The Failure of a Man

I don’t understand the mind of a cheater. How can a man promise marriage to a woman and break it so easily without looking back? No remorse, no regrets. It pains me to think about the woman whose life broke so quickly. There was no indication of strain in their relationship. They were happy. They were engaged. And yet, in a blink of an eye, the man turned his back away from the woman like she was garbage waiting to be thrown. But she was not garbage. She was gold. He threw away something of high value and replaced it with a used dish rag. No respect for the woman at all. I only know that karma will strike the man and that the woman did not lose him; he lost her.

One day, the woman will realize that the man was a monster all along. One day, she will shake her head and laugh. One day, she will finally understand why the heavens steered her to another direction. One day, she will heal.

In An Alternate Universe

If I lived in a fairy tale, this would have been our story:

We met at a market in Agrabah, on an unusual day where a pretentious Prince Ali paraded the most exotic of animals for a certain Princess Jasmine. The perfect moment came when I pushed through the throngs of people to satiate my desperate need of water. Parched and ready to die under the Moroccan sun, I spotted the lone ice cold bottle of water and reached for it. Like fate, a beautiful set of manly hands also grabbed the bottle and we touched, hand to hand, skin to skin. I don’t know if the fireworks I saw were the ostentatious display from the parade, or my heart dancing and cartwheeling when our eyes met. His eyelashes longer than vines captured me in a trance and I smiled and he smiled, also. And just like that, the moment Prince Ali fell for Princess Jasmine, was also the moment our lives intertwined. We fell in love and it brought us to a whole new world. The end.

But this is not our story and while I could write whatever I want about our love life, we started our story in the simplest of ways and I could never have asked for a better version. By God’s will and my friend’s “shipping” powers, we fell in love and began writing the most beautiful love story there is.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone. Make good choices.

 

The fear that I passed on to you

Without even meaning to, I handed over my fear to you.

And you took it willingly

 

My sorrows, my burdens,  my worries

You shared with me.

No.

You took it away from me.

So I don’t fight alone.

 

How scared you must have been

when my fear crept in.

 

Engulfed by my nightmares,

Strangled by my demons.

Bound by inescapable misery

of darkness and self-loathing.

 

But your light shone through

Like a new morning after a raging storm.

 

The fear that I passed on to you

did not break you.

 

 

 

 

The Start of Something New

Borrowing from one of High School Musical’s hit songs, 2017 could be the “Start of Something New”.

If there is something I have learned in 2016, it is that the past cannot be undone. The what ifs and the what could have been remain the same – unanswered questions. I do not wish to carry my regrets. Instead, I want to mold myself in it and learn from it. I want to take all the mistakes, the missed opportunities, and the bad decisions with me and start something new. Because these regrets are not meant to be forgotten. They are meant to make me better; they are meant to teach me a lesson. Dwelling in the past creates unnecessary negativity. And I no longer live for that.

I will continue to learn and accept that I can’t always steer my life in the direction that I want. I simply need to flow in my current state of life and work from there. Whatever timeline I have set for myself will always change and that’s okay. Sometimes, change is good. Everything will not go according to plan. And that’s okay because there will be new beginnings.

2017 will be the start of many. And I will start it today with positivity.

Happy New Year!

 

Awake

(This is an old drabble I found on my phone. My lack of sleep made me write a lot before lol Also, I think I write better now)

My sleepless body lies flat on the bed, sheets strewn across the floor, too restless to pick it up. The pounding in my head grows increasingly unbearable at the lack of sleep. One, two, three, or more countless hours of helplessly lying on the bed, hoping for sleep to come…but sleep has gone. It’s 5 am. The birds’ chirping gives the tell-tale sign of a new morning. Tears escape my eyes, frustrated at my inability to embrace darkness and shut my mind. I catch the faint light peeking through the curtained windows and throw my pillow at it, cursing at the rising sun. The radio hums on the bedside table, announcing the early morning news. Another sleepless night.

Static buzzes around the room when the radio loses its signal and I reach for the device and slam my hand to turn it off. Groaning, I get up from the bed, my limbs aching at every move. I tiptoe towards the kitchen clad in my underwear and tanktop, and the footsteps break the tranquility of dawn but it doesn’t matter. Noise is always welcome.

The pills sit on the counter and I grab them, popping two in my mouth and washing it down with water. I stalk towards the living room and turn on the TV. Background noise.

The quilt on the couch catches my eyes and I reach for it. I turn towards the balcony. The outside sounds good this time.

The glass door screeches as I slide it and I cringe. My bare feet touch the cold cement floor, drenched in the early morning dew and I hiss at the contact. It’s a little foggy. The cold air hits my skin and my nostrils flair at the cold breeze embracing my body. Goosebumps prick at my skin as I skip towards the lawn chair. I plop myself down and drape the quilt on my body. I relax and take a deep breath.

The early morning air lulls me and I stifle a yawn. Finally, I think. I close my eyes and doze off until the sun rises from the horizon and the light hits my face. I groan and cover my face with my hands. It’s probably 7am.

I stretch my arms and get up from the chair, the quilt falling to the ground. Tears pool as I yawn. I chance a glance at the glaring sun for a moment until I notice a pair of eyes studying me from across the building. It’s a man. I look at him and catch his eyes. He doesn’t look away. My eyebrows quirk at him questioningly as I keep staring him down. Panic rushes through me when I realize I’m still in my underwear and tanktop. But I collect myself and laugh under my breath.

Let him stare, I think. At least I’m not naked. I smirk at him and then I stalk back to the living room, sliding the glass door and locking it.

 

Tripping over everything

One’s sensitivity is not a laughable matter. The object in question pierces through the skin and crushes the soul. It’s not so easy to turn back and say sorry when you’ve broken everything that they represent. One word. One action.

The negativity swallows them whole and makes them question if their vulnerability caused the commotion. Should they be apologetic of their own feelings when they are hurt? Some say their fault lies on their reaction. “You are freaking out over something petty.” But petty hurts.

Not all can sense their offensive behaviour. Not all are aware. But when in question, one should reflect why. Why did it hurt?

This is not part of the plan

There are so many paths to take but you choose that one path you usually travel. Because it’s easy. Every movement is calculated precisely according to your plans: move forward, turn right, straight, left. But you come to a stop because unpaved roads are ahead and this is not part of your plan. Suddenly, you are forced to take a step towards an unwelcoming route, rough and unfamiliar.

Now, each step becomes guarded. You’re lost. Do you move forward or do you stay in the same place and wait? They say that good things come to those who wait. But how long? Until tomorrow? Until your legs turn numb and when the time comes, you can’t move because it’s already too late? What now, then? What happens next?

The next may never come.