Might

Try again, hoping that all this will make me stronger, and rise up to be the woman who can support you until the end.

I wish you’d read this. I’m not that vulnerable, I fall but rise again, I have tides like the ocean. Cancer, moving, nurturing.

You don’t have to do all the work you know, that’s what partners are for, dividing the load, making the road easier.

I wish to walk up to you sober and tell you those three words without you flinching. Hold your ground, don’t be afraid.

I love like a strong woman, that’s who I am.

Can I ever show you my strength without you feeling intimidated? Without you feeling like it’s too much?

You Know Well

Different spectra, perspectives, and you know very well why are you doing this.

Can’t tell you, won’t tell you, for you might run, because you’re not ready to hear it nor are you ready to accept that there’s someone out there who can love you with all that she has.

“I’m doing it out of love and I’m doing it for you.”

But if I’m going to be sane, I’ll see the other side of the coin which is I can use this for my future advantage.

Heavy

Manchuria – Pt. 1

She was stuck in a rut due to her over-seemingly unhealthy obsession with tinted lip balms. It was overshadowing every single brain cell of hers.

Without second thought, she wrapped her Nepali scarf around her neck, grabbed her wallet, phone and keys, then swiftly stepped out into the cold winter night, fantasizing about the purchase she was about to make as she made her way to the nearby shop.

Unfortunately, as fate would decide, the shop was not open. She grunted in dismay, furious, fuming, and eventually decided to just walk away. Plop plop plop – sounds of her footsteps in the dark, eyes wildly searching for a substitute. And there it was: she stumbled across a Manchurian restaurant – simple but inviting.

She trampled in with strong but swift footsteps, looked at the Indian lady at the counter – slightly shorter than she is, dusky rose skin, friendly and sincere eyes, high pitched voice.

Still squinting scantily across the menu, she ordered for the vegetarian biryani but eventually changed her mind. She ordered egg fried rice instead.

Definitum – her senses did the trick. On the way to fix her lip balm obsession, a whiff of Chinese wok fryings reminded her of her colorful, bustling, city life – somewhere in distant Kuala Lumpur where Chinatown was bursting with affordable and tasty street food.

And then another flashback. Rewinding to what happened a few minutes just before she changed her order —

A little unsure whether she should get something extra, she squinted her eyes trying to read the menu on the headboard.

“Don’t worry maam, I can help you read if you can’t!”, the Indian lady chirped as she inched closer to her, trying to be helpful.

She was then reminded of her mother, who would do the same thing, squinting her eyes and waving her hands in the air, saying “Sorry I can’t see!” and people would always offer their assistance.

Her sister – another story, but often her partner in crime, was more patient than her in many ways, but sometimes they’d shake their heads in unison, signalling that their mother’s actions were not at all necessary.

She understood her mother’s ways now, and the magnetism of being true to your own plight. It never was a rut to be in. Only when you accept your plight, that’s how one stops being in a rut.

Understanding events in a non-linear way was something that she often thought was crazy and illogical, but now it all made sense.—

Staring at the table in front of her, observing the tropical colors used for the painting. There’s always something with gold-linings in oriental paintings instead of silver ones.

“Should we start saying there’s a gold-lining in every situation instead of silver-lining?” She often got carried away with the origin of phrases or words but her thoughts were interrupted when food was ready for takeaway.

Facade versus Lie

Objectivity in life does not even exist at this point, perspectives are learning points, either painful or good, and the psychological aspects of humans are so fascinating, also at the same time a field where you could get lost in, dark, beautiful, broken, redemption – all in there.

Do you want to wear your psyche on your sleeve? Do you want to wear your heart on your sleeve as well?

It’s at the darkest you accept yourself and propel yourself forward with magnetism. A part of you is afraid that people around you cannot handle your truth, and might run away as a result ,and you’re afraid of never being able to be loved in return because of your intensity

I think I understand M.I.A. Sometimes I’m so envious of her because she has built herself to whom she is today. 40 years in making and she’s here, loud and clear.

Understanding that astrology is pseudo-science, but there’s always that part in me that wants and yearns for something larger to fix this chaotic mess that I have – only because I identify with my mind so much. But why do we?

Balance, physical and mental – Aries boy, you do that so well, how do you do that? You challenge me in various ways, you’re the twin, do you know? It’s the whole package you left with me, my brain and body understands Liebe now in its totality.

Whiplash

Traveling back in time, listening to Casey’s song the first time I ever watched Whiplash which soon became one of my favourite jazz movies – gut wrenching, heart wrenching, brows furrowed, sighing desolately.

I try to un-furrow my brows – disrupted – music goes on a loop again, this time it’s not so heavy, but it still lingers a little. Bittersweet, slow swaying movements.

I am dancing alone. Carpets with Persian patterns stretching across the floors in my non-existent New York apartment. Glass windows so wide, you could jump out of it anytime.

Living life on the edge, on an emotional edge, surviving every moment when strong emotions come to sweep you off. S do you know?

Trying to find solace somewhere else, they say finding it within you is your best bet, but the deeper I dig, the deeper I feel. I see the rose in full bloom, maybe the darkness does not have to kill her.

 

Creative Nonfiction

Ad, maybe i should forgive you and be able to let you lose from my blocked energies

World music through you, feeling it and it’s weird, Sag.

Repression transforming into expression

No point cutting or burning bridges sometimes because that just keeps the blocks in tact

Emotional resistance, who? Projecting, me or you?

You vs you, unconsciously I have become you

You here, how many parties?

Cheese vada pav, fusion of indian and burgers, the best, mango lassi. Kangaroo cliffs, thinking, wondering, feeling the energy that once resided there, all the past has to go and flow, talk, fear patterns no longer serving, same goes to you, loved one. Do you hear me?

Ich brauche dich, mochte dich, liebe dich

Emotional Catharsis

“Pearly shells, down the ocean, shining in the sun, covering the shore..”

To my mom whom I’ve always misunderstood – I understand you now and the generational pain that women have always carried, and I wish you weren’t so emotionally repressed and having it coming out in different ways.

I was on the bus on the way home after my mom and sister left, and this sudden wave came on like a thief, a brief memory of my mom singing this particular song and the next thing you know, I was secretly tearing at the back of the bus.

I always felt disconnected because I always thinking about how things should be with parents, let alone let movies taint my perception of how things should be, and not loving and accepting my loved ones for who they are. Seeing that they do accept me in their ways, but sometimes still imposing some things they think are the best for me – and I will no longer fight that.

I know. I feel lonely as heck most of the time ever since this thinking brain got back online after a long rest from shrooms, but it was necessary to let the pain come in so that I can purge.

Today, I can say I feel human again.