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HOw...?

How far can you stretch a friendship before it breaks? For it takes little to cross the line between love, and hate. How much can you ask from a friend before he stops giving? For it takes a lot to be forgetting, and forgiving. How long can I be a victim before you stop playing hero? For I am tired of myself, you must be tired of me too.

So my friend, I harbour no illusions.

I am only a figment of my own imagination.
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2009

As the year draws to a close, I wonder if I look forward to 2009. While people around are busy preparing for the countdown, making new year resolutions, I sit here pondering.

To wait.

In anticipation of something, anything.
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heAR fRom Me

She told me she is happy to hear from me. I am glad she is happy to hear from me. I find it difficult to believe that people are happy to hear from me. Because sometimes I am not sure I am happy to hear from me.

The joy of imperfection.
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...

Sometimes, gratitude is not enough.
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wHen DArkNesS FalLs

When darkness falls, it falls fast. And suddenly, you are enveloped in the inky blackness.

I haven’t felt the darkness so acutely in a long time. Yet strangely, a part of it still feels so familiar. Perhaps even comfortable. Perhaps even safe. Like returning to the neighbourhood I was growing up in when I was little. And I knew, every door along the road that I knocked on, someone would welcome me in and take care of me.

For I, I am a child of the night.
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mY FavOUriTE chRIstMAs sOnG

A ray of hope flickers in the sky
A tiny star lights up way up high
All across the land dawns a brand new morn
This comes to pass when a child is born.

A silent wish sails the seven seas
The winds of change whisper in the trees
And the walls of doubt crumble, tossed and torn
This comes to pass, when a child is born.

A rosy hue settles all around
You got the feel, you're on solid ground
For a spell or two no one seems forlorn
This comes to pass, when a child is born.

And all of this happens because the world is waiting
Waiting for one child
Black, white, yellow, no-one knows
But a child that will grow up and turn tears to laughter
Hate to love, war to peace and everyone to everyone's neighbour
And misery and suffering will be words to be forgotten, forever.

It's all a dream, an illusion now
It must come true, sometime soon somehow
All across the land, dawns a brand new morn
This comes to pass when a child is born.
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dReaM ComE TRuE

I had a dream. I came knocking, and you opened the door and welcomed me in.

In my dream, we were sitting there, talking like old friends. We shared jokes, laughing so hard I almost cried. We ruminated on life and living, thinking with such force I almost cried. We told stories, chiseling away so much of my self I almost cried.

And dreamily I wonder, if you hadn’t been the one who opened the door, what would have happened.

Then I realised, it isn’t actually a dream. I did have a good time chatting with you yesterday.

Thank you.
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C-o-U-R-a-G-e

I’m one for taking the easy way out. Sometimes when I’m tired, all I want to do is to curl up and sleep. To let the problem pass away. To let things be swept under the carpet. If ever a war was to happen in my lifetime, I reckon I would just lie there and wait to die. It’s too troublesome to try and scrape together a living. Or perhaps my instinct for survival is not well developed.

This morning, she asked me how I coped. I told her I try not to take things too seriously. I think from a distance, one can breathe easier. And it does not mean that when one is further away, the more one is dispassionate about what is going on. Sometimes you have to take a step back before you can see the way forward.

You must have the courage to pursue your happiness.
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WaiTInG, hOPiNg, wONDeRinG

For many days, weeks, months, I have been waiting.
Waiting, for a miracle.
For many days, weeks, months, I have been hoping.
Hoping, for a miracle.
For many days, weeks, months, I have been wondering.
Wondering, whether miracles really happen.

I have been thinking.
Thinking, that miracles do happen.
But miracles don’t happen just because I wait for them.
Miracles don’t happen just because I hope for them.
Miracles don’t happen just because I wonder about them.

Miracles happen
When I take the initiative
To do something
To make them happen
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dUSk

It is dusk, one of my favourite moments of the day. The sharp edge of day gets a little softer. Little children come back from school and the playground is filled with their laughter. The birds cry a little louder. And I ponder on the closing of another day.

In this moment between light and dark, in this moment between day and night, I decide to hang around. Not wanting to let the day go, not willing to let the dark in.

Resistance is futile, my friend.
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tHiNKiNg

"A bookstore is one of the only pieces of evidence we have that people are still thinking."

(Jerry Seinfeld)
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i WouLD liKe...

I would like to be a woman who loves and who is loved.
I would like to have little hands holding mine so I can keep them safe.
I would like to be part of a happy family.
I would like to hold my children and love them with all my heart.

“Where would my dreams take me?” I asked.

“Someday you will find your true love,” she answered.
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wHat I dO NoT HaVe

There are many things I take for granted. From little things like having broadband internet connection to major things like being alive. From having a roof over my head to being able to wake up tomorrow morning. From having my five senses to being able to think and dream.

It was never my intention not to count my blessings. Just that it is easier to blame the world for the things I don’t have. I have a cupboard bursting with clothes, but I don’t have a walk-in wardrobe. I have a bookcase bursting with books, but I don’t have a library of literary collections.

I understand the magnitude of the world, but I don’t understand my own insignificance.
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TouCH mE, tOuCh Me nOt

When I was little, I used to love looking for touch-me-nots. I loved to disturb them so that the leaves would close. I was mesmerized by them. From the dandelion clock-like pink flower to the spindly leaves. Many afternoons you would find me crouched on a grass patch playing with the touch-me-nots.

Perhaps, like me, they have many secrets to hide.

Mimosa pudica from the Order of Fabales.
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WaLtz Of tHe FLoweRS

So this is me...

d-DAy

You are special. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
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MaGIc

There we sat, in companionable silence. It is hard, to find someone, who is as comfortable with silence as I am.

I have known her, for a little over 2 years now. It is interesting, how our friendship evolved, over time.

Friendships are magical. There is nothing to predict the process that turns strangers into confidantes. Neither is there a marker that dictates when a mere acquaintance becomes a soul-mate. Somehow, it happens. And just like that, we are friends.

May the magic of the flowers bring you much love, peace, and joy.
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tHis, Is...

Day follows day. As night follows morning follows night. In a repetitive cycle.
Seconds chase after minutes chase after hours. In a never-ending game of catch.

This, is life?

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fALliNg DowN

The first time I was taken to hospital for treatment was when I was in New Zealand. It was while I was on a wildlife day tour during one of my early weeks there. We were trekking down some hilly farmland to reach a secluded cove where we could watch the yellow-eyed penguins come back to roost for the night. I think I slipped and instinctively reached out to grab hold onto something, which unfortunately was the barbed wire fence.

Blood spewed. I had cut my finger. But surprisingly, it didn’t hurt that much. Either I was in too much shock, or the cold was really doing its job of numbing my fingers. There was quite a lot of blood, but the first aid kit was in the tour bus which was quite a distance away, so a decision was made to continue with our trek down the hill to catch the penguins while a makeshift bandage was put together with pieces of tissue paper.

When we eventually got back to town, I was sent to the hospital, nursing an injured finger that by this time had swollen quite a bit and was beginning to smart quite a lot. The doctors injected some local anesthetic while they cleaned up the wound.

I still carry the scar today. On the ring finger of my left hand. I just think it’s very poignant, given the situation I am in now.

A scar forever etched.
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RunNInG AwAY

We were running away. We had to run away. From who or from what I do not remember. Except that we were running away. We pretended to be foreign students wanting to learn about local culture, so we could mingle with the crowds. We sat in buses and in trains. We hid in toilets and in store-rooms. We were running away and we were running away.

We had to swim miles and miles of ocean before we could reach safety. We had to swim for days and weeks and months before we could reach safety. We had no choice but to swim to safety. That was the only way.

The ocean was a deep dark blue. The corals were beautiful. Schools of fish accompanied us. In dazzling colours they swam beside us. We made friends with dolphins and with whales. We swam in a kind of drunken stupor. Swimming day by day by day.

And then I woke up.
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gEtTinG ReaDy

uPSet tHE BaLanCe

I am often unsure of what I want. My life hence feels like a series of missed opportunities. Maybe it might be more accurate to say I am very easily swayed by what others say. So in my moments of indecisions, I follow whoever has the loudest voice.

Which has not always served me well, but it allowed me to go on. Until the other day when I discovered, I had inadvertently upset the balance.

No use crying over spilt milk. At least clean it up.
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oVeRHeaRd

“So what do you want?”

“I still don’t know.”

“Well, I do. I want to move on with my life.”
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aN EgG

"It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad."

(C.S. Lewis)
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hMmMM...

I am allowed to make mistakes.
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diFfERenT LivEs

I have always wondered about the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Sometimes not without a smidgen of envy. If I didn’t have to worry about money, would my life be any different? If I had millions of dollars to my name, would my life be any better?

I have also realized, that it’s almost impossible for me to fathom the lifestyle of the rich and famous. We exist in such different social spheres it is like our lives will never collide. I will never hang out at the places the rich and famous hang out at. I will never have a common set of friends with the rich and famous. Our thoughts, our words, our very lives, are essentially different. Divorced one from the other.

I was at the supermarket the other day and I thought about whether the rich and famous would frequent places like that. What if they suddenly wanted to eat a peanut-butter and jam sandwich? Or perhaps, only escargot and truffles feature in their diet.

It is amazing, how different lives can be.
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HapPy

It’s the school holidays, and I hear little children playing, screaming, laughing, in the playground. It makes me smile to hear them so happy. And I wonder, when was the last time I laughed so hard? When was the last time I felt brave enough to scream at the top of my lungs and crazy enough to double over with laughter? When was the last time I felt so free?

I have a bad habit. Of looking at the world through grey-tinted glasses. For every laugh I hear, I remember every tear shed. For every cup half-empty, is another cup half-full. For every moment I am envious of what others have, I forget to be grateful for what I have.

My happiness is hard won.
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