I’m eating a blue berry muffin. Softly. Slowly. Savouring
every bite, feeling every sprinkle in my mouth because it might be my last
delight.
Also, Muffin was the name of the fluffiest
rabbit I’ve ever seen and il va sans dire,
the cutest. But he had a tragic “the end”. Left by its owner, he was eaten by a
wild cat.
Left by the same owner, I’m being eaten by
time. I just hope my “the end” won’t be tragic as Muffin's or as a muffin.
I think we should all carry with us a list of
what we want to do before we die. And make it longer if we are enough lucky to
live our life. Have a look at the creative, before I die project.
Some of us think they are invincible,
unbreakable and immortal. They live like tomorrow will always be there for
them. And they forgot that our common enemy isn’t Satan, some kind of Dracula,
the devil, or death, but TIME. I’m
saying it again, our real rival is Time. But looking now through the veil of
time and the fragility of human nature, it’s also possible that only feelings
are immortal.
Time can beat anyone of us, with a violent
stroke, unexpectedly, swiftly. It will grab you by the throat and bring you
down, in a grave.
Rest not! Life is sweeping by; go dare before
you die.
Something mighty and sublime, leave behind to
conquer time. – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I’m staring at a shirt I was given by an old
friend, it contains a motivational quote saying “Behind you are the challenges
you have met. Before you lies new possibilities. And today you choose the
direction of your life” but I never thought about this from the perspective of
someone who can’t tell how much time he has got.
We were like the moon, part of us were always
hidden away, so lonely, so full of imperfections. But just like the moon, we
shinned in times of darkness. She had so many book boyfriends. She was
practically a book slut. Reality and fiction of books was only one for her.
She had always been a burning doorway and
still, I was willing to walk through the fire in order to stop gambling on
time, since sadness will shorten my time. I’ve walked through the wreckage of
enough broken promises to know that sometimes you need to feel hurt, to feel
anything at all. So bring it on, bring me into tiny pieces.
Old friend, I can hear the scream of words you
are keeping trapped behind your teeth. And I fear we will stay just acquaintances.
Because I can’t get you to speak. So I’ll try to make you laugh for when a
smile parts your lips. All your words about desire may get free and start to
slip.
I wanted to make you an offer you can't refuse.
But I could only remember how fed up of Michael Corleone, Kay calmly said “at this moment I feel no love for you at all. I
never thought that would ever happen, but it has”. But even after 10 years she
knew that she was lying to herself and those unique words slipped from her
mouth with the desperate will to trap them back behind her teeth.
However, her heart was like a romantic bundle
of old love letters, worn paper, ink faded, dulled with each loving read,
nothing as touchingly beautiful.
Do you remember us walking in the night in
Cambridge Kings College? It made me realize that sometime the most ordinary
things could be made extraordinary, simply by doing them with the right person.
What I’ve been doing for the past few months? Conscious
Uncoldplaying. Because I was told that life is too short and you should never
lose yourself while trying to hold on to someone who doesn’t care about losing
you. And honestly speaking, Coldplay swap your happy mood to some kind of
unhealthy needed sadness.
"Whatchya thinking?" a voice asks
from behind me in clear, almost musical English. Turning around I find my
owner. She is wearing her Jane Austen dress, a dress made of moonlight and
shadow. She is pale, frightened for what’s happening to me. But I find comfort
in knowing that she will have seen me before I leave this era for another
period of time more suitable for my principles.
I'm laptoping you from a sacred place, in fact
some special place where we learn to unfold a private quilt of our own
imagination. I’m in a secluded corner of a quiet garden which leads to a
forest. I’m imagining this jungle from my home window.
Below the window, flagstones leading to a
fountain have tiny cracks where winter’s mosses grow miniature, moist forest
marching along their tiny canyons of opportunity. Out of this window,
everything suddenly seems luscious and intriguing. But she’s not there and
voices are telling me, it’s for my own good.
I lost all dignity by allowing her and her
friends to insult me. I was a laughing stock, a trophy you can wave, a ripped
book without any value ending up in a trash, or a grave. Something enemies
deserve or human rights criminal because they have nothing human left when they
commit heartless homicide.
Drowned walls that couldn’t survive the swell
of my oceans rest in ruins while my fins propel me through adventures yet to be
explored. I am the seeker of new and admirer of different. Will you follow me
to this new era?
I fell for your thoughts, the way that you said
my name, how you used to make me speechless. I ache to be inside your mind,
hear the whisper of every thought, get lost in your deepest desires. I want you
lying down next to me caressing the soft curves of my face, running your
fingers down my back. And thoughts of smeared lips, carved bites, moans, play
like a movie in your mind. It was in the press of your lips and the touch of your
tongue where the poem of love and other mischief was written.
We should never regret anything we did because
at one time it was exactly what we wanted.
I’m paying attention at the colour of my tears,
they no longer are transparent, they are RED. I was told that red is charged
with emotion and promise. Red speaks for heroism and bravery, honesty and
patriotism. Red is also the red badge of courage, redcoats, the thin red line,
red sails in the sunset, and a jolly red nose. My love may be like a red red
rose, my sins, as well as my politics, may be red. Red is also red tape, red
ink, red wine, red lips, red blood, red earth, red barons, red barns, red
hearts, red thoughts and red herrings. Red means anger, fire, storms of the
heart, love and war. Even women can be scarlet. More than any other colour, red
is loaded for action.
And there's a music I want to listen
continuously with my sister, because she was the only one who could find it for
me.
When you and I were forever wild
The crazy days, the city lights
The way you'd play with me like a child
Will you still love me when I'm no longer young
and beautiful
Will you still love me when I got nothing but
my aching soul
I know you will, I know you will
I know that you will
Will you still love me when I'm no longer
beautiful
--
John Green’s book “The Fault in our Stars” is
being adapted into movie, and it talks about my condition without knowing it,
except that I have no one to love anymore. So like the fault in our stars, I’m
also a grenade. One day I will blow up and makes lots of people suffer. Who are
those people? My family. They know that you don’t get to choose if you get hurt
in this world but you do have a say on who hurts you, so they agreed to suffer
because of that.
