Sunday, August 12, 2007

Dear God

Dear God,

Is it true i can talk to You? i know that i haven't been much of a talker, but i often wonder about people who say they have conversations with You all the time... it must be nice to have someone who understands everything, forgives everything, and never interrupts... but sometimes the silence is so overwhelming, i need to talk to someone else. is it because i don't have enough faith that i don't hear You? or i just don't try hard enough? or merely because i only talk when i need someone to talk to? but all these wouldn't matter if truly You would always be there for me...

i guess understanding myself leads to understanding You which leads me to understanding myself more... just a tautological cycle, in a way. but sometimes when i have my occasionally bursts of courage and strength, or when my mind crystallizes when i need to focus... i'd like to think it's You listening to me in my time of need and responding. sometimes i suddenly think wow, the world is great and i should be grateful... (even though sometimes i just wanna crawl away into the hole and sleep my life away) but i don't know if it's cause i'm just a 'romantic' or it's You trying to remind me... that You're here, that not everything is about getting good grades, being popular or getting that guy, that there're other things out there too...

i'll try harder. i'm really looking forward to talking to You one day. when i'm wise enough to listen.


Monday, July 30, 2007

Happy Ending

The green ferns lightly glaze the water's edge. The morning air is crisp and fresh, and she takes several deep breaths. Twigs crunch lightly underfoot as her soft muslin skirt drags on the ground behind her. She walks slowly, eyes wandering around the place she used to frequent as a child. It was funny that a place that gave her so many happy memories when she was growing up now attracted her in times of sadness.

Wake up in the morning, stumble on my life
Can't get no love without sacrifice
If anything should happen, I guess I wish you well
A little bit of heaven, but a little bit of hell

This is the hardest story that I've ever told
No hope, or love, or glory
Happy endings gone forever more
I feel as if I feel as if I'm wastin'
And I'm wastin' everyday

The sunlight peeks through thick branches of green leaves, rays of emerald spilling on the ground, forming patterns on the scattered remains of what used to hang high above her head. She kicked at them absently, noting how alike they were to her current state... desolate and forgotten...

2 o'clock in the morning, something's on my mind
Can't get no rest; keep walkin' around
If I pretend that nothin' ever went wrong, I can get to my sleep
I can think that we just carried on

This is the hardest story that I've ever told
No hope, or love, or glory
Happy endings gone forever more
I feel as if I feel as if I'm wastin'
And I'm wastin' everyday

She finally reaches her destination. The water gurgles happily, blissfully unaware of the pain that tears at her heart. There were way more ferns than 20 years ago, she notes, and they cover the entire edge of the lake clamouring for the water as they stretch out their leafy arms. She gracefully navigates her way through the thick foliage to the water's edge, her hands balled into fists.

This is the way you left me,
I'm not pretending.
No hope, no love, no glory,
No Happy Ending.
This is the way that we love,
Like it's forever.
Then live the rest of our life,
But not together.

A little bit of love, little bit of love
Little bit of love, little bit of love...

As the water laps at her sandals, she opens her palm. Nestled safely within, her wedding band dazzles, the diamonds catching the sunlight and shattering it into a spectrum of colours; a stark contrast to the dull greyness in her heart. She stares at it dully then shuts her eyes tightly, screwing up her face as if to banish the memories from her mind. Finally her shoulders slumping, she lets out a sigh of defeat.

This is the way you left me,
I'm not pretending.
No hope, no love, no glory,
No Happy Ending.
This is the way that we love,
Like it's forever.
Then live the rest of our life,
But not together.

As the words reverberate in her head, she slowly tilts her hand, watching the ring slide off her palm into the water with a soft plop as it sinks into the murky depths. In spite of herself, her lips curve into a sardonic smile as she reflects how ironic it was that the place she had planned her 'happily ever after' should bear witness to its demise as her dream came crashing down around her ears...

Monday, July 23, 2007

Stuck in a Moment

She slowly closes her locker door. The weight of the bag she slings on her shoulder could not compare to how heavy her heart felt. Looking up, she suddenly sees him standing at the end of the corridor gaily chatting to his friends. Seeing the wide smile on his face, her heart breaks a little more. She quietly turns on her heel and walks down the opposite end of the hallway to her classroom.

Plumping up the pillows on her bed, she settles herself comfortably back down and turns her attention back to her half written paper. It is 10pm, and she still had loads to finish on the assignment that was due tomorrow. *beep* He was online. All of a sudden, she found it hard to concentrate. Questions swam in her head; if would he message her, what would they talk about, how was she supposed to react... As she prints out the last pages of her assignment 2 hours later, she takes one last peek at her messenger. He was still online. No message. With a deep sigh, she shuts the lid of her laptop.

She stares at the screen of her hand phone. She had just spent the past 20 minutes figuring out how to write a simple, non-combustible message (without betraying how she felt) to him just to request for a copy of the project guidelines that were handed out in class that afternoon. The instant and short reply of just 'Sure.' made her sad, like he couldn't be bothered with her. Gone were the 'dear's and 'miss you's that always accompanied his messages.

It had been a pleasant day, with much shopping and laughter as she whiled away the time with her best friend. As they speed past the beach, she suddenly falls quiet leaving Mindy to chatter on. She looks at the sunset, at the crashing waves, the long stretch of white sand, the couples walking along hand-in-hand and she suddenly feels a terrible hollowness within her. He had promised to take her for that long awaited beach trip, which now seemed never to be.

She had tried her best to fill her time; buying novels to read, organizing outings with friends, chatting on the phone, keeping up with her studies... but at every free moment, he crept into her thoughts. And at the of the day, when everything was over and she had locked her front door behind her, she was always haunted by the emptiness of her house and the crushing loneliness of just her.. and she would weep.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Remembering History

The winds rustle in the trees as orange leaves float to the ground. I pull my sweater tighter around me as I make myself more comfortable on the grey cement steps of the red-bricked apartment. Turning my eyes away from the swaying trees in the opposite park, I open the thick leather bound book in my hand. The yellowed pages flutter as I turn them, slowly, drinking in its contents. Photos of a different colour and clarity than now, marking the technological changes we have gone through, sat four to a page accompanied by my mother's painstaking chronology.

'Our First Date.' There she was, looking lovely in a sundress with flowers in her hair, posing against a convertible. Her wind-swept curls against the backdrop of swaying trees and a stretch of sandy beach told me it had indeed been as lovely a picnic as my mother claimed.

'My Birthday.' My mother cutting into a delicious looking cake which, from the narration below it, was baked by my multi-talented father. The usual family and friends were missing from the picture, my mother and father both having been from an orphanage.

'Our Wedding.' My parents made a lovely couple; my father young and handsome in his tux, a rosebud in his buttonhole; my mother looking resplendent in a heavenly concoction of lace and silk.

'The Prettiest Baby in the World.' A bouncing baby was happily clutching a rattle, giving the photographer a toothless grin. I was finally looking at my own baby picture. I gently finger the edge of the photograph, smiling as I noted what a chubby baby I was.

'Our First House.' A pretty lady laughing in front of a small town house while carrying a smiling toddler. Despite the black and white monotones, I could tell it was summer from the blooming flowers and the ice cream cart in the background. My parents had barely enjoyed their new house for even a year before they were killed in an automobile accident that I survived; I was adopted, their belongings were sold.

I feel a soft hand on my shoulder. Mavis sits down beside me, pulling her shawl tight around her thin shoulders. "Do you like it dear?" she asks. I put the book down and take her wrinkled hands into mine.

"Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me. It's the only connection I have left with my parents. Thank you for saving it all these years." She smiles and wipes my tears with the edge of her shawl. "Honey, I always knew someone would come for it."

That evening, I leave the apartment with a full heart, feeling the world a sweeter place.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

A Spiritual Reunion

'Code Blue! Code Blue!'

She swung her chubby legs to and fro as they dangled over the edge of the orange plastic chair. Her big brown eyes blinked twice as a flurry of white coats raced by her into the glassed room. She watched as they struggle to stick a tube down the throat of a pretty lady, with her curly hair and her rosebud lips; who was trashing around on the big bed.

A young man paces the back of the room, features twisted in fear as he stares at the doctors working hard to revive his wife. White sheets stained a deep red as blood dribbles down her lips and out of the gaping wound in her stomach. He turns away, his knuckles almost white as he clenches his fists tightly. The little girl stares at him from her row of orange seats, silently twirling a lock of strawberry blonde hair around her finger.

The clock on the wall ticks. A harried doctor sticks a syringe into one of the many tubes dangling out of her arms; another doctor barks out orders to the nurses scuttling about in a panic. The machine beside the bed beeps loudly, green lights flashing as erratic patterns on the screen flatten out into a straight line.

More people are running into the room. Someone reaches for the paddles, another rips open the lady's hospital gown, everyone backs away from the bed. The blinds are closed, blocking the room from public view. Sighing, the little girl jumps off her chair and smooths down her pink smocked dress. Adjusting her polka dotted headband, she steals a quick glance at the clock.

3 a.m. She smiles sweetly as a figure approaches her. They embrace, tears glistening in both pairs of chestnut eyes.

"I've been waiting for you, mommy. It's time to go."

The room door slides open. The young man slumps against the wall, head in his hands as tears soak through his fingers. They both turn to look at him. Taking her mother's hand, she quietly says " Daddy will be alright mommy. He's got my favourite angel looking after him." The lady looks at her with a sad smile and slowly nods. Together, they walk away into the light.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

A Message

i know that i don't talk much. it isn't that i don't want to, but i just filter more things out when it comes to you. i know, you always say 'it doesn't matter. i can say stupid things too sometimes'. but it isn't so easy for me. i'm trying, but i guess it's not enough for you. i need to not feel like an idiot, not to see that 'huh?' look, to not pass remarks that receive rebuking.. and i guess that just makes me too needy of a person.

sometimes i have stuff in my head that i wanna ask, but i just don't. i don't know why. i just keep it all to myself. so yeah, i guess i really did bring this upon myself. i say stuff without thinking, and get into more trouble. i guess saying things that i think you want to hear, or trying to stop you getting pissed at me.. only gets me into a worse situation.

i need prompting when it comes to talking. i'd like to think it's the years of people pouring out their stuff to me, and me just listening and nodding that made me this way, but i guess it's just me. Indifferent me, as you always say, not really bothered by what people are telling me. but in truth, it's just that i take what you say... and the rest i'd think are not important enough to be in the story. i mean, i can't notice what's missing... maybe if you pointed it out i would, but i guess that's just a dumb request. i know you always say you want me to explain more, but sometimes your actions say otherwise. like the 'huh?' look or the 'o..k...', then silence.. then i feel like i just said a bunch of nonsense...

and after all that i've mentioned above, i guess you'd just think 'gosh, that's a load of excuses... yet again!'.. and i can't blame you because maybe we really are different. you can't understand why i'm like this, and i can't understand why you can't understand me.. i have no idea why i can do things to upset you, or disappoint you without even realising.. i guess i'm just an insensitive person or i just do things that i don't think you'd mind but you do.

and through it all, i miss you...

Monday, June 25, 2007


A strand of hair blew across her face. Tucking it behind her ear, her unblinking gaze at the bluish green mountains out in the open sea travelled to the distant familiar figure that was gradually coming closer. Months of anguish and sleepless nights were finally coming to a close. It was time to stop living in what-ifs and make a decision.

A soft smile grazed her lips as she drank in the crinkly eyes, crooked grin and endearing stare. Months of suppressed emotions bubbled to the surface and she took a deep breath to steady herself. Looking down at the small book in her hands, she took a last flip through it. Photographs, a dried rose, perfumed notes in different colours; bits of memories flashed by. Stopping now and again at a few dog-eared pages, worn with use, she stared blankly at them occasionally looking up toward the sea.

It had been torturous, a meticulous perfectionist like her, to have all her well-made plans blow away by a whirlwind of something she could not control. And yet, it had been a truly exhilarating ride with guilt-trip detours now and again. Trying to hold on tight to someone familiar, someone she knew she could trust, could love her the way she wanted to be loved, all the while her heart was slowly stolen away by someone she never imagined she could fall in love with. And she was never one to embrace change.

It was difficult to do the right thing, and even more difficult to convince herself that it was right. But in the end, she knew it was what she truly wanted. It was always him, even if he was the unknown, somehow deep down she knew something was there. And she was banking on it to get them through.

She stood as he strolled up to her side. She brought her arm to the back, and with all her might flung everything in the sea; the book taking along her regrets, her uncertainties, her hesitations. Taking a deep, calming breath, she turned to him and flung her arms around his neck. Bringing her lips to his ear, she told him she loved him for the first time.