My folks have the perfect timing. It's Christmas today and though I make no attempt to celebrate, it doesn't necessarily mean I wanna be caught in a yelling fest, starring my mom and dad.

It happens whenever someone puts mom and dad in the same room. It happens whether or not there is validity. And they sure do not take anyone's feelings into consideration. And so this may be the very type of family I grow up in.

It started in my early teens, my first few years in high school and now that I've grown to become more or less, a semi-functioning young adult, the arguements only seem to intensify. I don't wanna grow up to be my parents. I need to grow up capable of love and express what I feel without having to yell anyone's head off. I need to be able to remain composed and clear-headed and become more self-aware.

For the larger part of my life, I grew up with an impression etched into my brain that I am not a good daughter. I am always breaking my parents' hearts. And I've done so much of that I can't even begin to look into their eyes and speak to them without feeling like I'm guilty of a heinous crime. I tried to convince them that I am their daughter, that I did not grow up wrong or have made mistakes that I will come to regret. But we just kept pushing each other apart. We can't see eye to eye on anything. She resents the fact that I am the way I am now. And I resent the fact that she's the way she is now. I resent I am a part of her. And my dad. I wish I was never born.

I think he's having an affair and it's the last thing I would wanna think about or feel hurt or really generally react to. I do not care enough to care and I have just detached myself from this particular fucked up family sitcom, sitting at the edge, swinging my feet and watching my very existence crumble. Have I become unfeeling and cold? I am reluctant. And I am ready to run away.

I know I still had it good. At least they weren't violent or abusive but I can't live with them anymore. I wish it would just stop. I wish they would put a little more faith in me, trust me a little, knowing I could brave the storms and still come out of it slightly weathered, more learnt but still sensible and quirky.

I might have the rebellious streak of a werewolf off the lease but I think I'm more of a vampire-type person. I feel like for the longest time, I am walking through life on a path shrouded with mist. I'm always trying to figure out the next step and avoid a certain predicament. I tiptoed percariously at the corner of my life because I am just so scared to be a part of it all. I am thoroughly afraid of losing, of bonding and believing. I just do not see the light of it all. I am pissed. I am just pissed.

I want the world to stop asking for favors. I want my mother to shut the fuck up. And I need to die for a little bit so I could be put aside. I have to lose it all before I gain it back. I can never satisfy my mother, my maker.

The Last Christmas

My 7th Christmas without you, I sat alone eating Samiges Rinder Gulasch mit hausgemachten Spatzle at a popular German pub affectionately known as Paulaner Brauhaus by the drunken masses. I know and I'm not even supposed to take any more beef or drink but then again I was never mama's girl.

The food was pretty good. I went for starved to stuffed. And then like I do each time, eating German food, I think about you. You are so beautiful, sitting right across me with a smile and an intense gaze. Walk me through, I'd love to find out what just went through your pretty head. Was it about me? Or food or beer that you don't drink much of? I miss you the most on the most mundane occasions, when I'm crossing the road or eating alone. I am pining. I shouldn't be anymore. And goosebumps would run down length of my back and sometimes, my heartbeat races with a single thought.

I could paint a picture of you with my eyes closed. Your old European features of an temptress knitting together when you growl your pleasurable approval in bed and yell my name, sticking your fingertips deeper into my skin and scalp...the intensity in which you come for me...and how much I could drink from you...sweetness akin to raw honey sting and coat my tongue and hidden cavities in my mouth with such viscocity I cannot be quenched any other way. You're smiling now, with a loud, childish giggle of a girl. I look at you so I could remember every last movement or word spoken. You scribble playfully on the post-it. You suddenly wish for flowers of various orange hues. I smile, and drew my chair outwards. "Flowers," I thought as my brain churned up several possibilities and I got it.

I came back with a bouquet in my hand. "Flowers of various hues, I present to you, love." I sat gently the bouquet in your eager arms. You laughed at my silliness and the wetness of my shirt and my ponytail that has come undone. "Come sit by my side and I shall reward you with a kiss." You said, affection mirrored in your blue eyes. I tried to lean in more as I taste bubblegum and strawberries on my lips and tongue.

The song I catch at a distance caught and tugged me back into reality. I am now sitting alone with a beer at room temperature and a burning light bulb. My heart writhes with tremendous pain as I stayed curled up in a corner. Admist the crowd and noises, I am invisible and protected fiercely by solitude. That is how I should be. Hmm, I smell sauerkraut, and pork knuckles.

A new proposal was presented to me by a kind friend who, by now I've realized does not appreciate much the art of wallowing in self-pity and loss. She thinks I should pick up drawing, starting with pencil sketches, preferrably realism because that's what I like too. If I could focus, she uses that word a lot, on learning how to draw, I could eventually pick up tattooing which by the way, is another thing that I fascinated by.

There are a million things I'd love to run with, say picking up the guitar, and learning a different language so I'd curse in it and photography and writing. I'd take up these courses right now if I hadn't suck so bad with managing my measely pay check. She will be proud and I could be a useful person, one who can say for sure that she has had enough of dwelling and lamenting that it's high time she lead a different life, and one that doesn't include unrealistic Greek crushes. I shall sleep on it when I wake in the morning.

And Merry Christmas, all.

Do me a favor, drop your work and your chores and your burden and Listen very quietly with your heart

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0peHeJvBq4

and leave me a comment right after. Tell me what you think and what you walk away with.

As white as paper, I am devoid of emotions. I've broken the link with my past, with my past self like I should have many years ago and here I am, sitting at the edge of the world alone, paint in my hand, baffled. Should I stop the bleeding? I have stopped talking.

I am afraid. I am really afraid that I'll begin to love again. And lose it.

There is no one to hold my hand, no all-knowing guide book. No one to stop fear from penetrating. I am empty.

Who am I now, with this supposedly new found life? Where do I go when I needed a laugh or a good cry? What is my favorite color, the color in your eyes? What do I feel in my grasp, in my heart? Where do I sought out the answers? I'm trapped.

How do you spell my name? Or know how I take my coffee, or if I, at all? What about when I'm quiet? Can you read me like an open book or am I just a trail of steps written in the sand to be washed away by the waves? What do I really mean when I don't mean at all?

I don't wanna be walking in circles and I don't wanna be hurting from the same wound. All of that has to stop. I am looking at the new me in the mirror and I don't recognize her. "A crumbling, fucking mess, I'd say."

Time, they say, give time, some time.

I am drained, discolored. I am unable to speak. I am unwilling to go out into the world and mingle with strangers so we could be people who hurt each other. And so I kept to myself, my version of life and pain. And they blame me for it.

Happiness, as elusive as my past, should be right under my nose all this while and yet I am blind. Sing me the words to guide me home to you. I promise I'll listen more carefully this time. I promise I wouldn't get lost again, and no short-cuts. Wait for me at the door.

When I sit at the highest point in my life, in the dark, I see stars. I wish I was like them, so far away yet still so bright. And don't you just love the idea how some of those stars we are looking at now don't even exist anymore? Poof. Obliterated.




So what is your name, love?

Ok, my mom asks today if I were gonna celebrate my birthday. I can't recall the last time she has asked me or try to arrange dinner or party behind my back cause if she did, I would have remembered and tell you now in person the entire non-alcoholic extravaganza in reverse. And in German. It's a sweet thing she asked though. I don't look it but I do. That is actually good enough present for me.

I used to love birthdays. Sure the long-winded, whiny me must have mentioned it a couple of times in my other entries. I was even sure I have titled the entry 'Birth is a Present thing', something of the likes. Anyway.

I had yearned that this year it would be different. I can't tell you different how but I have anticipated my falling back into the habit of pain and the aftermath of running away from home like a dog. I wouldn't have otherwise put up that last entry about generiosity. Well, it's a test for the people who love me though I am quite convinced no one would care to pass.

There are some things in life you can't forget, especially when you try really hard to. There are other things you know you shouldn't want but must have and there is a certain someone I've got on my mind, not yet given up. Most people forget their past relationships, while some desperately erase what they call 'blemishes of their youths, of somewhat awkward younger days' . Well, not me. Nope, the memo must have slipped. I wasn't invited to the party. I could even swear, on some of my worst and absurd days, I could literally feel how weak and seriously pathetic I am and how I fight to disassociate myself with that stranger who wears my face and speaks a phony accent. But on most times, after a decade of honing and shedding or whatever really the process of getting less hurt is, I'm ok. I actually do very well sans nightmares. I can live without the cold, chilling wind breaking through the holes of my heart, and causing this piercing ache that takes my breath and socializing skills away. I am alone and I can be so.

See, the thing is, on my birthday, or really just on any days in general leading to a birthday or anniversary, it gets exceptionally hard. I lose the balance and fall and land on rusty spikes on several odd places. And I have to pick myself up again and pretend nothing's happened and roses are blooming. Right this very microsecond, I wish for Liesl's return. I don't know what else I can do. I wish there was something else I could do. I know I should stop but I can't. I probably won't. That, I'm guessing, is where the problem lies.

I smell and miss her like it was just this morning. I feel the blood spread. And her last words about my shirt. The screeching sound the tyres made and the make-believe funeral involving white satin, candles and a slideshow I wrote for my last project. She told me one time; the day will always end, the night will always take its place and stars will shine somewhere some place, watching and blessing you like I am. The one thing she has taught me is love. The one thing I must learn now, is also love.

I figure when I do make a wish on Sunday, I'll just wish that when the pain goes away one day, I won't freak out too badly and become displaced or feel like I'm in a mental ward. I am really, really scared but I would love to love, if that's all right. There, my birthday wish for 2009.

The Only Exception

When I was younger
I saw my daddy cry
And cursed at the wind
He broke his own heart
And I watched
As he tried to reassemble it

And my momma swore that
She would never let herself forget
And that was the day I promised
Id never sing of love
If it does not exist

But darlin,
You, are, the only exception

Maybe I know, somewhere
Deep in my soul
That love never lasts
And we've got to find other ways
To make it alone
Or keep a straight face

And I've always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable, distance
And up until now
I had sworn to myself that I was content
With loneliness

Cos none of it was ever worth the risk, but
You, are, the only exception

I've got a tight grip on reality
But I can't
Let go of what's in front of me here
I know you're leaving
In the morning, when you wake up
Leave me with some proof it's not a dream
You, are, the only exception

©Paramore, Brand New Eyes ~ Track 6, The Only Exception ~
http://www.haoting.com/musiclist/ht_2a49b23736a7a87e.htm

I know you have to leave by morning
Words you have whispered to me in the dark
But please, leave me with a hint
Of reality, blurry proof that you were not a dream

And so I won't wake up

I grasp air in my hand
I listen in hard on muted conversations,
Things you would never tell me or repeat twice
Cause you won't hear of it
Cause you can't hear it

And so I won't let go and I'll keep pressing

Where do you go when you step out of my door?
Do you just walk in circles until it's time to come home?
I've always wanted to follow you, my little attempts, futile at best to kiss blade to wrists
I am due for a visit
I find myself walking in circles,

I am now lost

Was that laughter I hear, a soft dim amber glow I spot in a distance,
Travelling further away and away as if I deserve none of it
It's unfair, I hear myself say but it always is and will be
How do you think anyone walks again with a void where a brimming heart once resides

It has always been a burning question, just one of those I don't have an answer for

No matter how hard I try
I just keep doing, living like it's a remote possibility

I'm not yet the one in the ground
I'm not the one so decomposed I could be of no help
But sometimes I might as well be

And it hits me

I love you and I'll always do
Yet none of that love seems to matter much anymore
Because we aren't meant to be together and we will never be

Because

It really is a lonelier place without you
I have no business for anyone else and yet they continue knocking on my windows at the most inappropriate hours
I'd like to put across my intentions bluntly in his face
Please go away, and go away now
Please just let this be my imagination running wild
Please have no room for me, no compassion
We're mere strangers. I rather revel in my loneliness than be in your kind embrace.

So go, do as you are told

I am tired now. I do not feel like a word
I must leave my eyes shut so tears won't fall
I wanna shut off the world when I laid my body neatly on the hot asphalt

As I lay leisurely and patiently in familiar waters, I feel sick to my stomach
as dilemma engulfs me like fire
My heart is racing again like an inauspicious omen
Am I doing it right or am I just on the road to more wrongs, more time wasted?

But I just wanna rest

2013

I may have unwittingly invoked some feelings in a man I've met and worked with for the last month.

I don't know what I can do about it but shake my head repeatedly with a courteous enough smile plastered on my face and hoping to God this poor man doesn't fall for me. He's a great guy, one I would have contented myself with if I were a different person altogether. He's pretty old school and gentleman-y. He believes in treating a girl right and he's pretty easy going and reasonably generous. He doesn't remember what it's like to smile, what it meant to have a mom and dad and a family. On that note, my parents like him. He's lost. He doesn't know what he wanna do in life, what his purpose was and path which, hello, rings a bell. And he thinks I'm special and treats me like I was special. He wants to meet me like all seven days of the week. He listens to me talk. Oh all right, babble. He walks me home each time, and carries my bag and stuff and all that which frankly as refreshing as it was, it's freaking me out a little.

I do not like what he invokes in me. It's sort of a fear that adds up to the heavy load I'm already carrying. I do not want to have to say no and see a sense of reject and disappointment wash over a poor man.

I just want a nice, platonic friendship if he wants to continue to keep in contact. And if he can't stay within the line, it's better we don't see each other at all. I can't decide and have no control over how he must feel for me but I really, really hope that I was just letting my imagination run wild and that it's not true, I'm just making it up like a self-centered idiot. Its almost like he has wanted to confess his feelings for me or something tonight. It's suffocating and a little absurd cause hello, is he like blind or judgement-impaired. It made me wanna just take off and run away as fast as I possibly can.

I'm sorry if I can't reciprocate. I don't wanna hurt him. I seemed to do that a lot, to other people and if I did, I didn't mean to.

If it feels this wrong, it wouldn't be right.

I am just terminated from a fast-service cafe called Eighteen Chefs. I have never ever been terminated. I would be the one who goes when I say I go. I've always been proud of myself and my work attitude and etiquette. Never has anybody called me out and throw a letter in my face and send me packing, while they expressed their 'utmost disappointments' in me. And so I walked right out, head high, like nothing could defy me. But I don't think I feel the same now.

With unemployment, my plans are going wonky. My parents are trying to apply for a new flat with my pay slips and I'm not sure how it's possible now. Plus also I was trying to save up for a birthday gift I have put on hold for 6 months now. I would have to kill myself if that plan needs to be put on hold for another I don't know, 6 more months or longer. And I have also instructed the bank to open up another Savings Account so I could actually start saving. They are gonna withdraw from my account some money at the beginning of each month and deposit that into that new account. Its supposed to help me save up for whatever in the future and all that. Well, so much for saving up.

On the other side of the road, I am in desperate need for a breather anyway. I have been working so much it has significantly aggravate my stress-induced insomnia. And because of my suddenly hectic work schedule and responsibilities, I could not even begin, let alone finish my prescription from the psychiatrist to keep myself sane and I have to go back next week. The only silver lining's that I don't have to apply the day off which just makes things a lot easier. I don't have to report to no one or even get an MC.

All in all, it has been a pretty enriching experience. Nice enough colleagues and a guy with the puppy love syndrome who follows me around. I do not miss any part of it though it has sort of in some ways empowered me and make me a stronger person and a leader. I now understand how difficult it is to be in total control and gain respect and the right to lead. For the past month, I felt like I was caught up in a ridiculous whirlwind.

I have never felt like I was in charge of anybody, apart from my own person. I just have to make sure that I perform accurately and consistently. That I am doing what I was supposed to do and I do. At the Eighteen Chefs, I was, for the first time in my working life, put in charge of kitchen operations for an entire outlet. I was almost like the Executive Chef except I am not. I am responsible for the smooth running of my service operation, especially at peak hours, where the students and cubicle rats swarm in at alarmingly speed. The most important thing and really, the only thing I care about was the portioning and quality of my food. The staff under me doesn't seem to give much fuck about that though and I was constantly compelled to yell at them and tell them how to conduct themselves. I am honestly tired of it. Why in the hell am I poking my nose in telling someone else how to lead their life and I might not have the patience to repeat myself over and over again but somehow I believe in them and hopefully, they would learn to see what I saw in them, and why I didn't give up until the last minute. I remembered what they told me just last week, that they would quit if I do. It's really an honor and a great feeling just to hear that. I sure wish they don't actually hold up to the end of that bargain.

Time to hop on back to the job search wagon. Hopefully I'll come back with more pleasant news the next time I write.

The Alcoholic Me Talking.

God I didn't think I could crave drinking at Holland Village the way I had. It's insane. I was insane. It is a familiar feeling that brought me back to this span of moments where I have been before and left quite reluctantly for various reasons for a long time, a person I thought was my true self rather than a reflection. And I could still never be drunk, however I decided to drink.

The desire to return to that place was burning like wild fire in my heart. I work at Buona Vista now which makes walking to Holland Village a breeze and a very, very tempting thing to do. Everything has changed though. I am now alone, sitting among strangers and their partners, the waiters have changed faces and they have introduced a different house brand which was actually quite good. For a long time, I didn't feel pain. I feel home...despite the surge of memory it has triggered.

I don't know what I'll do in the coming days. I am all for succumbing easily and slipping back into my old habit of spending endless evenings just drinking my guts away yet a part of me knows I should muster courage from somewhere inside myself to fight the urge which I have done pretty well.

I wish for company. Someone who knows me, someone who wants to know me for who I am and not who they think I am. Someone I could love, and be honest with. Someone who makes my heart beat. Someone I could talk about anything and everything without having to spin a different story, a lie. Someone I know I'd be safe with, even if I do get drunk or begin to babble like an idiot, which by the way, has yet happened.

I am alone because I am more sober drunk than when I am not.

I am addicted to my past. Something I would never experience again. I am stupid but hey, at least I got to keep my honesty intact.

Why do I continue to write? Who am I writing this for? What do I wanna get out of it? Love, a greeting from someone who cares?

No one cares. I've learnt a long time ago.

Dear Anne,

Now keep quiet. I've gotten keep in line.

I am remembering something. Something that completely thrills and throws me off my chair if my ass wasn't already on the floor. It’s exhilarating, like a first kiss. Something familiar is invoked in me. It has been quite a while and you may believe I am delusional and severely detached from reality when all along I was part of humanity and the whole spectrum of emotions. I have goosebumps coming down my spine and it wasn’t a ghost. I am excited and my heart pumps for the right reasons. I am reconnecting again, through visionary art and pain and sort of a connection between this and that. I am reclaiming my love for pain but the good kind. I am ecstatic, my adrenaline pumping, coursing through my veins I was smiling and for real. I don’t remember the last time I did. It made me lighter. It made me a different being. The being that was lost to all the wrong reasons in life. It’s only for an hour though. It will fade until the next hour comes again and I’ll feel like home. And I’ll have wings and the wind in my hair. It’s real odd how I didn’t feel like this when I was going through it. I ought to be profusely apologetic. That next time will come on the day the world sees me so till then.

It was an extraordinarily amazing feeling that was lost on me. I was feeling something else, the not-so-good pain. The pain took me away from me and turned me into less of an individual who care for and love herself. My heart was pining for another, who would never care about me if I was left with my last drop of good blood. And today I made the decision to erase her from my life, starting with the impressions of her. I will go on to erase her face from my brain like it’s the easiest thing to do. How can she hurt me more than my slit wrist? But she did and it was only because she smiled. Anyway, back to reclaiming myself and reconnecting, I am very anticipative and though no one would be standing on my side, I know I can deal and I will enjoy every bit of the process of marking myself for the better. It made me forget, the useless vessel I was. It made me vulnerable to the simplest things in life. It made me human.

Letters, Strings and All IX

I woke, slightly grouchy and barely awake. I was walking with my eyes closed and I stretched and took a deep breath. I heard a really loud, manly yelp coming from the kitchen and for a minute there, I was torn between running in with a baseball bat that magically appears in my firm grip or I could be all stealthy and old Russian espionage. (I must have been watching too much TV) I decided on neither. I moved quietly like a mouse and what filled my half-lidded sight was the silhouette of a tall man, early 20s who has never dated, or has ever made decent breakfast for a girl besides maybe his own mother holding on to his finger under running water at the sink. He has cut himself. I hurried over but stopped myself in time. He’s after all a grown man and I was waiting to see what he was up to. He shrugged dismissingly the bleeding wound, reaching for a plaster and wrapping it tightly around his injured digit and continued with whatever he was busy with. He has his glasses perched at the tip of his nose, which I love and found terribly charming and old English. I think he was humming a song, tiptoeing on the balls of his heels left and right and left again. I couldn’t hear clearly but you probably have heard the song before. He was in a very old white tee shirt, worn out and stained in various places at the sleeves and the middle in shades of pink and gym shorts. That was your fault when you forgot to separate colors from whites the other time.

I was lost, watching him. He was exceptionally and surprisingly graceful, for a man of his size and background and well, lack of culinary finesse or so I thought. I may have made a noise because he turned around and looked at me with a wide, childish grin spread on his marble-chiseled features. It was like sunshine. I smiled and greeted him Good morning. He fetched immediately from the refrigerator a glass of freshly squeezed orange tomato juice and sat me down, his muscular hands gently pushing down on my shoulders. I eyed him curiously, wondering what he would whip up. I knew he grocery-shopped last night because I had bumped into him in the elevator and offered help. He continued to hum, something out of a rock concert maybe because his fists were holding invisible drum sticks and beating them as if on a flat surface furiously in mid air. I watched, bemused and entertained. He reached for a plate from above his head and deftly transferred the omelet from the pan onto the chinaware. He motioned in my face a bottle of ketchup and pointed to the salt and pepper kit he had laid very nicely on the table, along with silver cutleries and napkin. I felt almost like a queen. I asked that he joined me. He simply refused. I looked at him, lifting my right brow questioningly. He crossed his heart and guaranteed the omelet and juice were perfectly fit for human consumption. And I believed his words, picked up my fork and dug in. “Wow, this is good! This is really good!” I remembered thinking to myself.

The inside of the omelet was so moist it melted like ice cream and I could taste subtly tomato cubes, then more distinctively button mushrooms and crunchy diced cucumber. And then I made a delightful discovery – roasted almond flakes stuck in the recesses of the egg mixture, providing a much desired contrast in texture and crunch. He must have put the flakes in just as the omelet was to be served. I finished my plate hungrily, determined to finish every last morsel. I was grinning from ear to ear. That happiness was short-lived though, replaced rapidly by sort of a mourning feeling. I wish to God you were sitting right beside me and eating the same food. But you weren’t. You weren’t watching me eat with a smile and feeding me between mouthfuls like you do on most mornings. He smiled and watched as I finished the plate. I looked at him and mouthed ‘thank you’ and gave him a tight hug. Hmm…it’s quite odd he smelt like lavender too. I bet you didn’t know that, right? Odd but nevertheless refreshing, 7 am in the morning. He pointed at his watch that he will come back just in time to send me to work. It’s his first day off in 2 weeks and he would take the train with me. You could tell he was in a fantastic mood. I nodded and kissed him goodbye on both his cheeks before he left the house for the park. It took him by surprise because I have never shown him affection like that before. Heck, it surprised me too. I have never touched a man this intimately before and didn’t think I would ever. I wanted to thank him for a putting a smile on my face, if only for a minute. God knows the last time I smiled. Anyway, he left and I turned my back and let out a sigh. The dull ache in my heart has returned and taken over me.

I miss you, the first and last thought in my head. Did you have breakfast? I think not. You have the worst appetite in the morning and I had to coax you to eating like a willful baby. The method was simple - a kiss in exchange for a mouthful of food or you will never eat. I studied intently the post-in note at the sink, hoping you would suddenly manifest before my eyes and grab me into a hug. It was one of the last onees you left before you left. It read aloud "Good morning, baby. I’m sorry you had to wake up alone today. Gonna tie up the loose ends for that Art project. I love you and please have a good day. I will see you at dinner. I’ll miss you.” Warm tears formed and brimmed from my eyes as I desperately try to recall the sound of your voice, a task that remained to be a timely challenge. I traced the cursive handwriting with my fingertip, imagining it to be your skin or the shape of your lips. I was fairly disappointed and laughed bitterly at my own silliness and rolled my eyes. If I didn't...if only we didn't...

I grabbed your jacket from the wardrobe. The lingering scent of you on the cotton fabric assaulted my nostrils like drinking soda too quickly. I pulled the jacket tighter to myself as if I could meld together me and it. Just then a head popped into my room. It was Lex, back from his jog. The scent of lavender long gone, his sweat mingled with the morning air. I told him I’d be ready as soon as he was. 10 minutes later, we were on the bus towards the train station.

I laid my head against his shoulders and he was looking out the window in the opposite direction. Despite a year living together, we sat in mutual silence. Perhaps because I was deaf, or just so we’re both so painfully shy and introverted. My voice pierced through and broke the silence when I asked if he has spoken to you. He shook his head and wondered what the hell has happened between us. I had to come clean, how you violated my trust, our first argument and the night we broke up at the park. He listened and concluded that things take time and trust needs to be built again on both sides. He believed we were meant to be together and nothing should and will ever break us apart. I nodded gratefully and knowingly, for his company and advice. I watched the scenery go past before my eyes, like the good times we have had and the bad. It was written in his brown eyes that he too, misses you a great deal. Though neither one of us would care to admit, it has been rather awkward without you. You were always the bridge that brought us together. You are essentially the only one who understood me. We walked side by side along the pavement as he filled me in about a possible overseas work transfer. I concurred it would be a great exposure and learning experience and something valuable to keep under his belt. “Yeah, you think?” “Of course, dork!” I punched him playfully on his left arm and we continued walking. I asked about his plans for the day and if he would like lunch with me so he could hover around the customer service counter. There’s a really cute part-timer named April. I think she speaks funny though, her immaculately selected choice of words. I suppose some guys find that endearing. Lex blushed a shade of red, the way he does whenever the word ‘girlfriend’ comes into the picture. I punched him again, lightly. “You guys are worried, aren’t you?” “All the time.” We laughed. “This is me,” I said, stopping just outside the films and music counter. “And that way’s Customer Service, sir.” I pointed with good intentions, a mischievous glint in my eyes, waiting for that tomato shade of red to resurface and I wasn’t disappointed at all. Lex embraced me in a tight hug and left me at my counter. “I’ll see you at lunch, girl.” The sound of his voice ever so distant in my ears. Sometimes I wonder if I had imagined hearing these voices and what if they were never real. He disappeared into the corner that leads to Customer Service.

Every day I wake up, wishing the day would unfold and end with you and each day I have been let down. You’ve simply become too far away, since the day I pushed you away. I concentrate on work, reading critiques and reviews of the latest albums or films. I make the best recommendations for my customers and would do nothing short of walking them to the cashier. I have forged trusted relationships with some nice people who looked past the irony that I was deaf. Life, on the surface was fine though I know it mocks my futile attempts to get you off my mind. Sometimes, I pleaded for time to stop, or if imaginable, for time to bring me back to when I would still wake up with you by myself, to when the first thing I taste is your tongue. It has never answered my call though. All these years, silence was the one thing that never left me. It’s the one thing that sometimes even you can’t intrude. It provided me absolute privacy. It has grown on me, almost like a skin that fits too closely. It made me think and focus on what I, we can do, separately and together. It gave me courage to be here, to carry on with life and it made me somehow trust in you. Still, I wish I were a more together, self-aware person who has given you the affection and attention you needed. Then maybe we wouldn’t have to be broken up now. I yearn for the day we reconnect.

Lex was already waiting for me at the cashier before the clock strike noon. It had suddenly rained and I was grateful I had your jacket on me. Poor substitute though. We walked towards Tanglin Mall and decided on Starbucks. Whenever I walk in now, I would picture you sitting in that little corner and dozing off, a half-read book in your hand. That image remained freshly etched in my head. It was how I found you the first night. You were adorable and I think I had wanted to kiss you then. Lex got us both lattes as I found a seat by the window. I watched as people go by, my hands cupping the warm beverage, capturing whatever warmth it emitted. Just then I saw a piece of card sticking out of Lex’s pocket and I looked at him suspiciously. I reached for it and it was a phone number. I looked up at Lex who by now has turned a shade of red and grinned at him. “Nice work!” I said and I meant it. He laughed, his hand rubbing the back of his head. “Just so you know, I didn't ask for it. She was adamant about stuffing it in my pocket. She does have an interesting choice of words, doesn’t she? Kinda reminded me of the answering machine. Ever so chirpy and mechanic.” I had to agree. He boldly placed his hand on mine and held it tight, as if to channel positive energy. I looked at him then his hand and smiled. "Well, it's that look on your face..." He said. And indeed I wonder about you, what you were doing right this minute. I wonder about your day and night everyday. “You’re really sweet.” Lex blushed involuntarily again and withdrew his hand. “Hey, positive energy!” He replaced his hand.

I bit half-heartedly into my blueberry muffin. It has been your favorite. You, the arch-nemesis of all baked goods, especially breads. You’re more Germanic than I am. “You’re thinking about her now, aren’t you?” I barely smiled. “And how would you know?” “Well, let’s just say I am a keen observant.” I stick out my tongue, unimpressed. “Plus, it’s your eyes. The way they seemed to take you far away from here.” I watched Lex as he said those words. “Oh, so Mr. Observant, when are you gonna give April a call?” We were leaving when Lex held on to my shoulder, freezing me in my tracks. I turned around, a post-in note in my face. The words were cluttered and tiny, scribbled by a familiar hand and distracted mind. I clutched tightly the tiny piece of paper, stuffing it quickly into my pocket. We parted ways outside Starbucks and after I was alone, I reached for the note in my pocket. It was crumbled and stained. “You were right about leaving. And I realized it now.” It might sound strange and because it really is, for in my head there was you, sitting exactly where I just sat, only in Lex's place, a pen in your hand and the note. You had a smile on your face as if you have just been washed with enlightenment. It was as if you have understood something that was very simply yet complex. "What is it that you have realized, my love?" I said softly to myself.

It was cold in the shower tonight. I forgot the heater, again and you weren't waiting out there for me. I have taken for granted the habit you made of waiting for me by the bathroom door so you could pull me into a tight hug as soon as I got out, rubbing your hands up and down my arms as if you were frightened I would catch a cold. I could feel your warm breath whispering into my ears. Have I told you how that easily turn me on? I wanna be pulled into that hug now. My eyes turned to your jacket that was lying on your side of the bed. It was just very quiet. A little like you when we are just snuggling in bed. You would hum into my ears an imaginary song, something to wash me into sleep. And I'll wake the next morning, with your arm resting possessively across my chest, our legs entwined under the blanket. And then a strong scent of lavender would wash over me. I always wake before you do, so I could watch you. It wasn't before long when you would wake and kiss me good morning. I suppose I have taken that for granted as well. Forgive me, love.

liebe Ich Sie immer und mein Herz gehört nur Ihnen und sonst niemandem

Liebe,
Liesl

10 April 2002

彻夜不眠的我决意大胆挑战过去
独自坐在阳台角落凝视着离自己好远的月亮、星星
感觉就像已遗失很久的过往
再怎么努力伸手都捉不到

你说当爱相随，能完美一切不完美
少了你的爱我被困在残酷而不完美的世界
持续在陌生人群中迷惘 流泪 流浪着

天天等着自己提起勇气挥别过去
只能妄想将冰冷回忆灌醉
啤酒拼命往肚子里灌
酒精却效用不大 只留我不断在悲痛里兜圈子
反复割划着旧伤口

脑海里浮现的简单感伤
像旧朋友般如何赶都不走
不能和你一起的日子总觉得少了什么
心里那份坚强却多了寂寞的陪伴
过去的快乐也随之而蒸发
我的世界少了颜色、新的启发

深夜了 我依然醒着
手中拿着你的照片 拿着念了第四遍的信
信封都不知道跑到哪去了
醒着醒着 天也亮了
我看见了新的曙光 提醒着我是时候收拾心情 振作起来
望着在路上频繁驰过的车辆
我听到了一声巨响 玻璃被强力击碎的声音
我的心跳瞬间停止 呼吸变得仓促
心碎了
眼前变黑了

醒过来发现自己躺在你的卧房里
是耳边隐约传来的吵闹声吵醒了我
我认得这声音
是我俩第一次吵架
是我一次有一次让你心碎，导致你决意离我而去的声音

望着四周环境依旧清晰
我们就好像从没离开过那样
黑白相框中的我们对着我傻傻微笑着
似乎想提醒我些什么
我下了床让站稳在地板上的脚踝告诉我这不是梦

我慢慢走向房门却发现自己被反锁在房里
不管我如何挣扎都无法把门打开
就像自己的心一样，被自己牢牢地锁著

你离开后我记得我有点伤心
而伤心会让人不想爱自己
也就只好暂时把你停搁在心中某处里, 暂时不爱你
拉开距离 发现爱你的曾经离自己好远好远
这爱你的火把也已被现实的时间熄灭

房间弥漫着你的气息
离开也是新的出发
耐心等待 等着有一天忽然想起你
你离开的原因再也不想提起
再翻出旧日记从新写起

门外吵闹声似乎已渐渐喊停
这时才领悟到声音其实源自自己脑里
其实一点都不真实
只是上帝和自己开的一个玩笑

才刚看完一场电影，还没透彻地淋完一场雨
就强烈意识到生命里缺少了什么
是幸福和一点勇气
除了把伞之外，心里明白到必须绕过你曾给过我幸福的街道
才能得到自由

认识你之前，我是个轻易释怀，一个因为淋了一场大雨而觉得被解放的懵懂小孩
失去你之后我成了个懂得隐藏伤痛的大人
一个酷爱伤害而不自爱的大人
我变得不懂得如何真心对待生命、自己
后来的我，每天看着脆弱坚强天天互相作战
搞得彼此遍体鳞伤
也搞得自己狼狈不堪
日子天昏地暗
我想你一定觉得我很可笑

我的耐心逐渐被时间拉长了
了解着生命的路上即使一个人也能开心走完
在路上结识到的人与事是上帝贴心点缀
收藏在我心里你的笑容曾是我心情温度计
心跳也只因为你
过去过度依赖你的我现在心胸宽大
等着吸收世界精华
等着有一天好起来
等着有一天找回那懵懂小孩，将她紧紧搂在怀抱里

就这样吧
故事结束了
你写的信也念完了。

Letters, Strings and All VIII

Dear Love,

We had agreed to go by the bookstore today, to pick up yet a new set of books, a new set of babies home. It’s what we do, every day off, every ounce of free time we may have at our disposal. Reading has been a lifelong cultivation and passion. Before you, I had Ma. And a long time after Ma, I only had myself to be and now, the Goddess has blessed me with you by my side.

I might not always listen to you it, but every time you did, just before we sleep, you bring me to this magical world where whether I am deaf or otherwise matters without significance. I love the way your voice danced over each syllabi, the way your tongue would lick your lips absently when you’re all engrossed creating a world with every word spoken, with every quirky expression swept across your face and the way your eyes looked into mine. I love how you sometimes took it slow and then quickly again, just for the fun of it and how I had to fight down the surging urge to end your every punctuation with a kiss. Of course, I had a hard time going back to the collection for now each and every alphabet that has been delicately tasted by your mouth and rolled off your tongue is a constant reminder that you’re not here. None of what I’ve picked up were any interesting, except for this manuscript I found carelessly tucked away at the end of the corner of my bedside drawer.

I recognize the handwriting like it was mine. My eyes followed the scrawled lines like a predator fixated on its prey. There were only about two pages or so and what they brought to me was the vorspeisen, something that played on my tongue and teased my mind like a willful fairy. You wrote of an extraordinary kingdom with handsome, heroic princes, and gorgeous princesses of diverse colors and what abilities they possessed! The drama that interweaved the lives of the characters unfolds right before my eyes. I love especially the one who wields the power of Mother Nature at his fingertips and with just a movement of his eyeballs, and the other one who reads minds like an open book and had answers for the world yet always ever so willing to learn. What took my breath away instantly was the way the princesses had made passionate and erotic love all through the night, their lives. Oh god, I could almost feel your soft, warm lips on mine and your teeth biting down on my nipples and the way my body climaxes when it peaked. Promise me you would never stop writing.

Where will you be today? Should I avoid the bookstore so I could ignore every desire to run up to you, and kiss you when I see your soft shadow creeping slowly into our favorite café? Or do I go up to you and say hi and ask about your day and tell you mine, wearing the façade that all is well? All this thinking and avoiding and fake smiling is tearing me apart. I didn’t realize in time how this decision to leave will wreck up my life and yours. Isn’t it supposed to progress towards light, towards a scenario where the Goddess returns you to me, more enlightened and fulfilled and even more inseparable this time? Why am I in such misery? How could I not be strong enough? Is this what they said about how it’s the darkest before dawn? How it’s the most painful when the knife plunged into your chest needs to be removed so you could begin to heal? On most days, the knife protrudes from my heart awkwardly and I carry on with life pretending it was just ornament when it’s anything but. Every day I wish things were different, that you didn’t do what you did, that you didn’t betray my love and trust in you, that we didn’t break up. Nothing in this world changes the truth though, just like the fact that I’ll always love you.

liebe Ich Sie immer und mein Herz gehört nur Ihnen und sonst niemandem

Liebe,
Liesl
3 April 2002

Just Wait.

Tonight and for the rest of the days, I just wanna be in my favorite clothes and pair of shoes and my IPOD and start walking. To start walking to nowhere and somewhere. It's the journey that counts, right or so they say. Hopefully, on a good day, I'll find myself back to you, where I'd pick up and may I rest only in your arms and basked in the glory of our love. Time will stand still in the face of our contentment and the blisters on my foot, my weathered expression will come to heal and a smile will take its place..Just wait.

Rain Check

A lot has gone on lately. Relevations, appreciations for things and/ people that have always exist around and near me and my heart and the direction my career would go and also, yes, before I forget (like I could ever), my new tattoo.

I love to be alive now, although it is largely filled with work and more work and I think, work. But all this hard work only proves that I am meant for something much larger than exhaustion. For those who don't know and would like to know, I am currently working with Resort World Sentosa, and for 3 months next 8th. I am under Universal Studios Singapore, Food & Beverage Department. I am going to be attached to one of the many outlets that are due to open (fingers crossed) some time next year. And for as long as I have lived, cooking was never part of my life. Both parents work their guts out so most of my life, I've ate only takeouts. I am constantly brown-bagging and frustrated about where to go and eat what everyday (and still am) and on top of that, I am always eating alone and so naturally, and gradually, I developed a habit of not eating or rather not finishing my food. But there are issues on top of being a brown-bagger my entire life that I will talk about, maybe in the later parts of this entry. I got a good feeling about this.

Anyway, I can't do anything else or think about anything else but the food that I am eating if I ever wanna finish it. I can't pause because when I do, I stop wanting to eat and it's a regular pattern and just recently, a friend pointed out that I never finish my meal and I'm like, hmm, and did a very philosophical-y looking nod, something knowingly. I am therefore very determined to quit that habit of not finishing and hello, look at the world, people are starving and I hope it work. It will.

So back to my career choice, (sorry if I derail a little) if you had read an entry I wrote some time back, there is this desperate plea for a position in the print media industry or journalism. I realized I really wanted to a film screenwriter. To put what I have in mind up on stage so everyone gets a share of what out of nothing, I have created something. But it was not to be. With more than just twists and fate and luck thrown in, I was enrolled under the tuition of the Culinary Institute of America (one of the prestigious schools of culinary arts in the States) at Temasek Polytechnic and I just graduated from a 3 year course end of February. And there was this sort of recruitment drive thing going on with RWS and TP so that's really how I got in. Anyone could tell you how tough it could be to waking up at 6am every morning, and going to work an hour away and doing things you don't necessarily enjoy or found meaning in and then on top of that, colleagues who were your coursemates who have different ideas to working as a responsible, open-hearted and minded adult. My probation was ending and so I have to make a choice between staying in Culinary or quit altogether and live on air and without money and false hopes that my resume would be pick up one day by a employer who is willing to trust and train me. And out of practicality and conventional reasons that I suck so bad at saving money, I chose Culinary. I chose to stay with my Executive Chef, at least for the next one year or so. I have expressed to him my lack of passion in Culinary although I don't hate it. And I wish for him to ignite the missing spark so we'll see how it goes. Right now, I'm just doing my job, whatever it is. Oh, there is a 2-day recruitment drive this coming weekend where the employment center place is, within walking distance from Redhill MRT. There are a lot of openings so do check it out!

Ok, so now let's talk about the appreciation for things and/ people around me. For the past decade, I've been fighting with myself and it would have ended in imminent bloodshed if weren't for the relevations I am going to seuge into right now. I'm too nice and too dumb for my own good and that's what it is. And also I don't love myself. I can't imagine loving another human being more than I should myself but I do. And of course, needless to say, I ended up pretty battered and scarred, all the time. And I'll usually just sit myself down and beat myself over the head with an imaginary sledge hammer so I wouldn't repeat the mistake again but I do it over and over again, just on a different person. It's stupid I know but I thought I couldn't leave it. But I am now :)

There are a few people I would like to say thanks, cause you were an integral part of the process of discovering who I am. And I thank you for the hurt you may have caused, consciously or not because the scars you have put on my heart, I've learnt to survive. And I will always survive. It's just time and new perspectives is all. And thanks for the memories, even when they come in back-breaking heavy baggages. And I have to thank a few others whom I've every honor and pleasure of knowing and keeping. I certainly hope you guys know who you are because without you guys, I would have just disintegrate literally into ashes and yes, pun intended :P I don't know if I am doing enough but I guess by taking good care of myself is a good first step. I am sure to spread that love cause that's what I do too. When I know how to love and care for myself, I wish to embark on a journey of helping others, like volunteer work cause I believe that is the most true and quickest way of feeling happiness with shared happiness. I've always wanted to make a person's day, to put a smile on his/her face so I could tick off the invisible boxes on my invisible self-listed quota :)

And tattoos. Wow, it's a word the invoked a lot of pain, a lot of money, a lot of time spent in pain, and conflicts with a lot of people, including my dear family. My mom wanted to disown me the last time I got tattooed and that tattoo, I would admit openly was a stupid mistake. People, please, please, I beg of you, do mull over the decision of getting tattooed if you are, even if you take a while. It's well worth it. Anyway, I got a key then, wrapped around my wrist, which is wrong, if you're getting a key cause usually with tattoos, you have to place it where you can see it in its entirety. So I contemplated a cover-up but I didn't come up with nothing concrete or substantial. I was with a friend at a tattoo parlor, on a Thursday evening and ended up getting a cover-up of 2 portraits of women. The tattoo started 8.30pm Thursday and didn't end until 4.30am Friday morning and I had to go to work straight. I never knew how much physical pain I could endure without food and water or any other kind of support but I made it through and these photos are taken immediately after the tattoo is done and here goes:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/aschleigetara/

救生圈

我不在乎 我就是爱哭
控制不了泪落下的速度

不在乎 太容易认输
说我傻我天真是个错误
需要再失去多少次的幸福
我才能觉悟

在每一个失望都藏着个希望
但我总是困在一艘没有救生圈的船
有些人只该欣赏 而不该去爱上
但我依然打开我的心再次受了伤

我哭够了
从这一刻我也该反省了

© 蔡健雅, 若你碰到他~ Track 7, 救生圈~
http://www.haoting.com/musiclist/ht_5004bccc764183b4.htm

Like the strangers who have passed you by, do you wish you know a little bit more about them apart from the distinctive color of their eye, the tales they could have told you if you had stopped for a while?

Like the sky you've been under forever, do you remember the last time it rain and you heard thunder rumbling over your head? The odd shapes the clouds took and the shades of blue

Like the last joke or compliment you have heard, do you still hear the lingering laughter and sincerity in your ears?

Like the last meal you’ve had, do you remember to stop for a minute just to savor, like it’d be the last meal you would ever have?

Do you remember your first kiss? The first beat your heart made for anyone else but yourself?

Like the hand you have just let go of, how long would you remember its warmth? And how tightly would you hold on to it the next time you hold it?

Like the person you have just bade goodnight, did you remember to place a soft kiss on his/her forehead and tell him/her with all your heart you love them?

Do you remember the last word you said last night, to the person you love or were pissed at?

Like the lights you have just so carelessly left on, do you see the earth withering away?

I have been telling myself that I should let whatever that has happened happen, that I will not try to fix anything or make anything work or convince anyone to talk to me again. And so it is done.

I am leaving their lives now, which I am quite sure pleases them immensely. Who was I in their lives I used to wanna know, I used to wanna measure with a pinch of salt but is now something I do not mind. I love them both and I'll always will, until I can't love, until I die, though they will never know.

I have to now learn to love myself, because no one would be able to like I do. To give myself as much attention and affection, to boldly do things I would never otherwise have done. It's not an easy task. I've spent my life pouring my heart out for someone else and I have always ended up feeling short-changed because no one would be able to match up to what I've given without question. The only one who did that is now dead and as much as I still love her, she can't love me anymore. She can't care for me and give me what I need. So I have to be the one who gives myself it, whatever it actually is.

I have to also quit being so emotional and sensitive, about someone else. I have to capture the moment of rationality and keep it. Some people are just not worth it. This is change, on a molecular basis. It's not just like a sun burnt. It's more like a change in the way I sense and react to everything and everyone. It is about what and who I would eventually attract into my life and in good faith. So I guess, we'll see if I'll do better.

Hell Knows No Fury Like A Gay Man Scorned. Indeed

It was a good enough day. After what seemed to be a crazy Friday. I missed work on Friday. A reason as mundane as that, a convenient excuse to escape work, even for a day and on such shaky excuses but you know, I got my Friday off so that made me happy. I am no stranger to the A&E and how rough I would be treated with an IV drip that wouldn't quite work. Pain is relative. Pain, unfortunately in this case, has failed to do its job at overwhelming. I, unfortunately, wouldn't just die.

I was an audience, the only one with the imagination. I sat down late this early afternoon for a film I was scheduled to watch last evening, alone. I have always been gently inspired and intrigued by movies and I wish that each time I bought a ticket, and sat down among the other people who I barely knew or remember a face, it was for a worthy experience that would come to stay with me for a while longer after the credits roll. It didn't quite, this time but it was just as worthy.

The film was called A Frozen Flower.

The Korean film released last December in Korea, and 23rd this month in Singapore tells of a gay King, whose empire lies on a thin thread without a heir to his kingdom, whose love and trust in his commander-in-security and bisexual lover, Hong Lin, ended up in deaths of both men but eventually an heir. The King, out of time and pure desperation, ordered Hong Lim, the only man he trusted besides himself, to impregnate his Queen. Hong Lim was reluctant of course, for he loved and served only the King. Or so I thought. He continued his affair behind the King's back, guilty and teary-eyed at first but eventually his feelings for the Queen went beyond the line of duty, beyond lust. He was discovering love outside of what he has shared with the King for that past decade. He gradually fell in love with the Queen and of course it infuriated the King beyond measures. However he had no intention of executing Hong Lim for the he still believed in their love which unfortunately, at the end, we realized was not mutual.

I don't wanna give it away too much because it'd be good for you guys to watch and interpret it in your own way. Just a kind reminder, the movie is rated R21 and for good reasons. However, there is this guy on Youtube who has already uploaded the film in segments so. It's your call.

I did not feel like talking today. And it was perfect for I only had to imagine quietly, feeling each and every emotion as they played on screen. I knew the ending before I knew it. It could not end well at all. It was a doomed destiny, which I'm sure translated clearly to everyone who watched it.

The cast were a gorgeous bunch, though I wouldn't think I would recognize either of them outside of the movie. The palace, the costumes, the fights and more importantly the sex were great! Soundtrack-wise, the actor who starred as the King lent his voice and you can catch a glimpse of it on the official website under multimedia which is the 3rd one of the selection at the bottom and click on the 4th one at the top for the clip. I'm not sure if it was dubbed but it's cool. My favorite character was the King. I like he trusted and continue to trust until the very end. Because I would have too.

I leave with you the official website of the movie and I apologize that it's in Korean but watch the trailer anyway. It's not too bad. Also, there is this other website that played the trailer with Chinese subtitles. Do explore the official website.

http://www.festivefilms.co/ (chinese subtitles)

http://www.ssanghwa.co.kr/ (official korean website)

Movies are meant to be felt with your heart, and not necessarily understood all the time.

阳光普照也好 狂风暴雨也不怕
爱过也好 失去了就算
曾经拥有过也只是曾经 从来没有过也只是等不到奇迹
而奇迹始终是人为
但人也有懦弱自私缺乏自信心的时候

有心跳的未必就是精力充沛有生命的
死掉了的东西也能因时常被想起讨论着而有了绵延不断的生命
现在身旁穿梭着的人事物提醒了你什么记得了就将它遗忘

主宰着现在的自己是哪个遗憾、缺口
想完成些什么事情
心里虽没答案但也无须太过顾虑 就让一切顺其自然

隐藏已久的伤口愈合了的也差不多了
是时候重新出发 去遇见下一个会被自己感动的人
学会如何对自己、他人诚实善良
残留在心中的温暖、勇气一定会是指引你走往幸福的方向
让你这辈子都能保持着微笑

不能和你一起

结束还是原谅 爱永远搁在远方
眼神不会说话 只有泪光
你给过希望 怎么能忘

是你填满温暖 让梦想有了翅膀
教我如何控制 风的方向
让我每一天能飞到更远的地方

不能和你一起 拥有喜悅和悲伤
不管走多远 步伐都没有力量
不能和你一起 走往这世界 幸福方向
孤单的身旁少了坚强 只有简单感伤

© 孙燕姿，The Moment Disc 1~ Track 4, 不能和你一起~
http://www.haoting.com/musiclist/ht_4e78de79f5114dc4.htm

凝视着透着微光的绿色酒瓶
持续降温着的啤酒似乎就相等于自己在这世上所剩下的时间
若不赶快将那剩余苦涩的啤酒喝完
就将会被报销，被浪费掉
就像生命一样，需要用心珍惜

我看着从我身边走过的人群
试着从这些陌生的面孔中找到自己活着的意义
想知道为何我还坐在这里
望着这些模糊面孔的我虽然依然找不到答案
但最起码我还在这里

心想，倘若今天你深爱着的我突然退出了这场生命， 与死神之间的残酷切磋终究瞬间喊停，只剩下短暂记忆的我在你心中是否依旧清晰美丽？
这分钟的我只想知道我在你心中的位子
在我离开的时候是否会听到你的轻声哭泣

我想我会说声对不起，
我提早走了， 牵着你的手不让你寂寞的人不再是我
离开你必非我逃避的借口
也明白着毅然离你而去的冲动会变成了你心碎的理由
但既然我们都没有反对或抵抗的权利， 我也豁然地接受了这结局

手心里从前握着的默契已转化成的勇气会代我指引着你， 往幸福的方向继续前进
这是我唯一能给你的最后惊喜

而这勇气藏着的也是我未来的命运

或许经过时间的冲淡， 经历了新的人事物， 你会在不知觉中把我忘记。
我不会怪你
因为我明白这世界不会为了任何人做出改变
更不会因为你的心碎而对你好一些
我只希望下一个她会是个比我更爱你的人， 让你不必孤单一人在人群中流浪着

你和我不一样
不会因失去了我而选择逃避
更不会因失去了我而在痛苦中寻求寄托，伤害自己
你会随身带着微笑， 以爱情的名义继续让世人感动

如果我像你如此潇洒就好了
付了帐
是时候走了。
　
　
　

Memento mori - Mea Maxima Culpa

Vita brevis breviter in brevi finietur,
Mors venit velociter quae neminem veretur,
Omnia mors perimit et nulli miseretur.
Ad mortem festinamus peccare desistamus.

Life is short, and shortly it will end;
Death comes quickly and respects no one,
Death destroys everything and takes pity on no one.
To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.

Ni conversus fueris et sicut puer factus
Et vitam mutaveris in meliores actus,
Intrare non poteris regnum Dei beatus.
Ad mortem festinamus peccare desistamus.

If you do not turn back and become like a child,
And change your life for the better,
You will not be able to enter, blessed, the Kingdom of God.
To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.

From A Certain Death, I shall keep you

I always thought that when I found you, I've found the perfect place to start, straight from your heart, to live life as it can be lived, to be together for as long time would allow. To always be happy and contented and to remember to give instead of just receiving. My ears would often pick up a symphony of truth and secrets whenever I hear your voice. Like a candle lit up in a cold dark room, every fibre of my being is set aflame as if an entire rainforest has come alive, trigging the exclusive revolution of life and metamorphosis. I would hold your hand for the longest time so I could savor every touch and remember how warm you felt. I would undress you with my eyes as soon as you come in sight. And that much, I am not ashamed to say.

If only you could hear me it.

Now that we're lying on the ground, the darkened stormy skies over our heads and time running short, I wonder if I would ever do this again, if I could ever see you and feel you next to me. Clasped firmly together our hands, I am keeping you away from death. I do not want you to leave. I do not want to have to try to live. After you're gone, I would be too. At least that was what I told myself. But when you did left me, you left me also with a gift. Something I sure you were convinced of will sustain and pull me through. Words you have whispered in my ears before time slipped out. A bundle of letters written with your heart when we were broken up, and the memories of times we've had, the invaluable lessons you have imparted and your smile...the color of your eyes, the way your brows knitted together when you're deeply in concentration etc. It is a list, trust me. :)

Where do you come from? From the rain? Do you need a place to fall apart? I'm right here.

Always here.

忘了

跟我走吧　晒晒太阳
打开窗　忘记时间

痛快的玩 放肆的笑　现在的季节该喧闹
就忘了遗憾　也忘了自卑
看你的笑脸　多么的美

跟我走吧　放下牵挂
穿上鞋大步奔跑　也张开双臂
追逐甜美　起伏的心情适合爱恋

忘了受过的伤　忘了心碎
看你的眼睛　渴望去飞

跟我走吧　发现梦想
深呼吸　想起遥远失落的热情 挥洒的心　
你有多少未实现的梦　

忘了犯过的错
别再自责　
就忘了那些 有没有　是不是　对不对

跟著我走向前　走进世界
忘了曾经黑夜　阳光就要出现

© Tanya Chua 蔡健雅，陌生人~ Track 12, 忘了~
http://www.haoting.com/musiclist/ht_f8201e4307aae78a.htm

Is it Over Now?

Is it over now?
Do we really have to say goodbye
Doesn't mean that we cant talk anymore
Cause I still love you so
Cause I didn't mean to break your heart
If you only knew why I had to let you go

Is it over now?
Feels like it's the end of the world
I don't really want to try to get over you
Cause I still see your face
Feel your breathe everywhere I go
Don't think I'll ever find someone just like you

Thought we could last
Be together forever
But we didn't last
We sure did put up a fight
Now it hurts so bad with you out of my life
Is it really over now?

Guess its over now
I'm sitting here all alone
Someone is knocking but it won't be you at my door

Letting go is never easy
I have been learning it the hard way
I've been counting every minute and second since the day you left

Thought we could have last
Be together forever
But we didn't last
We sure did put up a fight
Now it hurts so bad with you out of my life
Is it really over now?
Is it really over now?

©Tanya Chua, My Space ~ Track 9, Is It Over Now ~
http://www.haoting.com/musiclist/ht_f0336569e54fb4bf.htm

Why do you think people are so attracted to things and people that aren't really that good for them, at all? Why is that they could never just walk away, instead run willingly into that person's embrace just so they could be hurt just that little bit more?



The various messes on the floor, glass shards painted the debris of a relationship that could have been.

How conveniently they forget

And the extent I remember.

Do What You Have To Do

What ravages of spirit
Conjured this temptuous rage
Created you a monster
Broken by the rules of love

And fate has led you through it
You do what you have to do
And fate has led you through it
You do what you have to do ...

And I have the sense to recognize that
I don't know how to let you go

Every moment marked
With apparitions of your soul
I'm ever swiftly moving
Trying to escape this desire

The yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
The yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do

But I have the sense to recognize
That I don't know how
To let you go
I don't know how
To let you go

A glowing ember
Burning hot
Burning slow
Deep within I'm shaken by the violence
Of existing for only you

I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do
I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do

And I have sense to recognize but
I don't know how to let you go

©Sarah Mclachlan ~ Do What You Have To Do ~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCIw4gc6G8Q&feature=related

My girlfriend.

Am I really still calling her that?
Am I trying to salvage that weak link I wish still tie me to her?
That link is already way too fragile to keep.
Am I just denying a life of detachment from what I used to know?
But why?

I know I can do this.
I am good enough to do this.
And I am strong.
"Strong like an Amazon, remember?" "Strong like an Amazon, right."

It's just...sometimes, everything hurts.
Most of everything anyway, when you thought they wouldn't anymore
Words, sounds, and colors.
People and things, living and non.
Lights.

I used to wonder just who was holding back who and now I realized.
It's always been me, the I-want-it-all me, the please-do-fucking-not-let-her-die me.
The I-let-her-be-dead-me.

How long can a person grieve anyway?
Long enough, I'd say
Just enough to ruin a life,
Mine.

Despite efforts, and the millionth time, I am still here, never left

why does everyone says 'i'm sorry' when she died
why does everyone suddenly put on the sympathetic mask on their faces
you didn't put a knife through my heart and pull it out,
he did
whoever he might be, the kind of life he leads
but at least i knew the car he drove and that he drinks

i don't need apologies, i don't need sympathy, i just need an listening ear sometimes
so i could speak
so i could forget
so i could move on and forward
into whatever that is good for me
into whatever that is worthy
would you do that for me?

answer me anyway
no, or yes
don't make me wait
i've spent too much time waiting for something that would never come
i've spent too much time thinking about what could have been and what must
it's perfectly fine if you said no
i would work with that.
but don't, please, don't leave me alone again.

all my life, i've remained the exciting and passionate supportive spectator, the quiet and patient audience
i've remained witness to what soars and what sometimes plunges into a bloody mess along the pavement
and everytime, i wish i could have soften that blow, do something helpful and differently
but i am not that person you want near
or hold dear
i am just a stranger
you might remember from a long time ago
a name you may have uttered in your dream
the one you forget when you wake

am i asking for a lot, for too much?
i don't know
but i can't help if i want that attention
i wanna be in love
with you
whoever you are
i wanna hold your hand and think about you in between the hours of a day
i want you to be the first and last thought in my head
i would love if you would dedicate a blog in my name for there was no other way you could have otherwise vented
would you do that for me?

friend, i am but a friend

Letters, Strings and All VII

now, how am i supposed to find out what lies
beneath the quiet fixture if i can't feel your hand on my breast, your finger tracing the angle of my face and your lips on me?

now, how am i supposed to see anything if i can't
look into your eyes, and watch it shine
brown like wood, bright, like stars at night?

now, how am i supposed to feel anything if i can't
feel your heart beat in my palm, a steady rhythm?

now, how am i supposed to hear anything if i can't
hear you whisper I love you into my ears when we go to
bed?

now, how am i supposed to taste anything if weren't for your tongue and when you come?

now, how am i supposed to smell anything if weren't that apple-vanilla scent you carry?

every night i emptied my heart
but by morning it's full again
soft droplets of you seeped through the night through soft caresses
i know i'll wake up to a day bruised with yearning
of thoughts, of fond memories of us, of that night.

liebe Ich Sie immer und mein Herz gehört nur Ihnen und sonst niemandem

Liebe,
Liesl
1 April 2002

Letters, Strings and All VI

Dear Love,

"If this is what it took for you to touch me, I would have stood here with Starbucks a long time ago."

liebe Ich Sie immer und mein Herz gehört nur Ihnen und sonst niemandem

Liebe,
Liesl
29 März 2002

Day passes mercilessly whenever you think you had it in your hand, just when you're accepting the pace, the card dealt, and before the initial basking could even begin, it ended. So cherish whatever time you've got. Never let a day go to waste because it really is shorter than you think and it's never coming back.

A typewriter, and life

A typewriter, and life.

The steady, kinda brain-numbing symphony the little metal alphabets made when your fingertips make the fastest but lingering, intimate contact. The old typewriter comes heavy, sometimes expensive and without delete key. It accomodates no room for errors and with just one single mistake, would literally lay waste to whatever you might have painstakedly accomplished and the resources. And yet you can't stop typing. For when you do, you stop living. You stop making anything happen.

The silence and rust would set in, becoming overbearing. You could only sit in that chair watching as your life slowly falls apart, a gradual obliteration masked by time and a shoulder shrug. So type. Live life, with a discipline, with whatever you chose to do, steered by whatever philosophy and motives.

Live Like You're Dying

So much talking in my poor head, the words coming out in a solve-in-yourself jumble of new relevations, in-betweens and old knowledge. I can figure it out. After all, it's my head.

Food is a gift, to be able to cook is a blessing and culinary its process of giving and is often hard, hard work. All I ever wanna do was to make people happy and as a rule, food does that. Even if I ended up so exhausted to my bones, and with infinite cuts and burns and now bruises. That I ended most days in serious doubts. Cooking comes from the heart, where little perfect universes spewed. I do not bear that heart and spirit, even though I try and every time I fail. The point lies in never giving up, throwing in the towel and quite literally. The harder it gets, the longer one persists, the sweeter and more lingering it'd be. Kinda like cooking sometimes.

Tonight, my present came brown-bagged. Nothing of the usual variety, I'd give you that but it sure pleased me immensely. And beer. I finally picked up the offer at 7-11. It's 2 bottles for 1 Orchard. They have been beckoning, wailing children waiting to be fed, only not. It's hard to turn a back on that. Not that I'm a drinker, not even leisurely. Ok, so I might have lied on that note. Never forget beer. It does the most amazing things when you least expect anything to.

If I were ever a fraction of a psychic, then I must have only endings in my head. I would picture travelling from one place to another and still accomodating images of a real home, warm amber lights emitting from dangled and loosely hang fairy lights, a well-equipped but hardly ridiculous kitchen, romantically furnished rooms with beds, wardrobes, and a table with stationary. And if I can ever be selfish, I would love to get home and under the sheets to a goddess who feeds my soul and heart perfectly. I could feel the hot sun beaming down on my face, and probably burning my shoulders and chest. I could watch the black sky with only a handful of stars tossed carelessly across the expanse. And the moon that follows anywhere whoever goes. It seems to wanna speak, to tell the world of her story but every time, she chose only to shut up. Why, I never understood. Heck, I can't even pass Math, let alone Universe 101 or Moon-speak 101.

But here's the point, ok, the real point, somewhat somehow, is that I don't know what my life is about at this stage, at this ripe old age, what I wanna and can do. I try to talk to mom about it but it ended ugly so...Anyway, in that film, the Ramen Girl, which, let's go back to why I am even typing this entry not unlike others, my fingers, injuried and un-, type furiously and on a mild alcohol-induced high, that I just caught is too beautiful. I am, too looking for hope and a reason to continue this life, and what I do. She found it, Abby, Brittany's character did. And it was the first time I've watched any of her work. Always wanted to though and now I did and it was on a rare occasion, a wise decision. She's a great actress and that voice. I wanna find hope but before it all can happen, it's all about sacrifices and sleepless nights and pain. Hmm...pain. That, I can do. First, I have to harness it. Let it all out before anything else could take its place and precedence. I have to clear my mind of distractions and fairy tales before I could even begin to take the first step. And I have the ability to heal, albeit it takes a million years but still cause if I try and put my heart to it, I will succeed.

I just typed several wee mornings ago, freaking furiously a letter of appeal to whoever wishes to hear and answer me. I am looking to crash the writing scene, and for good. I just need to be employed, a gig or even an internship. And I need some serious connection, big time! So please, if you read my letter, please help me.

"One of these days you’ll be
under the covers
you’ll be under the table
and you’ll realize
all of your days are numbered
all of them one to one hundred
All of them millions
All of them trillions

So what are you gonna do with them all?
You can not trade them in for mall
No no

Take every moment
you know that you own them
It’s all you can do, use what’s been given to you

Give me a reason
to fight the feeling
that there’s nothing here for me
Cause none of its easy
I know it wasn’t meant to be
I know it’s all up to me
It’s all up to me
So what am I gonna do with my time?
Oh

I'll take every moment
I know that I own them
It’s all up to you to do whatever you choose
Live like you’re dying
And never stop trying
It’s all you can do, use what’s been given to you

All of the moments you didn’t notice
Gone in the blink of an eye
All of the feelings you couldn't help feeling, no matter how you try

Oh oh
Take every moment
you know that you own them
It’s all up to you to do whatever you choose
Live like you’re dying
And never stop trying
It’s all you can do, use what’s been given to you

Live like you’re dying
And never stop trying
It’s all you can do, use what’s been given to you

©Lenka, Lenka ~ Track 9, Live Like You're Dying ~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6fX9mjMZkE

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Ashleige Tara. I am 23 years old, a Singaporean Chinese woman. I write with sincere interest streaked with hints of desperation this letter in the hopes to securing some kind of a position in your organization or just really, in the industry of print media/literary/journalism in general. Time spent finishing this letter and an afterthought reply will not only be greatly appreciated but will also be remembered for life.

All my life, I have been romantically devoted to writing, and over the years have cultivated an almost illicit affair with the written word. It was the bottom line of it all. It is how I survived anything at all. I have to believe that writing was what I am born to do and a direction in which my life should depend on to steer and how I would go out at the end. I was never the kid to pass science or math but always the one so caught up with a composition piece, school assignments or leisure. I would be frantically scribbling lines and lines of emotions, and relationships and life on the blank paper. Time was never enough. It was never quick enough to match up the way my brain would spew and weave stories, fiction and otherwise. Fictitious characters in my head especially would not rest with their sometimes heated conversations and emotional confrontations until I set them on paper. I would be so obsessed with them I could do nothing else. It is the special place that everyone disappears to whenever they are creating or just indulging themselves in their favorite pastimes.

Writing naturally became an effortless routine, an outlet I would lock myself in regularly and I want to make it my career, a profession, a craft in which feeds my enthusiasm in learning and completing me as a whole person and a contribution to the society, this world. I could curb that fire no more; a second personality who has laid dormant for years and years and would jump on any opportunities for a breath of fresh air and freedom and eventual dominance. It would be more than just a career for me; it would be what my life constitutes of and would accumulate to be. That said, I am however not schizophrenic, in the clinical sense of the word anyway. I have on pretty sturdy authority that most people, artistic and the in betweens becomes a different, more together and stronger person whenever they are creating or working on something.

I was an Express student, who passed the O Levels with 2 credits, namely my Mother Tongue, Mandarin and English and who eventually graduated as an Arts student. I later pursued and attained a Higher NITEC certificate in Business Administration with a typing speed of 75wpm and an aggregate point of 3.3 over 4. After that I was admitted to Temasek Polytechnic (evidently wanting to be enrolled in Mass Communication but) and I had unofficially graduated in February with a Diploma in Culinary and Catering Management under the Business School. It was an extremely grueling 3 years of my life, to say the least, for my interest was never for the hospitality/food & beverage industry. It remained very much on writing and creating. I just happened to be on that ride towards the sudden and phenomenal outburst of energy and activities in that industry, the Integrated Resorts and many more.

I was not entitled the autonomy of choices that an O Levels student would have had because I was an ITE student. And when I was offered only 4 choices out of the plenty, being the free spirit that I was and still am, I took the course that somehow provided substantial novelty. Who would have imagined that I would end up in a kitchen as a chef, and possibly in that soon-to-open Resort World Sentosa? During that duration I have contemplated switching courses more times than I could have remembered and 3 years later, I continue hitting myself over the head for making such a poor choice but it was one derived of desperate need for a poly education.

Today I sit in front of my computer, typing in the dark with a strangely empowering motivation driving my fingers and brain. I figured it is high time I live my life the way I wanted it led. No more wasting of time and with a plastered patronizing fake smile on my face behind some counter or in the kitchen. No more lying about my true feelings and motives. No more thinking about the could-have-beens but instead act on it. I have to show the world who I really am. I understand that I am hardly equipped or even properly educated with paper qualifications, finesse and mechanisms needed in the print media industry but I believe that I had it in me, that I had to harness it, however way I can, to do it justice. I am not a learned writer but I want to learn everything about writing and in the industry and people so, so badly. I am simply naturally made this way, to write, like it was my destiny, my only meaning. It may sound like exaggerated BS but this is truly what I feel. For the many years I locked that second personality away for realistic and conventional reasons, I had every intention to release it. And today, via this letter, I am unlocking my true self.

Through this letter, I am also looking for hope, a meaning, and a means in this industry that are diminishing at an astonishing speed. I am hoping to find the bundle of true significance and hope in writing and humanity before it completely vanished. I am interested in any positions, even as an underpaid intern who starts from scratch and buys coffee for everyone, as long as it fits and support my interest in joining the industry which is to write and edit and write some more and get it printed or published. I could only express this much how I really want to be part of this profession. I started my first fiction at 17 and creating has been an ongoing process. In fact, I have been straying so much from that first fiction that I have come to explore other interests such as psychology and lesbianism. Least to say, I have also hopped on with enthusiasm the wagon of blogging. It was possibly one of the greatest inventions after written languages and the spoken word. It is such an amazing platform and when utilized the smart way, lucrative. However it had simply remained for me as a platform to play out the innate ability to constructing thoughtful and thought-provoking entries.

Academically, I have only taken a brief module on Creative Writing, a cross-disciplinary module tutored by Felix C, a local established and published poet. I learnt largely about construction and character-building and relating life to my assignments, tips to building climaxes and cliffhangers and ending the story with realistic conviction. I have also written argumentative articles supporting and debating various topics such as globalization, the pros and cons of expatriates and the effects of Internet and more for the University of Southern Australia. It was actually favor for a friend who was doing a part time course in Business with the institution but I was more than willing to help. She has received rather commendable reviews and grades for those papers.

I thank you for your time and I really hope to hear from you, even if you start the letter ‘with much regrets’. I know it is about working fast and quick and creatively in a very fast-paced and stressful environment. The job is demanding, by any standards, with infinite deadlines to meet, readers to please, and so on and so forth. It is all about dynamic and teamwork. It is really not that different from the various restaurants and kitchens I have worked in. I am prepared to go the extra mile to pick up the slack and I am highly disciplined and so easy to work with. I am a pro-active and motivated individual looking to expand my horizons and as an organization that is innovative and dynamic should cherish talents and capabilities when you see it. And I do mean it when I said consider me for whatever positions. I will even do Marketing since I have at least 6 years experiences, in theories on paper anyway.

It would be my greatest pleasure to show you some of my work, stories and poetry and whatever. I am currently collating work that I have done, putting together a portfolio that would spark an interest in you. Alternatively, you can check out my blog at http://www.iamyouknowwhatyours.blogspot.com/. For the most part of it, it is constituted of senseless babbling but still, everything came from the heart. And please, do leave a comment. Please contact me via email at tarashley@gmail.com or call me at my mobile at 9680 7112.

Once again, I thank you for your interest and time.

Yours sincerely,
Ashleige Tara

Ok, I am going to pay for this dearly tomorrow morning, at work. I am officially only left with a rough 5 hours of sleep, that is if I even sleep. The above is an appeal to the literary/journalism industry to take me in. I am like a mangy stray who needed a home and this letter that I am going to send yelled just that. As soon as I could find email addresses of related organizations, I would mass send it. Hopefully it will get me legitimate attention and employed. Fingers crossed.

In Loving Memory Liesl Tara Oppenheim-Unterweger 16 Oct 1984 - 7 May 2002

I long to be like you, Lis
Lie cold in the ground like you
There is room inside for 2
And I'm not grieving for you
I'm calling for you.

2 wrongs make it all alright tonight. It was a very restless day. Time wouldn't pass any faster and my head wouldn't stop throbbing as if it's alive. I accumulated more cuts and such today and there's probably the only normal thing. I was so exhausted and I don't know why. I even overslept during my 45 minutes lunch break today, though it was fitful at best. I don't wanna blame it on the day and say that it suck but I'm just glad that I'm home right this minute, watching as time passes, and morning to come again. Things will change. For the better and it wouldn't leave no crimson stain on no white fabric and it would stop tainting her face.

I am only human, of flesh and bones I am made. I can't do this again. This intimate affair with pain. I'd give anything just to feed it, just so I would be inspired to do anything. I was looking for any excuses to cry, any excuses for my heart to break into a zillion pieces and leaving it in the cold wind so I could cry some more. It's nothing short of being unhealthy and highly negative but that was me, my life, what I'm mostly composited of and I'm not ashamed of it.

All my life, I've always just been jumping from one obligation to the next because it's the most conventional thing to do. And being conventional sometimes leaves no room for grief or hatred or loss and such. That accident took 2 lives with it and gave rise to guilt and remorse that would last a world forever. I wonder if that guy is even functioning, going on on his usual routine that probably involved more speed driving and alcohol. One thing I learn, is that you gonna give yourself time, ample amounts of it, and if you happen to receive some understanding and empathy, those things are great too but if you don't, it's fine. You gonna learn to let things slide and for other more important things to come into perspective and really, to just forgive yourself. There is nothing more you could have done. Nothing more I could have done to save her. All I could do was to let her know that she was loved and that everything is going to work out.

I kissed her for the last time and after that I could not taste nothing. My eyes hurt from all the crying and hiding. I put up the fakest composure possible and kept smiling, with nothing at all, radiating from my eyes but nobody could tell of course. I didn't wanna make a sound, or talk to anyone. I just wanted everything to be finished with, whatever that meant. I searched high and low for some kind of distraction and would fail at it miserably. And soon, it got dark, really dark, and the not having her around part sunk it significantly and it took over my life. I lost my identity, for it was the only thing I could identity with. At all. It was nothing but her. Everywhere. The sky, the people, the music I listen to, books, lights, the colors red and blue, the entire freaking world was yelling out her name and repeatedly playing her face and the accident in my head, our once perfectly fairytale-like life. I really thought I could die from feeling so much pain, and anger, emotionally or physically alike. But I have a life, I am still alive.

Over the years, I probably developed something akin to an obsession or at least verging it. I would actively bring her up in casual conversations, even with strangers. I would actively wanna see her name written out somewhere and not just in my head. I have dedicated an entire blog, or most of it anyway in her name and it was nothing but manifestations of what I felt inside and those are not pretty. A friend even suggested I should check myself in into some professional therapy program thing and of course, very quickly as that suggestion sprung in her sometimes self-centered brain, it vanished with my dismissive shrug. I actually laughed at that suggestion but I knew she meant well. She despised negativity and if you would check that word out in the dictionary, I am very well a fine illustration, right beside it. Anyway, it got better when I tried harder, to kinda sever a connection with her and things and life. I no longer relate the color blue with her eyes, or the color of honey and blond and strawberries to her hair and so on and so forth. I forgot how her lips taste like and the feeling of completeness when I would lay in bed with her at night, tangled up in sheets. I forgot what it was to be alive. That's how I got through it. I know that my loss is probably nothing as compared to the grand scheme of things but it doesn't undermine its impact and significance. It might had even magnified it a little, and blinding me for a bit there.

What would I say if I could just see her again...I would probably just say that I love you and that for as long my heart still beats, I would never forget you, what you have given and taught me, and what could have been. I would cease dishonoring and tainting your memory by living in the past. I would leave it, with only the good parts because that was what you were about. I would live life as fully as I can. I give thanks to the heavens that I met you. I will see you again.

A Year Ago Today x 7

Another year older
A little bit stronger
A little bit wiser than
A year ago today

Looking over my shoulder
I was so much younger then
I can't believe what happened
A year ago today

And I just can't forget about it
It wouldn't mean a thing
You went away
A year ago today

Another year gone by
Oh the tears have run dry
Life seemed so unkind
A year ago today

And I just can't understand it
And I don't think I ever will

You went away
A year ago today

And how many times have I questioned myself
What more could I do?
And how many times did I fool myself
Over you

You've gotta pick yourself up
Take another look
And dust yourself off cause life's not too good
I'll say it to myself and I'll say it again
Love will never end

And though we're so far apart
You're forever in my heart

Another year older
A little bit stronger
On this anniversary
You're watching over me

You went away
A year ago today

©Delta Goodrem, Innocent Eyes ~ Track 12, A Year Ago Today ~
http://www.haoting.com/musiclist/ht_91552716a3a08fe7.htm

Rest in peace, my love, for now the air is filled with your scent, my ear drums with your voice, my heart with your love.