Tag Archives: writing

Shifting plates

Swaying with the autumn wind,

Swept about with every gust

Never landing, never settling

So far from her branch

Broken off and now

Drifting along with the torrential tides high

Wave upon wave of uncertainty

Ripples of opinions

So far from the pebbly beach

Withdrawing after each crash

Each crush

Falling past the edge of cliffs

Down the rabbit hole

Through the clouds

Two feet always on shifting plates.

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Escapade 22/4

I dreamt of war.

There was panic in the air but still children milled about. A small Malaysian town, old-school with one story houses, sandy roads, motorcycles everywhere.

I didn’t realise that guns were coming into play, even after everyone started screaming and running. Crossing the street, palm stretched out to say thanks for giving way. To a guy with a rifle. He shoots towards me and then I begin to run, straight for the line of houses, seeking sanctuary.

Everyone who shoots aims not to kill but for close shaves, at least in my case.

A lady takes us little ones in, brings us to the backyard and has us hiding under a blanketed table. We’re found of course; a soldier comes in through the back car-gate, talks a little, rifle held at the ready. It seemed okay still.

A young man appears and I’m his daughter, the soldiers seem to want him alive and well. He says he would go with them provided his daughters were to stay safe. The smiling officer says, “of course.” My dad takes me and we get into the car. Almost immediately after we hear gun shots. The benefactress and the other little girl shot. His face is blank but his eyes reveal shock and disbelief, or was it regret at his naivety. The whole way there, I crouch in the narrow backseat behind the passenger seat, keeping myself out of range for any soldiers aiming at my head.

Outside, a mass of panic and destruction as soldiers yell, shoot and barge into houses, screams and cries are heard constantly before silence begins to take over. I don’t cry but the fear, oh the fear. I remember thinking it was like Cambodia.

We’re in a seating room and everyone there is getting a job assignment as a taxi driver. My dad, the actual taxi driver, doesn’t get one. The impulsive hotheaded child that I am, I take the application forms; nope, my dad’s name isn’t anywhere on these. Thankfully the woman in charge thinks I’m helping to distribute, and so I begin. One of the men there was from the start of the dream, fearlessly (or stupidly) challenging the soldiers. Even now he says he’s not afraid. What a fool. But he says to me, with a distant look, that this reminds him of Sweden. I mention that it reminds me of Cambodia. We stay quiet in solidarity.

I’m in the toilet, my father tells me not to come out no matter what. The same bedroom as my parents in real life, just slightly bigger. All of us staying in it. 7-8 or us. It gets very quiet outside the bathroom, and finally I come out and climb atop my father, he’s smiling. They trust him and allow him to live, for what reason I’m not sure. But I know everyone else is dead.

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Fate

Strange thing, fate.

To some, it might be landing that dream job through lending a kind hand to a stranger.
To others, finding a $100 bill on the floor right as they’ve used their last dollar on bills.

Often, it’s magical and like a fairytale. Unbelievable until it happens to you, then you feel the universe aligning just for you.

For me, fate came through for me through a series of events. A long series of friendships, romance, relationships, casual dates, explorations, and self-discovery. With that self-love and acceptance came courage, trust and a willingness to try.

Despite the occasional segue here and there such as hanging out with the wrong guy over 8 months, an uncertain job situation, and a gross undervaluing of the type of love and respect I deserve, the right guy and I are finally stepping in tandem.

I could probably attribute this confusing medley to my blatant disregard of my emotions. After counselling and some medication, it became a habit for me to take my emotions as a lie, to be an exploding whirlpool of obsession and self-sabotage. But when you are unable to bring yourself to end things with someone cause it’s too painful, and you find yourself bawling with pain as you hear him cry, when you would rather pick him than the one who’d been around for 8 months and instead start to work on how to end things with your past (although circumstances, or FATE, allowed for him to leave my present instead), it’s time to accept fate’s hand in your future happiness.

If you find a man who steps into your life and has been nothing but loving, caring, encouraging and excited to learn about, talk to and be with you from day 1, and even as you were almost breaking up, still wanted the best for you, you shouldn’t walk away out of unfounded fears.

But back to Fate.

The main thing is that if you have a blog that barely anyone knows of, and this guy you met on reddit through a Very specific sub-reddit group was actually a loyal reader since 2013, it’s time to stop worrying and fearing, and just accept that you deserve love and someone like him in your life.

You deserve to be with someone who loves you, who makes you happy, and know that you can keep being happy. There’s no need for self-sabotage. Just accept Fate’s hand in your life and go with it, enjoy it and be the best you can be with this man.

 

TLDR; met someone amazing, he turned out to be a reader of my blog since years ago, and I’m so happy I’m no longer with the wrong person, but am instead with someone who actively chose me and fell for me and my written word from years ago.

 

That’s just so beautiful, don’t you think?

Feeling so incredibly honoured to be blessed by Fate’s rare hand.

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Escapade bursts

Been having more nightmares recently. The types that linger even though you’re dog tired daily and forget important details of your everyday waking life regularly.

1) He was raping girls, 2 of which were literally doll sized. 1 was a young adult. They started spilling vomit from their vaginas after he was finished and we went down on them. The older lady tried to push him away, shocked and repulsed but he pushed on. She eventually gave in and engaged in the fellatio as well.

2) I will update this when I remember. A little woozy right now

3) I have been telling myself that I deserve to be treated wonderfully by my future partner. Went to bed with drowsy fever medicine during the afternoon.

I told my friend that I deserve to be treated well. He leaned over, hand on the back of my neck to pull me in to kiss me. I pushed him away. He told me, “For someone who has so many criterias, you should have lower standards.”

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Tactile Surreality.

Passing gradients and swirl dream dyes.

bumps, crackle, white-red sparks
chest expanding lifts,
tippity-top of the brain
rolling eyes.

oxygen widening the tubes
seeping into nubs
tinkling jerks and winces
clench

Smooth rippling tides by gentle lilies.

Self obsession a cure
for redirection
and healthy minds
healthy hearts
healthy lives.

Ease, a belief of connected souls.

snap, crunch, crackle, brittle
seeping, crystals, thick
soft, compact, tough
tender, hurried, curious.

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Loneliness

What is this 

Running alcohol

Of emptiness 

In between my lungs and at the centre of my lower spine.

Coldness appears like the chill unexpected at 4am after a night of tossing in humid Asia.

Mental tears forming and pooling

Empty eyes.

Fear, burrowing, curling. 

Slightest needles of agonising icy spears jabbing incessantly behind and above the breasts

Breathing getting tougher as nostrils seem to tighten and air gets sweeter.

Shrapnel sweetness of air, loneliness pains, clenched muscles in the calves and butt.
Loneliness beyond romantic and platonic friends and partners.

Loneliness in this universe, always expanding never ceasing to stop or slow down and each connection growing steadily further.
God is infinite. Is there and mind proportionate stretch of me between Him as the universe speeds on by?

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Mind state.

Desperate for love

Dejection from rejection

Agony from disdain

Sadness with solitude.

People pleasing, pleasure pursuit.

Addiction and impulsiveness.

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Short on its way

Hi readers,

So if you’ve been following me for a while, you might have seem some posts with the title Escapade.

They’re an ongoing series of my dreams, usually the extremely poignant or fucked up ones that I remember well enough upon waking to record down.

Well I’m planning to take some of them and translate it into a short story. It’s going to tie in with my ideas of life, dreaming, alternate universes & realities, and consciousness.

It’s a work in progress. I’ve been ruminating on these separate chunks for a while now, but it’s only just hit me as a whole story idea. While showering, of course.

So watch this space. Might take a while though.

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Jesus wept

two words

Jesus wept

I wept
I am weeping
the beauty of music is its ability to

shock our soul into
recognition of mortality

connection, flimsy contact

shaking and trembling
tears dripping
heart breaking

stiff and agonising realisation
mortal prison of flesh
the soul she cries

for she can not escape and mingle with her fragments
swirling with the universe

trapped shard in meaningless structures
false identities and constructs.

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Propranolol

PropranoLOL more like

way less empty, blank stares muffled words
more loopy smiles, bad jokes and mumbled speeches

feels good man, eyyyyyyy
slow 2 fingers typing and knowing people might withdraw

people have Got to be weirded out
and goddammit shut the fuck up and go and fuck yourself bruh
i need to claw the fuck out of your fucking eyeballs

matttttyyyyyyy ayyyyyyyyyyyy get dat lobster roll.
gurlllll i bet you all up in dis, boyyyyy you know you wanna date the heck outta me

stop chirping fucking crickets

breathe inandouttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt
but also…in…??????omgbreatheinnowcause you’regonnasuffoca

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

should I pop another? raise a hand.

and stop cause i don;t need your allowance auyyyyyyyyy

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