A couple of weeks ago, Rachel lent me The Hunger Games trilogy. It took me a while to get back into the habit of reading but I finally finished the first book last weekend and now I've found my pace again and I'm already halfway through book two.
No matter what people say. I am selfish. I know that. I can't be Katniss Everdeen. I don't have her strength or selflessness. I can't marry someone I don't love to ensure the well-being of my family. I thought I was weaker than a fictional character and it's okay because she's not real. But there are Katniss Everdeens in this world. My mother is one of them.
Because, I feel that my situation and worries are nothing compared to the suffering of some people I know, I don't tell my friends anything. Yesterday, I asked my cousin if I could get away with not telling Mark that I would be moving to Wollongong next year.
"Not a chance" He replied. "You're going to bump into him and how are you going to explain that?"
I can't remember the last time I talked to Mark about my life. He promised that he would protect me. But I can't depend on him for happiness. I had to save myself. I had to find an escape myself. Telling him about moving to Wollongong would involve telling him about how I had to endure everything after we broke up. I'm not sure how to do that yet.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Tuesday, 17 April 2012
Wednesday, 21 March 2012
Memory
When I close my eyes, my mind always go back to that room. Inside your room that was filled with our love. On that day, when I lied curled inside your warmth, I thought that we would be together for a long time. I thought you would never become a memory. I was still innocent then. In a second, everything could change.
Life doesn't give me time to hesitate. I can't keep on reliving memories. I have to walk forward with determination to make up for what I lost. It is only then, that I would be able to control my future.
Life doesn't give me time to hesitate. I can't keep on reliving memories. I have to walk forward with determination to make up for what I lost. It is only then, that I would be able to control my future.
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
Days
Slowly the days go by. Day one. Day two. Day three. The number of days we don't speak gradually accumulate on my calender. The paragraphs we used to write have become sentences. One day, we might stop talking altogether.
There used to be days where we spent every waking second talking about everything and anything. Now I'll be lucky if you shared anything with me at all. There used to be days where we used to travel half-way across the state just to spend a few hours together. Just to see your smile. Just to feel your warmth. I miss those moments. I miss our stolen moments together.
Those days are gone now. But I'm sure there will come a day when I won't hurt anymore. A day where I will stop blaming myself for letting go and you for not holding onto me. Because I have accepted that our past is our past. It won't become our future. But I will always remember the way you used to look at me. Nothing will change my memory of your blue eyes. Because it always showed that you loved me.
There used to be days where we spent every waking second talking about everything and anything. Now I'll be lucky if you shared anything with me at all. There used to be days where we used to travel half-way across the state just to spend a few hours together. Just to see your smile. Just to feel your warmth. I miss those moments. I miss our stolen moments together.
Those days are gone now. But I'm sure there will come a day when I won't hurt anymore. A day where I will stop blaming myself for letting go and you for not holding onto me. Because I have accepted that our past is our past. It won't become our future. But I will always remember the way you used to look at me. Nothing will change my memory of your blue eyes. Because it always showed that you loved me.
Thursday, 8 March 2012
Steganography
Words are a blank canvas inside my
head.
They are the night sky without the twinkling stars.
There used to be days where we would count the empty spaces like the alphabet.
One is the letter A: without the support beam; it is merely a broken down tent.
Two is the letter B: a butterfly with half its wings clipped out.
Three is the letter C: an incomplete circle of me and the cut out piece of you.
They are the night sky without the twinkling stars.
There used to be days where we would count the empty spaces like the alphabet.
One is the letter A: without the support beam; it is merely a broken down tent.
Two is the letter B: a butterfly with half its wings clipped out.
Three is the letter C: an incomplete circle of me and the cut out piece of you.
What happened to those days where
Knights of the Round Table practised courtship?
When “I love you” meant a promise of forever?
And not these little mind games that end at the tip over of an hour glass.
Where sand buries memories like ancient cities that may never have existed.
When “I love you” meant a promise of forever?
And not these little mind games that end at the tip over of an hour glass.
Where sand buries memories like ancient cities that may never have existed.
Poetry is the incomplete heart beat
of words I’ll never say out loud.
They are the whispers of wishes without a genie from the lamp.
There used to be days where we would watch dreams flutter by my window.
Spring was when we played chasies with young puppy love.
Summer was when sleepless nights meant losing ourselves in the war of depression.
Autumn is our chance to let go of baggage to make room for new smiles.
They are the whispers of wishes without a genie from the lamp.
There used to be days where we would watch dreams flutter by my window.
Spring was when we played chasies with young puppy love.
Summer was when sleepless nights meant losing ourselves in the war of depression.
Autumn is our chance to let go of baggage to make room for new smiles.
Because, memories are meant only as
keepsakes.
Precious little diary scrawls locked away at the bottom of my bedside table.
They’re not supposed to burden the world on our shoulders like Atlas.
Love can always be found, if not with another, then at least inside your own heart.
Precious little diary scrawls locked away at the bottom of my bedside table.
They’re not supposed to burden the world on our shoulders like Atlas.
Love can always be found, if not with another, then at least inside your own heart.
Tuesday, 6 March 2012
The beginning
When I think about the beginning. From start til now, how I became the person that I am and how I got here, I always go back to my parents. My mother doesn't believe in love. At least, not romantic love. But she loves family. She is the most filial person I know. She would do anything for my grandparents.
Her marriage to my father was a business deal. One that she readily agreed upon. He was to leave Vietnam for a better life and his parents needed someone capable to look after him. They were willing to pay in gold. My mother agreed. Her family needed the money. After the Vietnam war, her family suffered and left in poverty. My grandfather, who used to hold a high military position was stripped of his job and became a fisherman. Fishing was not enough to feed two ageing adults and four growing adolescents. My mother, the eldest child, made the ultimate sacrifice. At age 21, she married my father, left her family, left the country on a tiny boat and escaped to another country, in hopes of starting a better life, not only for herself, but for the family she left on shore.
My parents lived in Malaysia for 2 years before they arrived in Hobart, Australia. It was 1991, the year I was born. My fear of being alone and my obsession with the search for true love, I think stems from this very day. On the day I was born, my mother was alone in the hospital. My father was not there to welcome me into this world.
Because, on the day I was born, he was too busy playing chess.
I will always remember the hurt in my mother's eyes when she told me that my beginning was the start to their end.
I never blamed myself for their divorce though. I never once believed that a child is at fault for the failings of their parents. Because, children are born innocent. And even though my father was not at my birth, he was there to name me. He gave me my middle name. He based my name off a bird because he wanted to set me free.
Her marriage to my father was a business deal. One that she readily agreed upon. He was to leave Vietnam for a better life and his parents needed someone capable to look after him. They were willing to pay in gold. My mother agreed. Her family needed the money. After the Vietnam war, her family suffered and left in poverty. My grandfather, who used to hold a high military position was stripped of his job and became a fisherman. Fishing was not enough to feed two ageing adults and four growing adolescents. My mother, the eldest child, made the ultimate sacrifice. At age 21, she married my father, left her family, left the country on a tiny boat and escaped to another country, in hopes of starting a better life, not only for herself, but for the family she left on shore.
My parents lived in Malaysia for 2 years before they arrived in Hobart, Australia. It was 1991, the year I was born. My fear of being alone and my obsession with the search for true love, I think stems from this very day. On the day I was born, my mother was alone in the hospital. My father was not there to welcome me into this world.
Because, on the day I was born, he was too busy playing chess.
I will always remember the hurt in my mother's eyes when she told me that my beginning was the start to their end.
I never blamed myself for their divorce though. I never once believed that a child is at fault for the failings of their parents. Because, children are born innocent. And even though my father was not at my birth, he was there to name me. He gave me my middle name. He based my name off a bird because he wanted to set me free.
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