go.

10.49pm, 7th of November, 2010.
Listening to: Far East Movement ft. Ryan Tedder - Rocketeer.

Go.
Come on, let’s go.

We’ve so much to do, so much to see.

And so little time to do it.

Life is too short to worry about yesterdays and tomorrows.

We have today. We have each other, today.

And you know what? It’s enough.

If I had time, I would read a library full of books.

If I had wings, I would take off and fly.

If I had everything in the world, I would give it all away for just a moment longer with you.

So, follow me. Into a place where the sun never fully sets. Where a day shall never completely pass.

Hours, minutes, seconds are irrelevant.

For us, time will stand still.

We can do anything.

We can dominate the world, if you like.

We will be unstoppable.

Nothing can hold us back.

No puppet strings to constrict us, no walls to close us in.

Nothing left but that scent of freedom; freedom that may one day suffocate us.

And that is why we will live each day like our last.

Forget what you left behind; drain it from your body.

Breathe in and let it go.

Because all that matters is what’s in front of you now.

Right, right, in this very instant, right now.

Now,

We will bring this city to its knees.

Buildings will crumble beneath our footsteps.

And bridges will fall in our wake.

It’s simpler than it sounds, trust me.

As long as we keep moving, the dusk can never catch us.

Together, we will defy gravity.

So, what more do I have to say to convince you?

Quick, take my hand. Let your legs run freely. Jump, bound, leap off the ground and soar through the air.

And don’t, for one second, look back.

Come now, let’s go.

imagecredit: http://rekit.deviantart.com

Behind the Story

Don’t you ever feel like escaping? Letting go of time and all things that bind you to this world? This is an ode to everyone who’s ever dreamt of leaving life behind, strapping on a jetpack and flying high. There really is so much to do in life, and not enough time to do it, because we’re too tied down by work or commitments. The only reason for it, for suffering so hard, is to survive life, or to provide for the ones we love. But, before we know it, we’re all gone. Then, like all vicious cycles, it starts again. I wish, more than anything in the world to just be able to take off and live life properly. Not intelligently, or sensibly. Just living like we’re supposed to be.

‘Got my head up in the sky,
And I'm never looking down feelin' priceless, yeah,
Where we at, only few have known,
We're on the next level, Super Mario
I hope this works out, Cardio,
Til' then let's fly, Geronimo.

Here we go, come with me,
There's a world out there that we should see,
Take my hand, close your eyes,
With you right here, I'm a rocketeer,

Let's fly.’

This is my favourite song at the moment. It’s beautiful. It gives me goosebumps. Listening to it, I’m almost drawn away already. I imagine a place where ‘carefree’ would be everyone’s motto. Where love can overcome anything. And most importantly, loving yourself comes as first priority. If you believe you’re invincible, then why not be? The clouds are not the limit to our sky. They’re merely blocking the view. Like in the last lines of this song, ‘Where we stop nobody knows’. So, just forget what you know, what you’ve learnt.. Forget it, and go.

P.S. Far East Movement = ❤.

spreads like wildfire.

11.11pm, 24th of October, 2010.
Listening to: Rihanna ft. Eminem - Love The Way You Lie Pt. 2.

Spreads Like Wildfire.
The way you push me away and tell me that you hate me, and the way I shout at you and destroy the things you love.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise anymore.

We’re not meant to be together.

The two of us are far too destructive for our own good.

But does that stop us?

Not a chance.

We say with such fervent passion that it’s ‘over’.

Though we know such words are only lies.

I know I should be stronger, but I’m selfish.

I can’t handle knowing that you would be happier without me.

If we’re going to be miserable, I would rather be miserable with you.

I’d rather bring you down with me than be alone in my suffering.

And if that causes you to hate me, despise me with all your being, so be it.

You know you need me.

Just as well as I know that if we go on, I will continue to loathe you and hate you for depending on me.

Soon enough again, I won’t be able to stand the sight of you.

The sound of your voice will cause my blood to boil.

I’ll try to block you out, separate myself from you.

It’ll happen that way, as it has so many times before.

Until, as always, something will happen that changes it all.

On a hot, sticky night, we will fall together.

Just one touch.

White hot and scorching.

One simple brush of skin to skin and it spreads like wildfire set ablaze, reigniting everything I felt for you from the first time we met.

The shyness, the nervousness, the happiness..

All of it set alight once again.

And like a moth drawn to this flame, I stand, struck still, stunned by the glorious light that surrounds you.

Because I don’t know any better.

Because I can’t think straight.

Because it overcomes me.

That need to be next to you.

That need to have you.

Even if I get burnt.

Even if I die trying.

I can’t be without you.

I don’t think I could even stand to live.

Because the spark that fuels the fire will eventually destroy it all, sending this house up in flames.

And the only proof of what we had together will be the dark cloud of black smoke which blocks out the sun.

imagecredit: http://jamjars.tumblr.com/

Behind the Story

It’s a destructive relationship, of course. They know better than to fight fire with fire, but it’s all they can do to keep themselves from falling completely apart. All you get is a bigger fire, you say? True, but the more fire the better. The more anger. The more passion. And it is this very passion which rekindles the flame. The two feed on the feelings they had shared in the beginning, but it only lasts for so long. A dependency they have for one another is dysfunctional to say the least. It’s only a weakness; something neither of them have the willpower to resist. No, it’s not love at all. At least, not the type with a happy ending. Because a love like this only breeds pure destruction.

‘Try and touch me, so I can scream at you not to touch me,
Run out the room and I’ll follow you like a lost puppy.
Baby, without you, I’m nothing.
I’m so lost, hug me,
Then tell me how ugly I am, but that you’ll always love me,
Then after that, shove me, in the aftermath of the
Destructive path that we’re on, two psychopaths but we
Know that no matter how many knives we put in each other’s backs,
That we’ll have each other’s backs, ’cause we’re that lucky.’

Part two of the already infamous and emotional song. However, this version is a little slower and hard hitting. The story in the lyrics is a realistic one for some people out there who are stuck in a never-ending loop of jealousy, anger, hatred and lust. There may be a hint of love hidden away between all the hostility but it’s pushed away to the deepest corners of the heart. It’s only when, by some chance, that love is released from its cage and in that quick moment, it overflows. It runs through your veins, rattles your bones, tingles your fingertips and it happens so fast you don’t even realise it. Without an ounce of your control, it spreads like wildfire.

slow down there, stranger.

8.47pm, 7th of September, 2010.
Listening to: Hans Zimmer – Time [Piano Arrangement].

Slow Down There, Stranger.
I don’t know why, but I just can’t leave him behind.

He has his back turned to me and I can’t see his face.

But it doesn’t matter since it’s already been engraved in my mind, carved into the depths of my brain.

The image of his smile. That beautiful smile.. And the pain that it causes me.

Suddenly, he’s gone. Dissolved into the mist which enshrouds everything around.

The mist is thick and heavy. Combined with the darkness, it blocks my sight and smothers my every breath. It hurts to inhale and I find that there are tears forming in my eyes, blurring my vision even more.

Then, I see, just barely, a silhouette. A dark, shadowy outline of a figure off in the distance. I can’t say for sure, but something tells me it’s him. Something in the back of my mind urges me to follow.

And like that, I run.

Desperately gasping for air, I run.

I run, begging for my legs to carry me as quick as they possibly can.

But no matter how far or how fast I sprint, I can never get any closer. The more I move toward the image of that person, the more it proves to be futile. The chase is never-ending. And the funny thing is, from the very beginning, I already knew this.

Yet I continued to chase that one thing I wished to hold close to my heart, knowing entirely I would never reach it.. That I could never grasp his hand in mine, or breathe in his sweet scent. Not like this, anyway.

The picture of his perfect pink lips, curving into that trademark smile of his, flashes through my mind and sends rivers of tears flowing down from my eyes.

An ache in my chest brings me to a halt. My legs, shaking, eventually give way beneath me. I fall to the ground in a pathetic heap. I cough and heave, trying to fill my lungs with air. I cry out in pain, both physical and emotional.

Again, my weaknesses have gotten the better of me, after my desires have seized control of my body.

Why is it that I can’t find time to think things through? Even when I know that in the end, I always fail.

I must be a masochist.. I cause myself all this pain and to achieve what?

To stare at a blank face.

To stare at an empty space.

To stare at a shadow that disappears in a millisecond.

And appears again just to taunt me.

Because then, I see him, standing before me once more, turned away.

Not far this time. Just a foot away.
I gaze up at his back for the thousandth time. I’ve memorised his size, stature and shape. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s him.

Knowing this, I want to shout and him; scream and yell at him for leaving me each time.

I want to question him, ‘Why?’

Why does he disappear each time I call out to him?

Why doesn’t he love me anymore?

Why does he run?

Is it me?

Or, is he held back by something else?

What happened to us..?

All these questions swarm into my head, and I don’t know which to ask first.

With all the strength left in me, I reach out to him.

But, just when I do, it’s all gone.

My eyes open and reality comes back to me.

The room is dim, but slowly being lit by the light of dawn.

My body is in a cold sweat and my face is wet with tears.

Realising the truth, I turn over and gaze out the foggy window.

I don’t want to fall asleep again, for I know what lies in wait for me.

The man who plagues my dreams.

The man I can never forget.

The man who doesn’t slow down for me, not even one second.

The man who has become a stranger to my memory, but not to my heart.

imagecredit: http://goodbyefascination.tumblr.com/

Behind the Story

No, it’s not an infatuation. Nor is it an obsession. It’s more of a disease. The girl can’t help but to chase the boy. Her subconscious is what drives her to think about him, thrive for him and wither without him. She can try to forget him all she wants, but in the end he returns to her one way or another. It’s sad. No matter how hard she tries, she is in an infinite loop. An endless quest with only disappointment as her reward. However, it wasn’t always one-sided. She knows who he is, or who he was, back when they were together. And though she has chosen to let go on her own accord, something else has a tighter hold.

Cobb: ‘Well dreams, they feel real while we're in them, right?
It's only when we wake up that we realize how things are actually strange.
Let me ask you a question.
You never really remember the beginning of a dream do you?
You always wind up right in the middle of what's going on.
Ariadne: I guess, yeah.
Cobb: So how did we end up here?’

Sorry to have used the cliché of, ‘and then she woke up’, but my desire to tell this story this way has gotten the better of me. Inception, probably the best movie of this year, has just imploded my brain. A complete mindfuck. And just like the girl who can’t forget the man who roams around her dreams, Cobb, the main character can’t help that his subconscious draws him back to the people he loves. However, while Cobb is tortured by the image of his wife, he is also driven to go back to his children whose faces he cannot see. And it's those things we can't see, but are desperately trying to, and which we could, if we just slowed down a little, that are vital in life.

pulchritudinous.

1.58am, 3th of July, 2010.
Listening to: Bruno Mars - Just The Way You Are.

Pulchritudinous.
It intrigues me that the skin and bones of your face have moulded together into something so brilliantly flawless. All human beings are necessarily equipped with skin and bones. But yours has, by chance, formed together in such a way that I cannot so simply describe.

You are systematically perfect.

You are technically sublime.

You are accurately beautiful.

And your anatomy is completely unrivalled in every way.

The physical sensation between two people, some say, is called 'chemistry'. And I agree, neurochemistry is very much a part of it.

My endorphins, the neurotransmitters coursing through my brain, react wildly when you are near and send my heartbeat pulsing at what roughly feels like the velocity of a particle moving at the speed of sound.

But there is more to it than simply that.

Theoretically, when two similarly charged objects are placed together, they experience a repulsive energy.

Yet, since the initial moment our paths crossed, there is something that has me inextricably drawn to you. It's as though you are the bright, burning star, and I am merely one of the planetary bodies bound by your gravitational force field.

Yes, like a magnet to metal, I am helplessly attracted.

Just like the gravity of the moon’s affect on the ocean’s tide, I’m pulled towards you.

It’s just as nature intended.

As though we were moulded for each other.

It’s inexplicable. And it’s incomprehensible.

Yet its occurrence is inevitable.

Thus, I must conclude..
As each one of the facts that I have stated above are undoubtedly, positively true, it can all only pertain to one thing:

My hypothesis that..

I think I’m in love with you.

imagecredit: [ oblivious graphics ]

Behind the Story

Complex words, yet a simple message. A nerd’s love letter. Even those who seem like they’re impossible to love do find it eventually. And even those who try to find the answers to everything in life, and try to understand every aspect of the world, still can’t ever fully comprehend the baffling, paradoxical, intangible mystery that is love. We can try to describe our feelings with as many words as we can think of, as many as we can find in the dictionary, but it will never be enough. Because while its perfectly fine to babble our way through our emotions, basically, all we really want to say is easily explained in three little words.

pul•chri•tu•di•nous [puhl-kri-tood-n-uh s]

adj.
Characterized by or having great physical beauty and appeal.

There are so many ways to convey what you think. There are so many words we can use to say the same thing. Pulchritudinous isn’t a common word we use these days. In fact, I’ve personally never heard it said out loud. But while it sounds like some kind of disease, it turns out to be a compliment. Some words are so overused and worn out that they almost lose their meaning. And when this happens, we should find a new way to say it, and create a new, original way to express our meaning. So, maybe every now and then, when you discover a beautiful person, with a beautiful soul, you might think back to this moment, and blurt out that odd little expression: “Pulchritudinous”.

fast cars and shooting stars.

12.05am, 14th of June, 2010.
Listening to: My Chemical Romance - Helena.

Fast Cars and Shooting Stars.
The lights flash by, brighter than ever. They flood my sight quickly, but disappear in an instant.

He hits the gas, and I’m thrown back into my seat.

It’s both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, like a rollercoaster. My spinning head wants to get off this ride, but the intense beating of my heart says, ‘Go faster.’

Like the expert he is, the car easily manoeuvres around the slowing traffic. We speed through intersections, taking risks as he guns it through the red lights. Horns are beeping wildly all around, but they’re easily drowned out by the bestial roar of the engine under our hood.

A part of me has missed this feeling. The feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins, the feeling of being stupid and having no consequences.

I glance over at him, and he peeks back at me. A part of me has missed the feeling of being with him, being in love.

He smirks, eyes still set on the road. “Take a look out the window.”

Confused, I turn my head. I gasp.

The world around has vanished in the velocity. Now, all that’s left is the darkness of the night and the streaks of light rushing by, like stars of the universe. I stare, entranced at the sheer beauty.

Shooting stars. The one thing I’ve always wished to see.

“It’s amazing.” I murmur.

“I know.”

I don’t want to close my eyes, for fear I’ll miss even a second of it. And for the rest of the trip, we sit in silence.

Until, that is, like all good things, it comes to an end.

We pull up back to my driveway, and I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed about it.

If he hadn’t called me up, if I hadn’t agreed to come for one last drive, would I have ever been able to witness such a thing again?

It doesn’t matter though, what’s done is done. And they should be left done.

I open the door to get out of the car. “Thanks.. for tonight.”

He looks genuinely happy as he smiles down at me. “You’re welcome.”

Slowly, he leans in.

So do I.

Our lips barely graze before something washes over me.

I regain myself and pull away, leaving him puzzled.

“This was such a mistake.” I whisper, my breath exhaling as a cloud of white in the freezing night.

“No, it wasn’t.”

He brings his hand to brush my face, but I pull away.

“I’m sorry.” I say, not able to stand it any longer. “Like I said before, tonight is the last night. There’s nothing left between us anymore. Please, just move on with your life. Forget about me.”

Finally, with all the willpower left in me, I get out and start to leave.

“Wait..”

I hesitate before looking over my shoulder.

“Before I go,” he says, out the window of his car. “Tell me something profound.”

I shake my head. “Sorry, I don’t have anything for you. ‘Profound’ isn’t my style.”

I turn back to leave.

Before I reach my doorstep, he calls out across the lawn.

“We both know that’s a lie. Every word you’ve ever spoken has always been profound. Now, I’ve given you your shooting stars for inspiration, yet you don’t have anything for me?”

I don’t face him and stay silent instead.

However, he continues. “Didn’t they move you? Didn’t they make you wise, like you used to say?”

His words force me to remember those conversations we’d have, lying on the roof of his car, minutes after midnight, when the stars shined the brightest.


“What inspires you?” I feel the vibrations of his voice as my head rests on his warm chest.

“The stars.”

“The stars?” He repeats.

“Yeah. The stars.” I stare up at the sky. “They’re beautiful, like little explosions of light. And the wisdom they bring is like nothing this world has ever seen.”

“That’s intense.” He laughs.

“I wish one day, I could see a shooting star.” I close my eyes. “Just once..”


I’m brought back to the present, as I stand at the doorstep to my house.

“Maybe back then, I would’ve replied with something wise, something philosophical enough for your taste. But now, I know for sure.. There’s no wisdom to be found in fast cars and shooting stars.”

I open the door and step inside.

But just as I shut the door, I swear, in the deathly silence of the night, I heard his whisper slither through the crack, “That’s all I asked for.”

Then, the effects of the joyride kick in. My head spins as I collapse in a heap against the front door and the memories of that night, from a year ago, flood back.


After a few moments of silence, I speak up.

“What inspires you to race?” I ask him.

He wears that trademark smirk of his. “You.”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to hear what you tell every other girl. I want to hear what you honestly think.”

Surprised by my bluntness, he smiles. Gently, he strokes my cheek.

“I don’t know. I guess.. It’s the speed, and the freedom that comes with it. There are no limits when I’m in that seat .Racing.. It lets you forget the all bad stuff, you know? Just forget what you’ve done and what you’ll probably do. It’s the rush of adrenaline. And the feeling you get when you run your last lap and come first across the finish line. It’s like you’ve won more than the race. You’ve won respect and most importantly, you’ve won the right to believe in yourself again.”

He leans on one arm and looks at me. “It’s kind of like what I feel when I’m with you. You make all the things I don’t want to remember disappear, as if I were a new man. And that, by the way, is something that I’ve never told to another girl.”

Then, he kissed me.


You’ve always known what to say to keep me by your side.

But this time, I won’t be there.

I couldn’t have turned you into a new man, even if I tried.

There’s just too many things and too much time that I can’t simply erase.

You might think of me as what inspires you to race - what inspires you to be better, but truthfully, you and I are certain of only one thing.

The you from the past, present and future? That you.. won't ever change.

If anything, though, I want you to know this.

Know that I won’t be there, waiting for you at the finish line.

No, not this time. Or ever again.

imagecredit: weheartit

Behind the Story

“One last joyride?” is all he needed to say. And even though their relationship was over, the girl agreed. “For old times’ sake.” She replies. It was over, but still, he remembers the late night conversations. He remembers the things that are important to her, even if she says they're not anymore. Why? Because she is the thing that is most important to him. Just to regain the bliss she provides him with, he’d do anything – he’d even bring her the stars. And though she could never admit it to him, she knows that. But she chooses to let go.

‘Can we pretend to leave and then,
We'll meet again,
When both our cars collide.

What's the worst that I can say?
Things are better if I stay.
So long and goodnight.’

Relationships aren’t easy as those movies make it seem. Yes, it’s all love and romance at first, but after that, reality sets in. Beautiful words once said become meaningless recollections hidden away in the furthest part of your mind. Problems can’t always be solved with one kiss. No matter how hard you try, even if it makes you happy for a while, the past cannot be erased. But, perhaps someday, in another life, lovers can meet again, and as the two collide, nothing can stop them. Not even fast cars or shooting stars.

inadequate.

11.08pm, 16th of April, 2010.
Listening to: Brian McFadden ft. Kevin Rudolf - Just Say So.

Inadequate.
They said I was perfect.

Apparently I’m not anymore.

“Why?!” They ask. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

Why indeed.

Their mouths move in a motion unexplainable; their expressions twisted with rage.. disappointment.. disgust.. and a hint of confusion.

I see lips moving, and I know I’m meant to be listening but all I hear is this steady droning sound. Something about how I’ve disgraced my reputation and that I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. The same speech that I’ve heard a thousand times before has already imbedded itself into the lobes of my brain. Hummmmmmmm. It’s like my ears have already numbed themselves to their voices.

Today, though, they appear just that little bit more livid. ‘Defiled’ is a new word that seems to be coming up often, I notice.

All this fuss over a little ink and a few bits of metal.

“Look at you! Look at what you’ve become!”

The shrill voices are echoing around my head.

“Do you even know what kind of shit’s being leaked over the internet? There’s photos of you smoking, drinking, getting stoned, getting into fights and sticking your tongue into whatever you can find!”

“What kind of example is this? There are millions of people who look up to you, know that?”

“Why can’t you be normal like the rest of the boys?”

Ha.

You know more than anyone that I’m not normal.

Nor can I be generalized in this category you call ‘the rest’.

Unique. That’s what you said I was when we first met. You said that I stood out. You said that I was exactly what you were looking for. You said I was it.

You fucking liar.

“We gave this to you. And we can take it away.”

“Don’t push us, boy.”

I laugh at the irony.

A man already in free fall can’t push another.

“You think this is funny?”

I open my mouth and without a single regret, pronounce: “Hilarious.”

“Little piece of shit!”

An arm is raised.

Smirking, I take a step forward.

“Hit me. I dare you.”

The look in his eye says it all. He wants to beat the living crap out of me, but he knows he can’t. Everyone knows you can’t make a profit from a damaged good.

And that’s all I am to them.

A defective product.

I’m not satisfactory any more. I’m not perfect. I’m..

Inadequate.

All they have left for me are questions. Why am I doing this? Why do I cause so much trouble? Why can’t I be like everyone else?

Here’s a question I’d like to ask:

What the fuck am I still doing here?

I chuckle to myself while silently shaking my head. There isn’t one reason I need to stay for. So, I set my eyes on the door and like a puppet with its strings freshly cut off, I feel a newfound sense of freedom coursing through my veins. I walk.

“Wait! Where are you going now?”

Without looking back, I shrug my shoulders. “Not sure.”

“Come back here right now!”

Their words blow right past me and I know for sure I’ve made the right decision. After all, the guy at the parlour did say, ‘You are only young once.’

“IF YOU LEAVE NOW, YOU CAN NEVER COME BACK!”

As I’m about to exit, I turn my head, grin and say, “If you say so.”

“What? WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GIVING UP HERE?”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

I’m not entirely sure.

But when you do figure it out, be sure to let me know.

imagecredit: http://fuckyeahashleystymest.tumblr.com/

Behind the Story

Meet the man of my dreams, Ashley Stymest. No, this is not at anyway a story about him or any events in his life. Just a mere piece from my wandering imagination. It’s about a young man, on the rise to fame. However, after the initial praise and glory, he begins to see that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. ‘They’ had told him that he was perfect as himself, but he soon realizes that this ‘perfection’ is in the end just an image, never to think or speak for itself. This character is a little bit twisted.. He finds humour in the outraged reactions of others. He doesn’t give a damn about what people think of him and hardly cares about the fame. His attitude is to do what he wants, whenever he wants.

‘If you're gonna leave me,
Don’t hesitate, don’t believe me.
Just say so, just say so.
Lovers can’t be leaders,
They need to scream, feel us.
They say so, they say so.

Damn feelings burning my spirit inside.
I'm half the man you can barely recognise.’

This song is about completely not caring about what happens when things go bad. Just letting go of faults and conventions, and not looking down on yourself. Boys and girls, there’s a moral to this story. Don’t let anybody tell you what you should be. If they can’t recognize you for who you are, then they aren’t even worth noticing. They’re inadequate.

ghosts.

03.22pm,11th of April, 2010.
Listening to: 2AM - I Was Wrong.

Ghosts.
We used to enjoy it.

We used to.

But soon, I found myself alone.

Day after day, you stopped coming.

And day after day, I stood there waiting for you, stupidly believing you would come back for me.

That you would throw your arms around me all over again.

By convincing myself of this, I found the strength to stay.

I waited.

And waited.

But as time went on, I came to realize you were long gone.

You weren’t coming back for me, for you had already vanished.

Little by little, my will grew weaker. Fainter. Duller.

I gave up.

I gave in.

Like you, I stopped and I moved on.

My life, or whatever was left of it, continued.

I found my own way..

Without you.

And that’s when I hear your voice ringing in my ears.

“You weren’t there today.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

I try to keep a calm appearance.

You ask me bluntly,

“Where were you?”

You..

You’ve taken the words straight out of my mouth.

But, I will not show you my raw emotions.

I will not falter.

So, I keep up my cold exterior.

“Did you miss me?” I smile, teasingly.

I thought I could play it cool. I really did.

That was until you quietly said,

“I miss you.”

Jokingly or not, I will never know.

All I do know is that it was enough.

It was enough to send me running back to you.

So quickly..

To bring me back to that spot.

That time.

That place.

And I was foolish enough to trick myself into thinking you’d wait for me, like I have been for you.

All along.

I have been waiting for you.

Silently, but steadily.

Even when I said I’d abandon all thoughts of you..

You were still in the back of my mind.

Which is why I’ve been brought back here.

To wait again.

For you.

Maybe I’ve seen you there before.

Could it be that we’ve crossed paths without knowing?

It’s possible.

I've been here so long that I don't even remember who I'm looking for.

I've forgotten.

What your face looks like.

How your voice sounds.

Who you are.

Please remind me.

Because, to me, you're just a blur.

Just an empty space in my heart.

Just a ghost.

A ghost..

Was it really your voice I heard back then?

Or just the whisper of a memory long gone?

I don’t know anymore.

Or might it be me who haunts you, and not you who haunts me?

Am I the spirit without a shell?

Perhaps..

We are both hiding from the world and cut off from each other.

Perhaps we are all ghosts.

imagecredit: Tumblr

Behind the Story

The protagonist of this story is dealing with their most troubling emotion: confusion. And it is this exact confusion that is conveyed to the reader. Our character waits for somebody he loves. Whether it is their lover, their mother, their father, their sister or brother, they mean the world to them. This person waits and waits, but never meets them. For a little while, the protagonist believes that they have let go, but is soon drawn back. Like some unstoppable force is pulling them back. Before they know it, the details start to fade and much time has passed. Then, the realization comes that the character/s are just ghosts, which explains why the dialogue is quite one sided.

‘I was wrong.
Your words were so, so sweet that
I didn't realize you were playing me
with your words every day.

Baby you’re breaking my heart.
Baby you’re hurting my heart.
I want to stop this.
I know this is wrong.
But I keep going back to you.’

These lyrics bring forth the feelings of the protagonist; that even though they know it’s hurting, that can’t help but going back. The lies and small details don’t matter at all because the only thing that means something is that they find each other someday.

mirror mirror.

1.12am, 30th of March, 2010.
Listening to: Breaking Benjamin - What Lies Beneath.

Mirror Mirror.
She sits alone in the corner of a room painted white. White walls, white sheets, white floor. There are no windows to the outside world. This is the only world she knows now.

The walls are bare, save for a single plain-framed mirror by the door.

In her hands lies an old and tattered book. With her dainty pale white fingers, she traces the words printed on the creased, yellowing pages.

“Once upon a time,” she began to read, in a small and delicate voice. “There lived a lovely little Princess named Snow White.”

Sitting silently, she imagines to herself the face of this so-called princess. Lips red as a rose. Hair black as ebony. Skin white as snow.

Innocent and sweet, looking eagerly to the future.

Turning the page, she read, “Her vain and wicked Stepmother, the Queen, feared that someday, Snow White's beauty would surpass her own*-”

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream erupts from outside the room, a sound that would be unsettling for anyone else, but not this girl.

She simply closes the book and places it back gently on the shelf. Lying down on the flawlessly made bed, she closes her eyes.

Pretty princesses and wicked witches. The ideals of such things swirl around in her head.

Stories like these aren’t so different to the real world, if you think about it. It’s just that in reality, people aren’t always as they seem.

There was a time, though it seemed like centuries ago, that she had been afraid of the dark; terrified of what creatures laid in wait for her through the blackness.

“Don’t be afraid of things that don’t exist,” someone had once told her. “In our world, people are the real monsters.”

The screaming has died down, finally. There is nothing but silence now.

Not even the whistle of the wind or the chirping of crickets is present, but it’s not as if she can remember what those sound like anymore.

Then, footsteps.

Two of them, as it seems. Quick and precise, they proceed down the hallway, echoing as they go by.

They stay still for a little while and she strains her ears to listen. They’re standing at the door of the room next to hers. All she can hear is the sound of faint murmurs.

Then, the voices move closer. They're in front of her door now. Their conversation is low and hushed, but she can hear a few words at a time.

"Her.. as a child.."

"... Really?"

“.. suicide watch.”

Finally, she doesn't care anymore. She's heard enough to know that she doesn't want to listen any longer.

She rolls on her side and tucks her knees to her chin. Eventually, the two people outside leave, but not without uttering the last word she especially didn't want to hear.

"... Matricide."

After a while in silence, she sits up and walks over to the mirror next to the door. She peers into the glass, staring into her reflection. She stares into her soul, or what is left of it.

Her lips are no longer red as roses; they can only quiver into a faint pink frown.

Her hair is no more the sleek ebony black it once was; just dry, messy strands.

And her skin?

Though gaunt and paler than it had ever been, it is still as white as snow.

imagecredit: http://novacaine-kills.xanga.com/

Behind the Story

Just a story I thought would be interesting to write. Not one of my favourites, really. It’s a sad upbringing of an essentially innocent little girl. One who believed in fairy tales, with princesses and all. And when your world is as bleak as hers, why not imagine the impossible? With an abusive mother, there isn’t much else you can do to hide yourself. But one day, the wicked witch had drunken too much poison and attacked the poor princess. It happened so fast, the little girl didn’t know what to do. And before she knew it, her mother had fallen into a deep sleep. Without a Prince to give her a true love’s kiss, there would be no way to wake her up.

‘You, my queen, are fair,
‘Tis true.
But the young queen is
A thousand times fairer than you.’†

Children need love and affection. Violence is an issue that is happening a lot now, especially in homes. For kids, it’s not an easy thing to deal with. It’s not something they can understand. Whether they see it happening, or it’s happening to them, it traumatises them. And it inflicts more emotional pain than physical. Scars heal, but fear is something that you can’t wipe out. If you could stop it from being done, wouldn’t you? Blame can be pointed at anyone, but if you know you can do something about it, do it. Take a look in the mirror, see into yourself and do what you can make a child’s future a positive one.

* Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs (1937).
† Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, Kinder- und Hausmärchen, (Children's and Household Tales -- Grimms' Fairy Tales), final edition (Berlin, 1857), no. 53. – Translated by D. L. Ashliman.

lit up.

9.35pm, 10th of February, 2010.
Listening to: 2pm ft Yoon EunHye – Tik Tok.

Lit Up.
I found him squatting down against the wall, a cigarette between his long, slender fingers.

“Ugh. Give me that!”

I reached for his hand, but he instinctively drew it away.

“Get your own!”

“For your information, I don’t smoke. And neither should you. Ever heard of emphysema? Or lung cancer?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you, my mother?”

“No, but I feel like I have to act that way since you’re such a kid!”

Catching him off guard, I lunged at his hand, successfully knocking it out of his grasp. A smug smile found its way onto my face. I couldn’t help it; he was just that slow.

“Hey! What the fuck!” He gave me a dirty look.

I walked off without looking back. “You’ll thank me when you realize that breathing fresh air is actually nice.”

Finally, I went back inside to join the others, leaving him sitting there, all alone.

“Whatever.” I heard him say before I shut the door.

Quickly, I took one last fleeting glance out the window.

Immediately after he had heard the door close, he lit up another smoke, letting the burning air fill his lungs once more. I turned around and walked off in disgust.

Disappointment. So this is how my parents must feel.

~

“Hey. You can have a cigarette if you want. I won’t say anything.”

I spoke quietly, careful not to say anything the least bit hurtful.

“Nah, I quit.”

My eyes widened. I turned to him in shock.

“Really? That’s great! Since when?”

He paused.

“Since you told me to.”

Behind the Story

Originally was written as part of another story which was never completed, and most probably never will be, this love story is one with a rough start, but a happy ending.
After meeting for the first time, the two don’t get along at all. They’re both somewhat sociopaths in their own way, [the girl not even having a relationship with her parents], but they both share the same obnoxious demeanour. Introduced by mutual friends, they have no choice but to tolerate each other. Over time, the girl subconsciously begins to have feelings for him, but keeps up her guard, because he is already in a relationship.
However, after vicious public display, he and his girlfriend break-up. After the fight, which the girl bears witness to, he leaves in exhaustion and she follows him, trying to cheer him up. For the first time, she shows a soft, passive side to him. When responding to her kindness, he reveals that he had actually taken the things she said to heart. Finally, he understands that he had always kept her in his mind and in his heart, from the moment they met.

‘Nobody knows;
How I want you like this every day.
Every time I embrace you behind the stage,
My heart bursts.

We greet each other awkwardly in front of people.
But when we turn away,
I'm the one who knows you best.’*

The song’s lyrics convey the feeling of loving the other person, without anybody knowing. In this case, nobody knows; not even themselves. But, the reason behind the writing of this story is to express the feeling when two people realize that they are in love. The pause before his last line is the sudden recognition, where the all the thoughts flickering wildly through his head come to a sudden halt; the dim light that was hidden away in his heart breaks out into a fierce flame and.. He sees her. He looks into her eyes; into her bare soul and, like a new shining star exploding from the apparent nothingness, he is lit up.

*Translation from http://eklyricos.blogspot.com/

pretty words.

11.37pm, 14th of January, 2010.
Listening to: Muse – Undisclosed Desires.

Pretty Words.
You don’t want me, yet you play with me. You hold me up with those pretty words, only to watch me fall again. I’m falling again. I’m falling for you again.

I don’t want you anymore.

But I want you.

I want you to leave me alone.

Why am I crying like this? It feels meaningless. The tears are empty. But, the pain burns as though it’s real. I’m crying over something that never even was.

I try to hold it in. I try to suppress these feelings.

I don’t close my eyes; I try to push back the tears. But, they overflow, anyway. The hot streams run down my face and slide down my neck. Then, the cool breeze blows past and makes the droplets icy cold.

I give up and slump against the wall, unmoving. The silent crying continues.

And I decide for myself. I won’t cry for you a minute longer.

I decide that I will erase you. Erase you from my life. So, I won’t cry. So, I won’t get tempted.

Finally, as I am about to let you go, there you are. You pop back into my life again with an innocent smile. Of course you smile. You don’t know what you’ve done.

So, like the fool I am, I make up a lie about my odd behaviour and my tearstained eyes. And I fall right back into your trap again. I fall again. To those pretty words of yours.

imagecredit: http://novacaine-kills.xanga.com/

Behind the Story

This one is about an unrequited love. The girl speaking has had a troubled past, and therefore cuts herself off from the rest of the world. But there is one person she feels she can open up to.. The boy she thinks she loves constantly flatters her and teases her, but she’s confused of how he truly feels; whether he’s trying to tell her something or if it’s really just another game. She wants to get rid of him, but before she even has the chance to wipe away her tears, he returns. Him, and all her memories of him come flooding back. He is oblivious to how he makes her feel and how she cries over him. He smiles at her, and as helpless as she is, all she can do is play along.

‘I want to reconcile the violence in your heart.
I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask.
I want to exorcise the demons from your past.
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart.'

She wants desperately to hear these words from his mouth. All she ever hoped for was someone to save her from herself. But, she knows that when she hears them, they will just end up being another lie. A few more pretty words.