telling her every single thing about the guy on her lock screen. She can now remember, clearly, what he said about him. His name, his birth date, his family, where he's living, his past, his present, his friends, what he's doing now, where he is at the moment, where he's working. "You want him to live? You do what we ask you to." She remembers trying to call him over and over again. Leaving frantic voice messages asking him to come. To save himself. To just pick up the phone. She remembers them calling her, saying that it's of no use, that her calls will never go through. She remembers now, the intruder telling her what to do, the things she's been doing a subconscious order that she has been following because she was told so. Betray his trust by acting like you don't want to tell him but telling him eventually. Invoke his wrath by personally attacking him. Go against anything he asks you to do. Let him leave you. Be alone. End your life.

And then she woke up. And remembers now who did this. The only person who knows her vulnerability enough to know that her fear is enough to wipe out memories. The person who triggered this once, knowing that the feel of a gun is enough to send her into overdrive, into a void in her mind. The person who knew of her weakness, her disease, enough for him to manipulate it.

That is it. Her breaking point. Knowing that for the past 15 days all the things she did was based on the suggestion of a person. Knowing that if the conversation between him and her didn't happen yesterday this whole thing would've ended with her taking her own life instead of meeting a psychologist to understand what happened. There wasn't a need to ask how this could happen. It happened before, and at that time she made so much research and did so many mind exercises with her psychologist she's convinced it won't happen again. But it did.

She steps out of his office knowing that this is it. That this is the end. Unless you've been brainwashed and had fear take over your life, you can't relate to how she's feeling, you can't possibly believe her, understand her, forgive her. The only person who believed her when it happened before is the same person who helped her again this time. And he believed because he knew how vulnerable the human mind is. But a passerby would just look at her, deem her crazy, crying for attention.

And there she is. Broken down. Back to square one. This is the end of her chapter, because there's nothing left to say. It's time to close the book.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Reasons and emotions.

Her reasons, her emotions, it's at war now. It's a battle she never wanted, and yet it's a struggle she knows she must face ultimately. The reality and the gravity of everything that's happening is hitting her like a bullet train, hard, fast, taking her breath away, not giving her time to think. 

She wants him back. She wants him back so badly. She wants all of this to end, for everything that has happened to either not happen or to just solve itself. But that won't happen, won't it? Everything that went on was because of the things she did, the words she said (or in this case, didn't say). And she's trying. Trying to do everything she can to make things right. She made a choice the first time, and she's sticking to it now. Everyone thinks it's a stupid decision, her choosing a guy over a friend; her still choosing the same guy even after he walked away. But is it that stupid to stand by what she thinks is right?

Knowing the extent that her friend would go for a 'crazy, sick joke' just made her lose any confidence in the people surrounding her. And there's a breach somewhere in her wall of defense, someone telling them things, and she don't know who it is, and she's doubting everyone around her, and that's crazy. She told him what she knew about that friend of hers, every single information she has, hoping that it'd be enough.

Every night she wants to call him, to apologize, risk sounding like a crazy fucked up bitch, and ask him to take her back. She was asked why, she can't really explain why. He came into her world as sudden as he left, and when she chose him over them she knew that he'd be one of the few people that she'll encounter who will alter the course of her life. It's unfortunate for her, that just like the others she have met so far, he fell out of love, gave up on her, too early, too soon. Her never wanting things to end the way it did, him feeling so disappointed he couldn't face her any longer.

And it's killing her. One of her friends told her it's stupid for her to think that he's picking a fight because he's concerned about her, because the truth is, it might just be his ego he's protecting. Someone threatened what was once his, indirectly threatened him, of course he'd have to stand up and face that someone, it's not because he care, it's because he's obligated to.

That broke her heart. It really did. In all her naivety she still hope that they could be the way they were two weeks ago, and she's hoping and hoping, but everyone else around her is asking her to just give up, and she no longer knows what to do anymore, except to accept the fact that this time around, she failed, and that guilt will continue to haunt her for the rest of her life.



Your mum reads my blog.
Tell me the truth.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

The bird and the hunter.

The hunter was out, hunting, when he heard this mesmerizing song. He followed it, looked up, and saw the most wonderful bird he had ever seen. Her voice, her beauty, the way she acted,... he fell in love. Slowly, stealthily, he crept up to her, and captured her. His intention was pure, he didn't want her for himself; but he didn't want anyone to harm her either. He kept her in a cage to protect her from all the elements, and from other hunters. He fed her, talked to her, loved her.

What he didn't know was at the moment he fell in love with her, she wasn't a free bird. She was owned by a group of hunters. A group of hunters who did so many bad things to other animals, but chose to spare her, and so she owes her life to them. In fact, they actually rescued her from the hands of another prey, who would've used her and sold her and ruined her life. Deep down, she hated them for who they are; but they were the only ones she had.

When he caught her, she was torn. Torn between the freedom of being truly loved by someone and the debt she's owing the group of hunters. But eventually, she fell in love with him. She fell in love with how he looked at her, how he talked to her, how he would look away from her clouded in his own deep thoughts.

And then one day, the group of hunters came. He was out hunting, and wasn't home. They came to her, holding up a picture of him and her that he took a few days before, telling her that she'd better stop singing to him, or they'd harm him. She begged them to just kill her, or to just take her away, but no. She was forced to do what they say or he'd be harmed. And knowing what they could do to other people, she didn't doubt that they'd do the same thing to him.

She decided then and there that she'd do it, she'd ruin what they had for them, just so he would be safe. So she stopped singing. She stopped eating the things he fed her. She looked at him with tears in her eyes. She slept most of the time.

One day he found out about them visiting her. And he was so angry. He didn't know what they said; he didn't care, his anger clouded everything, and he was angry at her. In that anger lied a hatred for her that she never thought he'd have. "You betrayed everything we had by not telling me the truth."

Then he let her go. Though she knew this would happen because this was what she's been trying to do, her heart broke. She cried and chirped and tried to make him listen to her but he wouldn't; his hate was too much. So she flew away. As she was flying the group of hunters who've been tormenting her for years caught her, looked her in the eyes, and asked "who's going to save you now?".

And that's when she found herself back to the spot she was before the hunter found her. An empty, lost soul, who's tortured by people surrounding her, unable to run away for fear of retribution. Though in that emptiness, she's comforted with the fact that she was able to protect the hunter from any harm; that she was able to love him until her last moments.



Your mum reads my blog.
Listen to me.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

"Everyone makes mistakes."
"Yes. You just make more of them than most people."
"I-"
"You hurt everyone. Everyone whose life you touch."
"Not you. I hurt everyone but you. I never meant to hurt you...  You can't never forgive me. I'd be -"
"Alone? And whose fault is that?"

Saturday, June 7, 2014

"We were both miserable and it got to the point where it was painful to be in each other's presence, we had wronged each other so, and said hurtful things to each other. Sometimes I hated him and wished he would just go. I knew he would have to be the one to leave because I will never have the strength to leave him.

And one day he'd finally found the courage to go. It was as if he read my mind. Of course, his leaving was agony. I wanted to die, sure that I will never see him again. But we go on, don't we? Anyway, I had no choice, but it helps to pretend that you do.

I remember how I'd sit in the dark and try to imagine how it would feel if we split up, the peace that will come over me. There's no question that he'd be the one to leave - but when he did and all that's left was me and our memories, it wasn't like being alone at all. It was as though something had been violently taken away from me, as though a piece of me had been amputated.

I realized then, though it was too late, that I love him so, so much, I'd much rather lose that peace than lose him."

Friday, June 6, 2014

"Swirls of smoke obscuring our senses, clouding our judgment, suspended in the air between us as our minds engage in a losing battle against our desires. We were still. The chandelier's light casts a golden glimmer on the half-empty bottles of Bourbon and Vodka, making the red liquor emanate a faint glow that mirrors our muted passion. Nothing left to say.

We parted ways."

Monday, June 2, 2014

Flowers.

This morning I woke up and had this sudden urge : I want to receive some flowers. Roses, to be exact. Heck, make it a rose. One. Single. Rose. This is weird. I told my friend about it and his reaction was "Lynnie, for the past five years I've been trying to gift you flowers and you always reject them, saying they're a waste of money, and that they'll die and/or collect dust.... Are you in love?"

Hmmm... A girl can dream, no? And for that half an hour where I talk to him about wanting a flower I daydreamed that a guy would give me exactly that. I'm getting weirder and weirder  by the day.

But receiving flowers suck. First, they take up a lot of space. Second, they'd just sit there, collecting dust (if they're fake). Third, staring at the same bunch of flowers for days and weeks and months just get old and it'll lose its aesthetic appeal. Fourth, they die and I'd have to throw it away. This is why I much prefer letters. Love letters. *croons*

So tell me then, why am I craving that sweet memory of receiving a single stalk of rose?



Your mum reads my blog.
Stolen dreams.

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Airports

"You take someone to the airport, it's clearly the beginning of a relationship. That's why I've never taken anyone to the airport at the beginning of a relationship."

I remember, when I was dating Reek, having that ecstatic feeling whenever I'm back from Penang and I know he's waiting for me at the airport. I remember too, that sad feeling whenever he used to take me to the airport and send me off.

And now, as I'm starting to embark in a new relationship, I fear the need to have the other person waiting for me/dropping me off at the airport. Commitment-phobe, maybe. I'd so much rather spend two extra hours to take the bus and the lrt and the train than asking himto be there. Too soon, too soon.



Your mum reads my blog.
A thwarted paradise.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Finnikin of the Rock

"'This hand says you spend the rest of your life with me,' he said, holding out his left hand, 'and this one says I spend the rest of my life with you. Choose.'
She bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. She took both of his hands in hers and he shuddered. 'I will die protecting you,' he says.
There was a look of dismay on her face. 'Just like a man of this kingdom, Finnikin. Talking of death, yours or mine, is not a good way to begin a-'
Isaboe gave a small gasp when he leaped forward, his lips an inch away from hers. 'I will die for you,' he whispered.
She cupped his face in her hands. 'But promise me you'll live first. Because nothing we are about to do is going to be easy and I need you by my side.'"

"Then I choose to drown. In hope. Rather than float in nothing."

"'Tell me about the farm,' she pleaded as drops of blood began to appear on her hand.
'The farm?'
'The farm that Finnikin the peasant would have lived on with his bride.'
'Evanjalin. That was her name. Did I mention that?'
She laughed through a sob. 'No, you didn't.'
'They would plant rows upon rows of barley and wheat, and each night they would sit under the stars to admire what they owned. Oh, and they would argue. She believes the money made would be better spent on a horse, and he believes they need a new barn. But then later they would forget all their anger and he would hold her fiercely and never let her go.'
'And he'd place marigolds in her hair?' she asked.
He clasped her hands against his and watched her blood seep through the lines of his skin. 'And he would love her until the day he died,' he said."



Your mum reads my blog.
Read. Learn.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Take me for granted.

I'd like to be able to take you for granted once in a while. I'd like to be able to think that the moments where I wake up with you beside me, showering me with kisses, will last forever. I'd like to be able to scold you for waking me up in the middle of the night just to tell me you love me.

I'd like to be able to look into your eyes and believe that you really do love me. I'd like to be able to believe every word, every compliment, every criticism that comes out of your mouth. I'd like to be able to not doubt your words. I'd like to be able to not have that fear that you'll leave me eventually.

I'd like to be able to be confident enough to tell you I love you too.

I'd like you to be able to take me for granted. I'd like you to be able to be honest with me. I'd like you to be able to love me wholeheartedly. I'd like you to be able to not doubt my words, my past, my present. I'd like you to be able to trust me.

I'd like you to be able to be confident enough to tell me you really, really love me.

But I cannot. I cannot take you for granted. Because the next thing I know, you might start to slip away. And I will forever regret taking you for granted.



Your mum reads my blog.
Fall in love, over and over again.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Potential.

"What I've lost isn't a baby; or a child. Potential. I've lost potential. All the things about her that I will never, ever know. If she'd grow up to be just like me. If she'd have my ovalish face or his square jaws. If she'd be happy. And it kills me. It kills me every time I close my eyes."

She missed her period. Peed on a stick. Waited. Two lines.

She's torn. Keeping it is not an option; they've talked about it. Yes, they'd eventually want a baby together, but it's just the start of their lives now, and a baby will ruin it. But deep down there's a spot in her that wants to have it.

She's regretting. Those times where she'd think it's safe enough to not use protection, to time everything so that it'd be okay to not have safe sex. Those times when she let lust take over her own common sense.

But most of all, she's happy. She feels whole, completed. She finally found a direction in life, something to look forward to.

A visit to the doctor, an ultrasound, and a heartbeat later, she left with pure happiness. It was almost two months before she went to the doctor's, but she never really expected that heartbeat. She cried hearing it, and that gave her so much strength.

She's creating life. And for the first time since forever, she felt it. Joy, happiness. With each day is a realization that this baby will be so much more than she ever expected, so much more than she'll ever be. She have no conflicts, no regrets. She'll keep it. It doesn't matter if he don't want to take any responsibility, she'll raise him/her up alone. It doesn't matter if her family won't support her decision, she's strong enough for it. It doesn't matter if society shuns her for it, as long as she have this baby.

She never told anyone. Fear, maybe? Maybe she's trying to delay it until that point where when she told someone she won't have to abort because she no longer could. Or maybe until she starts to show?

And then that one day happened.

Waking up with a tremendous pain. Bleeding. An emptiness. And she knew. Even before she headed to the doctor and hear her saying "I'm sorry" she knew. And that was it. The end of something that barely begun. The lost of any potential.



Your mum reads my blog.
I would've given my all.

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Maybe.

"Maybe the problem is we fit so well that it is frightening. Better to jump out of a burning building than wither in the fire. Turn the gun before I could pull the trigger. Save yourself. Just in case. Maybe it got too serious too quickly. Maybe we moved too fast.

Or maybe I'm completely wrong. Maybe that's wishful thinking. Maybe you got exactly what you wanted and didn't need any more. Maybe you achieved your goal and that was it."

Saturday, May 17, 2014

Perceptions.

A nose job here, a cheekbone augmentation there, what would be next? Some forehead bone shaving, a double chin tuck, maybe? Upper lips mustache wax, for sure. Double eyelid surgery could be considered. Maybe some botox/collagen injection for the tiny crows feet and laugh lines forming? Liposuction in the future. 

I look at myself in a mirror and see someone beautiful. Well, beautiful enough in my eyes, anyways. Definitely not beauty pageant/top model worthy, and that's the harsh truth I'll admit. There are millions of girls out there more beautiful than I am. But in my eyes, I'm comfortable with how I look right now. 

But if you look into a mirror and am not happy with what you see, then by all means, do something about it! That is if you can afford it. If you feel like a higher nose will give you the confidence you need, do it. Just know that ultimately you have to really be comfortable in your own skin or all the surgeries in the world will not be able to do anything for you. 



Your mum reads my blog. 
Work it. 

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Inhale.

Hug me. Take everything in. How I smell. How my hair tickled your face. How my height is just perfect for you to rest your head on mine. How I never want to let go. How I give your shoulder a kiss (or a bite). How you can wrap your hands around me and lift me up and make me laugh when you do that.

Look at me. Take everything in. How I have a one-sided dimple. How my nose is a bit curved from hitting the side of the door. How my hair falls and frames my face. How I have tiny tiny wrinkles forming. How the way I stand is a bit odd because my legs aren't equal in length.

Touch me. Take everything in. How my scars are healing and forming bumps on me. How my fats curves makes you want to ravish me. How my hair feels in your hands. How my hand fits perfectly in yours. How my lips tremble at your touch.

Because maybe, just maybe, there won't be a tomorrow for you to do all these.



Your mum reads my blog.
Getting away.

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

"Realizing that, despite loving someone truly and equally, sometimes relationships and people just don't work out, is devastating. You question everything. Yourself, the nature of those around you, the purpose and meaning of love and relationships and if everything you've ever read, seen or heard on the subject is true. For a time you feel alone in your misery, isolated and segregated from those happy people on the street, their hands entangled, and you wonder how you could've gotten it so wrong. How you could have wound up so broken and lost."

"And then one day, you will promise someone a premature 'I love you' because you want so badly for that to be true. However, love cannot be forced. You can make yourself say those words but you cannot make your heart feel something it does not. One day you will figure that out, but not before somebody gets hurt."

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Sunshine.

"For he used to call her his little sunshine, and now his sunshine was gone. A blackness fell upon him like a cloak. He turned dark and sad and could not see the good of anything." 



Your mum reads my blog. 

Friday, May 9, 2014

Magic.

"If you do not believe that hearts can bloom suddenly bigger, and that love can open like a flower out of even the hardest places, then I am afraid that for you the road will be long and brown and barren, and you will have trouble finding the light.

But if you do believe, then you already know all about magic."



Your mum reads my blog.
Because love is magic.

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Tell Her You Love Her.

Because there will be times when she feels insecure and all she needs is those three words to make her believe again.

Because you will not believe how happy you make her when you tell her that, even if it's just in a text.

Because she deserves to be loved.

Because the last thing you'd want to do is feed your ego and not tell her just 'cause.

Because someone else might do the deed and steal her heart away.

Because telling her you love her will make you feel like a better person.

Because you love her.



Your mum reads my blog.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Here's To You

"Here's To All The Stoners In My Life :

For introducing me to that crazy medication that beat all the antidepressants I was prescribed.

For proving to me that one can fly, and that unicorns and goblins exists.

For showing me that that one puff could actually make your problems go away (even if it's just for a few hours).

For giving me the courage to do those shitass things I wouldn't have done in my right mind.

For letting me that exhilarating feeling when time has past and my mind cleared up enough for me to go "where the fuck did that feeling went?"

For, ironically, making me appreciate my clear mind even more.

For keeping me entranced with the carefree ways all of you are living.

For exhausting yourselves from trying to keep up with my endless energy when you're high and I'm not, and all you want to do is lie there and chill.

For showering me with love and hugs and kisses and support and loyalty and happiness.

Here's to all the fucked up shits we will be doing in the future."



Your mum reads my blog.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

That fear.

And it's back. The fear she has. That fear that she is ruining every single thing she loves, that her actions and words causes more harm than she thinks, that she is not worthy enough to be loved.

As they're arguing over things she wrote and feelings she have she wondered. Maybe it's her. Maybe she's so fucked up everyone around her will leave her all alone. Maybe she could never love, and be loved.

And so she cried. Because that's the only thing she can do.

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Midnight songs.

Whatsapp voice notes. Of her favorite songs. Because she told him how nice it is to have a guy serenade her. She fell asleep to the songs, All Of Me, Magic, When I Was Your Man... All this from a guy who's always been there for her. 

And yet there she is, hoping it was from someone else. Because even after releasing herself from her past, she still couldn't find it in herself to reciprocate the love he's giving her. Maybe there's another guy; maybe it's him; maybe it's her.

"He's the kind of boyfriend every girl would ask for. Why are you turning him down?" Is it enough of a reason, if she were to say, she's just following where her heart is leading her, no matter if she'll end up torn and tattered and heartbroken?



Your mum reads my blog. 
Invisible. 

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Butterflies

"What I'm feeling, I think, is joy. And it's been some time since I've felt that blinkered rush of happiness. This might be one of those rare events that lasts, one that'll be remembered and recalled as years wind and ravel. One of those sweet, significant moment that leaves a footprint in your mind. A photograph couldn't ever tell its story. It's like something you have to live to understand. One of those freak collisions of fizzing meteors and looming celestial bodies and floating debris and one single beautiful red ball that bursts into your life and through your body like an enormous firework. Where things shift into focus for a moment, and everything makes sense. And it becomes one of those things inside you, a pearl among sludge, one of those big exaggerated memories you can invoke at any moment to peel away a little layer of how you felt, like a lick of ice cream. The flavor of grace."



Your mum reads my blog.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Fool.

Today is a bad day, really. And here I am, typing, hoping things would get better.

First, the bad dream, the haunting images, the inability to sleep as the fear of dreaming the same dream overtook my exhaustion.

Then, my laptop decided to be an ass, and now something's wrong with the graphics, and it's fucked up because I just got it, and this sucks, and I don't even know what happened to it. It's not like I dropped it or something. *cries*

And less than an hour ago I had a fall out with someone because of trust. Urgh. One thing I hate the most is feeling bad about something that I did wrong, and not being able to do anything about it except apologizing.

And here I am in campus, not going home because it's raining, and I'm supposed to study anyways. Though I'm not studying because I really don't have the mood to.

Can I just sit down in a corner and cry?


I wish I can leave this place, go to a quiet beach somewhere and sit and listen to music while the wind is blowing, the sun is shining and the waves are crashing.



Your mum reads my blog.
Shelter me.

Demons.

4.19am. She woke up screaming, drenched in sweat and tears from the torment that her mind experienced while she's asleep. Instinctively, she reached out for D, but he wasn't there; he never will be. She knew then, as she exhausted herself from crying, that the demons are back, and this time around, no one will be there to reassure her, to lull her to sleep. There she is, all alone, one wrecked soul haunted by the ghosts of her past.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Date A Girl.

So a few days ago I started a draft titled "Date A Girl Who Wears No Makeup". And as I was writing it I realized how bias I am. There I was, giving a reason for guys to like me for who I am, giving all girls out there who wears no makeup a reason to be proud. And then it occurred to me how stupid it is, this whole date a girl thing.

If I really have to give guys reasons to date me, then there won't just be a list. "Date a girl who sings in the shower." "Date a girl who dances in the rain." "Date a girl who's not afraid to cry." "Date a girl who's independent." "Date a girl who laughs out loud." "Date a girl who tells you you're wrong." "Date a girl who's flirtatious, but loyal." "Date a girl who travels."...

I could write a thousand lists of my own traits and why you should date me. And that won't necessarily make you like me. So, you know what? Here I am, asking you to just date a girl. Go out with her, hang out with her, and see if you like her. And after being around her for quite some time, and you still find yourself wanting to talk to her every night, if you still smile like a retard just looking at her talk, if her quirks don't bother you (maybe, just maybe, you like how she sticks her tongue out and points her middle finger), then maybe you should date date her. Ask her to be your girlfriend. Don't think about if you'd be together forever. Heck, you most probably won't. But at least you know it was nice while it lasted.



Your mum reads my blog.
Because I don't know how to say how I feel.

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Don't tell me what to feel.

Don't tell me I shouldn't cry for you.

Because you broke my heart. And you will never understand how much. You left, taking everything with you, and just recently you tell me you thought that made me happier. Is that what you've been telling yourself, so that you'd be able to live with the fact that you ruined someone?

Because you never wanted to know how I feel. I remember that last time you told me to leave you alone, to give you space. You were annoyed. I was pathetic. I begged, I cried, I did everything I could, and the only thing I got from you was an eye-rolling that was enough to make me realize how I lost.

Because I deserve to cry. I don't understand people; how they say it's pathetic to cry over spilled milk. I don't think it is. I think it's stupid. It's stupid how when I cry instead of offering me a shoulder to cry on people would go "don't be stupid." Are people really that incapable of dealing with emotions nowadays?

Because these tears are proof that I'm human. That I have emotions. That I'm not as heartless as some people think I am. That I am willing to let myself be vulnerable. That I will get better.

Because someday, someone will wipe my tears away and make me smile. And that someone will not be you.

So don't tell me what to feel.



Your mum reads my blog.
A chameleon soul.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

The Truth About Me : An Open Letter to My Future Boyfriend/Suitor

I am fucked up. I know, I know, what a great start. But if there’s one thing you have to know about me, it’s that. I truly, really, am fucked up. Heck, saying that I’m fucked up just went to show you how fucked up I am, no?

I am crazy. No, I’m not going to walk around naked talking to the aliens surrounding us (or maybe I will… Hi there extraterrestrial being!) I laugh out loud, I sing out loud, I dance around for no reason, and people just label me as ‘crazy’. So, crazy I am.

I have my expectations. On you. On us. On our future together. Just ask me what it is. Make your life easier, kay?

I am an introvert. Yes, I am. Don’t be surprised. I socialize because that’s what’s expected of me. But not even a crazy drunk escapade where everyone would drink and get high and fuck and just be beats a quiet Saturday night at home watching Dexter and reading my favorite book while eating popcorn and potato chips and chocolate in my pyjamas (and yes, those are the pyjamas I wore on Friday night… problem?).

Speaking of which… I am wild. Yes, I can be wild. But only if I want to. I’ve had nights spent wasted, and I’ve had nights spent looking at the stars and laughing at the unicorns flying past. I’ve had jokes cracked about me on how I look very, very innocent… But trust me , looks can deceive. I’ve been deceiving people with my square boxy glasses for the past, what, two, three years?

I am insecure. My heart is very fragile, and I keep it caged. So much so that it’d be a tough journey for you to get me to even open up for you. I might tell you things, but those things don’t necessarily translate to the deepest, darkest corners of my secrets. Ask my ex, he knows best on how hard it was for him to get me to open up and share my hopes and dreams with him.

I am beautiful. Yes, I am. And if you ever say anything to indicate that I don’t look anywhere near beautiful in your eyes, then I have two words for you : fuck yourself. I look into the mirror and see flaws and scars and cellulite but I still think I’m beautiful, both inside and out *cue people vomiting*.

I am fat. Okay, maybe not fat, chubby, maybe. But that’s how I am. Don’t give me false truths and say I’m skinny. Urgh. And DON’T you dare ask me to lose weight, or to stop eating. Because if there’s one thing that I’d love more than I love you, it’d be food. Or maybe my family. Or maybe money. Sorry. Did I just scare you off with the truth that you won’t be as important as you wish to be?

I am honest. And I expect you to be honest with me too. I expect you to talk to me, to not lie to me, to tell me everything that is in your mind. You can choose not to tell me things, but you can never, ever lie to me. And I will do the exact same thing, except maybe sometimes I will lie and tell you I’m okay when I’m not.

I am half a boy. Don’t expect a girl who grew up with two brothers to sit down with her legs crossed and her back straight and cover her mouth while laughing. No worries, I’m no tomboy. I like dresses, and I certainly don’t think of pants as my holy grail. But I will burp in front of you, I will punch you, I will sit with my legs open wide, I will laugh like a mofo, all because I can.

I am fragile. So much so that I’m a crybaby. I really am. My tear ducts are like a water pipe that turns itself on even at the sight of the smallest thing. One simple thing to do when I cry? Just hug me. Envelope me in your arms and just tell me that everything’s alright and that I can cry. Because the one thing I hate when I’m crying is when people ask me to stop crying. Can’t you see that I’m in emotional distress here?

I read. And write. And sometimes what I write will be directed to you, sometimes it won’t. Sometimes I get all emotional and write weird stuffs (told you I’m fucked up) because I read something that touched me. So don’t jump into conclusions. Ask me. Talk to me.

I play games. I shoot people. I kill people. But one thing about me : I hate multiplayer games. Urgh. I can’t stand it when people don’t understand what it is to play in a TEAM and COVER me. Oh and btw, never, ever, bother me when I’m playing games. Or when I’m reading. Like, seriously. If I don’t answer your text. I might be reading. I might be playing games. I might be sleeping. Don’t freak out.

I reply one worded answers. When I’m pissed off. Or really emotional. Or just am moody. I reply in one word. And you know something’s up. And you’re tempted to ask. And you ask. And I say nothing. Don’t push me. It annoys me, really, when people keep going “I know you’re not okay.” So tempting me to go “FUCK OFFFFF!” Just wait til the next day, and go all "fuck you I know you were emotional yesterday night so tell me and tell me NOW".

I curse. A lot. In case you haven’t noticed. It’s just me. Like, really, you’re such a cibai if you wince every time I curse. Oops. There you have it again. Pungkuk.

Scared you off yet?




Your mum reads my blog.
This is why I'm hot.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Too Many People; Too Little People.

Too many people spend all their time alone.
Too many people never know when to go home.
Too many people died not having lived a life.
Too many people let doors close upon their four walls.
Too many people procrastinate just 'cause.
Too many people are too scared to love.

Too little people just be.
Too little people are thankful.
Too little people have loved.
Too little people dance in the rain.
Too little people laugh today.
Too little people died in contentment.



Your mum reads my blog.
Because I'm something you despise.

Monday, April 14, 2014

An affair.

Seven months ago I embarked on a journey that will change my perception of myself. An affair of sorts. I was interning, and at that time, we were both curious, lonely souls. It was never sexual, the closest we've been to being intimate was me cuddling with him during the time we spent together.

He told me the first time he noticed me was when I was laughing my heart out at a joke my colleague told me. He was just passing by, but at that instance he wanted to get to know me, to be my friend. The first time I noticed him was in a meeting for someone's wedding. I was to be the usher; he was involved in the F&B side. He was sitting right across me, and throughout the whole meeting we kept exchanging weird glances.

Not long after that we talked, exchanged numbers, and that was when things started... developing (?) We don't talk/text often, nor do we see each other much, but there's always something comforting about seeing him walking into the cafeteria when I'm eating alone, and do that silly little gesture to get me to join him, and make those stupid faces when I refused.

The sweetest thing he did for me was on my birthday, I guess. My birthday was on my last day working in club lounge, and I remember him bringing me a box of chocolates (sans fruits because urgh) and forced me to eat each and every one of them in front of him. Along with those chocolates was a single candle to represent how I lit up his life.

At that time, I was still dating Reek. By then our relationship is already in ruins, though it'd take another month or so before we broke up. We were fighting, arguing, bickering almost every day. His relationship was also strained, what with him and his girlfriend having different schedules and being too busy. I think earlier on our 'feelings' towards each other is just a feeling of wanting to be needed, wanting someone to hear us out.

When my relationship ended, I took it really badly. I was so, so heartbroken, and that heartbreak turned into this grief when I realize I lost my fight. He was the first person to find out; I didn't even need to tell him. Everyone was fooled by my smile, my laughter but he wasn't. I remember it clearly, it being a Saturday, me receiving that text from Reek, me crying my hearts out in KLCC's toilet, me walking to work, me crying my hearts out in the locker, me looking into the mirror and forcing a smile... We were busy on that day, and when I finished work he drove me home, and asked me if I'm okay.

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday,... and when Wednesday came he asked me during work, forcing me, even, but I still maintained that strong facade and told him nothing is wrong. After work, we walked at the park, and he hugged me. "I know you don't talk about yourself or your feelings much, so I'm not going to ask you anymore, but I just want to let you know I'm always going to be here for you." And that was when I just lost it. There was no longer a need for me to act like I'm worthy of a smile because at that time, I wasn't.

After that we spent so much time together it's perplexing how we even managed to keep our 'relationship' a secret. I never talked about it to anyone, and at work, we're mere colleagues. But we went out almost every night, and me staying near work made things so much easier for us. We went out to places I've never been, crawling through the shadows of the night, laughing at the drunken souls wandering about. We sneaked into the park and cuddled and watched the moon and stars and talked about our hopes and dreams. We went to restaurants and he introduced me to so many wonderful things that I hated before this (think raw beef and salmon). He taught me the art of drinking without getting drunk, though me getting red even after one beer he can never figure out why. Looking back, I wouldn't even say what we had was a relationship, though it seemed so to people around us (a bartender jokingly told us we look like we're meant to be... talk about awkwardness). Truth is, our rendezvous are like two close friends discovering the world, nothing more.

This 'affair' of ours continued even after my internship ended. Though by then it wouldn't even be categorized as an affair. He broke up with his girlfriend right before I went back to campus. And after that he'd meet me at night, after work, and we'd go out for supper, and just sit in his car, him talking about work, me talking about school. We'd ponder about where our lives are heading, always avoiding the question of who we are, what we are... And then that one day happened.

That'd be our last night together. We sneaked into KLCC park, again, and I was talking about how my favorite love song would be ruined because of the memories I have with Reek. And all of a sudden he played that song, pulled me in and started dancing with me to it. "I love you." At that moment, I felt my heart sunk, and it wasn't because of happiness, or sadness; it was because of that sudden realization that I've done the inevitable : I've made someone else fall for me.

"You shouldn't." He was confused, and the worst feeling was telling him that I love him, but as a really close friend. I think that hit him very badly, and the whole way back to my place after that was just torture. I was stupid, scared, and was determined to not let anyone fall for me. I didn't want to fall for anyone too, not when my previous falling led to bleeding wounds.

I'm not incapable of loving, I'm just incapable of being loved. I remember my friends telling me that, and we pondered about how funny it is that I shy away from love, that one day that'd be the death of me. I've never really understood what they meant, but seeing him, all frustrated and angry, I finally understood their meaning. I understand, then, why my relationship ended the way it did. Why I needed the release.

When we arrived back at my place, he looked at me, with pleading eyes, and that girl who was scared for her life because she feels like she doesn't deserve being loved looked at him and said "I'm sorry." And that was the end.



Your mum reads my blog.
I don't love you; but I always will.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Victory.

"It took her months. Months of crying, hoping, praying. Months of searching for 'happiness'. Months of hoping time would turn back to that part of her life where she's happy and contented and satisfied. Months of hoping time would pass so that that pain in her heart will disappear. Months of hairdrying her tear-soaked pillow to refluff it.

Months of stinging headaches from inevitable hangovers. Months of money wasted on cigarettes and weed that helped alleviate the pain, though just a bit. Months of stringing along the wrong guy just so she'd have someone. Months of pretending to be happy in front of everyone else because she knew the moment she stop pretending she'd lose the will to keep on going.

That few months caused her a lot of scars. Physically. She cuts herself at places where people wouldn't spot it. Her hip, her ribs. She placed her cuts strategically, just so no one would question her about them, even when she's strutting around, in a false confidence, around her bikini. She sees the cuts bleeding and she yearns for her body to feel something. A sadness, at least. And those moments, like the drugs she took, provided her a momentary relief, a momentary high.

For months she was spiraling out of control. Until that one day.

She went for a run by the sea to get away from everything. Her life, her pain, her friends, that guy she's stringing along. And then that clumsy side of hers came in, she tripped, and she fell. And there she was with her knees stinging from all the seashells cutting her and she started wailing.

And for the first time after months of acting like the strong, happy person that she is not she finally let go of all the pain bottled up inside and she cried. She cried and cried and cried. She cried until the point where only dry, coughy sobs are emanating from her. She cried all her pain away.

And then it struck her. She has to let go. She has to let go of that broken part of her and allow it to mend itself. She was crushing all the broken pieces, making it worst day by day, and it's time for her to let herself heal. She realized that those months of her suffering was her way to punish herself for losing his love. And she has done enough. The hurt is no longer bearable, but there's no longer a reason for her to bear it. He's moved on, and so should she.

It took her months. But it was worth it. The day she let go, she became herself, all over again, slowly picking up the broken pieces. She did this stupid dance in front of everyone. She laughed and screamed and cussed and punched random people. She let go of that guy who was stringing her along. She developed a crush on this cute guy (and maybe she let him kiss her. A bit. Or a lot. Who cares.)

It was when she looked out from the bus on the way home and smiled at the weird cloud formation that she knew. She is no longer defeated. She is now a victor."



Your mum reads my blog.
Burning desire.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Defeated.

"That first time her heart was broken is the worst, because it might have been the only time she'd ever really, truly fallen in love. When he broke her heart, she knew he'd broken more that just that. He'd broken her.

She spent day after day alternating between refusing to leave her bed and crying her eyes out or pathological attempts to pretend that she was okay by partying like crazy until the sun came up.

A lot of nights were spent on the front porch, staring up at the stars with tears falling endlessly, wishing desperately that she would be okay soon with her sixth cigarette dangling between her fingers.

She wished with all her heart. She hoped. She prayed. For time to turn back. For time to move forward. For time to give her that simple desire : to just be happy.

Wrong decisions and countless mistakes led her to this : a shell of a person who felt empty and scarred, knees scratched from falling too often and eyes eternally puffy from an overload of tears. She was broken, beaten and defeated - not to mention lonely, hopeless and lost.

All she wanted was to be happy. Was that too much to ask?"


Your mum reads my blog.
Because we're back to being strangers.

Monday, February 17, 2014

Hold your breath.

Take a deep breath. Hold it in. Look around you. Take everything in. The people. The light. The darkness. The air. The wind. The heat. The auras. The littlest organisms crawling around. The thoughts. The feelings. The pain. The joy.

Breathe out. Take a step forward. Because after knowing everything that's around you, knowing what you'll be facing, nothing can scare you any more.

Trust yourself. Trust others. Trust the world. Have faith. Because ultimately, that's what will keep you going.



Your mum reads my blog.
Invisible.