Tag Archives: love

The Truth about Love

3 Jun


“I won’t do this movie because I don’t believe the love story,” she told Selznick. “The heroine is an intellectual woman, and an intellectual woman simply can’t fall in love so deeply.” 

Ingrid Bergman

She sat facing the mirror, putting on her makeup.

Afterall, what good is a woman if she cannot even look good for her lover, right?

It was a terrible infatuation; she fell hard and fast even though she knew how wrong that would be.

He wasn’t married (thank god..) but he did have a good woman waiting for him at home, and she knew she wasn’t his first affair either but like every romantic would say, love is indeed blind – you cannot escape your biological wirings.

It was difficult in the beginning.

It still is now.

But she’s starting to learn how.

He asked to meet her last week to celebrate his new freedom – he’d just broke up with his girlfriend.

She felt a slight corner of her heart soar – finally she’s no longer the 3rd party; there might be a chance for them to be together.

That thought put her on cloud nine for days, and then he asked to meet her again today.

He seldom sound that excited, she could feel it in his voice but she could also feel a certain dread grip her heart.

She saw him walked through the doors with a brilliant smile. It made her smile.

When he settled down, conversation flowed as it usually does, and then he told her the news.

He’s met someone.

She wasn’t the usual pretty type, but there was an aura about her.

As she listened to him describe her and how attracted he is to her, her heart grew heavier and heavier.

Eventually, it stopped feeling.

At the end of that meeting, she decided to take a long walk home instead of her usual bus.

Her heart ached with each step she took. She wanted very much to cry, but she couldn’t.

She reminded herself of the truth about love.

Nothing but a chemical effect.
It makes even the most intelligent lose their wits.

Once that effect wears off, you’ll realize how silly you have been.

She wondered if she had worn off the effect or is she still lying to herself as a solitary tear rolled down her cheek.

“I always tell the truth. Even when I lie.”

Al Pacino


3 Little Words

1 May

helene klimt
I think they are over-rated.
Definately over-rated.
I mean, I haven’t said it for a very long time because I couldn’t find anyone to say it to.

And yes, even though I think it’s over rated, that doesn’t mean I don’t think it means something.

It takes a lot of courage to say those 3 little words.

They are like the windows to my soul, those words.
Windows that have been closed because the wind hurt me with their cold harsh ways.
So you see, I’m really just following my nature instincts here to protect myself.
And if you are interested to know, it really does take a while to open up a window that has been jammed shut.

Ask any one who has had the privillege of trying to pry a stuck window open.
It takes time, and not to mention, effort.

So don’t rush me, give me so time.

I can’t, and don’t know how to say them easily.
Its like I have a nature aversion to them – I start stuttering, my tongue gets thick, my palms get sweaty and I feel sick in general.

You get the picture.

I can see how disappointed you are whenever you think “this is it! That’s when she’s gonna say it!”, and I don’t.

Yes, I can see that.. how your little glimmer of hope fades away as I try and change topics.
As time goes by, I see that glimmer less and less, I didn’t know what to think of it other than you giving me time to sort my thoughts out.

I have taken some time, and worked my kinks out, and I’m finally ready to say it.

I love you.

I’ve said it – I love you, more than I expected to actually.

And I’ve started pacing the room, clutching my phone anxiously, waiting for your response.

Nothing came.

This. Was. Not. Suppose. To. Happen.

I half expected to ‘hear’ you smileacross the virtual sea at my acknowledgement of my own feelings, but nothing of that sort happened.

You were not supposed cajole these words out of me, and refuse to acknowledge them!

What am I suppose to do now??

Disappointment was starting to kick in, so did dread and anxiety.

The phone was now my arch enemy for the silence it perpetuates.

I laid down in bed, exhausted from all the pacing, anticipating and eventual disappointment.

A few hours later, the enemy finally gives in and rings with an incoming text –

🙂 I know, I love you too..

If we ever meet again

8 Mar


How long has it been since we last met?
Was it just last spring that we went on our separate ways?
Has it been a year already? How fast time flies..

Do you still remember the summer we spent together?
We laid on the beach all day drinking beer and partied the night away.
It was the best summer I’ve ever had.
I think it was the memory of having had so much fun with you that made it so memorable.

I don’t think I’d ever be able to replicate that feeling ever again.

Winter is my favourite time of the year, you know how much I love having the cold biting wind against my face, my skin.
It wakes me up and clears my mind.
What was winter like this time?
Was it as cold as the last one we spent together, standing out in the cold watching in awe as snow fell and our faces froze?


And autumn!
Oh how I always forget autumn..!
Autumn is transitional.
A movement from the sultry warm nights of summer to the delicate yet harsh nights of winter.
Autumn, has always been a season of change for me, of renewal – the start of a long wintery death (of sorts).
Autumn was pensive for both you and I, as though we were anticipating a certain end.

How have you been?
I heard you got married, I would never have thought you for one to marry this soon..
To the same girl you wanted freedom from no less!

I have so much to tell you, so much I want you to know.
But it all seems so inappropriate now.

If we ever meet again,
I’d like to wish you all the happiness I can give.
But I think perhaps, its better if we don’t.
At least that way, I’d get to keep the memories the way I want to remember them.

I hope you are happy.
Hopefully I’ll find my own happiness (without you) soon.



28 Feb

'In the Mood for Love' Movie Stills

你就一至就只把我当好朋友看待, 是我自己不知不觉中喜欢上你。

不, 这不是你的错, 只是命运鍣弄人吧。

每当看见你时, 我的心都反付不属于自己。
不知所措, 不知道到了哪里去。

我明知道这是不可能的, 但是我没办法控自己。

这是场残局; 它只会以悲剧收场。




你走的那天, 我一直在等你的电话。

看见你和她那么幸福, 我的心里不知不觉起了一阵阵的痛。


其使我不需要很多, 只要你偶而的短讯问好或告诉我你今天过的好不好, 我就心满意足了。





And the heartache begins again..

18 Feb


She sat across him, studying him.
She began wondering when did it all come to this.
They used to have fun, or at least she did, and still does.
This time, it felt different.
He felt different.
Almost like he couldn’t wait to be rid of her and go in search of new prey.
She could feel her heart swell, her chest getting tighter.
It was getting harder to breath, her heart felt like it was about to burst.
She wanted to reach into her chest and rip it out.
At least that pain would be short lived.
She told herself to let go and breath easy.
It was never meant to be anything more than this.
She told herself, that if she could overcome it once, she could do it again.

And she began questioning herself, if she really did overcome him?
Or was she just lying to herself?

It felt like an eternity had passed before he noticed her staring and asked if she was okay.

She smiled her sweetest she could manage and said yes.
That was all she could manage as the pain and disgust built up within her.


Yes, that was the word she was looking for.

Not just at him but at herself.
Disgust at the lengths she would go for him, at her own ineptness and his callousness.

She picked herself up and got ready to leave.

While they were in the lift, she looked at him for the last time and smiled.

He really is the quintessential bad boy.
That smile and the glint of mystery in his eyes…
Women are strange in that way; they all want a bad boy of their own – to love, to change.
She never asked to change him, she really just wanted to be with him for good or bad.

He saw her smiling and asked her what was on her mind.
She said – nothing, I’ll be fine.

And this time she meant it.

The disgust that was overwhelming her was slowly going away.
She knew once the lift doors opened, they would soon part ways.
She might not see him again for the next 2 – 3 months, or even forever.

Yet, this time she knew she’d be alright.

The lift doors part, and the (once)lovers say their goodbyes, with promises that they will see each other soon and sealed those promises with a kiss.

A poem came to mind, and as much as her heart was aching at that moment, she smiled at the thought of the poem.

Because this time, she knew she would be fine.

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

– Derek Walcott –

Tell me a story

7 Feb

klimt_danaeCome here,
Lie next to me.
Tell me a story,
and hold my hand.

Tell me your story,
That I don’t already know.
About your past, the present and your future too.

Tell me about that time,
When you were young,
You climbed a tree and broke your tooth.

About the girl,
Who broke your heart,
And made you so.

Sing me the song,
That makes your heart sing,
That makes you tear,
And makes you weak.

Tell me your dreams,
Your hopes and pain.

I know,
I maybe not be that one to see them through.
But on the very least,
Let me share them with you.

I know,
I will not always be in your heart.
But for now,
Give me that little space and let me in.

Let me lie here with you,
Just for the moment.

Tell me a story,
A story about you.
True or false,
It doesn’t matter,
As long as the story is from you.

How we forget

25 Jan


You start innocently enough, forgetting how his skin feels under your finger tips.

You forget the contours of his face, his body and the textures of his skin.

You forget the warmth and the scent he leaves behind whenever you touch.

The scent so strong, it makes you relive each moment you’ve spent together in vivid memory.

But soon and eventually, you will begin to lose that scent.

You will forget if he smells of musk or leather.
Or was it sandlewood and cigerettes?

His scent will escape your memories, slowly but eventually.

You start to forget the colour of his eyes – a colour so vivid, you never had any problem remembering them before.

Was it a light playful shade of brown or that seductive shade of green you love?

The colours are meshing, they no longer stand out.
Its getting harder and harder to recall each day.

Soon enough, they look like empty spaces to you.

The last thing you’d forget is his name, his voice.

The name that brings a torrid of emotions.
They haunt you like ghosts of a distant past.

You will begin to forget how smoothly his name rolls off your tongue, off his.

You will learn to forget.

Because that’s what time does to people and their memories.

It slowly eats away and leaves you with nothing but hazy memories of what used to be.

And eventually, even that would fade too.

Leaving you to wonder what is it that you were trying to hold on to for so long.

Is it okay I be me?

15 Jan

Is it really okay not to be okay?
Is it okay to be all broken and messed up inside?
Is it really okay to feel like you would never be loved?
Or that you’d be stuck in this rut for an awful long time?

Is it really okay to be like Alice,
Going down that rabbit hole and fully enjoy the experience?
Is it really okay to stick out like a sore thumb,
In the sea of beautiful long legged creatures?

Is it really okay to lose control,
And not live up to that expectation every once in a while?
Is it really okay to dream of being a diamond in the rough,
When all you are being told and see are running straight in the opposite direction?

Is it really okay to be labelled fat,
Because you the clothing labels says so?
It is really okay to you yourself,
That the world makes clothes for size 0 women,
But you are not and will never be that?

Is it really okay that I sing,
Even though I know I have a terrible singing voice?
It it okay if I stop pretending for a while,
Just so I can breathe and allow myself to be afraid?

Is it really okay to prefer living in denial,
Because reality can be so cruel sometimes?
Is it okay if the tears flow every once in a while,
Because I am not as strong or brave as you’d like to believe I am?

Is it okay that I be me, with all the baggage I carry with me?
I am trying and learning to let go, move on,
But somethings are easier said than done.

Is it okay I take off this armour,
And give you my mind and soul?
Will you promise to hold it tenderly in your hands,
And nourish it with all the care you can manage?

Is it okay if I just want to lie here for a while,
To feel your warmth and scent while it still lasts,
Without any thought about the future?

All I want, is to be okay for once.

Just once. Continue reading

Our worse habits, are the ones we enjoy the most

18 Dec

She sat there watching the ambers of her cigarette burn and wondered when she picked up such a disgusting habit.

Not that it matters anyway.

It was a simply a past time, no cause for worries yet.

She picked up the stick and took a long deep drag.

Man, that felt good..
She could feel it kicking in, slowly but surely.
Her grounds were starting to get uneven.

That felt good.. A sick kind of good.

Like the man she picks.

He wasn’t terrible.
Just not too good for her – emotionally; physically they fit like a key to its lock.

He is a good man – intelligent, responsible, purposeful, yet still has his sense of humour and adventure about him.

But emotionally unavailable. Or maybe just not available to her.

She took another drag of her cigerettes, enjoying the warmth that the drag brought to her body.

Ahhh.. If only her relationship with him could be like that – you pick him up when you need that extra kick and comfort; smoke it till it burns out, snub it out when you’ve had enough and flick it away, like the insignificant trash he really should be…

How much easier life would be for her health.
So much kinder on the nerves and mind.

But no, it never pans out the way she envisions it to be.

Instead, her female instincts took over and she fell for him, despite the warning bells, she stupidly fell for him.


She shook her head at that thought.

Her cigarette burnt out and burnt her fingers.

Her most basic instinct should be to drop it and snub it out with her feet but instead she held on; allowing the ambers to sting her finger tips.

“It’s suppose to hurt”, she thought to herself, “but it didn’t.”

Am I that used to the pain, it no longer matters any more?

That thought bothered her a little as she crushed the ambers between her thumb and index finger.

She began wondering when he had become a habit – the worse one to top it off – for her.

How could a habit this bad, bring this much pleasure and joy?

Perhaps it really is true, that our worse habits are the ones we enjoy the most.

She chuckled as she thought about it.

No one cares!

She said out loud to herself as she strolls across the room to grab another cigarette,

No one gives a fucking shit about your inner monsters baby. Not the one you want to notice anyway.

She reached into the fridge for a beer and strolled back to the chair by the window.

I will allow myself to wallow in this self pity for a little longer and pick myself up tomorrow.

She lights up her stick and takes a swag from the bottle while it burns.

She leans an arm out of the window and watches the people below and takes a long deep drag.

I think I’ll head to the beach tomorrow if the nerves and weather holds out.

Her Apollonian lover

15 Dec


He sat himself across from her, against the window.

The lights from the street lamps below casted beautiful shadows across his face.

It was a sight to behold.

Indescribably haunting.

Inscrutably beautiful.

There was a sense of woefulness in the strong confident face she had grown so accustomed to.

She would do so much to be able to gaze into that face everyday.

He was her Apollo; her bringer of light, redemption and healer.

Like many gods of antiquity, he was a complex character.

He was one, and he was many.

She sat up amongst the sheets that were tangled around her body so she could get a better view of him.

She could sense his eyes following the movement of her body.

His muscles tensed as she sat up.

He reminded her of Bernini’s Apollo, fluid yet intense.


She reached out to touch his face, and she never want to be without this tingling sensation running through her finger tips from the touch of his skin.

He looked her straight in the eye, and she could see the storm brewing in them.

He looked away and told her to cover up.

He told her she looked disgusting, fat and disgusting.

That she should learn to cover up her flaws more; not everyone would be able to look at it appreciatively.

Not him for sure.

It hurt.

It hurt really, really bad.

Like her heart was pierced a thousand times over, with arrows from all directions.

It was a pain she has never known before.

Especially coming from his lips.

It hurt so much she wanted to die.

She swallowed hard and kept her cool.

She didn’t want him to see her cry, she didn’t want him to see her weakest point.

But the tears.

Oh, those darn bastardly tears were threatening to fall.

 She avoided looking at him, in case they fell.

He picked up her clothes and threw them at her, telling her to hurry up.

They had to leave before anyone else woke up.

He didn’t want anyone to see her; or them together.

The hurt he had caused her with those callous words were undeniable.

She sat at the edge of the bed putting her clothes on as he strolled towards the door to wait.

Again, she could feel the tears welling up, and his eyes studying her movements.

This pain was worse than death.

She looked up at him, hoping to find a sign of regret for the hurt he had caused her.

But he looked away before she found his eyes.

He strolled out of the door impatiently once she was done dressing.

As they rode down the lift, he told he was her worst habit and that she should get rid of him.

She took a deep breathe and told him she thinks so too.

That was the only lie she told him the whole night.

She watched his back as he headed upstairs after leaving her at the lobby.

It only made her heart ache for him more.

She wanted to run up to him and tell him she knew he didn’t mean everything he said.

But her feet wouldn’t move.

Tears started rolling down her cheeks as the doorman hailed her a cab.

Whatever dignity she had wanted to preserve came crumbling down as she cried helplessly in the backseat.

The driver asked if she was okay, she said no.

The driver asked where she was headed to, and she didn’t know, she told him to send her to the furtherest hotel from here.

She just wanted to get away because she knew this was a vicious cycle.

Her Apollo would call her in a week or so and ask her out, and she would say yes.

And the cycle begins again.

As the tears came rolling down, she could feel her heart aching and dying away.

She didn’t ask to fall in love with a god, but she didn’t know how to quit.

She wondered when, and if this cycle would someday end.