A Pink Letter
Friday, March 17, 2006
A Pink Letter
Why do the street lamps die
When you're passing by
Like a hand that won't stay on my shoulder tonight
If you held me close, would you laugh it away
Would you dare the glance that I steal to stay?
Dear You,
Life brings you some of the rarest surprises everyday,doesnt it?You of all people should know that,actually.The birds outside your room window,dark clouds over your house,your grandmother's fingernails,flowers in your backyard,moments of perfection captured with your pictures.You,of all people,should know what life brings everyday.
But for me,not all of those moments are welcoming,or friendly.Aside from the bigger misfortunes,i tend to have bigger emotional impacts on smaller things of life.Things that might seem trivial at first,but at a closer examination,they actually mean quite a whole lot to me on an emotional and spiritual level.
I was looking through my old messages,clearing them off one by one.Committing the same crime as do most lovers/ex-lovers,i saved up old messages from you to me,long ago.Then,i came upon the very last SMS conversation that we ever had.That was memorable,in a way.You were apologising for messaging me accidentally.How ironic,huh?It is one of those situations whereby,i havent got a clue whether i should laugh or cry,because it really was a conflicting moment back then,i remember.
Anyway,so here i am writing you a letter.A bright pink letter,on what happened to me since you've been gone.From me,from this life i know,the life i live,the one with me,and me only.
Since you've been gone,you've been called a lot of names.By me.And i apologise for that.I was angry,i was depressed,i was questioning myself.I dont know why i did it,called you names and all.I couldnt help it,but i guess in a way it was my way of dealing with it,dealing with the fact that i torn away four months worth of memory in my mental diary just to run away from reality,to do as you asked me to do,princess.Ms. Duplicity was a little harsh,i admit.If i hadnt wrote that down on paper and then as a poem on my blog it wouldve threatened my life,eating me from the inside.I never meant to do you wrong,just trying to deal with you,since you've been gone.
Since you've been gone,i've been having insomnias.Not every night,but more of it lately over the past two weeks.No matter how much i try,to get myself worn out and battered in the morning,to bore myself out with complicated Sudoku puzzles,i can never solve my own problems as i laid wide awake in bed every night till 2am.I thought of a lot of things,from what to buy this weekend,to a joke my friend cracked that morning,to the taste of some random Ramen,to some imaginary gig i might someday be doing,to...well,it drifts here and there.The past and the future,the memorable and the forgotten.From you to me,and me to you.From laugh to cries,much pain and die.I thought,and i thought so hard every night.Every single night,with you and that schmuck.I am sorry for name calling,but i just learnt that word,and it's just so addictive.Been saying that a lot too,since you've been gone.
Since you've been gone,ive been reading your blog more often now.That never changed,that remains the same.You are so busy with your life,so happy with where you are and where you are going to be.The pleasure of you in your job,in your gatherings with your friends,i am so happy for you.In a way,i tell myself that,that if she is happy then everything is fine.That everything will be okay,because afterall that is what i set out to do in the first place,right?And if it is not going to be coming from me,as long as you are happy then why not?I tell myself that,i lie to myself everyday to make myself a little happier,a little more contented with where i am today,and where i am going to be,unlike you.
Since you've been gone,ive been writing stuff in my notebook.You know,the one you wrote in with me while we were in the McDonald's,when we were there alone in the late afternoon,when we argued with each other via words,do you remember?That same,black and white,checkered notebook of mine,now scribbled with stuff in my head.Stupid stuff,mostly.Some about you,and whatever that is left of you in me,and whatever is left of me in you.I found i never wrote anything more than four lines,or anything in complete.I never found the determination,the urge to finish something i started.That'd be too agonizing,to painful in my opinion.To finally admit to defeat somehow,beaten down by your own guilt and all the sorrows mounted up like a bloody volcano.
Since you've been gone,the excitement of booking out is totally gone.I remember those days when we messaged each other right before i booked out,so excited and so innocent all at the same time.The wait of talking to each other online was simply agonizing,and i kept urging my mother to step on the gas so as to get home asap.Now,the feeling is gone.Booking out simply means,booking out.MSN alerts me of you coming online,and i click on your name.A window pops out,and from your display picture you looked so beautiful.So beautiful,as usual.Then there's the boy,that smile,that look,that schmuck.The cursor blinked.Once,twice,then over and over.Blank,i cannot bring myself to say anything.Not anymore.So i stare blankly into the monitor and collapsed before the keyboard.My head between my hands,palms pressed against my temples,cursing under my breath.My finger trembled while i hestitated.But i did it anyway,as i clicked on the little "X" on the top right hand corner of the window.A little routine whenever you come online,something ive been doing all the time,since you've been gone.
Since you've been gone,songs started to mean so much more.As i have listed on my blogs earlier,those songs means so much more to me now.Like a bunch of needles bunched against my face,the indications striking me over and over whenever i listen to those songs.Perhaps it is the human nature,a perhaps twisted side of us,mankind,to love the feeling of mental torture sometimes.To be a little bad,sadistic to ourselves.I do that,late at night when i am along in my room with nobody to talk to.I do that,when i am sitting on a long bus trip to nowhere,with the world around me fleeting away,when it is you being the most fleeting of all.I do that,when my mother drive me to camp,and the car passes the sign that leads off the expressway that reads "Diary Farm Road".I do that,when i am in my bed,way past midnight inside my bunk,dreaming of scenes in a little restaurant.I am there,upon a small stage with my guitar,and Ahmad next to me on a high chair.The lights were dim,and the mood was cozy.People stared,and waited for a song from me,and i was happy and glad.Then i laid eyes upon someone,somebody,you.You were there,with that guy,the schmuck.A spotlight shines,and you were in the centre of it all.I smiled,and whispered to Ahmad what i wanted to play then,and dedicated it to a nameless you that night in that little cozy restaurant.As i dreamed it,i fell asleep.Everyday,i dream it.Everyday,i think of it.And everyday,right before i lose control of my thoughts and my senses,i thought i tasted a pinch of salt on my mouth,or maybe it was just the tears that found it's way to my lips,the sour feeling in my nose,late at night in camp.
Since you've been gone,ive also started to write letters,letters like this.Spontanious ones,that seem to go on for ever.I dont intend to send them,or read them,or have them kept in any part of my room,the house,or my head.It is written down,out of my head,and that's that.You are never going to read this,and i know that for a fact.I know,that you are never going to care,if i do post it out and it happen to get to your place one fine day.You'd probably get excited for awhile,then nothing left inside it.Which is why,i am writing a letter to you,to me.Why i am also writing a letter for me,to you.
Since you've been gone,i've been a wreck.Embarking on a journey of self-destruction.A self-mutilating pattern,only in the mind.A featureless body,crumbled upon a hill of ash,dissolving into the passing wind and evaporating to the burning air.That is me,the one and only,the pissed and crazy,screaming and lonely.
Just some of my thoughts,since you've been gone.
Your's truly,
Me.
Midnight
Lock all the doors
And turn out the lights
Feels like the end of the world
This sunday night
There�s not a sound
Outside the snow's coming down
And somehow I can't seem to find
The quiet inside my mind
3:02
The space in this room
Has turned on me
And all my fears have cornered me here
Me and my tv screen
The volume's down
Blue lights are dancing around
And still, I can't seem to find
The quiet inside my mind
Daylight is climbing the walls
Cars start and feet walk the halls
The world awakes and now I am safe
At least by the light of day...
At least by the light of day...
Why do the street lamps die
When you're passing by
Like a hand that won't stay on my shoulder tonight
If you held me close, would you laugh it away
Would you dare the glance that I steal to stay?
Dear You,
Life brings you some of the rarest surprises everyday,doesnt it?You of all people should know that,actually.The birds outside your room window,dark clouds over your house,your grandmother's fingernails,flowers in your backyard,moments of perfection captured with your pictures.You,of all people,should know what life brings everyday.
But for me,not all of those moments are welcoming,or friendly.Aside from the bigger misfortunes,i tend to have bigger emotional impacts on smaller things of life.Things that might seem trivial at first,but at a closer examination,they actually mean quite a whole lot to me on an emotional and spiritual level.
I was looking through my old messages,clearing them off one by one.Committing the same crime as do most lovers/ex-lovers,i saved up old messages from you to me,long ago.Then,i came upon the very last SMS conversation that we ever had.That was memorable,in a way.You were apologising for messaging me accidentally.How ironic,huh?It is one of those situations whereby,i havent got a clue whether i should laugh or cry,because it really was a conflicting moment back then,i remember.
Anyway,so here i am writing you a letter.A bright pink letter,on what happened to me since you've been gone.From me,from this life i know,the life i live,the one with me,and me only.
Since you've been gone,you've been called a lot of names.By me.And i apologise for that.I was angry,i was depressed,i was questioning myself.I dont know why i did it,called you names and all.I couldnt help it,but i guess in a way it was my way of dealing with it,dealing with the fact that i torn away four months worth of memory in my mental diary just to run away from reality,to do as you asked me to do,princess.Ms. Duplicity was a little harsh,i admit.If i hadnt wrote that down on paper and then as a poem on my blog it wouldve threatened my life,eating me from the inside.I never meant to do you wrong,just trying to deal with you,since you've been gone.
Since you've been gone,i've been having insomnias.Not every night,but more of it lately over the past two weeks.No matter how much i try,to get myself worn out and battered in the morning,to bore myself out with complicated Sudoku puzzles,i can never solve my own problems as i laid wide awake in bed every night till 2am.I thought of a lot of things,from what to buy this weekend,to a joke my friend cracked that morning,to the taste of some random Ramen,to some imaginary gig i might someday be doing,to...well,it drifts here and there.The past and the future,the memorable and the forgotten.From you to me,and me to you.From laugh to cries,much pain and die.I thought,and i thought so hard every night.Every single night,with you and that schmuck.I am sorry for name calling,but i just learnt that word,and it's just so addictive.Been saying that a lot too,since you've been gone.
Since you've been gone,ive been reading your blog more often now.That never changed,that remains the same.You are so busy with your life,so happy with where you are and where you are going to be.The pleasure of you in your job,in your gatherings with your friends,i am so happy for you.In a way,i tell myself that,that if she is happy then everything is fine.That everything will be okay,because afterall that is what i set out to do in the first place,right?And if it is not going to be coming from me,as long as you are happy then why not?I tell myself that,i lie to myself everyday to make myself a little happier,a little more contented with where i am today,and where i am going to be,unlike you.
Since you've been gone,ive been writing stuff in my notebook.You know,the one you wrote in with me while we were in the McDonald's,when we were there alone in the late afternoon,when we argued with each other via words,do you remember?That same,black and white,checkered notebook of mine,now scribbled with stuff in my head.Stupid stuff,mostly.Some about you,and whatever that is left of you in me,and whatever is left of me in you.I found i never wrote anything more than four lines,or anything in complete.I never found the determination,the urge to finish something i started.That'd be too agonizing,to painful in my opinion.To finally admit to defeat somehow,beaten down by your own guilt and all the sorrows mounted up like a bloody volcano.
Since you've been gone,the excitement of booking out is totally gone.I remember those days when we messaged each other right before i booked out,so excited and so innocent all at the same time.The wait of talking to each other online was simply agonizing,and i kept urging my mother to step on the gas so as to get home asap.Now,the feeling is gone.Booking out simply means,booking out.MSN alerts me of you coming online,and i click on your name.A window pops out,and from your display picture you looked so beautiful.So beautiful,as usual.Then there's the boy,that smile,that look,that schmuck.The cursor blinked.Once,twice,then over and over.Blank,i cannot bring myself to say anything.Not anymore.So i stare blankly into the monitor and collapsed before the keyboard.My head between my hands,palms pressed against my temples,cursing under my breath.My finger trembled while i hestitated.But i did it anyway,as i clicked on the little "X" on the top right hand corner of the window.A little routine whenever you come online,something ive been doing all the time,since you've been gone.
Since you've been gone,songs started to mean so much more.As i have listed on my blogs earlier,those songs means so much more to me now.Like a bunch of needles bunched against my face,the indications striking me over and over whenever i listen to those songs.Perhaps it is the human nature,a perhaps twisted side of us,mankind,to love the feeling of mental torture sometimes.To be a little bad,sadistic to ourselves.I do that,late at night when i am along in my room with nobody to talk to.I do that,when i am sitting on a long bus trip to nowhere,with the world around me fleeting away,when it is you being the most fleeting of all.I do that,when my mother drive me to camp,and the car passes the sign that leads off the expressway that reads "Diary Farm Road".I do that,when i am in my bed,way past midnight inside my bunk,dreaming of scenes in a little restaurant.I am there,upon a small stage with my guitar,and Ahmad next to me on a high chair.The lights were dim,and the mood was cozy.People stared,and waited for a song from me,and i was happy and glad.Then i laid eyes upon someone,somebody,you.You were there,with that guy,the schmuck.A spotlight shines,and you were in the centre of it all.I smiled,and whispered to Ahmad what i wanted to play then,and dedicated it to a nameless you that night in that little cozy restaurant.As i dreamed it,i fell asleep.Everyday,i dream it.Everyday,i think of it.And everyday,right before i lose control of my thoughts and my senses,i thought i tasted a pinch of salt on my mouth,or maybe it was just the tears that found it's way to my lips,the sour feeling in my nose,late at night in camp.
Since you've been gone,ive also started to write letters,letters like this.Spontanious ones,that seem to go on for ever.I dont intend to send them,or read them,or have them kept in any part of my room,the house,or my head.It is written down,out of my head,and that's that.You are never going to read this,and i know that for a fact.I know,that you are never going to care,if i do post it out and it happen to get to your place one fine day.You'd probably get excited for awhile,then nothing left inside it.Which is why,i am writing a letter to you,to me.Why i am also writing a letter for me,to you.
Since you've been gone,i've been a wreck.Embarking on a journey of self-destruction.A self-mutilating pattern,only in the mind.A featureless body,crumbled upon a hill of ash,dissolving into the passing wind and evaporating to the burning air.That is me,the one and only,the pissed and crazy,screaming and lonely.
Just some of my thoughts,since you've been gone.
Your's truly,
Me.
Midnight
Lock all the doors
And turn out the lights
Feels like the end of the world
This sunday night
There�s not a sound
Outside the snow's coming down
And somehow I can't seem to find
The quiet inside my mind
3:02
The space in this room
Has turned on me
And all my fears have cornered me here
Me and my tv screen
The volume's down
Blue lights are dancing around
And still, I can't seem to find
The quiet inside my mind
Daylight is climbing the walls
Cars start and feet walk the halls
The world awakes and now I am safe
At least by the light of day...
At least by the light of day...
This entry was posted
on Friday, March 17, 2006 at 10:24 PM.
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