Dear bloody spittoons,
And while I have disgusted my friends beyond reasons. I am pushing them away with my confessions and weaknesses and they will come back with a vengeance to fix me. I am not to be fixed. Not yet. I am not a freaking retard. You think I don't know what I feel is wrong and senseless? You see me in your eyes as I lie in my pool of blood and regard me with utter disdain. You can’t see my struggle simply because you aren’t me. And I’m glad as hell you weren’t. I could never wish upon you the same demons that are plaguing my every waking moment. You think me weak as you turned your head to walk away. You think I’m a willing slave to my misery, humble and ever receiving. Yes, I would gladly hurt myself if it would change a thing but it doesn’t. I am where I am, wounds gushing or not. Stop guessing; you know for sure the answer is yes.
Everyone dies, yes, especially lovers
Somewhere out there, someone is ought to be in a more terrible plight that I can ever be in
I am the root of my problems and therefore the solution
I fabricate lies; distort reality to my will so I may blend into its odd shapes at night to steal a breathing moment or two
I am infused with clarity that I am downright rejecting it with arrogance and stupidity
I am bending everyone’s well-wishes into curses, shunning sincerity and mocking kind advices
I have forced them out in the sick excuse and name of love. What irony! Tara, so very sweet, must be so ashamed and disappointed. “I came back to be your conscience, dear.” I heard her say one day and I remembered curling my hands by my sides in defiance into fiery fists of anger. I could not understand her then.
I am who I attract and therefore repel. I am to be emptied, my wounds and blood pour out in a vessel, a vessel my friends are not. She will, in less than a blink of eye, hurt me if it changes anything. I can’t blame her for I love her too. Each day, I live as if I have put a knife through Tara’s heart, twisted it and watch her die. What’s acutely missing and to follow is my own death, for me to do the same to myself like I have done her. It’s consuming; it’s an indulgent and the hole in my wall. But I am tired, absolutely depleted. I crave sleep; I crave light and a reason. I crave a life I have put on hold for 10 years. I wish for friends and genuine company. I wish for laughter to fill my ears again and a kiss at night and in the wee mornings when I wake up in cold sweat and suffused with fear. I wish for life before it’s too late, before I die. I would love to travel, I would love to open my eyes and see the world not on a page or from someone else’s experience but of my own.
Yes, do walk away if you must but be sure to return.
The infant is trying to live here and I shall teach a corpse like me to walk and breathe and one day, be granted a chance at life. I hope it isn’t too late to remove the blade. I hope I can heal. I hope I can finally listen.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
I had some free time today after lunch and I thought I swing by the National Library. "A writer ought to read." I told myself as I took the escalator down. It didn't take long for another revelation to slip in like a piece of paper into my back pocket. As I go from one shelf to the next, I was walking in a sphere, one made from the remnants of an engagement ring. All this time, I have been so gravely misguided and closeted up by my beliefs and experiences that none of books on the shelves or life called out to me. I was literally blinded by my selfishness to relive the past, to hold on to whatever patheticness that I am giving up on new experiences in life. One too many instances I would catch myself resisting change. I am convinced I can just be the way I am because there is nothing wrong with me.
There is nothing wrong with me, right?
A while ago, I found a ring in one of the letters Tara wrote. Again, I don't wanna say it's for me. They were something that was simply written. Sometimes I wish the letters never reach my hands. It did take Alex nearly a decade. Yet most of the time, I'm just so very relieved and grateful I got them at all. After all, it's a fraction of Tara, a fraction of something that I've lost forever. While it doesn't accomodate or fuel my sometime obsession and refusal to move on in life, some people argue that I should simply leave the content alone. What would you do?
Anyway, the ring was something Tara brought with her from home. Apparently, the little thing was calling out to her when she was passing by a fair. She was, at that time, contemplating in her mind whether or not to leave Germany. And that little ring told her the answer and sealed her fate. She booked the earliest flight out. You know, it was as if the ring had unknowingly imbued her with courage and strength from an unseen place. Now she had a name where that courage comes from; she called it the love of her life - me.
Me.
There was a little bump when I was retrieving the letter. I felt for it and a series of gold rings fell out and dropped into my hand. It looked slightly weathered, with a black rim and simply carved with a weaving pattern. I reckon the ring has stayed the condition Tara last saw it. It was gleaming in the light. Almost perfect, almost new and never worn. The keeper told her that she probably never find an identical set anywhere in the world. It was made for its wearer and only its wearer. She further wrote in the letter, expressing her thoughts and plans about the rings. It was something of grave significance, or at least it was supposed to be. Turned out, that ring too, was to seal my fate.
Yes, I will marry you. You have asked me many times in your dreams and yes, I will marry you a thousand time, a million if it's not enough...
Tara had been planning an engagement dinner behind my back. There was even an itinerary attached to a namecard of a restaurant. She was gonna propose to me over food and coffee, especially of the fact that we finally reconciled. "I do not believe myself capable of keeping myself away from you anymore. The past month has proved it." Granted, she was barely 18 and I was a little older than 15 then and this whole affair would have sounded absolutely ludicrous in someone else's ears but it sounded to me the symphony of life, our lives waiting to happen, our lives to be. After folding the letter back into the envelope, I tried the rings for size. Coincidently, it fit almost perfectly on my right ring finger. I wore it, decidedly for the rest of my life but apparently, I can't.
Just about a week wearing it, the rings started to discolour, leaving a dirty rust on my finger. I figured it must be telling me that Tara and I weren't meant to be. Now, I just strung the rings into my keyhole so I may carry them around whenever I go.
There is nothing wrong with me, right?
A while ago, I found a ring in one of the letters Tara wrote. Again, I don't wanna say it's for me. They were something that was simply written. Sometimes I wish the letters never reach my hands. It did take Alex nearly a decade. Yet most of the time, I'm just so very relieved and grateful I got them at all. After all, it's a fraction of Tara, a fraction of something that I've lost forever. While it doesn't accomodate or fuel my sometime obsession and refusal to move on in life, some people argue that I should simply leave the content alone. What would you do?
Anyway, the ring was something Tara brought with her from home. Apparently, the little thing was calling out to her when she was passing by a fair. She was, at that time, contemplating in her mind whether or not to leave Germany. And that little ring told her the answer and sealed her fate. She booked the earliest flight out. You know, it was as if the ring had unknowingly imbued her with courage and strength from an unseen place. Now she had a name where that courage comes from; she called it the love of her life - me.
Me.
There was a little bump when I was retrieving the letter. I felt for it and a series of gold rings fell out and dropped into my hand. It looked slightly weathered, with a black rim and simply carved with a weaving pattern. I reckon the ring has stayed the condition Tara last saw it. It was gleaming in the light. Almost perfect, almost new and never worn. The keeper told her that she probably never find an identical set anywhere in the world. It was made for its wearer and only its wearer. She further wrote in the letter, expressing her thoughts and plans about the rings. It was something of grave significance, or at least it was supposed to be. Turned out, that ring too, was to seal my fate.
Yes, I will marry you. You have asked me many times in your dreams and yes, I will marry you a thousand time, a million if it's not enough...
Tara had been planning an engagement dinner behind my back. There was even an itinerary attached to a namecard of a restaurant. She was gonna propose to me over food and coffee, especially of the fact that we finally reconciled. "I do not believe myself capable of keeping myself away from you anymore. The past month has proved it." Granted, she was barely 18 and I was a little older than 15 then and this whole affair would have sounded absolutely ludicrous in someone else's ears but it sounded to me the symphony of life, our lives waiting to happen, our lives to be. After folding the letter back into the envelope, I tried the rings for size. Coincidently, it fit almost perfectly on my right ring finger. I wore it, decidedly for the rest of my life but apparently, I can't.
Just about a week wearing it, the rings started to discolour, leaving a dirty rust on my finger. I figured it must be telling me that Tara and I weren't meant to be. Now, I just strung the rings into my keyhole so I may carry them around whenever I go.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Letters, Strings and All 11
Dawn found us in bed, naked to our bare skin, our legs and arms twisted together like weaving veins under brunched up sheets. This is how I wanna wake up everyday. I wanna wake up with you, in you. You smell sweet like raw honey yet salty like perspiration and I wanna lick every inch of you dry. “Hmm…morning.” Your brown eyes fluttered open, as if you knew I have been watching you. Your voice laced heavily with sleep was almost inaudible. “Morning, baby.” I inched closer for a kiss, biting softly down on your lower lip. “Hmm…” Your moan, ever so softly in my ears and your long hair tickling my nose. Your tongue seek access into the cavities of my mouth and your hand reached to hold my face in place.
The urgency and aggressiveness of your lips mirrored my desire for release. I took your hand and placed it on my right breast and reveled in the movements of your palm and fingers on my nipple. Your fingers danced a routine ritual, kneading and squeezing my nipple until the pink nub hardened like pebbles in your touch. I gasped for air as electric shocks shot from my hardened nipples down between my thighs. I begun breathing harder, synchronising the movement of my hip with yours. God, I’m already leaving a trail of wetness when your thigh brushed against my pussy. I guided your free hand in mine downwards. “I love you when you’re wet.” I could barely register your whispered words which sounded more like a low growl. You shifted your weight to the left, directing my body to slowly lie on my back, your eyes never leaving me. I sink deeper into the softness of our bed. Your exploratory tongue has ventured out from the inside of my mouth down to my collarbone and breasts and stomach, marking your way down south. I pulled my head and twisted my neck as far back as I possibly can, my body arching in anticipation. Your hands move, stopping just below my breasts, avoiding deliberately my mounds. As you tongue swept past my belly button and verging closer to my centre, my thighs spread apart involuntarily, a desperate invitation. Stopping suddenly in your movements, you got on your knees and threw me your dirtiest and most sultry look. Biting down on my lips, I smile, my thighs spread even wider.
Revealing my inner sex, I could only imagine your expression, one contorted with lust mixed with love. “Dear God!” I took in a sharp breath of air when your tongue found my hidden spot. Playfully massaging my clit with the tip of your tongue and teasing me to no end, I am driven dangerously close to the edge. Just when I thought I couldn’t be in a more frustrated state, you inserted two fingers, thrusting in and out quickly then slowly then picking up speed again. My hip and ass fell into the perfect rhythm that is your fingers and mouth. As your thrusting grew more rapid, and less intermediate, I could feel my muscles cramp and expand reflexively. It felt almost like a spasm as my stomach tightened. You’re drinking me dry now, seemingly with a thirst that only I can quench as I rode the waves of my orgasm. Finally, the contraction subsided and my skin flushed pink, my breasts heaving up and down as I pant, gasping for oxygen, exhausted but satiated. You crawled upwards and inched your sweaty face close to mine. I grabbed your lips for a deep, throaty kiss, biting down a little harder now, tasting myself in you. The smell and taste were simply intoxicating as we lose ourselves in bed.
My face flushed a deep crimson as I read through what I have just written from memory. Sitting alone in my room, I am having troubles breathing. I hurriedly crawled back into bed and got under the blanket, imagining my hand to be yours as I directed my hand underneath the cotton panty. Overwhelmed by strong desires, I shut my eyes and leave my body to fall into a rhythm. I started massaging my clit, slowly at first, your face coming to mind. I have never experimented with myself like that, feeling and touching my body quite as intimate as I am now. As pent-up frustrations and anticipation built up, my fingers picked up speed. Guided by the image of your face, I thrusted a finger deep into my centre. I increased speed, knowing I am near climax. I have never come this intense before as I silently screamed your name. Riding the waves of a self-induced orgasm and settling down in a sweaty mess, I now know that when I come, I come only for you.
Tara
The urgency and aggressiveness of your lips mirrored my desire for release. I took your hand and placed it on my right breast and reveled in the movements of your palm and fingers on my nipple. Your fingers danced a routine ritual, kneading and squeezing my nipple until the pink nub hardened like pebbles in your touch. I gasped for air as electric shocks shot from my hardened nipples down between my thighs. I begun breathing harder, synchronising the movement of my hip with yours. God, I’m already leaving a trail of wetness when your thigh brushed against my pussy. I guided your free hand in mine downwards. “I love you when you’re wet.” I could barely register your whispered words which sounded more like a low growl. You shifted your weight to the left, directing my body to slowly lie on my back, your eyes never leaving me. I sink deeper into the softness of our bed. Your exploratory tongue has ventured out from the inside of my mouth down to my collarbone and breasts and stomach, marking your way down south. I pulled my head and twisted my neck as far back as I possibly can, my body arching in anticipation. Your hands move, stopping just below my breasts, avoiding deliberately my mounds. As you tongue swept past my belly button and verging closer to my centre, my thighs spread apart involuntarily, a desperate invitation. Stopping suddenly in your movements, you got on your knees and threw me your dirtiest and most sultry look. Biting down on my lips, I smile, my thighs spread even wider.
Revealing my inner sex, I could only imagine your expression, one contorted with lust mixed with love. “Dear God!” I took in a sharp breath of air when your tongue found my hidden spot. Playfully massaging my clit with the tip of your tongue and teasing me to no end, I am driven dangerously close to the edge. Just when I thought I couldn’t be in a more frustrated state, you inserted two fingers, thrusting in and out quickly then slowly then picking up speed again. My hip and ass fell into the perfect rhythm that is your fingers and mouth. As your thrusting grew more rapid, and less intermediate, I could feel my muscles cramp and expand reflexively. It felt almost like a spasm as my stomach tightened. You’re drinking me dry now, seemingly with a thirst that only I can quench as I rode the waves of my orgasm. Finally, the contraction subsided and my skin flushed pink, my breasts heaving up and down as I pant, gasping for oxygen, exhausted but satiated. You crawled upwards and inched your sweaty face close to mine. I grabbed your lips for a deep, throaty kiss, biting down a little harder now, tasting myself in you. The smell and taste were simply intoxicating as we lose ourselves in bed.
My face flushed a deep crimson as I read through what I have just written from memory. Sitting alone in my room, I am having troubles breathing. I hurriedly crawled back into bed and got under the blanket, imagining my hand to be yours as I directed my hand underneath the cotton panty. Overwhelmed by strong desires, I shut my eyes and leave my body to fall into a rhythm. I started massaging my clit, slowly at first, your face coming to mind. I have never experimented with myself like that, feeling and touching my body quite as intimate as I am now. As pent-up frustrations and anticipation built up, my fingers picked up speed. Guided by the image of your face, I thrusted a finger deep into my centre. I increased speed, knowing I am near climax. I have never come this intense before as I silently screamed your name. Riding the waves of a self-induced orgasm and settling down in a sweaty mess, I now know that when I come, I come only for you.
Tara
Thursday, March 4, 2010
I woke up on an empty bed today, wide-eyed and lying on my back, my head seemingly dislocated at weird angles
Your face in the recesses
I've been up all night, the taste of defeat lingering softly inside my charred lips
Life seems to be at a distant, humming, bubbling and crackling quietly just beneath the surface
I know I am alive when I see fresh blood gushing through the thin, blue opening on my pale wrist
If I could only feel the car crash again, I could fly.
I am bent over and broken, believing simple should be hard
I haven't gone anywhere else while I watch you travel miles
I trace your name on me, imagining it to be your skin
I am now delirious and drunk, high on memories
It's so shiny; the spaces between us, eluding and leading me astray.
So what happen to the bulletproof spaces in your arms?
Yes, I will marry you. You have asked me before in your dreams. I will marry you over and over again, just say yes. We'll pick a dress.
I love you. And I always do.
I met you over spilled coffee in the bookstore when I was 14
and I wish it isn't too late to marry you at 24
You glowed, you know that, under that fluorescent light and even more when it's dark
It almost looked as if you don't belong here and I had just stolen you and hide you in my heart
I'll leave the windows shut and the door close so I could listen to you talk
I'll keep you and the sheets warm, I'll do a splendid job
When I sat alone, the world in the backdrop, I saw hope, streaks of light in everyone else's lives
I know I can't be a part of that
I stand watching for a while, and decide I'll just go on with mine
Your face in the recesses
I've been up all night, the taste of defeat lingering softly inside my charred lips
Life seems to be at a distant, humming, bubbling and crackling quietly just beneath the surface
I know I am alive when I see fresh blood gushing through the thin, blue opening on my pale wrist
If I could only feel the car crash again, I could fly.
I am bent over and broken, believing simple should be hard
I haven't gone anywhere else while I watch you travel miles
I trace your name on me, imagining it to be your skin
I am now delirious and drunk, high on memories
It's so shiny; the spaces between us, eluding and leading me astray.
So what happen to the bulletproof spaces in your arms?
Yes, I will marry you. You have asked me before in your dreams. I will marry you over and over again, just say yes. We'll pick a dress.
I love you. And I always do.
I met you over spilled coffee in the bookstore when I was 14
and I wish it isn't too late to marry you at 24
You glowed, you know that, under that fluorescent light and even more when it's dark
It almost looked as if you don't belong here and I had just stolen you and hide you in my heart
I'll leave the windows shut and the door close so I could listen to you talk
I'll keep you and the sheets warm, I'll do a splendid job
When I sat alone, the world in the backdrop, I saw hope, streaks of light in everyone else's lives
I know I can't be a part of that
I stand watching for a while, and decide I'll just go on with mine
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Letters, Strings and All 10
Dear Love,
The tenth letter of the month and I am doubting my intentions. Nothing is going to alleviate this separation, for I imagine very little, if at all, consolation could be drawn from this. I wrote this letter some hours before dawn broke. Truth be told, I have just been staring at a blank piece of paper and the pen in my hand for the last 2 days but nothing comes. I almost gave up, trying to verbalise what I really feel inside. I was mentally exhausted.
There is something I miss with an aching pain and I've let it take over me. I miss the comfort of your warmth when I cuddle into you. I miss the touch of your naked skin against mine. I miss how I'll trace your ribs with my finger and how that tickles you to no end. I miss the way you would just grab me into a hug.
I know deep down our love is different from anything I had and will ever experience in my life. This love will stay in my heart and it will go on forever and on the contrary to what Lex likes to believe, it's not just about sex. It is a lot about the kind of conversations, understanding and respect we had for each other. It's not about taking things or people for granted. Our union is pure celebration of life. I love you. That is all I could muster to say. That is all I need to say.
The littlest things are reminding me of you and I don't know where the line is anymore, what separates us from reality. I could feel pain with palpable tangibility and it's taking my breath away. The nights are harder to get by when everything is quiet. I'm eating less, mourning for lost time. Work has become this routine that I have to perform simply because it pays. I find myself spacing out, disappearing into this other place and sighing and sometimes, even breaking down in anguish and tears. It's really not how life is supposed to be!!!
I go to sleep in your jacket but the warmth is diminishing and cold is starting to envelop me. I bit my fears down and I don't make a sound as loneliness takes residence in my heart. I don't know if I have relied on anything or anyone more than you but clearly, being without you has rendered me incapable and unmotivated to go on in life. I love you. I really do. I don't have anything else to say.
Tara
The tenth letter of the month and I am doubting my intentions. Nothing is going to alleviate this separation, for I imagine very little, if at all, consolation could be drawn from this. I wrote this letter some hours before dawn broke. Truth be told, I have just been staring at a blank piece of paper and the pen in my hand for the last 2 days but nothing comes. I almost gave up, trying to verbalise what I really feel inside. I was mentally exhausted.
There is something I miss with an aching pain and I've let it take over me. I miss the comfort of your warmth when I cuddle into you. I miss the touch of your naked skin against mine. I miss how I'll trace your ribs with my finger and how that tickles you to no end. I miss the way you would just grab me into a hug.
I know deep down our love is different from anything I had and will ever experience in my life. This love will stay in my heart and it will go on forever and on the contrary to what Lex likes to believe, it's not just about sex. It is a lot about the kind of conversations, understanding and respect we had for each other. It's not about taking things or people for granted. Our union is pure celebration of life. I love you. That is all I could muster to say. That is all I need to say.
The littlest things are reminding me of you and I don't know where the line is anymore, what separates us from reality. I could feel pain with palpable tangibility and it's taking my breath away. The nights are harder to get by when everything is quiet. I'm eating less, mourning for lost time. Work has become this routine that I have to perform simply because it pays. I find myself spacing out, disappearing into this other place and sighing and sometimes, even breaking down in anguish and tears. It's really not how life is supposed to be!!!
I go to sleep in your jacket but the warmth is diminishing and cold is starting to envelop me. I bit my fears down and I don't make a sound as loneliness takes residence in my heart. I don't know if I have relied on anything or anyone more than you but clearly, being without you has rendered me incapable and unmotivated to go on in life. I love you. I really do. I don't have anything else to say.
Tara
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