Fragile

— was a state, I was in.

Horrid winter nights, when the days became shorter and the dark pitch sky were clouded unlike summer nights. As I write this, I’m sitting on a red iron bench just trying to make sense of It all. Nights like these, my head is overcrowded with thoughts with simplest answers yet they float around like riddles. Should I stay, or should I go? 

 I bit my lip as I felt trapped. Here I am, back to where it all started. Here I am, feeling things which I promised myself, never ever to go through. Here I am, allowing someone to make me feel like I have something to lose, to save. The anger inside of me pulsated my veins as I gathered my gut to be strong, yet in head he seemed like a candle. The only flickering light I have to keep me from going insane. I lied, saying everything was okay when I knew truth was a privilege. I tried burning the evidence of how cold, and unkind when I needed you there, the most. How at a time I was feeling all ends of loneliness, you made me feel like I was impossible to deal with.

In the coldest winter, I long for a field of green and flowers as my cells, day by day, built themselves because you broke me that day.

One-way Ticket Back Please?

I’ve been thinking a lot about home lately.

How I’d wake up in my pink and green walled room, with sunlight piercing through my white blinds. The first thing I would do is go downstairs, make sure all my cats were alive and well-fed, then pick one of them up and enjoy another 15 minutes cuddling a ball of fur. How every morning, my mom made me toast. Usually overly buttered, with a generous spread of marmalade on top, I’d snack on that while laying down on our red sofa scrolling through Instagram thinking where else I would eat next. When there was sunlight back home, my life wasn’t really productive. But as the day ended, I would normally be out with my friends. I remember my dad would tell my relatives the only way to sense whether my bank account was still “alive” was to spot how constant my red car was at home. And I reminisce the times, I would drive back home from Subang or Kuala Lumpur at night. Bass, extra loud, listening to my playlist of hits. How Honne’s Someone That Love You would be on repeat, as I watched the highway lights pass me by. One by one.

 I miss the familiarity. I miss home.