Wednesday, 14 February 2018

We're finally free.

I can see it. I can hear it. I can feel it.

The winds that susurrate through these streets.

And the birds that fly above these buildings.

The sound of water lapping gently toward the sand. 

The magnificent blood orange torch of a setting sun, beaming across the horizon.

A light so intense you can feel it glow on your skin.

The ability to love and be loved.

The small smile on his face. His human smile.

So fragile and full of emotion, yet a heart so strong and withstanding of the greatest obstacles.

We let our fingertips touch as we stare into his world, and leave mine behind forever.


Sunday, 21 January 2018

To him

I woke up crying from this dream I just had. It was very vivid, and there was one scene where I was standing on a bridge in the city, and the bridge had a transparent criss cross facade on one side, like the ceiling above H&M at Chadstone. It was sunrise. As I was walking down ever so slowly, not even sure why I was on this bridge, I could feel so strongly the sunlight and shadows, as filtered through the facade, dance across my skin. I could feel the soft touch of the morning breeze, and closed my eyes to the first trickle of Chinese tourists that were oohing and aahing in the background, admiring what must be a beautiful cityscape behind me. I stood there facing the facade, and closed my eyes, breathing in very slowly - my body enveloped by this warm glow of light.

A voice had whispered to me 'karma will come, don't do to others what you wouldn't want them to do to you'. And for some reason, in this dream, I had apparently cut off all ties with my friends. I had lashed out, insulted them, hurt them, turned them away. And when I opened my eyes again, and saw them materialise before me, I could see from each of their faces that I was alone, and nobody would ever speak to me again. I called out to them, but they walked away, some of them hurling abuse, giving me what I had given them.

From that scene, I dreamt that I had woken up in bed next to my high school friend (whom I caught up with in real life yesterday). I was sobbing uncontrollably and reaching for a glass of water while she groggily sat up and patted me on the back, saying 'it's alright, it's just a dream, I still love you'. And she went back to bed.

Through my sobs, I got out of bed and walked to the balcony. I heard his voice. He walked onto the balcony from a different entryway, carrying some sort of clipboard, checking off things with two guys who looked like renovators. I could tell he was happy, and when he saw me, his eyes lit up so bright and an impossibly goofy smile unravelled on his face. He greeted me cheerfully, but I continued to sob like a devastated child, telling him about my dream and that everybody hates me.

He laughed in a comforting way, and then said "What! Don't be silly Cindy, of course we love you, you doofus! I love you." And then he hugged me.

Then I really woke up. And I woke up with real tears in my eyes. And I thought about all the little things and big things that he did for me while we were together. Every single time he picked me up, bought me food, told me I was beautiful, and tried to be a better person for me. Every time he smiled at me, called me stupid names with that goofy but unadulterated look of love on his face. Of a joy so pristine and peaceful. And yet I felt like I had thrown it away, or that he felt that way. Of course, I'm still certain that breaking up with him was the right decision, as we were two people at two different places in our lives, with mismatched values and personalities that didn't mesh well long term. Me unable to treat him as well as he treated me was a major reason why I had to do it for both of our sakes.

But I will always, always remember that smile. And no matter what I do in my life, and where I am, I will still love him. I feel bad that I had hurt him so deeply, or caused him to feel so much resentment. But with him, I had some of the happiest and most peaceful moments in my life. And I know there will never be another person like him.


Thursday, 18 January 2018

Pact

We watched as the car burned and melted. 

"Do you think maybe, we shouldn't have had that much to drink?" he asked. 

I couldn't take my eyes off the wreckage. 

"Yeah, probably," I mumbled.

The flames seared the bonnet of the totalled car and the smell of metal and gasoline became overwhelming. I remember reading somewhere, that space smelled like burnt metal.

"We should probably get away from it for now," he suggested. I immediately agreed, but then asked him what we should do if the surrounding forest caught fire. I said I'd feel bad if that happened.

"Well, I don't think it will. But even if it did...would it really matter after tonight?"

I didn't answer, but merely shook my head to signify no - it didn't matter if people found out. Nothing would matter anymore. 

Hand in hand, we left what used to be his mother's car combusting on the side of the dirt path and walked toward the forest, deeper and deeper into an abyss. 

He flicked open the heavy duty torch and shone the path before us. 

The foliage wasn't too dense. The trees grew more sparsely in this area, allowing plenty of moonlight to seep through.

Soon enough, we reached the lake. 

It was beautiful. There was a full moon tonight. Its reflection a perfect mirror on the still water. 

We stood there and admired the scene before us for what seemed like an eternity. Breathed it all in.

He wrapped his fingers around my hand even more tightly. I looked at him, then he looked at me. Our eyes interlocking into a fiery trance.

"Let's do it," I exhaled. 

"Okay."

From the back of his trousers, tucked into his belt, he brings out the gun - his father's vintage revolver. The barrel was polished so shiny and black. The light hit it just right so that it seemed to glimmer like a jewel. I didn't know if that was just my mind playing tricks on me. 

With my heart pumping desperately, I watched him raise the barrel to his chin, angling it right. 

He waited a minute of silence between us, his eyes watering up as he returned my nervous stare. 

"I love you," he finally whispered. 

Then he pulled the trigger. And I felt his blood splatter across my face.  

Tears fell uncontrollably. My entire body heaved with ugly sobs and gasps. My knees weak, I knelt down next to his body, lying there so peacefully in the grass. I slowly unclasped the revolver from his hand. Then I brought it to my temple, my index finger caressing the trigger.

I looked up and admired, for the final time, the cluster of stars that lit up this part of the night sky.
















I want to go out and not have to bring a purse.
I want to wear baggy jeans, an old oversized sweatshirt, and take a long drag of my cigarette while I lean on a balcony and the wind billows through my hair in the night.
I want to breathe in, and feel like things are moving in slow motion.
I want to feel curious, and enamoured by everyone and everything.
I know my heart will beat fast, but my mind will be slow.
And that nothing really matters but right here and now. 
I will feel the balmy summer breeze on my cheeks and neck. 
Watch an old street lamp flicker like a flame.
Then close my eyes. Tilt my head back slightly.
And feel an overwhelming calmness. 
Like I'm standing in front of an ocean. 
Watching the sun set across an iridescent horizon.
Glimmering tantalisingly. Red, orange, and blue.
So peaceful. 
So free of noise and bullshit. 
And when I open my eyes, I'll see the white moon in the black night sky above me. 
I'll wonder about the universe, and aliens, and other planets.
A vast space unexplored.

I'll rest my cigarette, and take another sip of whiskey. 
80s synthwave playing in the background. 


Friday, 12 January 2018

S E X

Two nights ago at the dinner table, I accidentally made my family sit through (at least) ten seconds of Andrew McCarthy pretending to perform cunnilingus on actress Jami Gertz in the 1987 film Less Than Zero. 

I should have known better than to watch a film adapted from a Bret Easton Ellis novel (he also wrote American Psycho) with my parents... I actually didn't even know what was happening at first, because the scene was so dark and the angle so weird. All I heard and saw were some mushy kissing noises, heavy breathing, some flesh, and random bits of cloth.

Then I realised that that was the back of Andrew McCarthy's head gyrating between Gertz's legs, underneath her skirt. Wow. And there we all were, me and my super conservative quinquagenarian Chinese parents eating fried prawns and chewing on pork trotters while watching a young woman scream in pleasure.

I eventually awkward laughed and changed the channel, having only waited an excruciating ten seconds because I thought okay, this is an eighties film, surely there would be nothing so explicit and this would be over in like 0.5 seconds. I was wrong. Ahh the liberalism of western pop culture.

But the whole time I figured - hey, my conservative Chinese parents need to accept that I often watch movies with a bit (and sometimes a lot) of sex in it. Plus, seeing young people have brazen extemporaneous sex would be one way of getting them to realise that sexual desire should not be something to feel ashamed about, and sex before marriage is a common thing, at least in the country where we live. Most importantly, that it doesn't make a woman some sort of dirty, grotesque demimonde. My morally anachronistic mother likes to describe these women as, 'an unwrapped, used, regifted present that no man in their right mind would accept'.

beautiful

I'm glad I'm not fucked up like she is about this stuff

but honestly, it's surprising how I still know people my age that subscribe to such bullshit moral standards