The Fall

...and it's a weird feeling now,
 your face is nor your own and
tugging and stretching,

Pulling Taut The String

your body does things of its own accord
your stomach is fluttering, almost flittering here and there,
and your palms are itchy and flailing arms,

Increase Surface Area; reduce Pressure

malfunctioning-your heart clenches and plunges,
it twists and churns and you know,
cause when you close your eyes, and think,
your mind draws up a picture so easily
like, and you know-

automatic,

this is how you fall,

will fall, are falling, have fallen

in love.

Puddles and Cards

Cover cards, hold them in one hand.

Closed and far away from prying eyes.

Taking in the situation, worn out eyes overthinking every turn, angle, crook and cranny. She can’t help it. This is who she is. Wary and cautious.

Late night, cars and-

Sort the cards, try to figure out the best combination, the best fit. With the least loss.

But how can she, when her head’s a mess, filled with imbalanced equations and non-answers, with turnarounds and take-backs, with what ifs and whys. And she doesn’t know the best course of action.

“We’ll save that for later-”

Re-arrange the cards, try and look at all different possibilities, and narrow them into probabilities.

Too many unknown variables, too many details left blank, how can she decide?

Hesitant smile, green plaid, and-

Hold, wait. Think.

What, how, what, ho-

Stumbles, Puddles and- oh.

Wha-.

“Would you- like to go out with me?”

Yes. 

A shout into the Void

Marching for the beat of 5

The march starts before it’s time,

Marked not with the dinging of an alarm,

or the ticking of the clock’s arm.

No, instead it’s with the muffled patter of feet,

A stealthy scrimmage across your peripheral vision;

the first sign.

crossing past the lobby-

exit, load, unload, enter-

quick and swift, past glass doors, glass walls;

the second sign.

Shadows now march, emerging from transparent caves

Quietly queue-ing, passing through, without a sound,

The Third Sign

March 

One, Two, 

March 

Ready?

Three, Four, Five

March for the beat of 5.

The Internship

It's been a hectic few weeks,
and the days are beginning to blend,
becoming a slow unnerving pulse of routine.

After months of waiting and hunting for an internship, finally obtaining one felt like a miracle, really a reprieve from the dullness of doing nothing. However, after months of simply 'being', and suddenly thrown into a glass walled building, and given mountain of work?

Yeah. It took me a while. The first few days, I felt myself sapped of energy. I hated the glass walls, I hated the punch card, and other than that, I also hated the work. I hated everything about it.

but then, routine settled, and I started to find my footing. Slowly got leverage, and balanced.

I still hated the glass walls,
but I began to like my work.
I still hated the punch card,
but I began to find myself adjust to time.
I still hated the environment,
but I felt myself begin to understand why it was the way it was.

Simply put? Working in a private company had an equation. Money = Time.

The more time you spent working, meant more money coming in. The more work you get done in an alloted time, meant more money. So, if you did a lot of work in a lot of time, that would equate to a lot of money.

Or in this case, do as much as possible in 8 hrs a day, 6 days a week, and you get much more money than before.

Comparing this experience with my past internship experience with the government?

Well, that would be a whole winded post, that I'll divulge, next time.
For now, I have to type in a logbook, and post it on another website. Sorry dear blog of mine, I have another.

but my heart and mind belongs to this one.

Cheers,
The One Who Hates Changes; Qeel.

Everything Eventually Ends

this is life, you think.

and your hand itches,

and your ears squeemish,

as you hear a story unfold.

of a tale, of two best-friends

torn-apart, distant and colliding

with one another, breaking bonds

and fraying all olive branches,

all beyond any sort of repair

"I can't take this anymore, I have to leave."

and you hear an uproar in your mind as it races,

and squirms as you push for an answer, a solution

you just need to think of something smart, something fast,

some sort of miracle cure, that will fix this gap.

You open your mouth wish to say:

"Let me try to fix this. You both-"

Instead you say: 

"Okay."

A jumbled up wire

I hate this. 

This being my inability to communicate or handle my inner turmoil. I wish I could pile it up according to the severity of feelings, find the root cause and categorize, dismantle, and cleanly solve it. To precisely understand how I am and what I feel.

It's moment like these that I clean and re-organize my closet/kitchen/toilets/bedroom.

except, I've done it, a lot, that it's lost the numb feeling.

so... I've resorted to this. I know usually I write and absolve the feelings, like when the problems are big. but lately, I've been personally adamant in not facing this. like just focus on my destination. Put autopilot on, and just drive. signal. brake. drive. 

Life, as usual though, had other plans. It's created this complex traffic pile up, with all these surprise road signs and broken traffic lights.and now, my car's at a full stop, and I have to pay attention. 

It's a lot like having a wounded up jumbled piece of wire looped around itself that you have to untangle or you can't breathe. and right now, well, I feel like I can't breathe. and I'm suffocating.  

Like dominos are falling down a piece at a time, and the last tile is going to make the very foundation of my fragile sanity give way.

It's actually funny really, writing this right now, I can feel my stomach gnawing and my brain race.

the most prominent are sadness and regret.

Both of them are tangled and twisted around one another, I can't even tell where one begins or where the other ends. It's seeped into every single happy file I have, tinged it with outlines and squiggles. 

They're both persistent and arguably could be said the most redundant theme of my life. Adding weight to my ever growing load, and my back is starting to ache. It's a burdensome weight, but it is what it is. The truth is:

I'm stuck. in the sea of squiggles.

 here. at home, in this shell of a country.

 Always here. never there.

Simmer

a rumble,
a growl,
a hiss

claws,
stalks,
echoes,

Simmer and wait for slow boil, till then-

a rumble,
a growl,
a hiss

claws,
stalks,
echoes,

 repeat-

Again, and again, and again

It happens quickly and slowly at the same time,

it's a torrid and beautiful affair, that transcends all logical and scientific explanation. 

You were there. 

in your splendid disastrous glory,

for a faction of a second,

You were there. 

and my heart skipped a beat,

jumping, tilting of the axis

 like a sailor going overboard-

called, coaxed, entranced by the siren of the sea.

You are the siren of-

(Would saying 'my sea' be cheesy and totally uncalled for?)

You are the siren of the sea.

(There, that gives you an omnipotent mysterious air, that you had always strived for, no?)

but you're gone. and it doesn't make sense.

that even just the hint, even a very misplaced

and misguided hint,

Years, and years, and years,

sends my head into a spiral mess of emotions, 

my heart into a disarray of mis-tempo-ed beats, 

cause you're gone.

but i'm still in love with you.

Just a lil more

Shaking Hands, Trembling Fingers and-

Grasping, Clenching, and-

Hold.

I don't need a reason to kill myself, I need a reason not to.

I could die at any moment, the tragedy is that I don't.

What you want to see, and when you actually see it

There's a difference between believing in something and actually living it.

No matter how many times one can sprout sayings, argue beliefs and understand a set of morals, one can not truly understand what it is to actually live by them.

For days now, I've been trying to live by a mindset: See the world not as it is, but as it could be.

and let me tell you this, it's harder than it looks. To follow this. 

Cause when the whole world is being negative and just against you, it's hard to assume the possibility of positivity. when bad simply fills up your vision, it's hard to see the small acts of good. when all around you is pain, you can't believe there is relief.

All these weeks, you've been in pain and hurt, and no matter how many salves you use, there's still a sting. and only now, you've figured out that maybe it was because you were holding back, because you were preparing yourself, because you were afraid.

Afraid that people would leave again. Afraid that people would look at you, and think. "Meh, I could do better.". Afraid that you aren't enough.

and although, your other friends have helped mend you, it's these that you are still afraid of.  not that you're not afraid of the other friends leaving you. but these are the ones you are deathly afraid, cause they don't know you, as you are, 

the dark shadow that lives in the crevices of your mind

the morbidly grey morale that seeps into all the decisions you make

and also the sinister sadistic tyrant that lives in between all the smiles you give.

but there are moments, though. moments when you can believe in it. 

it comes with an easy laugh, a lowering down of defences, and an open conversation. It's when you let go of the possibility of them leaving you, from just a glimpse, at how truly irrevocably broken you are.

it's when you actually do,

see the world, not as it is, but as it could be.

  

Dreams and Desires

You're there again,

in a little corner, of sorts, where you used to hide.
a place where you could always run to and disappear,
an old place that by no means mean anything to you,
except that it's quiet and nobody's there and you can do whatever you want.

read, write, think.
whatever you want.

you haven't been there since..
well, it's been a while,

the same tables, the same chairs,
the same chip on the tile, the same marks on the same whiteboard
everything is the same as before...

this place preserved by time,

and you're there with your sling bag, and converse shoes, and your shirt and ripped jeans,
and it's like looking in a window of the past, as you paw through your bag,
as usual, reaching for a book.

when you hear it, a disturbance in the silent solace,
a shift in the air and in the quick skip of your heart-
you know.

you know, as you turn around and see
disheveled hair, skewed glasses,
smirk in tact.

you see him

you see his fingers stretched out for you
as his digits move forward and reaches for you
and in a short few seconds, your eyes meet his, and you can

feel him.

his hands cradling your face, and his thumb drawing circles on your cheek,
and it's all him

and you want to tell him, you want to speak to him, you want to hold him
but you can't.

cause this was before,
not now
this was then,
not now

'cause dreams are the epitome of our true heart's desire'

and he's always been yours-

and always will be.

How to Breathe

"Take a breath"

 it feels odd, as this air-like concoction seep down the trachea, and-

"hold it in for a while"

-I what? hold it, as in let it pilfer your lungs and what?-

"now slowly let it out"

-SLOWLY let it out, bit by bit, just breathe out slow-

oh. wow.

and suddenly- relief.

tension and stress, thoughts and insecurities dimmed down..

streams and neverending voices turn to a slow focused trickle..

and it's funny really, how out of all the exercises and meditation, it's this that reminds you how to breathe,

so you put it back into your mouth, and finally

breathe.

Allie to Shay: Letters Across The World

Open Words document, and stare at the blip onscreen.

Dear Shay, Shay, To my platonic soul mate

  Alright, I'll just start writing. Cause unlike some people, I do not find peace when I write, infact during the process of writing, especially when writing about feelings, I fumble and trip over words, like a traveller triapsing into the woods in the dark. -

Smirk.

- and I find it appropriate that I compared my feelings as dark woods, maybe a forbidden forest-esque situation to be honest, but yeah. so I will stumble, and I will get confused, but at the end of the day, writing in itself, the product will make me see the clearing. yes, you must get lost to only be found anyways. yes?-

You pause, and your fingers

tap, tap, tap.

so.

right. 

tap, tap, tap.

-how do I begin? Let me rewind a bit. See, do you remember when I emailed you about a certain situation ? About me and that habit of running and over thinking, and the fact that I've been running in a long winded loop, of dodging and sliding, and the difference between my need to escape and be alone with my need to avoid complicated commitments.

stop, flex fingers, crack neck.

After hours, (nearly days, I think) of meditating in the cave, wrestling with my inner thoughts, and mastering the basic means of survival. (Code for: I stared at the ceiling ontop of my bed/ sat down in the garage and looked at the lawn), I decided that this time, maybe this time, I'll just try. Maybe it's time for me to stop running around (the maze) avoiding things and actually try to figure out what the code means.

So I rooted myself and decided to go forward, and I boldly (code for slid it into the conversation while avoiding eye contact)  asked a friend (for the sake of this letter, we shall call this friend K) if I could infact go on a date with our mutual friend ( we shall call this one F), as he had asked me out.

side recap: F had been in an unreciprocated love trope for the past 2 years with K, and well, now he's over it (or so he says.).  And I want to believe him, cause well, I don't give up completely on people easily, do I ? -

scratch, scratch, scratch. You can practically feel the back of your neck flush in embarassment.

anyways, beside the point.

K said yes. She was even supportive and happy. 

 

sigh

but then, things got complicated. fast. 

I-

stop. deep breath.

-I lost a friend last week, Shay. 

pause. crack your fingers. breathe.

K (surprise, surprise) took it back. took her approval. after saying yes. and at first I sat by and just watched as she told F about her leaving him because she couldn't handle him moving on from his unreciprocated love for her, and the have her text me, that she was doing it for me.

for me, shay.

she was doing it for me.

stop. deep breath. all out. now.

The words swam. and my heart, it broke.

I felt like scum and lower than I ever felt,

 

cause even though, this could be classified as her being selfless, it felt, as if she was... demeaning me, she was doing it just for me, because she still has power over him, and that I have none.

as if he was property to be handed over, as if he was always going to be her's. and I'd still be her friend but she wouldn't be able to hang around us two as a unit.

(here, I'd like to state I reminded her, that this was one single date)

but it doesn't stop there.

The next day, we had lunch, (don't ask me why I agreed to it, I just did. cause I'm dumb at times,)  where she rambled and rambled about F leaving her, so she could leave him, happiness, people leaving her always, how I was inevitably going to leave her.

. Also, I asked her if she had feelings for F. if she actually finally reciprocated his feelings (day-late friend from Anberlin feels appropriate here). She denied it, and again repeated she wasn't able to see him move on, while she's still pining over her ex. that she can't even see the possibility on the horizon.

I cut her off here cause I couldn't handle it, and I reminded her it was one singular date. and that she was overreacting. we then parted ways, on a somber note. (though, mostly all her doing, cause I didn't say much, just listened)

then it's followed by a whammy. double whammy that night. she texts and says she is leaving. She left me, because she couldn't handle seeing F and me. never mind it is just one date.-

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Do not cry.

-Just like that, Shay. Just like that, she walks away, like I'm nothing. Like I haven't done anything for her. Like I haven't been there for her, withstood her less than positive aptitude, stood by and listened to her through countless rants, picked up the pieces when she kept falling apart.

Like I was nothing-

stop. You have to stop. Stop.

Breathe. You have to breathe now. yeah. that's better. that's better now.

so yeah. it's been a week, and I finally got around the fact, and yeah. I'm telling you here.

I miss you. I miss you so much. Missing you is like my lungs missing oxygen, like a drought missing rain, like a respite against an ongoing storm.

cause at the end of the day, as much as I run, you're my partner. When things are rough and I can't breathe, I run headlong to you and sometimes you join me in the running, and other times, you just let me rest my weary legs and my heavy heart.-

tissue. tissues. dab at your eyes. yes. that's it. You gotta stop it now.

Come back Shay, Come back, to this desolate place, this dried up water hole, this energy sucking black hole.

Come back for me.

okay. that's enough now. sign off.

Missing you, waiting for you

With Love,

 Allie.

Power

Water cascading down from the showerhead. The pitter patter of the droplets. Droplets making way past your drenched head down to your toes and into the drain.

It’s not enough..

You grasp the nozzle and the outpour increases, and the thuds sear onto the peeling wall and tiled floor.

It’s not enough..cause –

You turn a knob, and you can feel the change. Close your eyes, as you feel the staccato rhythm on your skull, and stand. Stand as the streams of water surrounds you, as it rakes down your body, as it slowly slithers away hiding the marks.

 words hold power.

The thought echoes in your head, barraging through barriers, racketeering a race through your brain.

And you clench your fists, and the fingernail bites into your skin, and you feel the blood rushing in your head. The mirrors are fogged and you can see your skin turn red.

Words hold power,

and you are powerless.

Why read?

When you read, you’re allowed a glimpse into another world. A world that may be similar to yours with only a few slight distortions, or maybe even a world that is completely different from yours. 

You’re transfixed at the whole new world that appears to you, and as you read it, you enter it.

You’re allowed this whole new backstage pass to the thoughts and actions of all these different characters. It allows you to disappear from this world, and nothing else matters.

Nothing matters.

Just the printed words in front of you. Just this whole new world that is in front of you.  Just, everything in that moment pivots on the string of words that comes after another.

Sometimes, though only in some books, something spectacular happens.

Sometimes it’s the character, Sometimes it’s the plot, and sometimes it’s both.

 Some books allow you into this whole new world that somehow seems familiar. It straddles the thin line of escapism and reality that lightly raps its knuckles on the Fourth wall, which itself enraptures and warps your consciousness and self being.

 It’s because you see a glimpse of yourself in this world.

Where you disappear to only appear, in the pages of a book.

And that…that is beautiful.

The Over-used Lamenting of A Prodigal Return

The title says it all, ladies and gentlemen.
So instead of filling this post up with laments and optimistic reminiscing of the good old days where I wrote on a monthly basis followed by a promise to fill in my time with my writing...

I will just use this blog as a means to just dump my thoughts and drabbles. Alrights. Thanks.

cause I do what I want.