Tag Archives: pain

The listener

18 Feb


He could feel the burden lift off his shoulders as he neared the end of his shift. The booth that he had been entrusted with was starting to feel like a prison he had unwittingly signed up for.
He began packing his belongings when he spotted a woman walking towards the booth. He ducked under the small little desk, hoping she wouldn’t see him. He knew he’s job as a ‘listener’ wouldnt end for another 5 minutes but he simply didnt want to listen any more.

Listening used to be fun, it made him happy that he was helping another soul relief its burdens but having been stuck in this booth for the last 3 years made him weary.

He shifted his weight clumsily while hiding behind the table and knocked the chair behind him over (he was a rather big fella you see).

“Are you still open? I won’t take long.”

Damn chair.

He pulled himself up from his hiding spot and took the seat next to the veiled partition.

“Yes, for another 5 minutes.”

“Thank you.”

He sighed silently as the woman began her story.

He wasn’t paying any attention to her words really – they were all the same.
Man and woman fall in love, he falls out of love and she begs him to stay. He refuses and she breaks into a million pieces.
It was like all women were schooled to react the same way, all they needed was the right moment.

Young and old, plain or beautiful.

They were all the same.

He was getting impatient and rolled up his sleebes to check the time when she asked him

“Will he finally see me if I did that?”

He chose the easiest and most noncommittal answer he could think of,
“Its your choice. If you think it’ll work then do it.”


He sensed desperation and resignation in her voice.

They all sound the same..”

He reminded her that his time was up and she has to leave.

“I understand. ”

He heard her skirt rustle as she stood to leave. The door creaked ever so slightly as it was being pushed open. He waited till he could no longer hear her footsteps before he stepped out of his booth.

Her voice was strangely still lingering in his mind; she sounded really familiar, like he knew her from somewhere a long time ago.

He shook the thought out of his head as he stepped out of the building.

The sun was still up, and he turned his eyes downwards to avoid its glare; and thats when he saw it.

A shadow.
Growing darker and smaller as it neared the ground.
He looked up to see her red skirt fluttering in the air as gravity pulls it closer to its heart.

It all ended with a thud.
Her head had smashed in from the impact and there was blood everywhere.
Especially on him.

I know her..

Her face was half gone but he remembered her.

They met in the hospital where she was sent to after she was beaten half to death by her boyfriend.

They spoke.

She asked for help.

And he told her to look for him.

He told her he could help her.


On the mend

25 Jul

It has been a while since I last thought of you.
I like it this way.
I think maybe this time round, I really am over you.

Honestly, there was a point in time where I thought I would never get over you.
That was how intense my feelings were.

And then one fine day, you broke my heart.

Consciously or otherwise, it was a good thing for me.

Sure, it hurt.
I spent days typing messages to you, and then deleting them before I could hit the ‘Send’ button.
I spent nights crying in the shower, nights crying in bed whenever I thought of you.
There were days where I’d break down on my way to work because I saw someone who reminded me of you.
I cried watching White House Down because I knew if I was in that situation, I could never rely on you to save me (not that I’d ever be..).

But eventually, all that crying has to stop.
I can only afford so much tears.
I got tired of crying, and of being miserable.

The moment I decided not to cry anymore, my body started mending the broken parts.
It started looking for distractions that I never knew existed, or appealed to me.
I think its amazing how the human brain works.

Slowly, you started fading from my thoughts as it shifted to other things that made me happy instead.

I think of you occasionally.
I do.
I did.
I still do.

If you’ve ever really loved anyone before, you’d know that it it impossible to completely erase him or her from your memories.

Nor is it possible to completely forget the pain once the memories come back.

But its ok.

Pain changes people.

Outwardly everything is still the same but deep within, something is happening.
I’m not sure if its good or bad yet.

Either way, I’m not complaining.

I like changes.
Always did.


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 –

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

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.

Rubenesque Tragedy

11 Dec

He sat himself across from her, next to the window so that he gets a better view of her all tangled up in the sheets.
Lithe, inscrutable, mysteriously alluring with a hint of danger, inquisitivity and satisfaction in her eyes.

She was a mystery to him. Not like anything he’s met before.

He watched her untangle herself from the sheets and sat up in bed so that he gets a better view of her.

Damn, there really is something mysteriously alluring about her.
She’s not perfect – fleshy, with cellulite, no wispy waist, medium perky breasts.
Yet, she’s seductive.

Like the women from Rubens’s paintings.

Beauty in all her nature glory.

She made no move to cover anymore than what was already covered by the draping sheets.


He wanted to reach out and touch her but he didn’t. He was afraid that if he did, she would disappear like a mirage.

He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked but he couldn’t.

Instead he told her to cover up and that she looked disgusting.

Fat and disgusting.

He told her to get out of his bed; she had to leave before any of his friends woke up. She had to leave before any one saw her.

He could see the questions in her eyes, he could see the hurt but he had to do it.

He picked up her clothes and told her to get dressed.

He could see her dressing the in mirror and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
The hurt and welling tears that threatened to fall only made her even more endearing.

He wanted to hold her and tell her he didn’t want her to leave but he couldn’t. That would just make things worse.

He waited by the door for her to finish dressing.

As he sent her down, he told her that he is her worst habit, and she has to get rid of him.

That was the only truth he said to her the whole night.

He walked her to the lobby and headed upstairs.

He wanted to turn around and ask her to stay but he didn’t. He could see her tears rolling down her cheeks.

Like strings of pearls, so achingly beautiful.

He watched her leave from his window and took in a deep breathe.

Her scent lingered in the room still.

It was intoxicating.

It was a tragic love affair and he was the author. He wondered if he could change the ending.

His heart grew heavy and he reached for the bottle.

Perhaps, when he had found enough courage to do so, he could.

An inner monologue

27 Nov

Hate is such an expressive, passionate word; so strong yet expresses such fragility.

One cannot know hate unless one has loved before.

It is a word that contradicts itself.
Yin and yang.

It is not a word I like to use – it takes too much effort.

But I hate you.

I really, really do.

I hate that feeling you give me; I don’t know how to describe it but it is unbearable.

That pain, is unique.

One of its kind.

One that only you can inflict.

The thought of you triggers that emotion.

I hate how my emotions are almost crystal-like in their fragility when it involves you.

Just when I thought I’ve finally gotten over you; you stick your feet back into my path.

And the bloody cycle starts all over again.

I know you are no good, EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF MY PHYSICAL, PYSCHOLOGICAL self says so.

But like a drug you are just too good to quit.

I thought of running away – I just end up running in circles, back to places where I know I’ll find you.

I tried drowning my phone and killing Facebook but decided against it – I don’t see why I should isolate myself from everyone else because of you.

And so I come back to you.

My hate for you, rose from an unexplainable attraction and love.

I’m beginning to suspect I am masochistic.

I think I keep coming back because I secretly enjoy this torture.

Do I really enjoy this pain you’ve caused me?

Or perhaps I like playing the hapless victim.

I don’t know anymore.


Merry go round

8 Sep


Round and round we go,
On this merry go round.
When did it start,
When will it end?
Will the pain be worth the fun I had?
When did the fun end?
Why didn’t I notice it earlier?