A rare note

Writing this is the last thing I want to do.
Sorry. Sorry. I have owed so much apologies to everyone I have met in my life. Sorry I could not be a better person, be a happier person, be a healthier person to sustain a friendship, a relationship. Sorry for driving away hope and love you have once offered and backing miles away. Sorry for rejecting to unite and meet from time to time, for sharing feelings and emotions that hold dear to the heart. These sorries mean nothing indeed unless real actions are taken to prevent any of that from reoccurring again.
I know that. I am fully aware. I am trying, every day, every night, every moment, not to give any person bad feelings anymore, to minimize how I may affect others.
It just seems the more you try, the harder you try, the more it backfires. My head probably contains too much weird stuffs. I seem to be really self-centered as if things revolve around me. I have always tried to work hard, to prove that I am able to do something. Then it gets awkward, weird, as if I should not even begin in the first place. No matter how hard I work, it just does not work out. Nothing does. I seem to be expressing something that is contrary to what I truly want to express, in actions that serve only the purpose of confusion. Whether I speak or I mute, my presence is causing pressure. What should I do? Knowing that I am deprived of something really important, it is so difficult to get it back. To hide from the fact that it is lost, I work on bettering myself with what I have got at hand. But it just seems wrong when what I want to do is to amend something broken in me and something I have broken. Till the end of the day, there is no ifs, no turning back. What have done cannot be undone. What I am left with now can only be traced back to things that have gone awry in the past. It is just that life has pushed to this point where you can only pick up what remains and get going with that.
Up until now, I wrap myself in a blanket, in a cocoon inside a dark room, promising myself tomorrow will be another day and I can change. I know that I can and I will make it happen. Then the next day comes. The cocoon follows me out of the room, the corridor, the lift, the entrance, into the world. I appreciate what I have at this moment and accept who I have always been from a child to now. Perhaps I should stop telling myself to change, perhaps being sad is a part of me that cannot be erased, perhaps it is okay. It is really okay not to work so hard, think so hard, feel so hard. Maybe.

What is the worst advice someone gives to you?

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Be realistic.

Those flying unicorns aren’t getting you anywhere.

 

Be careful.

Those people on the streets are going to use you to their advantage.

 

Be strong.

Those tears and hysteria are giving you out as an immature person.

 

Be stoic.

Those emotions only give you one hell of a ride while you make us suffer.

 

Be versatile.

Those rules are fixed and we are alive to fit into them.

 

Be obedient.

Those who bring you up have the right to guide you to the right direction.

 

Be independent.

Those men aren’t as reliable as yourself or us fellow women.

 

Be mature.

Those dreams are only dreams, realize you have to be down to earth.

 

Be safe.

Those curfews and phone calls are to ensure your safety.

 

Be yourself.

Those sides of you aren’t you at all, you do not know yourself yet.

 

Be educated.

Those ignorant ones are never going to raise their head up to the truth.

 

Be updated.

Those gadgets worth our money as they give us back connections to the world.

 

Be grateful.

Those who love you so much so give rise to who you are now.

 

Be…

Be what?

Why do I need to be that?

Just flip it over.

Do the opposite.

 

Be unrealistic.

Be careless.

Be vulnerable.

Be emotional.

Be true.

Be disobedient.

Be dependent.

Be immature.

Be unsafe.

Be whoever.

Be ignorant.

Be outdated.

Be ungrateful.

 

They would hate you not being like this.

But you would probably love yourself being like that.

What do you see when you look into the mirror?

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Before the moon outlines my contours,

I thought I have heard his breathing next to me.

Looking back at the empty bed,

he is sleeping soundly like an infant.

 

The silk slips away from me.

I tilt my head to the other side to see you clearly.

 

Your brown hair touches your neckline

Girl, you have curves after all.

But they look so fake.

 

Moonlight sheds bits of its attention on me

Your skin cracks like they are smooth.

Those puffy lips roar flaming red

without being shunned by the enveloping black.

 

He rolls over with eyes closed

Your fingers, hands, arms are hanging above his serene face

Can he see you are curling up into a ball?

Girl, are you the boy or is he a boy?

 

This moment is static

the water beneath my feet is opaque

I stare straight into this surface

you take a glimpse into me.

 

Brushing your hair, you can’t shake off

this mindful wakefulness. Music on.

The rhythm of my spirit bangs on

every edge of your vision.

 

As I move, the arts you have drawn,

the poems you have written entangle my placid

skin like tropical vines:

evergreen, ever blooming.

 

Another frame pushes in.

There is a boy waiting for audition

with a cap, a rock that he doesn’t think he can dominate.

Tell him, girl, you can do it.

 

He has a baby face that I long to erase.

She has a rough body that I desire to purify.

I long have acquired invisibility that they wish to nullify.

You have the every side I undeniably fall in love with.

 

3 a.m., the clock says.

He climbs out of bed.

You climb up to bed.

She looks at me, smiling on our bed.

What is friendship to you?

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“Let it be.”

“Don’t find me again.”

“You’re dragging me down.”

“Why are you always like that?”

“I cannot handle your depression.”

 

She cuts the line.

He blocks my phone.

She speaks like a serpent.

He dismisses me without a thought.

She walks away to chase her happiness.

 

I cry so hard.

I swallow and choke.

I desert myself in the corner.

I lick my lips and taste the bitter.

I delete names one by one on the phone book.

 

A, do you remember how funny it was when we were analysing Hamlet’s “to be or not to be“?

K, do you remember we’d go yum cha when we get to our seventies?

Q, do you remember how we’d write stories once we got gime in recess and lunch breaks?

H, do you remember how you’d melt down after your breakups to look for me?

J, do you remember we’d fight our melancholic battle  together?

 

I detach.

I smile too hard.

I hold back so much more.

I cancel my facebook account.

I throw all the letters into the bin.

 

My soulmate, I have been waiting for so long.

My confidante, I aspire to your presence.

My best friend, I could speak no more.

My friend, I wanna support you.

My stranger, stay.

 

Just stay.

How would you spend the end of the world?

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Comets burst on top of our roof

Firecrackers sparkled all over the horizon

Little electrocuted sparrows got roasted on antennae.

 

Churches and cathedrals were wiped off

Hymns and prayers were sewn up tight

Occasionally one or two passersby would be the messenger of God.

 

Locusts ran like crazy on our farms

The soil corrodes every vegetation from above

Our lips dried and cracked like cornflakes, let alone our shrinking stomach are eating away itself.

 

Boys and girls celebrate in night clubs

The drinks exploded as the disco ball turned into a timed bomb

Many corpse laid unattended, reeking along with the falling apart cellars.

 

Newspapers garbled gibberish sudokus

The stock market crashed as the fish market burned to ashes

Live broadcasters were last ignited matches waiting to be distinguished.

 

Vehicles compete with undying madness

Not a single road was not covered by bumper cars going haywire

Railroads were torn like removing flesh from muscles, leaving bridges raw.

 

The ink bottle shattered on the ground

But my pen was sucking up the last words resl hard

I heard the sirens ringing before my final pages were gone with the flames.

What would you tell the one who got away if you met them today?

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I am less attractive than I was then

My long hair had disappeared

My slim figure was lost

You may not even recognize me now

 

I am never a person who lingers

Once you got away,

all photographs were deleted

not a single letter and gift remained

 

I remember a coincidental encounter with you

and your girl;

I am in my regular shabby dressing

and you might be tasting a tastier salad dressing,

but I barely pay any attention.

 

I get myself in heaps of trials after you

Boys would like me to put on makeup

Men would want me under them

Wide awake, I pretend to gulp down poison

 

I forget as your existence fades out

Working daily while you might be studying

Puffing the magic dragon while you might be sleeping

As the puzzle adds up, you’d come together again.

 

I am not looking for a person anymore

To your surprise, I am looking into me,

looking for a person inside

who would rather do rather than speak.

 

I have long decided not to chase after love

as it is too vain

More pain, no gain

Do not be surprised why I am still like that

 

You do not need to

I do not need to too

We did not need to fulfill that need to

I wish I realized that back then

Have you ever experienced bullying, damaging criticism or lost your confidence in yourself?

 

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Plugged in the silver-blue earphones,

a volcano stands to witness the house on fire.

 

Smudged onto the ground,

a rose quits blossoming from the top of the tree.

 

Paralyzed on a stainless steel panal,

a letter eats away its bloody words with fervor.

 

Invaded by relentless armies of soldiers,

a rhythm spits its venom on the starless sky.

 

“A sting spreads in a wound

as god knows who add teardrops into it”

 

Broken twigs lay on the ground,

cracking their very bones and joints,

their faces welcome people’s stampede.

 

Scorpions hide under this cute pink skirt,

their tails poke themselves,

but the poison leaks outwards.

 

Locomotives smoke and kiss engines,

racing from dan to beersheba,

their destination is the galaxy’s limit.

 

Water swirls into a mini tsunami,

blinding the eagle with its dampen wings,

an airy entrance centers at its heart.