There's a Darkness Hiding

Death of All His Friends.

Sincerity

I can see it in their eyes. They do want things to be better and they do mean it.

I received a present on the day everyone else received presents. I knew from the way the wrapped rectangular item bent on one side and not the other that it was a book. I looked at the giver and thanked her and turned around and walked off.


It was easily four hours later when I unwrapped m present. I was right - a book

A gift like the gifts everyone else receives

I flipped it open and had a glance at the leprous white pages filled with words. Another novel - but it was a novel with meaning and a touch. It had feelings which were imbedded in its printed words and teachings.

"Healing and Wholeness"

I saw myself in those words and that is how I know that they sincerely wanted things to get better and be better.

Jingle Bells

I can't say i'm overjoyed at the thought of snow. It falls heavily from the grey skies and engulfs the roads and pavements with cold.

Grey cement and black tar are bleached and buried under a freeze. Cars skid and people slip. The shops take advantage of this and wait for festive seasons to come to sell of their best shoes. As decorative trees come up, the people venture out in the cold. Off to High Street, Oxford Street to empty their wallets and fill up their shopping bags.

It's all in the thought - the meaning

That's the only way everyone consoles themselves into buying gifts of notoriously high prices. People exit shops with their bodies overweighed by the heavy bags of over-the-top items which they have purchased. Ridiculously colourful lights hang overhead and flicker as if giving up under the weight of the snow which has clung to it. Nothing seems to make any sense this month - December - it's like everyone has gone into coplete dysfunction.

This is Christmas

No One shall know My Story

It is so despicable
it is unbelievable I did that;
no one would believe
I was capable of it;
no one would believe
I would have dared;
no one would want
to believe
I did that.

"We don't see you"

I made wonderful friends in my first year of university but they never saw me. They never saw me until I returned for my second year.

In my first year, I was hiding behind an almost-opaque veil. So needless to say, I did not see my friends either.

Now I'm back, and I see everyone, and got to know everyone all over again but yet I still want that veil - and I think I should have every right to have it back

I've Lost it All

Days of Memory

Sal's Favourite Tree

I can still see it in my head: it was a tree which stood outside the centre and it was...well...it was not beautiful; in fact, it was an oddity. I used to watch its seed pods dangle from its branches and my close circle of friends and I would point and laugh and make schoolgirl-inappropriate jokes.

Obscene jokes were made of the greyish-green pods as the wind blew them and rustled up the leaves of the tree. We would call it "Sal's Favourite Tree" after a friend of mine who cringed at the sight of the tree because of its unclean connotations.

However, once a year the tree bloomed. Those were the times when Sal's Favourite Tree became a sight to behold. From the window of the classroom which I had my English classes, I could see the white and pink flowers swaying in the billowing humid wind. And every sweep of the wind plucked a few flowers away from its stems. When I stood under the tree, I could just make out the flowers behind the sunlight and would attempt to pluck a flower from the lowest branch. On certain days, usually after the rain, a friend and I would sit on the nearby step and have a chat while watching the rain water drip from the flowers


But eventually, the flowers would disappear after much wind and rain and Sal's Favourite Tree would be left bare once again. In a months time, seed pods will start to grow again and dangle from its branches only to be laughed at once again.

Those were the days left behind - we graduated and left the school and Sal's Favourite Tree is nothing more than an image in memory. We left it behind together with the other memories we never took to heart while we were there. And sometimes, I regret not doing so.

Although we are no longer there to witness it, Sal's Favourite Tree continues to bloom at the same time every year for the other schoolgirls who pass by it just like we did in our time.

I feel like I'm sinking away

When I heard that song when I was little, I created a little world for that song and it remained the world which I would automatically asscoiate with everytime I heard it. It was my own little synasthesia.

This particular song reminded me of towering pillars which pierced into the dark sky above where stars danced and twinkled. I could see the eternity of existence and it made me feel small and somewhat hopeless in its eye. As the song progressed, the short piano solo came in and it transported me to a house which stood hidden behind many trees. I could hear the pattering of the tropical rain on the metal roof outside and I could see, at the end of the corridor, the sillohuette of an old hunched figure - my great-grandmother - who I had not seen or touched in over seven years now.

The song died away and so did these visions - the rainstorm and my great-grandmother and the pillars and the dark sky - disappeared and reality reemerged. And so here I am, in reality, in front of my laptop, in my room, in England, in winter, telling you about my visions and my memories - and oh, about how abstract they are now.

There are Assumptions being made

To assume is to mistake

And sometimes, to mistake is to hurt.

Hence to assume is to hurt...

I was standing in a room full of other students who did not have an inkiling of any torment that was constantly surrounding me. I did not expect them to know just because my perception was so different - so strange - that it was impossible to comprehend.

While I stood with half a sandwich in my hand, I was approached by someone who I vaguely remembered meeting about a year ago. She looked at my sandwich and then at my face. A cheeky smile crept across her face: "Looks like everything is fine now"

If only my perception could be understood by everyone else, then I could have explained to her that nothing was fine and that nothing was well. She just assumed that everything was sorted and that the ordeal was over. But there was an ordeal in my head and that ordeal is my distortion. I watched the other people in the room smile and greet each other with excitement of getting to meet everyone again. I could not do that - distortion told me that no one was going to understand me and understand that the smile I put on is merely a mask to hide something dark.

I left the room a few moments later and took the sandwich I had so merticulously prepared an hour before and threw it into the bin before going outside into the cold to ponder about my misfortune.

My Story

Once upon a time, stories were never meant to be heard. They were kept inside the person an tucked away in the darkness of a pained heart. That was the time, long ago, when a stab in that heart was never seen and the blood that gushes from it was never replaced.

One day, a Conscious Mind came and pulled out the heart and laid it in front of the eyes of the viewer - that was when every wound and scar was revealed, mapped out on the aged arteries and burst veins. It was painful to look at but it did not seem like that there could be anything to be done to fix them. So, the heart was folded up messily and put back into the chest of its owner to keep working as much as it could. Eventually, the heart gave up but Conscious Mind was not there anymore to show everyone the damage done. He had gone too far away for anyone to reach and so the heart was left to beat limply, occasionally gasping for some acknowledgement of its pain

It came to a point that Someone Else had to call Conscious Mind to return and help. And so he did, and Conscious Mind returned. He returned with a flag pole and this time, unwrapped the heart gingerly and put it on the pole and waved it around in the air like a flag of surrender. It worked and people came to nurse the grazes and stitch back the cuts.

Months went buy and recovery was the only thing left but in time. The heart now pumped fresh blood through the veins and arteries, replenishing the deprived cells and re-energising the dead body. However, the heart knew that those stitches will open up again and the grazes will reappear and that there will be more stabs. It knew that there will be pain, probably more than before - the heart knew that there will be no happy ever after.





1991 - 2008

2010 - we will have to wait and see