Canvas (Cougar).

Blank canvas, I want to smear paint all over you. Bend you to suit my every whim and fancy. Tear you up and rip you at your secret places. I want to crumple you against your desire. I want to splatter and cover every inch of your pure white self. I want to stain you with what you can never erase. I want to mark my territory, leave behind traces that you will always keep. I want to scratch your pristine surface and carve my initials on your skin. Cut you up to unrecognizable parts, scatter you everywhere. I want to make you utterly unrecognizable. I want to make you pleasing only unto my eyes and no one else's. I want to be where no one has been, do things no one has done. I want to make you mine, irrevocably, undeniably mine. I want to ruin you for my pleasure. For my selfish desires, I want you. I want to make you into my masterpiece.

Reading.

Reading is a lonely activity. When you read, you erect a social barrier around yourself, effectively shutting everyone else out. Reading is selfish because you can’t share it with anyone, and no one really benefits from the act whilst you're reading. Ah. That explains why  I do not have many friends.

You see, I love reading.  My list of priorities is as follows - brother, family, reading, studies, boyfriends, friends, sleep.  My mother bought me my first storybooks – a box set of five fairy tales for about RM15 from some peddler – when I was nine years old. That was the first and last time she’s ever bought me books but I have not stopped reading since.

Despite the strong (almost bordering on obsessive) love for reading, I don’t read books of every genre. My first love will always be science fiction and fantasy (you know, the ones with dragons and elves and magic). Though I can’t stand non-fiction, I read books on the Holocaust and crime stories. I delved in horror in the form of Stephen King and read The Exorcist, all out of curiosity. Couldn’t sleep for two weeks without getting nightmares. Stupid curiosity. I read Jodi Picoult and her family/legal dramas and I have a handful of books on general knowledge and facts (to impress older people when I talk to them).

But why reading? Why choose to sit at home, curled up under sheets (or eating something, or both) reading when one can go outside pick up a sport (eugh) or some form of a more "rewarding" hobby? Why strain your eyes reading point 10 fonts when you can strain your eyes watching television?

I guess there’s something about the bookstores, which draws you in every single time you walk by. Perhaps it’s the rows after rows of perfectly organized books and being able to run your hands over the glossy covers. Perhaps it’s the friendly bookkeeper who seems to know where every book is and pinpoints that one book you’ve been looking for the past half an hour.

Perhaps it’s the book themselves. How can I put into words the satisfaction one gets from hearing the sound of a freshly cracked spine (of a book), and the smell of aged (and new) manuscripts, the pleasure of peeling off the price tag and that plastic wrap.

The fluttering of pages, the choosing of the (right?) bookmark that will accompany this particular read. The first words, the painting of pictures in your mind as the author narrates in your head. The joy you share with the protagonist, the mourning of his/her losses. 

The mental note to read one chapter only to realize that it’s 3 am in the morning and you have class in a few hours. The (almost) grief that comes when you are on your last chapter. The satisfaction of devouring yet another good story.

I don’t think my words do it justice.

You’ll just have to read to find out.

Hope.

She shouldn't - she knew that. The gods have told her that countless of times - too many times actually. But she had to know what's inside. What's so terrible that it has to be contained in a box as such? She knew that the gods each put something in. But what could it be?

Perhaps a tiny peek? Just a quick one. They wouldn't even know. Just one peek and she'll never touch the box again.

So opened the box she did, and out came the plagues of mankind - mischief, sorrow and innumerable misfortunes. In terror, she slammed the lid down, but it was too late.

However there was one good thing that was in that box. Silver-eyed Athena, ever so wise, had put Hope into the box, alongside with the many evils.
 
Thereafter, Hope remained mankind's sole comfort in misfortune. 

____________________________________________________________

Hope is the reason why you keep by the phone every night, waiting for her to call.

Hope is the reason why you bleed for her when she thirst, and set yourself alight should she need light.

Hope is the reason why you'd make a fool of yourself

Hope is the reason why you will forgo you, to have her

Hope is the reason why you keep texting her, knowing full well she'll never reply.

Hope is the reason why you stalk her on every social platform to see if she's mentioned you

Hope is the reason why you keep every letter, every sms, every photo.

Hope is the reason why you still love her even when she's someone else's.

Hope. Stupid, pointless, futile Hope.

Athena, Hope is a horrible, horrible thing to put into Pandora's Box.

If This Was A Movie.

"If you had loved me as much as you said you did, you would've never let me go. But then again, if I had loved you as much as I said I did, I would not have left in the first place"

Goodbyes.

Goodbyes, despite what you think, is a lot shorter than it really is. It is not dragged on and stretched out or dramatic like what you see in the movies. There are no lingering stares or touches, or too many hugs and inconsolable tears. It's more idle chatter about things like unifi and trivial things to skim around the looming departure. Rather, it's more repeated phrases such as, "You should eat something before you, you know - go". There is no a million pictures, and you tend to avoid looking at each other. It's more like one picture, which we both probably look bad in, a hug, a care pack changes hands, another hug, a little bit more of loitering around, a last look of your face, that lump in the back of my throat, what do I say now? and the threat of tears. And then goodbye - that awkward wave. And that's it. 


But if there is anything that we can draw parallel to those cliche movie scenes is this - that walk back to the entrance, alone - when just a moment ago I had you right beside - hurts like a bitch. 


Goodbye Bestie. See you in 3 months.

5 Things You Shouldn't Say When Breaking Up.

"It's not your fault" 

So if it isn't my fault, and it is not your fault, who should we blame? Should we even blame anyone in the first place? Why sit here and try to find a logical reason to everything? And please stop with that hubba jubba cow dung about other commitments, time constraints, busy with work/studies/wanking. You wanted to break up cause YOU wanted to. Because YOU got tired of trying. Because YOU gave up. That is why. Grow a pair and admit that instead of pointing the finger at bad feng shui, alignment of the stars and goddamn incompatibility.

 "Let's Just Be Friends"

Unless this means that the two of you will be having non-exclusive sex with one another from time to time (and that is called friends with benefits by the way) the two of you are not going to be friends. Even if you manage to act civil around each other, expect no more than a casual 'hey' when you bump into each other in the mall. None of that let's be best of friends and go out for drinks every fortnight bullshit. Oh, and don't expect me to be happy for you when you find somebody else other than your right hand.

"Don't cry. You should be happy"

Well, I am sorry that I have feelings. That unlike you, my heart is not made of lead and filled up to the brim with shit. And to ask me to find the silver lining in breaking up? What do you want me to do next? Shoot rainbows out of my ass? I can't be like you, sounding nonchalant about being without someone you supposedly loved. You should be glad I even shed tears for you instead of burning your house down.

"You will find someone better/I am not a good boy/girlfriend anyway"

Yes, I will find someone better or worse, depending on my mood. I might even develop a particular fondness for assholes after you and that is my prerogative. And please, don't make all those self deprecating comments. That just reflects badly on me and my choice of mate. I mean it is bad enough that we're breaking up, there is no need to add salt to the wound by telling me how BAD I am at this whole boy/girlfriend thing.

"Go be happy/follow your dreams" etc.

This happens when the opposite party feels as if he/she is obliged to tell you how to live your life post break up. They'll tell you to go read a book or take up some pretentious hobby. As if over time, you'll be so caught up with painting nude art that you'll forget about all the shit that he/she's been feeding you in order to cover up all feelings of guilt. If there is anything I hate more than teenage girls singing Bieber songs out loud, it is someone giving me dumb ass advice.

Your Burning Salve.

Dear John.

Gone are the nights where my life revolves around your phone call and our chats online,

Gone are the messages that I wake up to and the kiss goodnight,

Gone are the late night escapades and the thrill of getting caught,

Gone are the trysts and rendezvous,

Gone are the lunch dates and stolen kisses,

Gone are the road trips and comedy shows and dinners,

Gone are the laughter and practicing Mandarin,

Gone are the gifts and compliments,

GoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGone

Dear John, don't you think twenty's too young to be played with?

That despite your noble intentions, you hurt me still?

And though to you, all we ever were was wrong,

I still loved you?

That though I wish you well, you know that deep down I'm lying

Dear John, it's too late now - you're 

GoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGoneGone

You know, I loved your hands best.

Strangers Again.

It's amazing how quickly one goes from;

memorizing every rise and fall of your body,

recognizing your moans and sighs

knowing if you're upset or happy

remember your favorite things 

finding your pet peeve adorable

finishing each other's sentences

plagiarizing each other's thoughts

sharing secrets and baring the truth

eating every meal together

going  to places

trying next things

having late night phone calls

sending a million texts and emails

taking a thousand photos

going the extra mile

putting in the extra  effort

wiping each other's tears 

sharing laughter and the little things

and everything in between

to becoming strangers again. 

H2O

Like water;

 I'll never miss you until you're gone and it is only in the absence of you that I realize how essential you are to my survival.

If that is the case, I'd much rather drown.

Cupid, next time hit both.

I am not an actor, neither am I a star

I drive an old beat-up car

I do not have an engineering, law or medicine degree

I wouldn't even say that I am particularly pretty

I am not all that charitable or very kind

I tend to (more often than not) cross the line

I am not girly and I hate soft toys

I spend way too much time hanging out with boys

I say that I can sing - but I always go off-key

I have no talent whatsoever musically

I am a closet poet, I love to read and write

These (supposed) masterpieces are my joy and pride

I am impatient, stubborn and suffer from minor road rage

I am too childish for my 21 years of age

I eat like a cow and hate exercise

I specialize in the field of telling white lies

I have issues with trust

But I've been told that I am good with sucking... dust

I am in no way better than her, her or her

But perhaps, despite it all,

You'd still want to take a shot at forever.

Baby, what's your number?

It was most probably the perfume that first caught my attention. In my life I have only known two guys who smells the way you do. One being my best friend, the other my brother. So it was already a good start, and I've only just gotten here. It was a long wait, so I did what any other bored person would do - I stared.

 I stared at how the sunlight gets caught in your hair, making it light brown in some areas, and dark in others. I stared at how well your t-shirt sleeve envelopes your triceps. I stared at the curvature of your arms - noticed how tanned they were, how well defined. Stared at your TagHeur watch, noticed how well you wore it (guys these days have skinny wrists). I noticed that unlike everybody else you weren't playing with an iPhone, iPod, iPad or iSomething. You were, like me, just waiting.

And I'd admit, there was a small part of me that wanted to tap you on your shoulder, to have you turn around - so I can say hello. In my mind, you must have been good looking, even if you're not, I'd still like to say hello. A little part of me was curious about the stranger sitting in front of me. Do you play sports? What scares you? What makes you laugh, brings tears to your eyes? Do you have a girlfriend? Are you alone this Valentine's? Do you like animals? Are you afraid of insects? Can we be friends?

 A small part of me wanted to ask for your number. And so, I mustered every ounce of courage that I had, and just as I was about to...

Number 2098, Counter 2. Number 2098 Counter 2

Ah. 2098.

Time To Reply.

Sent you a text in the morning,

something along the lines of
"Hey, how are you? How you doing?"

But I guess you must've been at the gym

Lifting weights, cycling, perhaps gone for a swim

A little too busy

To find the time to reply me.

Sent you a text in the afternoon,

something along the lines of 

"Hey, did you get my text? We should do lunch soon"

But I guess you must've been working

Perhaps you were at a meeting

A little too busy

To find the time to reply me.

Sent you a text at night,

something along the lines of

"Going to bed now, sweet dreams, sleep tight"

But I guess you must've been out drinking

Perhaps meeting up with friend or something

A little too busy 

To find the time to reply me.

I guess I have been texting you all day,
Not one reply from you, but that's okay.
I am sure that whatever that's been keeping you busy,

Must have been something of unwavering priority.


So it's alright, you no longer need to worry:
It doesn't matter anymore,
whether or not you reply me.

"Whatever that you do not do, someone else will - ten times over "