In some of my dreams, I am failing.
This is the nightmare:
I'm already awake.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
5 letters my stalker sent to me
I had originally wanted to write about Yamamoto (from KHR) and his kinship with walls AKA crashing into one while executing his epic katana move (in the most anit-climatic ending to a battle sequence THANK YOU AMANO-SENSEI I DIED LAUGHING WTSSSSS) but.
ANYWAY.
For Ommie, I’m such a slow bastard.
“Basically, I wished that you loved me
I wished that you needed me
I wished that you knew when I said two sugars, actually I meant three
I wished that without me your heart would break,
Yeah, I wished that without me you’d be
Spending the rest of your nights awake
I wished that without me you couldn’t eat
Yeah, I wished that I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep
Look, all I know is that you’re the nicest thing that I’ve ever seen
And I wish we could see if we could be something”
-Nicest Thing, Kate Nash
Darling,
Did you know that when you have nothing to do, you discover a lot of things?
Here is a list of things that I have discovered:
1. There is a mole on the right side of my hip, and one under my left bum. I know this because the guard told me so.
2. The cook actually uses left over food from last night for our breakfast. I know this because the cook told me.
3. I’m actually getting out sooner than I thought. I know this because a different guard told me.
4. I love you more and more, increasingly with each day.
5. I love you.
6. I love you.
7. I love you.
Don’t worry darling, I’m coming soon. And don’t worry, no matter who I’ve done, you’re always in my heart.
Love, always.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Darling,
I’m caged within these high walls. The barb wires sting, the electric fence kills. But it doesn’t compare to how much I love you. When I get out, let’s hop into your car and leave your burning house behind. Let’s drive to no where. Let’s drive off a cliff, so that we can fly away and love each other forever and ever.
I love you so much. I wished that you love me too.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Darling, when I’m out of here, I hope you’ll be waiting for me. I hope you’ll be sitting on your porch, in front of your cute little house, waiting with your carefully loaded Smith and Wesson SM1911. I hope you’ll shoot me. (I killed you wife and your two children, and your golden retriever, because you are mine.)
Then you’ll know how I felt when you got married. This creates a bond that no one else could ever hope to have between us, don’t you think?
Don’t you know love?
There’s nothing worse than not being noticed.
There’s a fine line between love and hate.
I want you to hate me so much you love me.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Darling,
This blasted wall keeps us away from each other; I want to blow it down. I want to tear it apart brick by brick by brick. I want to dig a hole with the cranium of the guard who I fucked. Because I love you. I love you so much that I have no heart—I gave it to you. Where have you put it? Return it to me. I love you I love you I love you and I need my heart to do so.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Darling,
Someone broke out. There’s now a big gaping hole in that wall that disconnects us from each other. I’m coming over to the other side now. Don’t worry, the police won’t find me.
I’m coming darling. I love you.
Title:
5 Letters My Stalker Sent to Me: Breaking the Wall That Holds Me From You.
Nothing Will Get In Between Us Again Love.
P.S. ILU.
I’M SORRY OMMIE NOT ONLY AM I SO VERY VERY LATE I BUTCHERED YOUR PROMPT FORGIVE MEEEEEEEE
ANYWAY.
For Ommie, I’m such a slow bastard.
“Basically, I wished that you loved me
I wished that you needed me
I wished that you knew when I said two sugars, actually I meant three
I wished that without me your heart would break,
Yeah, I wished that without me you’d be
Spending the rest of your nights awake
I wished that without me you couldn’t eat
Yeah, I wished that I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep
Look, all I know is that you’re the nicest thing that I’ve ever seen
And I wish we could see if we could be something”
-Nicest Thing, Kate Nash
Darling,
Did you know that when you have nothing to do, you discover a lot of things?
Here is a list of things that I have discovered:
1. There is a mole on the right side of my hip, and one under my left bum. I know this because the guard told me so.
2. The cook actually uses left over food from last night for our breakfast. I know this because the cook told me.
3. I’m actually getting out sooner than I thought. I know this because a different guard told me.
4. I love you more and more, increasingly with each day.
5. I love you.
6. I love you.
7. I love you.
Don’t worry darling, I’m coming soon. And don’t worry, no matter who I’ve done, you’re always in my heart.
Love, always.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Darling,
I’m caged within these high walls. The barb wires sting, the electric fence kills. But it doesn’t compare to how much I love you. When I get out, let’s hop into your car and leave your burning house behind. Let’s drive to no where. Let’s drive off a cliff, so that we can fly away and love each other forever and ever.
I love you so much. I wished that you love me too.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Darling, when I’m out of here, I hope you’ll be waiting for me. I hope you’ll be sitting on your porch, in front of your cute little house, waiting with your carefully loaded Smith and Wesson SM1911. I hope you’ll shoot me. (I killed you wife and your two children, and your golden retriever, because you are mine.)
Then you’ll know how I felt when you got married. This creates a bond that no one else could ever hope to have between us, don’t you think?
Don’t you know love?
There’s nothing worse than not being noticed.
There’s a fine line between love and hate.
I want you to hate me so much you love me.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Darling,
This blasted wall keeps us away from each other; I want to blow it down. I want to tear it apart brick by brick by brick. I want to dig a hole with the cranium of the guard who I fucked. Because I love you. I love you so much that I have no heart—I gave it to you. Where have you put it? Return it to me. I love you I love you I love you and I need my heart to do so.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Darling,
Someone broke out. There’s now a big gaping hole in that wall that disconnects us from each other. I’m coming over to the other side now. Don’t worry, the police won’t find me.
I’m coming darling. I love you.
Title:
5 Letters My Stalker Sent to Me: Breaking the Wall That Holds Me From You.
Nothing Will Get In Between Us Again Love.
P.S. ILU.
I’M SORRY OMMIE NOT ONLY AM I SO VERY VERY LATE I BUTCHERED YOUR PROMPT FORGIVE MEEEEEEEE
The Rules of Writing
Are simple.
1. don’t write shit
2. don’t even THINK about writing shit
3. if you write shit, i will find you, and stalk you, and force feed you with your own words
And you will spout nothing but purple prose and no one will ever understand you. And they will get pissed because it takes you five minutes to describe that cheeseburger you want at macdonalds during lunch hour.
And that is why i always call my eyes orbs that glisten in the sun that hold such depth that you could drown in them, and you will hold out your chiseled arms of ivory and hold my petite frame close to you, and love will pour from your lips.
And then I’d commit seppuku.
(That’s because I write shit.)
1. don’t write shit
2. don’t even THINK about writing shit
3. if you write shit, i will find you, and stalk you, and force feed you with your own words
And you will spout nothing but purple prose and no one will ever understand you. And they will get pissed because it takes you five minutes to describe that cheeseburger you want at macdonalds during lunch hour.
And that is why i always call my eyes orbs that glisten in the sun that hold such depth that you could drown in them, and you will hold out your chiseled arms of ivory and hold my petite frame close to you, and love will pour from your lips.
And then I’d commit seppuku.
(That’s because I write shit.)
The wind that fiercely whirls about, the shower that washes everything away
There's something about impending storms. Simmering feelings, undefined under my chest close to my heart. I don't know what it is. But it's that feeling you get when the blocked light turns everything a shade of gloomy yellow, and if you raise your hand you touch the ceiling of the sky. You can pull down a cloud you know.
It's standing in a high place that does the trick. You're on top of the world, and everything is spread bare before you. The rain rolls in like a heavy curtain, and it hurts because it's in torrents. It's the gale that makes you feel small, makes you feel like you could be blown away, ashes to the wind. And it makes you feel invincible, back straight, standing against the end of the world.
I have loved the rain since forever. But what I found out was that I loved seeing the thunder storm brewing and rushing towards me just as much. That calm before the storm. It's addictive.
It's being unable to see 6 feet in front of you. It's hearing the water drum a symphony, the crack of lighting and the low snarl of thunder. It's hearing the wind whistle through that gap in the windows.
It's seeing the aftermath, the swelled banks, the crooked (broken) trees, the drowned sidewalks. And the smell of after rain, and the smoke of the city that never goes away anyway.
And I think: this is when I'm most alive.
I think: It's the end of the world, and no one can stop me.
It's standing in a high place that does the trick. You're on top of the world, and everything is spread bare before you. The rain rolls in like a heavy curtain, and it hurts because it's in torrents. It's the gale that makes you feel small, makes you feel like you could be blown away, ashes to the wind. And it makes you feel invincible, back straight, standing against the end of the world.
I have loved the rain since forever. But what I found out was that I loved seeing the thunder storm brewing and rushing towards me just as much. That calm before the storm. It's addictive.
It's being unable to see 6 feet in front of you. It's hearing the water drum a symphony, the crack of lighting and the low snarl of thunder. It's hearing the wind whistle through that gap in the windows.
It's seeing the aftermath, the swelled banks, the crooked (broken) trees, the drowned sidewalks. And the smell of after rain, and the smoke of the city that never goes away anyway.
And I think: this is when I'm most alive.
I think: It's the end of the world, and no one can stop me.
Road Run
Yesterday i saw a rainbow. It was big, a huge arch hung high up, a bridge or maybe a divider between two pictures--dark rolling clouds with rain and bright cerulean against the sunset. And right down the middle, it was like walking between dimensions, like you could draw a line in the sky and no one would be able to tell that both sides were actually connected to each other.
The rainbow was beautiful and clear. And it had a twin, a faint one that dodged cameras even as it shimmered in and out of existence. that was in the evening.
But earlier, the sun was so harsh at Bishan park that i thought that the grass would burst into flames. or maybe i'm over exaggerating. but i felt like heat stroke and the stench of sweaty bodies hiding under trees as they stole off to drink milo from the milo van even when they weren't supposed to.
anyway, it was a school road run.
Listen: this is where it starts. at the time the mass run set off to the sound of a horn for competitions, we walked. and walked. and refused to run because that is what teenagers do best, and listened to ipods and chattered with friends and tried to sneak past the marshalls standing guard at shortcuts. and some did run. i brisked walked. lucky for us, there were trees, or i think we would be running in the gobi desert, throats parched and sweat making our eyebrows heavy. above us, black clouds appeared out of the blue (haha, pun) and then suddenly, it wasn't so hot anymore.
The rain came like a wall of water. some people ran into it because there was only one road then. Many were running away from it, like a dobberman on your heels as though your pants smelled like beef jerky. one moment, you are fleeing, and next thing you know, you're a running victorian secrets fashion disaster, your (black) bra in stark contrast to your white cotten tee, now translucent, and you have no idea when you have become drenched. come to think of it, it was comical.
rain got into my shoes. rain got into my ipod. If i were in a dry place, i would look as though i jumped into a pool with my clothes on. rain fell against my glasses, and at that moment, i wished my glasses were a car, with screenwipers so that i don't crash into trees. in two pavillions, wet bodies huddled under the shelter, crowded like slimy eels. the rain still blew in somewhat anyway. i heard that the wind blew some people bent, their backs not strong enough to resist the gale and they looked like old women with hunched backs. or unstable penguins toppling over.
back at the field where we were supposed to be, water refused to seep into the ground. people dashed acrossed the field, irregardless of lightning lighting up the whole sky. i ran, heedless of the rain, back to the tent which held my bag. my bag is canvas, a little pseudo leather, and full of paper notes. it has an umbrella. i hauled it (along with some other people, and i didn't haul them) over to the void deck nearby, us cramming under my umbrella as though we would be dry by standing under it. it did keep our bags relatively dry. i remember wading across the road, teachers suddenly becoming traffic wardens, pausing traffic like spliting a swelling ocean. actually, it was only two teachers, desperately stopping traffic to avoid students getting run over in a bad arcade game.
i played ferryman after that, carrying my little black umbrella around moving people who were carrying more than one bag in an attempt to keep them above muddy watery field (the boys tended to carry an armful) across the river styx, except that it was actually to shelter. pretending that the bags under me wouldn't get any wetter. i saw a bag, cloth, tote, open. muddy water just flowed in, and if the notes in there still retained its shape i would be surprised.
Back at the shelters where most of the crowd were, away from the media crew bodily, and umbrella-ly sheltering their speakers and mikes, away from the new found beasts of burden loaded with schoolbags and making a pilgrimage to dry haven, away from the teachers who stayed and got their working shoes decimated, the people still got wet, if the rain was washed in by the wind. Everytime the thunder rolled, they shrieked, as though their lives were at an end. and maybe it was. approximately the cost of $70, the price of a graphic calculator, and a wadful of notes cramped in a non water-proof bag.
and then after a while, it was over. most people, already wet, walked over when there was less rain to the void deck where their bags (mostly black again) were put in a sea of other bags. i stood on the bus with my friends, getting stares from passengers who wondered who these freaks were, and don't you dare drip on me i have designer shoes. (or maybe they stared at us with pity, although they would inch probably away from us, them being utterly dry.)
and i wondered if i should have stood in the rain, watch the winds blow the water across the pond like a mini sea storm, feel the rivets of water get into my eyes and make it sting, let it flow down my spine, and laugh at the sky and feel invincible and alive.
later, i saw the rainbow.
The rainbow was beautiful and clear. And it had a twin, a faint one that dodged cameras even as it shimmered in and out of existence. that was in the evening.
But earlier, the sun was so harsh at Bishan park that i thought that the grass would burst into flames. or maybe i'm over exaggerating. but i felt like heat stroke and the stench of sweaty bodies hiding under trees as they stole off to drink milo from the milo van even when they weren't supposed to.
anyway, it was a school road run.
Listen: this is where it starts. at the time the mass run set off to the sound of a horn for competitions, we walked. and walked. and refused to run because that is what teenagers do best, and listened to ipods and chattered with friends and tried to sneak past the marshalls standing guard at shortcuts. and some did run. i brisked walked. lucky for us, there were trees, or i think we would be running in the gobi desert, throats parched and sweat making our eyebrows heavy. above us, black clouds appeared out of the blue (haha, pun) and then suddenly, it wasn't so hot anymore.
The rain came like a wall of water. some people ran into it because there was only one road then. Many were running away from it, like a dobberman on your heels as though your pants smelled like beef jerky. one moment, you are fleeing, and next thing you know, you're a running victorian secrets fashion disaster, your (black) bra in stark contrast to your white cotten tee, now translucent, and you have no idea when you have become drenched. come to think of it, it was comical.
rain got into my shoes. rain got into my ipod. If i were in a dry place, i would look as though i jumped into a pool with my clothes on. rain fell against my glasses, and at that moment, i wished my glasses were a car, with screenwipers so that i don't crash into trees. in two pavillions, wet bodies huddled under the shelter, crowded like slimy eels. the rain still blew in somewhat anyway. i heard that the wind blew some people bent, their backs not strong enough to resist the gale and they looked like old women with hunched backs. or unstable penguins toppling over.
back at the field where we were supposed to be, water refused to seep into the ground. people dashed acrossed the field, irregardless of lightning lighting up the whole sky. i ran, heedless of the rain, back to the tent which held my bag. my bag is canvas, a little pseudo leather, and full of paper notes. it has an umbrella. i hauled it (along with some other people, and i didn't haul them) over to the void deck nearby, us cramming under my umbrella as though we would be dry by standing under it. it did keep our bags relatively dry. i remember wading across the road, teachers suddenly becoming traffic wardens, pausing traffic like spliting a swelling ocean. actually, it was only two teachers, desperately stopping traffic to avoid students getting run over in a bad arcade game.
i played ferryman after that, carrying my little black umbrella around moving people who were carrying more than one bag in an attempt to keep them above muddy watery field (the boys tended to carry an armful) across the river styx, except that it was actually to shelter. pretending that the bags under me wouldn't get any wetter. i saw a bag, cloth, tote, open. muddy water just flowed in, and if the notes in there still retained its shape i would be surprised.
Back at the shelters where most of the crowd were, away from the media crew bodily, and umbrella-ly sheltering their speakers and mikes, away from the new found beasts of burden loaded with schoolbags and making a pilgrimage to dry haven, away from the teachers who stayed and got their working shoes decimated, the people still got wet, if the rain was washed in by the wind. Everytime the thunder rolled, they shrieked, as though their lives were at an end. and maybe it was. approximately the cost of $70, the price of a graphic calculator, and a wadful of notes cramped in a non water-proof bag.
and then after a while, it was over. most people, already wet, walked over when there was less rain to the void deck where their bags (mostly black again) were put in a sea of other bags. i stood on the bus with my friends, getting stares from passengers who wondered who these freaks were, and don't you dare drip on me i have designer shoes. (or maybe they stared at us with pity, although they would inch probably away from us, them being utterly dry.)
and i wondered if i should have stood in the rain, watch the winds blow the water across the pond like a mini sea storm, feel the rivets of water get into my eyes and make it sting, let it flow down my spine, and laugh at the sky and feel invincible and alive.
later, i saw the rainbow.
OLD
6 September 2006
OLD LIKE WOAH. SHITY LIKE WOAH.
There was a broken piano at the corner of the room. And that wasn't the only thing that was in pieces. Casting a look around, i wondered how whoever stayed here actually managed to live in this room. For the life of me, i couldn't figure out HOW, let alone WHY or WHAT was i doing in somebody else's room. Somebody whom i definitely didn't know.
It was funny how everything seemed so familiar.
/I'm not dreaming am I?/ It felt so surreal. I could even hear the quietness of the room whispering around. It was so familiar, yet not and my brain was starting to hurt from all the cogs turning. Maybe i fell asleep in class or something. Most probably i did. ooh boy, i'd better not have any glitter in my hair... Why was i still dreaming?
The piano wouldn't play. And i still couldn't figure out where i was.
"It's not often i get to see someone." I whirled round. A figure slowly slid of the bed. Even from the relative darkness of the room, i could see her half-smile.
"Erm. It's your house, er, right? I'm sorry-"
"There isn't a need to apologise."
"..."
She shrugged. "Like i said, i don't get anybody here, so you'll have to forgive the... untidiness."
There was a thick silence after that. She walked up right next to me with the grace only one could achieve after staying in a messy room for years. My mind stupidly decided to realise that she was my height, instead of wondering why i was still-
"dreaming." Startled i gave her a wide eyed look, that ranged from a blur "wha?" to "OMGWTF"
"This is all in your mind."
Okay. so my mind was a wierd place to be. Cliched too.
"And it could do with a little more light."
"It's your fault for coming up with such a dreary place." sheepishly, i looked around once more. So. why was my mind, to put it mildly, a mess? The only other person in the room seemed to know what i was thinking, and smiled wirly.
"Like i said. give the room light." But how? there weren't any curtains, or even a window for that matter... What did it mean, to brighten up this room...
"You know, you think too much sometimes. You teenage angst emo-er wannabe. After all, your life isn't bad you know. It's all-"
""superficial.""
And the room lit up, light flooding in from a window that had appeared out of no where. She laughed again.
"If things were that easy..." And i could see that the room wasn't messy anymore. The occupant of the room had waltzed over to the piano and had started playing a few notes. and she was...
Beautiful.
"I am what you percieve me to be." And i smiled, finally understanding what she meant, what she was trying to show me with her window and all.
"So will you stop running away?"
I nodded. "You're me."
"I'm you; I'm Id." And then she grinned outright.
"And lessons are going to end soon, so you'd better wake up."
OLD LIKE WOAH. SHITY LIKE WOAH.
There was a broken piano at the corner of the room. And that wasn't the only thing that was in pieces. Casting a look around, i wondered how whoever stayed here actually managed to live in this room. For the life of me, i couldn't figure out HOW, let alone WHY or WHAT was i doing in somebody else's room. Somebody whom i definitely didn't know.
It was funny how everything seemed so familiar.
/I'm not dreaming am I?/ It felt so surreal. I could even hear the quietness of the room whispering around. It was so familiar, yet not and my brain was starting to hurt from all the cogs turning. Maybe i fell asleep in class or something. Most probably i did. ooh boy, i'd better not have any glitter in my hair... Why was i still dreaming?
The piano wouldn't play. And i still couldn't figure out where i was.
"It's not often i get to see someone." I whirled round. A figure slowly slid of the bed. Even from the relative darkness of the room, i could see her half-smile.
"Erm. It's your house, er, right? I'm sorry-"
"There isn't a need to apologise."
"..."
She shrugged. "Like i said, i don't get anybody here, so you'll have to forgive the... untidiness."
There was a thick silence after that. She walked up right next to me with the grace only one could achieve after staying in a messy room for years. My mind stupidly decided to realise that she was my height, instead of wondering why i was still-
"dreaming." Startled i gave her a wide eyed look, that ranged from a blur "wha?" to "OMGWTF"
"This is all in your mind."
Okay. so my mind was a wierd place to be. Cliched too.
"And it could do with a little more light."
"It's your fault for coming up with such a dreary place." sheepishly, i looked around once more. So. why was my mind, to put it mildly, a mess? The only other person in the room seemed to know what i was thinking, and smiled wirly.
"Like i said. give the room light." But how? there weren't any curtains, or even a window for that matter... What did it mean, to brighten up this room...
"You know, you think too much sometimes. You teenage angst emo-er wannabe. After all, your life isn't bad you know. It's all-"
""superficial.""
And the room lit up, light flooding in from a window that had appeared out of no where. She laughed again.
"If things were that easy..." And i could see that the room wasn't messy anymore. The occupant of the room had waltzed over to the piano and had started playing a few notes. and she was...
Beautiful.
"I am what you percieve me to be." And i smiled, finally understanding what she meant, what she was trying to show me with her window and all.
"So will you stop running away?"
I nodded. "You're me."
"I'm you; I'm Id." And then she grinned outright.
"And lessons are going to end soon, so you'd better wake up."
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