Sunday, April 12, 2015

Her eyes

I stared and stared, perhaps a little too much. I could see her gaze at me a little, and then look back down to count the red tens in her hand. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, night, ten. That's not a lot. She's going to sleep with the man next to her for a hundred ringgit. He gave her a kiss and she stared into space. I wonder what was she thinking about?

She sat there with an empty mug, surrounded by people she hardly knows. How could she look so lonely with so many people around? A waitress dropped by to pass a receipt to the man. He moved it further away from him, squinted his eyes, and proceeded to sign it. He winked at the waitress, she left unimpressed.

The girl was trying to separate the money into two sections. She kept some in her Burberry bag, and the rest inside her pocket of her skinny jeans. Then she stared into emptiness again, waiting for the man to finish his drink. I wonder what time does her shift ends.

I cannot cease thinking about that girl, even right now as I type. Surely there is a man, someone she still thinks about every now and then. Like me, someone that my heart is latch onto, with a very elastic rubber band. I move forward and tug and tug at that rubber string, sometimes it pulls me back a little into the memories of him, other times it hurts with each step forward. Does she think about her special person too?

I looked around the pub. Every lady that I laid my eye on was most beautiful in such a special way. Where is the beholder that they deserve? Someone to love, and someone that loves them back just the way they should be.

In all the perfection and wonders, did the maker forgotten to fill this void?

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Forevermore, maybe.

"I asked God for an angle, He sent me you".

Couldn't help but to chuckle when I saw this line as I rummaged through my old love letters today. It's been more than a decade, yellow lines formed along the crease of the papers that were once folded neatly. Small enough to be tucked into a wallet or between text books. Angle. Haha.

Then I found 2 more, dated 2011 to 2012. "You are the one, I know it is you. I will love you forever and ever and ever. And bring back lots of money to make everything sweeter", it read. The handwriting was ugly, yet sincere it seemed.

As I read on, I wonder about how vague relationships can be. For a moment, it was love forevermore. And then people turn into strangers. For all the souls out there enduring relationships, one after another, searching for that 'forevermore', does it still hurt when it becomes 'maybe not' ? For me, it does.

"Happy birthday. Love forever, xoxo."

So many of them - old birthday cards, valentines, sweet surprises, anniversaries and more love letters. I tucked them away neatly again, but this time into a big plastic bag. I don't feel betrayed or hurt, I just find them to be taking up too many space. Maybe this is the part where you know you're not bothered anymore, not even for old time's sake.

It was a calm day, drizzles and wind. The best thing about falling down, is picking yourself up. A step, a crawl, or maybe just one deep breath. Move on, be strong. And never forget to love yourself, forevermore.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Virgin Water Balloon

Today was my very first time filling up water balloons. I was leaving it till the very last minute of work, thinking to myself "pfft, how difficult can it be?". So it began at 5.00 pm today.

*stretches ridiculously mini balloon*

*opens tap*

*places balloon below the running water*

Nothing but floppy, annoying, small balloon trying to avoid getting wet.

This cannot be right, something must be wrong with the balloon. 

*takes another balloon*


*mini balloon dances in contact of water, like it was ticklish and having fits at the same time*

You got to be kidding me. 

*takes another balloon and repeats error*

I'm not really using my brain here. Come on Irene, what is it? 

Ah, that's right, all the balloons must be broken. 

Sunday, February 16, 2014

The Shade

Heart beats fast,
It's one of the Sunday afternoons startled from a nap.
Sweat drips, uncontrolled thoughts,
Emotions swirling like the floor fan.

Heat is stroking my skin, painfully.
The sun beams through the old fashion window,
Heart is anguish, sorrowful,
Mind filled with thoughts of nothing, but him.

Birds chirping, like gossips among lonely ladies.
It is 4.28 in the afternoon, where could love be?
Will it come back, will it fade,
Patience and mercy, come be my shade.