Wednesday, June 25, 2014


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."
"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


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


"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.