Time.

"What if it was only us in the equation?" I asked, desperately. He was a piece of cloth I've always been clinging to - once of brilliant red; now just of a dusty hue. 

"Darling," he started, as I saw the faint lines of frowns on his forehead. His hand running through his hair, like all the times he felt troubled. This one word was how he bind me. It could mean only one thing, yet we pretended it meant a lot of things. 

"You know we can't. I got Jude and we're tying the knot next month. And you - look at that ring on your finger! You know David is my best friend, right?" His voice trembled, but his loyalty, unshaken. 

I repeated the first question. Maybe it was partly greed, maybe I just needed to know. 

"Give it time." 

*** 

I wiped my tears off my sunken cheeks, took the time to feel each wrinkle underlining my eyes. Life has been a struggle and I've always pulled through, but I'm just so tired now, honey. 

And as I stared at my ringless finger, I prayed for God's forgiveness and grace in front of my best friend's grave. Give it time, you said, and I've given. 45 years is already up and I would like to think that you are looking at me from Heavens, that you are doing just as fine as me. 

What if it was only us in the equation? There was no doubt you would love me. Always have, always will, don't you, you scatterbrain? I laughed through tears flowing freely on my cheeks. That's why we chose to live alone, knowing very well that in our hearts, we would always have each other. 

It might be selfish of me - not that I haven't been already, but I pray that we would finally have all the time we need in our next life. Goodbye, my friend - no. Goodbye, companion. And you spark brilliantly red, again.

Black Cats

Don't you just wonder how cats can evade the biggest catastrophes because of their good sense of reflex?

I liked that. So I made a wish. I want to have a cat's reflex, if not better.

A few weeks later, a guy confessed to me. I turned him down straight away without knowing why, but I'm pretty sure it's just a reflex.

Last June, the guy passed away. His car collided with a truck.

Now I'm left here thinking - either my wish has saved my heart from being so irreversibly damaged, or it has made me the biggest asshole of all mankind.

Probably both.

The Difficult Part

"Jane," he called. 

Peter's wife slowly turned her head towards her husband. Peter could feel Jane's feelings; like getting weak on the knees at the sound of someone you hold dear calling your name. Her bright, green eyes, meeting his dark browns.

Damn. Whatever this little shockwave I'm feeling in my chest, I hope you could feel it too, Jane, Peter thought.

"Hmm?" said she. Peter felt like some angel was playing a harp just attuned to that voice. Ah, how wonderful it is to love someone who loves you back. It's like falling at the right place, with the right pace. 

Peter took three steps towards Jane, slipping his hands around her slender waist, and kissed. His breathing heavier by the moment, he tightened his hug, his tongue searching for the perfect match. Found it, caressed it. You sure are the luckiest girl in the world, Jane, he thought, for someone to helplessly fall for you; no doubt, no backup plan.

Until he realized that her arms stood still, her body passive, her tongue unmoving. Peter pulled his lips an inch away from hers and saw Jane's green eyes, never closing since he started kissing. What the f--

Those green eyes were communicating something back, but whatever it is, it sure isn't that kind of love you would kill to feel for.

"Peter."

He froze in his position, hands still at her waist.

"You know how much I love you, right?" Jane spoke, treading carefully through her every word.

"You were my best friend. Not that we aren't, anymore," she laughed, "but I love being by your side. Hearing your voice; you've no idea how it soothes me. Like I can always fall helplessly backwards -- and I know you'll catch me in no second. I love having you around, you cheer me up in no way anybody else ever could," she said, happily.

Peter's brain was frantically entering analyzing mode. He picked up Jane's words, tone, body language, facial expression, fuck, even the rhythm of her breath. So Jane does love him, but--

but he knew. It's not that kind of love -- that kind of love that would melt you of your feet, that would send you spinning from just a peck on the cheek. His love for her is on a whole, different, level. If Peter could rate love from the scale of one to Inferno, Jane's is probably on the second floor.

Peter pulled his arms away from Jane, took a step back. Jane looked confused, even a bit hurt. What the fuck? Peter thought. Stop fucking confusing me.

And with that, he walked through the front door. There was nothing else to do. His own wife just friendzoned him.

Jane held her tears back. It always hurts to see him hurt. She felt a sharp stab in her chest.

Dear God, she whispered. Whatever ship this is we're in, please. Don't ever let it sink.

The Fool's Whirlpool

Scream as you will and he’ll hug you tighter,

filling your lungs with warm specks of glacier.

Struggle as you want but you can’t fight nature

Of a maelstrom so intense he could break a lover.

A waterfall that soothes but calming never,

A tidal wave so strong he could spin fire.

You could send him a curse with every whisper

Or stab his heart with a shiny dagger.

You could banter, anger, flatter, or jeer,

Hoping he resides with a sorry whimper.

Sooner or later, however,

You’ll find it easier, even painfully better

to not escape this whirlpool forever.

***

Dedicated to everyone who're stuck with the same old poison.

*Foot note:
This poem was written for Englishjer's #HundredHundred exhibition at Cooler Lumpur, Publika, last week. It was also illustrated by a talented guy (Instagram: @mista_paeh). Thank you for the opportunity!

Free Minnie.

Marriage -- it's a word that's supposed to be sweet, not to leave a sick aftertaste overpowering my throat.

Why are we pitying those women who are still not married -- even worse, pitying ourselves for not finding the right husband yet? What's with the 'bila nak kahwin' question? What's the necessity for making a list of friends who oughta get married? Why the envy towards friends who already have? What's with the #bercintaselepasnikahituindah or #kahwinmudabest hashtags?

I'm not even quarter of a century old, and I refuse to let people look at my gender as a reason to make marriage as my ultimate life goal. I have a lot of things to do in life, still. Shopping with mother. Walking in the park with my male best friend. Learning new things. Seeing new people. Talking shit with my girls. Knowing my boyfriend better (and if we do have a future together). Being a better human being. Appreciating the world. Heck -- being alone with myself. Self-reflecting on how far I've come.

I won't lie and say I'm not affected with women around me pitying themselves for not getting married yet, or women who are already married preaching and screeching for other women to follow suit. They make me insecure. Pressured. Frustrated. Feel like I don't have any control on myself and what I should be.

I want to be known more than just somebody's wife. I want to be a good daughter, an awesome friend, a strong believer, someone you would regret not to know. There's so much more stuff out there, still, waiting for a woman, like me and you.

Let us live the way every human being wants to live. Free.