Love

It is not that love is blind.  It is that love sees with a painter's eye, finding the essence that renders all else background.  ~Robert Brault,

-------------------------------------------------------

It has been three weeks, and he cannot bear to think of living another day like this. Yet he has to and he knows it.

He just didn’t know what to expect, yet he was expecting something new, something he hasn’t experienced in his near 30 years of life.

He pulled his chair up close to the desk and lean himself backwards. Staring at the computer screen, moving the mouse around purposelessly.

It is a busy day for him, and it used to stir some excitement and anxiety in him. But today he didn’t feel anything and he just want to finish the day and leave this place.

Looking around, he saw all the buzz and noises, colleagues walking back and forth, talking over the phone, laughing   at each other relentlessly. But he couldn’t hear a thing and he didn’t care a thing either.

He has this smile on his face all this time.

He was not in his greatest mind recently. To be exact, he was struggling with himself a lot. There are two voices inside of him quarrelling with each other, and he felt he was a stranger sitting there watching them fighting on a stage show. He was not convinced by either of them, yet he was also not sure who is absolutely wrong.

“You just cannot do it! Passion is action without thinking, it is a suicide!” One voice loudly acclaimed.

“Just do it! Go with your feeling! You know that you love her in the first sight!” Another voice jumped out, smiling at him with care and love.

“What is love? And let’s say you do love her, so what? Are you sure you want to throw everything just for her? She is well below you and your society!” The first voice simply didn’t want to back off.

“That’s nothing if you love her which you know you do! If you love her, you love her as a person, you love her lips, her body, her hair, her smell, her voice, everything she has! Even her fault and weakness!”

“Do you?” The first voice clearly saw a opportunity to launch a assault so it did just that!

“Don’t you?” the second voice clearly saw the danger near hand. In desperation, it allowed the other side to take the control.

“I don’t know. Maybe..but I really don’t know!” Now he himself cannot hide anymore, facing two actors on the stage directly, he has to say something, yet he regretted it the minute he opened his month.

“How can you not know?”

“How can you not know?”

Now the two voices have merged into one voice, with pity and disappointment, they both disappeared at once.

“How can I know?” He talked to himself in a very low voice.

“What did you say?” She turned to him with a slightly confusing smile.

Now he came back to himself all of suddenly. Seeing her sweet smile, her lovely lips, her bright eyes, her shining hair, he gave out a huge smile and kissed her gently.

“Nothing, I just love you!”

My Confession

Men are not prisoners of fate, but prisoners of their own minds.  ~Franklin D. Roosevelt

--------------------------------- 

I know it is my day the minute I woke up, because I noticed that I can still breath.. 

I am not going to die any time soon, at least not intentionally or knowingly.  

I got up from my own loneliness, that's last night and before and I am stuffed and almost in suffocation now.

No one can understand me, or at least better than myself. Yet I don't have a clue how to get myself out of this! The funny part is, I don't know if I ever want to!  

You know what they say about those dying people? like they never lie or something? well, they know nothing shit about dying people and their lies. Dying people do lie, its just that people around got themselves so fucked up by the feeling of losing someone, they believe anything they make up themselves. 

Why do I know all this? well, I don't!! I am just one of them! Those dying people, they are dying in minutes, I am dying in...well..not very long time. So I am just guessing.. 

What am I talking about? I don't know, since I am brushing my teeth and I cannot let my brain idle for too long, so I just talk to myself.

People always think I am crazy and most of the time I agree with them, because I know I am just like any of them. And that upsets them a lot, and I just don't know why. 

I don't want to live like this anymore and I have made that decision well before I live like this. Yet each and everyday I woke up like this, feeling my own breath and later in suffocation.  

Looking around, I know I am a stranger to everyone.  

I am doing the same thing almost everyday, meeting the same group of people, taking the same bus, walking the same road, making the same turn in the same spot, eating the same food, and breathing the same air and talking the same shit.. 

I know I can change it! Instead of doing it in spot A, I can choose B. Instead of talking to him, I can talk to her. Instead of Chinese food, I can eat Malay food. But does that make the difference worth the effort?  

I believe I am a optimist, at least before I begin to doubt that. But why do I have so many doubts? I don't even know if I can still breath tomorrow.  

Do you?

Well, I think I better put on my clothes and walk myself out of this room now. 

and you better do the same thing, I know you are in a room.. Maybe a big one, still suffocating...

P.S: I am imitating someone else, so don't worry about me

One Mile Away

If you knew that hope and despair were paths to the same destination, which would you choose?  

-- Robert Brault

----------------------------------------------

With every step, this little old man dragged himself ahead. 

His figure is small and stooping; his face is wan and vexing; his hands are thin and shaking. Yet despite all, there is determination in his expression. He kept looking at the road ahead and imaging those far beyond the hill top. With each time it came disappointment, there is still no sight of any living being, much less any man and village. But there is still no despair, hope can still be detected in his subtle smile and gripping hands.

Long has he broken his crutch and thrown it away and now his shoes are failing him. He can feel the increasing pain from his feet, they are burning with each walking attempt. There is this spot in his right foot, it hurt so bad that he has to cripple now. But that didn't help at all. The more he wanted to avoid, the more he felt the pain as soon as he stepped on that spot again.

The pain from his feet and the thought of avoiding it has occupied him so much that he was no longer thinking of the journey itself. He still kept looking ahead once a while, but that is more out of habit. In his eyes, there is no despair, nor hope. They are blank empty like stones, there is no more brightness and liveness. They are now serve only one purpose, that is to scan and avoid rugged spot on the road. 

He was told it is only one mile away. and now he began to double that.

He recalled the smile of the woman who he inquired. "Why did she smile like that? She must have decided to bully me before I asked her for direction. And God knows, she must be laughing at me right now and talking it to her friends loudly."

But then he was not so sure about that idea. "Did she really say one mile or ten miles?" He knew he has heard of something about one mile, but what if that was for joking? He now remembered that he has talked to that woman for quite a while and she was laughing at his jokes badly. "It must be like that. She told me it is ten miles, then we joked about it being one mile. It must be like that! What a handsome woman!"

Unconsciously, he has passed the hill top and was now moving down the other side. 

"Oh, here it is!!" All of sudden he spotted the small village right at the bottom of the hill. 

Having completed forgotten the pain, he rushed down the road like a little boy.  

"So it is one mile after all!" He laughed at himself and that liveness came back to his eyes with each step he rushed...

The Room

When love is not madness, it is not love.  ~Pedro Calderon de la Barca

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you hate her?”

“No”

John pulled himself away and asked again.”Do you hate her?”

“You have just asked me that.” the man could not hide his impatience and contempt.

“But you are lying.” John sat down again, even though he wanted to get away from this man as far as possible.

“Well, now who is talking rubbish?”. 

There was still this  impatience and contempt, but John can tell something has been triggered in this man. It is like driving a racing car, you don’t have to wait for the crash to spot an error. You just feel it!

“Then why don’t you tell me what has happened?” 

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know what happened on the way back that night”. John knew by now that this will be a long stretch for him.

“I kissed her.” 

John stared at him for a second, then quickly stood up, and began walking around the room.

The man clearly enjoyed the effect of his words on John and raised his head a little bit. 

His head didn’t turn but John could feel those eyes were following him.

“and then?”. Not knowing what’s waiting for him, John hid his eyes from his opponent’s and asked.

“Do you really want to know?”

John knew that this man is not like others. but how? he couldn’t tell. He kept telling himself not to be manipulated by this man. 

“you think I enjoy it?” John now stood right in front of him. “but you would be deadly wrong if you think I don’t want to know it, just because ...”

John was trying, maybe trying too hard to conceal his emotion, his emotion failed him.

“just because I stole her love from you?” the man finished the sentence for him.

“No, not her love, not that...” John backed a little, but with his eyes fixing at him now.

“then what do you call it?”

John’s mind was clearer than ever now, he knew his opponent has retreated, on purpose. Yet John could not find a suitable answer. 

“I don’t know.” 

“so it is love then..”apparently the retreat didn’t last too long.

“I don’t know.” John quickly walked to the door.

“Are you going to let me go?” the man asked. 

More than impatience, John heard fear for the first time. 

“Not yet.” With a smile on his face, he closed the door with a big bang..

 -

P.s: too many "Criminal Mind" and "CSI"...

The Incoming Storm

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. - Mark Twain

------------------------------------------------

There is no hope, Stephen looked through the glass windows in front of him. He can clearly see the cloud mounting over the horizon, yet he knew that he won’t be able to witness the incoming storm. 

Scrabbled the unfinished notes, he painfully threw it into the trash bin..

“There is no hope...” he thought. “even in writing some last note..” he finally gave up that idea and got himself up. 

This is the place they lived for the last 5 years. He can vividly go through every detail of every moment of that. Everything in this room is like organs of himself. 

“No, it is much more than that.” He noticed the small scratch around the corner of his desk top. With trembling finger, he felt the roughness and began scratching it over and over again. until the scratch became a patch..

all the while, nothing came into his mind, even though his eyes have been open for at least 30 hours.

A pale lighting penetrated into the room, then came a  tremendous thunder. He didn’t even move a muscle. But it did give him some direction and he began moving towards the  glass windows..

His legs began limbing, vision blurring, head aching..

finally he clamped and leaned himself on the windows.Slowly, his body slipped down to the ground.

With a smile still recognizable, he saw himself over the reflection on the window. For the first time, he realized what he has done to himself, not without effort, he felt that pain and a great fear overwhelmed him. Luckily that’s the last thing in his mind, he didn’t even have the time to sweep away his smile..    

“All is over...”

P.s: Guys, don't worry about me. I just find it quite ironic to start the new year with something gloomy like this. 

"Things which you do not hope happen more frequently than things which you do hope."  ~Titus Maccius Plautus