16/2/2025

 16/2/2025

Sunday

11:31 p.m.

the obsession i had with [REDACTED] is something I'll (thankfully) never experience again. she permanently altered my perception on friendships, and I don't know if I should thank her, or hate her for it.

 i catch myself wondering sometimes about too many what-ifs, when it came to her. I dreamt of a dramatic, emotional, movie-esque reunion with her, filled with sunshine and daisies, when the bitterness of betrayal was still fresh on my tongue. I hoped for so much. but she'd already moved on. and eventually, so did i. i still remember her from time to time, but all that lingers is the aftertaste of a childhood memory. now, that is all that remains of her. but, I cannot deny that a good few bricks in the pillars of my mind have permanently been replaced with those of her likeness. 

regardless, i hope you're doing well now, wherever you may be, [REDACTED]. i miss you no longer, and my resentment towards you has long dissipated. i only pray that we never, ever meet again. 

7/12/2024

 7/12/2024

7:30 p.m.

-

i sneak out of my room

up onto the rooftop with mosaicked tiles.

the landscape all but empty

only a blanket of shadows stretching for miles.

above me a gleaming light i spy

the one true beacon that shines bright

after the sun has had enough and left

granting my soul a final respite.

i count the miniscule sparkles in the sky

and wonder if they are akin to my kind;

burning up for eons, the pain never ceases

their agony forever frozen and enshrined.

but stars too tire, they too loathe

their beauty, their pain, both utterly revered.

and slowly they bleed, till the ichor fades to light

perhaps they know too, that their end is near.

finally it all comes to a head 

and they explode, a rainbow scattering of light,

splatters of shimmer gracing the emptiness.

even in death the universe glorifies their plight.

i tear my gaze away from the sky

and stand straight up on the mosaicked tiles

i glance at my guiding light up high

and just for my kin to see, i finally smile.

i put one foot ahead of the other

as the tiles crack and shift with each stride i take.

and as i forge my final path ahead,

from the universe's bindings, i finally separate.

adrenaline shoots through my being

as the final step is treaded.

my pace quickens, blood thrums in my veins;

and in the air my stardust wings i spread.

fin~

17/11/2024

 17/11/2024, Sunday

11:23 p.m.

-

there's a small itch at the back of my eyes. i rub them, and try to make it stop. but it doesn't. it itches more and more with each movement. it starts to sting, and aches dully behind my eyelids. i continue to rub at them. and now it burns. and there's salty droplets pooling at the corners. my hands fall to my side; my tears fall to my cheeks. and they flow and flow and flow. now, i can taste the bitter salty sorrow brimming within me. and now my eyes are damp, my cheeks are damp, and I am left staring at a reflection of myself in miniature seas. the surface is smooth, and yet I seem to see thin, little cracks on my face. and i look at myself, with red cheeks and a red nose and red-rimmed bloodshot eyes. i look at my arm and heart, and there's more red there too. i shut my eyes, tired of it. but under the bright fluorescent light, all i see is red again; and my world burns down to the ground. 

14/11/2024

 14/11/2024, Thursday 

12:07 a.m.

-

it is a tremendous grief that consumes me. what have i done wrong? why am I facing retribution for crimes I've never commited? i have been begging for answers for so, so long. but I am denied that comfort by this unforgiving pain. belittled by myself to the point of mediocrity, i don't know what I am worth anymore. does anybody hold me in regard? am i cherished? sometimes the line between care and tolerance seems to blur. a gaze of sympathy and that of contempt both seem to be the same. perhaps they are the same; afterall, I am undeserving of love. i have encroached and gluttonized on this lush, plentiful meadow of love for too long. and now, the flowers and grass have begun to wilt. everything under my feet and before my eyes has rotted to dust. i remain, in the midst of it all; still standing, and yet defeated. like the life around me, i too have crumbled.

25/08/2024

11:12 p.m.

25/08/2024, Sunday

-

there's a pretty dress I've been eyeing.

but it's got a shiny price tag, and for this, i rue.

I wish I could afford it; 

maybe then I'd be pretty too.

it's a dress that I've been vying for

but when I look around, my shock is heavy.

my only competition is myself

for everyone around me has got it already.

so I decide to try it on, just for fun.

I find the closest size, and change into it.

but I look into the mirror

and of course, it doesn't fit.

it hangs off my shoulder; I look like a mess.

it pulls at my stomach, and sags at my chest.

my heart sinks, and I feel embarrassed.

but then again, what else did I expect?

disappointed, I put it back on the shelf

and step out of the shop.

sure, maybe a shirt and jeans are drab

but that's all that I've got.

yeah, maybe nobody gives me a second glance

as I walk past them on the street.

but maybe that's just better suited 

for someone undeserving like me.

fin~

2/7/2024

2/7/2024, Tuesday

9:10 p.m.

-

the trees – they cut them down yesterday. i woke up to the sound of so, so many birds chirping incessantly today morning. they cried out for hours and hours, as though mourning a loss. i came outside to see what happened. some ten, fifteen birds were perched on the compound wall. my mum said they'd been there for over an hour by then. i looked at the emptiness beyond the few trees that remained – i could see an office in the distance, and more buildings. to the right, a high rise apartment was being constructed. i could see the distant sky, yet somehow it did not comfort my heart as it usually would; it felt desolate, hollow. and i realized why those birds cried out so terribly; where timber had been chopped down to build houses for others elsewhere, here, a family had lost its home. there was a mother, staring at her broken, empty nest, grieving her babies. and there were so many such birds, all crying their little hearts out.

i recalled a superstition from the villagers at my hometown. they said that horrible luck always befell a man in the lumber business. perhaps I wouldn't have believed that hogwash on any other day. but tonight, as i am met with stark emptiness, in place of the lilting chirp of an Indian nightjar and so, so many others, i think their words may have had some merit to them.

7/6/2024

 1:25 a.m.

7/6/2024, Friday

-

there are faded hearts scribbled in the corner of my desk - my pencil scratches at the worn wood, absently colouring them in. the fan whirs up-head, churning out warm air. outside, the the sky is clear, with not a cloud in sight. somewhere, a chorus of cicadas chirp in the distance. i lean forward, my head resting on the desk, cradled by my arms. i fight it, but unknowingly drift off into slumber. i dream of something warm, something sweet. something so wonderfully reminiscent of sunny skies, apple orchards, and flower fields; reminiscent of warm smiles, tanned skin, and honeyed eyes. i am blissfully content in this dreamscape, with my heart full. i reach out - hand in calloused hand - and am filled with an all-encompassing warmth, so warm that it scorches my palms. the invisible flames seem to spread through my veins, every inch of skin tingling with the heat. finally, it reaches my eyes, and they prickle and burn. orange fades to black, and back to orange again. i blink my eyes open, looking around dazedly. the classroom is empty, and the sun shines right in my face, more orange than white. i scramble to gather my things, and rush out of the room. the fan whirs on and on, all but forgotten.