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.

The Truth About Winning

"What's with you? Always with that blank stare and vacant smile," said David. 

Ro looked down from the sky, her smile unwashed by the snarky remark. "I'm just reacting to what I see."

"You're not seeing. You're dreaming." David laughed. 

"Aren't dreams good? Dreams are ideals. The best of the best." 

David smirked. "No. I always thought dreamers are losers, y'know? They don't fight for what they want. I mean, I would rather step out of the house, run for the things that matter most." 

"And what are those?" Ro asked, interested. 

"I don't know," David mumbled. "Prolly that girl I've known since kindie. Or that $1000 grand piano. Or my dream job." 

"Your dream job?" Ro giggled. "Then what differs between you and I?" 

"I strive for what I want. You just sit there and dream." 

Ro smiled again. So that's where we differ, she thought. My dreams are enough for me.

cure-iosity

I was staring blankly to the sky.

Until he chimed in.

"Apa yang sedang dalam fikiran awak?"

I turned my stare towards him. It's weird 'cause he never asked such question. It was me who asked him, all this while. 

And then I remembered. I used to ask him that whenever I saw him lost in thought. I was curious, I was wondering; heck, I was hoping my name was in that little fragment of his thinking. Even more, I was looking at the sweetest thing in the world, wanting to share his dreams.

And that's when I knew what to answer.

Idiocy

This silly heart will always root for the same guy.

Raindrops: The End

The cat died yesterday afternoon.

After struggling for days, I've managed to not shed a single tear when I carried his dead body to his grave. There was a large gaping hole where his right cheek should have been. I was quite relieved when he finally died, because no creature ever should survive with such pain, unattended.

Talk about crying, I've had my fair share of crying just a day before he left. I took some time to stroke him, whispered I love him. And he purred despite how weak he had become -- he could not even stand up by then. I wonder if his purring was effortless. I sure hope it was. I would hate it if he wasted whatever energy he had left just to show he loved us.

Damn. Now I'm crying again. Haha.

Have a safe trip to Heaven, sweetheart.

Raindrops

I actually don't want to write about this, because I'm such a weakling. Writing this will only bring me to tears. But I need to. I need to straighten out everything that's been cluttering inside my head. I need to because I need closure.

So a few days ago, I found out my sweetheart was injured, rather badly, on his right cheek. There was a big gash just under his mouth; you could see the red flesh and the pink jaw as clear as day. Fuck. The moment I saw it, I felt so enraged I felt like throwing things around the house. I was so heartbroken.

[inhale, exhale]

I already cried for ten minutes when I told someone about him. Most of the time, I just didn't want to acknowledge anything. Since then, the only thing I managed to do, without crying, is to care for him. I bathe him every day. He scratched my arm, but I don't care. His wound smells bad it attracts flies, but I don't care. He can no longer eat as much, but I don't care I still pour food for him.

He's such a stubborn little fella, too. He knows he's sick, but he still struggles to munch at least one or two pieces of the cereal I pour for him -- if I am there to see him through it. He still runs to me, with all his heart, whenever I call him. He refuses to believe his injury is a bad one, because he still is the same ol' playful kitty.

I don't know how much longer he can pull through. There's a part of me that believes he can make it, but another part just wants to succumb to the fact that he's dying. I don't know. I'm not strong enough to even think about it. If this ends, I just want him to be happy. And I'll do whatever I can to ensure that.

Apparently, bruises.

Kalau kau tanya orang apa benda yang paling menyakitkan, mungkinlah, mungkin, orang akan jawab pisau, luka yang dilumur garam, paper cut, dan kalau dari segi emosi, mungkin ditikam belakang, kekasih curang, dan di-ignore oleh orang tersayang.

Tapi aku tak tahulah sejak bila, kalau aku terkena perkara-perkara menyakitkan tu, benda first sekali aku terfikir adalah okayyyy what the hell did I do wrong this time? Sebab aku percaya, sakit tu karma. Sama ada sebelum ni aku pernah sakitkan hati orang lain, atau aku tak cukup bersedia sampai aku sendiri disakiti. Dan selepas bertahun-tahun buat refleksi diri cenggitu, aku akhirnya faham apa benda yang paling menyakitkan, untuk aku.

Dan ia adalah harapan.

Sebagai seorang manusia, aku sepatutnya faham bahawa manusia adalah makhluk yang paling susah diteka, tapi pada masa yang sama, kau patut hargai ciri-ciri unexpectable tu sebab dia membuatkan hidup kau sedikit-sebanyak lebih interesting daripada biasa. Namun, oleh kerana ciri-ciri ini jugalah, aku tidak sepatutnya memasang angan dan harapan waima sekelumit habuk sekali pun. Aku sendiri tahu pengakhirannya -- sakit.

Aku masih berpegang kepada pendirian aku masa aku pernah jadi optimis dulu -- harapan itu sesuatu yang indah, walau sesakit mana. Tapi aku dah mula takut, dan aku semakin percaya harapan cuma sakit semata-mata. Pun begitu, aku masih berharap -- jujur cakap, boleh ke kau berhenti daripada berharap? -- bahawa sakit yang datang bila harapan itu tak dipenuhi taklah sesakit hingga menyesak ulu hati.

Jadi, ini adalah aku yang paling jujur. Harapan aku adalah, walaupun aku mungkin tak dapat orang yang aku suka, aku harap dia tetap gembira. Dan aku, daripada mengharap pada manusia, lebih baik aku berharap yang aku, aku sendiri, mampu cipta kebahagiaan aku suatu hari nanti.

Current

I've always thought my worst fear was drowning.

As I slip and fall behind, life takes on a slow-motion stance. So serene, so peaceful. I can see the bright bondi blue sky and wonder what it would feel like to bump on the cotton-like clouds. Then, it fast forwards -- the images at the back of my head -- playing continuously and vividly I swear I could almost hear the sound of the rolling film.

I can see my mother and my father, laughing and encouraging me to keep walking forward with my two tiny feet. And my, am I eager to run into their arms and feel safe once again. I see Gran, frowning at me with her index finger pointed at the pile of Power Rangers figurines and some rust-coloured Playdohs. I see my best friend, talking about how difficult it was for her to lose someone so dear. I see you, staring at me on the aisle with your glossy eyes, as if you've never seen me wearing a dress your whole life.

And I wonder -- what next? Is this the end? I sure hope you won't cry over me. But I hope you won't ever forget me, either. Then plummet. To darkness.

.

.

.

I've always thought my worst fear was drowning. I was wrong. It's uncertainty.

Wavelengths

"Sometimes I hate people," he said. 

"Yeah? Why?" she inquired. 

He kicked the sand burying his right foot. Stared at the little granules rolling back to where they were. She waited. 

"They just don't understand, y'know?" She stared into his eyes. He stared back, and he knew he didn't need to elaborate. 

"People judge too much," he started, then quickly stopped. He stole a glance at the person beside him, and he wondered if he had said wrongly. Her face was unreadable, and he didn't even know if that's a good thing. Her eyes were fixated to some invisible thing in the middle of the vast sea, whipping softly in front of them. 

Maybe they too were afraid of being judged, and that's why they did it first. Maybe people are just pretentious assholes who divert their attention from their pathetic little flaws to others who are actually a lot alike like them. Maybe, maybe. I just realized I used a lot of maybes in my sentences -- are thoughts considered as sentences? Her mind raced, each thought showing like they were typed with a hyper-technological super-fast brain typewriter. 

"You looked bored." He stated, almost like a demand. A demand for a response. Any response at all. He knew she hated how he always does that, and he could almost guess accurately -- in what looked like a nanosecond after he spoke those words -- the little frown lines forming on her forehead, the small exasperated sigh coming out from her mouth, the scowl, and how all those would drift away as quickly as they came. It was perfect. 

"Well, look who's judging," she snapped back. Then they smirked, and she knew she didn't need to elaborate.

Because, admit it, who doesn't love knowing someone that much.