Monday, June 25, 2012

Mr H (part 3)

After that incident, I found myself getting even more detached with people and the outside world; almost avoiding any contact or communicating with others in any form possible. It wasn’t that I was suffering from inferiority complex of any sort; it was the total opposite of that! I didn’t stutter when I spoke, I’ve never failed to make eye-contact when I spoke to others; it was just that I didn’t like people. I don’t know, I’d always had this perception that people who don’t try are just nuisances; and that’s exactly what I’m seeing in all these useless and insignificant people around me at school. They either talk about getting their nails done, hair done, dates, who’s sleeping with who; all sorts of unnecessary and stupid dramas and gossips; things that won’t help us improve ourselves as human beings. That’s why I’d rather sit at home, curled up in bed; reading books whilst listening to Pink Floyd. Bob Dylan’s fine, too.  

But this was what I found interesting; even though I found myself restraining myself even more from other people, I couldn’t help but wonder when I’d meet H again. But whenever I remember that he was the first guy to has ever treated me with such brutality and that disgusting forehead kiss I'd received from him, I feel like jumping down a cliff all of a sudden -.-

A week passed by in a flash; and, as usual, not a care, damn or fuck was given by me to whatever was going on at school. “Guys will always torment and play around with your heart as long as you let them do so” Daddy would say to me every time my 18-year old sister, Vivien walks out of the door for her date.  God knows how many times she’d gotten her heart messed around with, but somehow she’d still do it. (Viv says it’s hope that gets her going; but all I see is sheer stupidity)

Anyways, so Monday morning came; with the routine weekly assembly, hangovers and Monday blues; everything went on like any other Mondays of my school year; or so I thought. It was during lunch break that our eyes met again. Yours truly was sitting quietly at table number 9; and if you readers were wondering; NO, not exactly the rejects’ table but let’s just say the whole table was monopolised by me. (I hate people, remember?) I was reading The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling (Fantastic read, I tell you!) when I felt a warm breath; purposely blowing down and tickling my neck. SHIT it’s happening all over again; I almost had the whole, heartbeat-too-fast and pale-face symptoms all over again.  But yes, this time I was much better prepared, so I mustered enough courage to ignore such weird and alien feelings going through me and turned around; only to find him sipping on his orange juice; smirking. The whole cafeteria was silent by now, all eyes on us.

“Can I help you?” were the only words I could utter without swinging my fists in his face.

“You most certainly can, V.” His smirk was getting wider; his face the mirror image of that meme-troll-face I keep seeing on the net.

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep my cool. It was almost as if he was testing my patience; first for interrupting my reading and two for calling my name as V; something NO one has ever called me before. Automatically, I’d turned my seat to face him without jeopardising or penetrating this invisible boundary line; one we both somehow, indirectly have agreed on respecting.

“Become my partner in the upcoming Phantom of the Opera musical and you’ll get a second chance at living” He continued, as he traced the outlines of the shape of my bag on the table. His face was hard to read, but he was now wearing a different sorta smirk, so I was guessing that he felt that victory was his.

“Was that a demand, an ultimatum or a threat, Haru?” I heard a huge gasp behind me as soon as I finished my sentence, which had caused me to almost turn away from him; before I felt a hand pulling me back.

“It’s a favour; I need you to do me this favour.” Then, as he finished his sentence, once again, another kiss on my forehead!  He walked away almost abruptly after that light peck on my forehead, and joined his whole gang before vanishing out of the cafeteria.

Like a total idiot, I stood there; face as red as ever; swearing inside my heart. I was cursing the same way I did when I ran away after our first encounter. There were whispers all around me now; eyes leering at me as I packed up to get back to class. GREAT, I should be careful with what I wish for after this!

Mr H. (part 2)

So back to how we first met, well, it was during the final period of class; on a rainy April noon; when all the prefects were called for an emergency meeting with all the teachers. We were all given specific group projects to finish, and I, being a people’s-hater, miss I-am-Superior-Than-Thou, decided to tackle such a project on my own ( with special permission of course), hence finishing the overall work earlier than anyone else. Second after second, minute after minute, it just got frustratingly boring to the point where I decided to just take matters into my own hands and explore the abandoned block next to our classroom block. Such action was almost made impossible by the class monitor, but I had managed to use my charms or in layman’s term; threaten him with several photos of him frolicking around with the teachers and got my permission pass. (I know, my school is screwed-up quite abit)

With my trusted ‘Class Pass’ hanging over my head, I trotted around the abandoned building with a never-ending fascination for the historical structure. The building was a beautiful faded-peach, with wooden frames seen here and there. It had served as a studio for the arts students of years 3 and 4 respectively, until a small fire engulfed a classroom on the top-floor. There were no reported injuries or deaths, but the principal decided that it was to be abandoned and demolished for fears of safety. Since then, no students were allowed to wander around that area. And, just as I’d decided to run back to class, I’d passed a small corner at which, I swore, I saw a pair of human eyes staring at me. At my own stupid curiosity, I back-tracked, only to feel a pair of strong arms pulling at my waist.  I wasn’t as frail and weak as people had perceived me, but my strength couldn’t match this person's. Also, I wanted to scream, but the rain was getting heavier and all efforts of such an action would’ve only gotten drowned by the pouring water. The building, the corner itself, wouldn’t echo, too.

It’d felt as if I were in a trance, because I’d totally forgotten everything else until I’d felt myself being pushed softly onto the wall. My eyes met those human eyes I saw earlier; and oh God they had to be the coldest I’d ever seen.  And the thing is, I’d never seen this peculiar person before; really! He was also standing dangerously close to me; to a point where I could feel his breath on my face; smelling of clorex mints and burnt-tobacco. He’d been smoking, and he wasn’t doing anything to hide the burning cigarette he was holding between his fingers. All he did was looked at me; and it was as if we were playing a staring competition. My heartbeat was so friggin loud, I knew he could sense that I was afraid. Swallowing hard, I looked away and bit my lip; the atmosphere was super tensed. I hated people for enough reasons already; I really didn’t need another one to be added to that never-ending list.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t do anything. I’m just here for a ciggie-break.” His soft voice broke the awkward silence between us, and before I could say anything, slowly, in almost a register lower than a whisper, he said. “You won’t tell a soul, would you, Vera?”  Before I could bombard him with a million questions of all sorts, I felt a soft caress on my cheeks and a soft stare; making me even more flabbergasted. I was trembling in confusion now; I didn’t understand and I couldn’t comprehend anything that was going on at that moment.  I, literally, felt I was getting pale and supporting myself against the wall harder, fearing of collapsing there and then.

“It’s Haru. People call me H. Remember the name, Vera. You’ll be seeing me more often after this.”  And with that sentence and a kiss on my forehead, he parted from our close proximity and sucked on his cigarette.

Me? Oh I made my exit alright; running as fast as I could, cursing throughout my entire journey back to class; my heart pounding even faster than it normally would when I ran, both my foot stepping carelessly into the puddles of water. I was just braving through the heavy storm; all I wanted to do at that point was run to the classroom, get my stuff and go home. The class pass was wet but it wasn’t a concern; a cold was set to be visiting me that night but it just wasn’t as important as getting myself in the confines of my bedroom wall; my solace. I needed to be home, and I really just wanted to sleep such an encounter off. 

Mr H.

H is the initial to his first name, Haru.  Standing at an amazing 6'2”, I am indeed, a midget when we walk side-by-side. Mortals say ‘Tall, dark and handsome’, right?  But he’s more of ‘tall, tan-ish and...normal’ (Of course, I won’t admit that he’s.....Let’s just get on with the story)

We met, for the first time, in high-school, at some miserable, totally deserted, dead-end corner where I caught him smoking during school hours. His eyes resembled black diamonds although mysterious, with a perfect nose and small lips. Everyone knew his award-winning smirk, and he was, most-definitely, the school’s bad boy. Given that everything he did was being made a school affair, some girls establishing a fan-club devoted to him and only him, his parents being one of the richest families in the whole of Auresia (twice the size of Australia), he is, surprisingly, a very quiet and reserved guy.  Do note that I came to understand all this only AFTER we became close.

No one had ever held a proper conversation with him; or at least one that had lasted more than a good ten-minutes without being brushed off. Rumours were saying that he gets shy around girls, but this theory was proven to be totally untrue when he dazzled in the school spring musical in the first year of high-school; him taking on the role of Raoul, one of the protagonists; as well as the love-interest of the lead female, Christine Daae in Gaston Leroux’s 1910 novel, Phantom of The Opera.  And as you’ve guessed it, I, the annoying, revolting, feisty, ugly and a devoted-antropophobic, played the beautiful, angelic-voiced, Miss Daae.  

(FINE FINE, H! Okay, H, I was lying; so maybe the beautiful, angelic-voiced was wrong to describe ME , but at least I tried singing, yes? J)

H. (introduction)

26th June 2012,
“when it all falls and the only one left up there; in denial, is me.”

*Strictly for people who speak sarcasm as their first language; DEFINITELY NOT for babies-in-denial*

You know; I’ve got a secret.

This is a simple secret I’ve always kept buried under my skin; as I fear that people would judge my parents for encouraging me to hold on to my childhood memories.  (Judge away, anyways. Like I really care now.)
But I’ve decided that maybe by writing it out, I might have a chance at a normal life; like everyone else; or at least try to. So there might be lips that utter ugly and horrifying words, there might be ears that listen without actually caring after reading this, but whatever the outcome is, I welcome any comments. After all, this post will still be mine, and your opinion; yours, yes? J

Not only did I re-discover my ability to completely ignore people as if they weren’t there, I’ve also found that I’m still capable of having an imagination; which also comes with my own, made-up imaginative characters.

As I am very much aware of the fact that I cannot stand people and vice versa; that I am very revolting to the eyes; that I only make everyone else’s life a big misery, I decided to just sit and live peacefully in the realms of Auresia. (Derived from the light phenomenon, AURORA)

At the moment, I’ve been living happily with H. H is my best friend; my make-believe best friend.  Whilst you’re all asking why have a best friend instead of a boyfriend, I say, WHY NOT?

I’ve lost many many people in my life; significant people. They’ve all drifted far from my grasp, because of mistakes I made, because of their egos. So, in the end, I am, as usual, alone, miserable, desperate for attention, lonesome, sad, angry, regretful, and just basically living in pure pain and confusion. Okay, so maybe that part was exaggerated. I am actually doing alright, it’s just that sometimes things happen and I just cry silently under my blanket.

All those stupid dramas aside, I’d like to talk about him tonight. I think I’ve been fairly calm and able to live like nothing bad is happening because of him. He deserves this, and I know that he isn’t just a make-believe character, he is real and is currently in search of me, too. J


26th June 2012,

Like a wilting rose,
Silently & slowly,
Bending down
And falling onto the ground

May it be the midnight dew,
The summer, July rain or
Even the monsoon hurricanes,
These tattoos of pain
Won’t go away.

What if I told you,
I cant feel my feet
Or chew my food?
What if I told you,
I don’t trust my judgements,
Or want to speak,
Would you believe me?

Being incapable of talking,
Being tired of listening
And being bored of boredom,
What is there left to life?

For once,
Let me travel my own mountains,
Get comfy under my own quilt,
And disappear.

I wont move,
From here,
From my fantasy world.

Because I’m more sheltered and wanted here.
Than in reality.

Friday, June 22, 2012

Motels and Gasoline

23rd June 2012
“Who will fight?”

Key-cards and bleached sheets,
I don’t know where we are.
You’d thrown away yesterday’s slurpee,
I’d burnt your last cigarette.
And embraced till dawn

The air smelled of detergent & smoke,
The warm June breeze is here.
I still don’t know where we are,
But you were holding my hand
And that’s all I needed.

The accord was clear
We’d be lovers at night,
Best friends in daylight
But forever,
You and me
Me and you

We were young, free and hopeful,
And we were rebellious.
And we’d sworn high up the sky,

You and me,
Me and you

Our destinies were far from reach,
This road trip would last forever,
You’d said it would.
You’d promised it would.

Refuelling, rerouting,
Everything was now too tiring
No more key-cards,
No more check-ins.

Tears, lies and ego
We never found;
Our final destination

Denver and Austin,
Port Villa and Oslo,
Guess it was all just
Innocent, raw, adolescent love.

And last stop.
Hearts at war,
Pain uncontained.
Screaming and shouting,
There was nothing more.

No more bumpy roads,
No more silent drives,
No longer you and me,
Me. You.

Guess my mama was right.


23rd June 2012
“And I told you to be balanced”

2 degrees Celsius,
Winter’s come once again
And I’ve forgotten my gloves.

Watching the clouds,
And staring at the aurora,
Pink and blue, green and yellow;
The northern lights are well-choreographed
I am content

Why did you have to come here?
When you’ve got warmth and shelter
When you’ve got love waiting
On the other side of the world

Yes, this coldness is enough.
No, this warm body is enough.

Yes, this silence would suffice
No, this noisy mind would suffice.

That vase of dead roses have broken,
That house will never be built,
There is no you and me.

Why have you come here?
When you’re unwelcomed,
When I’m unwanted,
When we’ve decided?

The grass is greener,
The lakes are clearer,
The oceans are deeper.

Leave me be,
My grey eyes can see better,
Through your colourless soul

Friday, June 15, 2012


Silence is a friend of mine.
It is a furry, vermillion creature.
It speaks in ciphers
Swears in the wind,
Laughs in time.

We play in the nursery,
With balls and building blocks,
We scream and we shout,
This tower shields us from anything
And everything.

At times, others knock on the nursery door.
I refuse to answer.
Life’s much better,
When it’s just it & I,
Silence & i.

Standing behind the line,
Of sophistication and what makes sense,
I am untouched
And it is unspoken.
And I am insignificant
And I am still laughing.
And I am content.

Please don’t knock.
No one can ever hear you.

Euro Trip

Your blue lips,
The world’s upside down!
And the galaxies are on the ground!
 My bloodshot eyes,
The sounds of unicorn crying,
And the queer voices all around.

Yes, yes!
Gliding purple hills and stagnant blue fairies,
Rain is about to come!
Of red hot droplets of fire,
We shall walk to the next civilisation,
Seeking refuge from pain

When shall we walk together?
Comprehending is confusing,
Laughter is inevitable,
 And the minds aren’t parallel.

Starvation for a new life,
We run towards the southern light
Hoping to find chances,
Only to realise
That we’d never moved
from our respective places
at all.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Tea Party with The Madman (part 2)

Let’s play hide and seek, sire
Your runs are as good as my guesses
This maze here is vast
But this brick of white pillow walls
Won’t lose to you

A litre of blood gone,
Whatever will you do?
Run, sire, run.
Make this more fun for me, too.

This is your last humour.
So laugh your soul out, sire.
For i’ll be the only one
With the last chuckle

Quite the game, i’d say.
You tried very hard,
My dark sarcasm did haunt you
Run,sire, run,
To the dead end upon those enclosed bushes

You’ve lost again, sire.
Another round?
But I see you reek of your own vile,
And you smell of more salt and rust.

What would you want to defend now,
Your left feet or arm?
But if I may, sire,
It doesn’t matter which one now.
For you,sire,
Shall lose all, eventually.
Amputated by your own curiousness
And courage
For walking into a madman’s lair.

Tea Party with The Madman

Ahh, you sir!
Come in, come in!
Would you like some tea, sir?
Such a wet, sunny night yesterday,
Such a hot rainy day today!

I don’t often have tea parties,
I seldom get company
I never invite.
So, for you sir; are a lucky man to be here!

We shall talk of ivory whales,
Fuchsia oceans and red skies.
Stories from our deepest faculties

I’ll tell.
And you’ll listen
Of stories over the rainbow,
with beheaded humans,
and decapitated rabbits.
And you’ll laugh
At my poppycock,
Until I tell you
Of how I skinned your brother alive.

Bars in, bars out.
Chained hands, tied feet
We can still have tea with our swollen lips.
Can’t we?

You’ll ask
In the midst of fear,
Where’s the sugar?

And I’ll answer
We need no sugar, sir
your blood is sweet enough.

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Young, hopeful and heartbroken part 2

The weeks that came after that were a total, complete blur. I had never thought about settling all the necessary issues; like filing for a document of legal separation and dividing our assets; because I thought that we’d be together forever. It was already hard enough for me to wake up in bed alone every morning, not knowing the real reason why you’d left, and now it was time for me to face the even harsher reality; to put it on writing that we’d both separated for good in the eyes of the law.

The call from your personal and company lawyers were the ones that shocked me the most initially; when I was told that all of the assets we purchased together were all mine; and that included all of your shares in the company. It was more puzzling than ever, and that I could even ‘keep the dogs’. Most girls would’ve felt beyond happy for the least; that their ex-partners had left them a fortune after separating.

But me? I was different. I had always been from a family who had no issues with money, and believe me; I know too well that money couldn’t buy happiness. I know how obsessed and conceited my father became; evolving into an even bigger monster as his power and assets grew. Money and houses; women and mistresses; those were the pains and sufferings of my family.

 I saw how fame and richness broke my whole family apart; of how strong my mother was. She took all of the truth to her grave the day she decided to end it all; the day she took away her own life eight years ago. Money didn’t solve anything in the end; it couldn’t take away my mother’s ache for what my father had done. And I was as sure as hell; that any amount of money wasn’t gonna do the same for me this time.

Young, torn and tired; I decided to take one day at a time. To face reality at that moment felt like a never-ending torment; especially when I walk past the coffee shops we used to frequent together. The State Park; where we used to take our evening strolls downtown from our penthouse; I could never look at it the same way ever. Your hollow face kept reappearing in this weak mind; as if you were a ghost that didn’t get closure from his past human-life. I broke down almost every night; weeping and crying over and over again as I hugged our wedding album. There was nothing extra special about our wedding; it was the same, dull wedding theme with the only twist being our cake. But somehow, the memories of us and all the dreams we used to share together were just so vivid to me. At times, too vivid. A few nights after you left; I recalled getting up at 3:00 am because I heard the sound of the front door. I swear I heard it loud and clear; and when I ran out of the bedroom, I finally saw that it was just the balcony door banging since I’d forgotten to lock it.

I was falling from grace, slowly stumbling down my career ladder a few weeks after the incident. I started seeing several counsellors, life-coaches and even psychologists. The mask I was putting on in front of everyone; the family, society was cracking bit by bit, till I finally snapped at my mother’s death anniversary. That was also the day I literally fainted onto the perfectly manicured grass in just a blink of an eye. All that I could recall was my father telling his best friend of how much he had loved my mother and me feeling so pissed at my old man for telling such BS. The next thing I know...I was in my old room; on my bed with a weird, funny looking woman who seemed like she might’ve been a doctor.

“You’re seven weeks pregnant, Mrs James. Congratulations”