One day you thought nothing could be better and next day the worst thing is better than you. You are like what underneath a scab, ugly and vulnerable. You wish time could be turned back. You wish you could undo and un-say things. Then you realize that’s just you pretending to be nice. How cruel a person you must be, how truthful a person you become.

Aren’t all of us in one way or another living symbiotically. We depend on love. We depend on hate. We seek purposes and find comfort in putting burden down. We find happiness in accepting sadness. We get pains looking for pleasures. We get cuts embracing roses.

And then we die

While breathing

Sponsored Post Learn from the experts: Create a successful blog with our brand new courseThe Blog is excited to announce our newest offering: a course just for beginning bloggers where you’ll learn everything you need to know about blogging from the most trusted experts in the industry. We have helped millions of blogs get up and running, we know what works, and we want you to to know everything we know. This course provides all the fundamental skills and inspiration you need to get your blog started, an interactive community forum, and content updated annually.


Many times I thought I needed a drink. Many times I fulfilled my need. Only to realize it was a mistake. I got high. I felt things resembling of happiness. But the price to pay has always been your haunting face, our cold stale memories hounding my head. Yet in the mix of illusions and reality, your not being there could not be pretended.

You don’t drink. I was always in good hands then. Loving and warm. Now I’m just in my own drunken hands and twisted imagination. The only consolation is my rhymes are much better when I’m drunk!

And so I kept on drinking. On top of binging on romantic dramas. On top of building Lego. On top of killing my roses….

On top of thinking of you.

But I think I should rehab from the romantic dramas…

X V / /

Whenever facing a blank post, my first thought is always ‘I miss you’. Then the next would be ‘I can’t always start with this boring line’. And so all (most) my posts started with a lie, somewhat, all were a disguise of the blatant ‘I miss you’.

I write because I miss you. I miss the sunshine landing on our window sills listening in on our conversations and the taste of the earl grey tea made extra dark yet you still thought the taste was bland. I miss your wide open irises. The curious way you looked at me. My heart always softened up looking (staring) at them. I never found the feelings again. Regardless of the topics, I write simply because I miss you.

Our paths crossed and separated. An X with disproportional arms soon to become a V then just two random sticks in two random spaces. I’m not sure how my mind hanging on to this missing and longing for that long. In fact I’m amazed by it! If I could have this good memory in my work I’d be landing spaceships on Mars right now. They say you can train your brain this and that and it is true. The point is the missing of you is so natural to me I would need major efforts to change the course of the brain. And with that much effort I’m afraid the result would be a complete opposite to the intention.

By paragraph 4 I’m more relaxed now and can actually write about things that’s not the memories of you. Yet by now I kind of forgot what I wanted to write!

I fucking miss you…


An eve of a dawn

Of an in between

Of an old thing

And a new thing

A mark

In a continuity

To relive a past

And write a list for a future

A dawn of an eve


Two more weeks and I’m done for the year. A lot of presentations and reports are in the way and as usual it is the best time to miss you!

The other day I thought of memories of us and I smiled. Then I realized I smiled. The thought was purely ‘those memories are sweet’, not bittersweet. It felt like a milestone in this very long recovery from a simple lost love. Though later that night you came visit my dream and were even sweeter and all over again regret made up for the bitter part I missed in the day! Arggggg!

I used to think, the best way to move on is to have another person. Of course I was wrong. Naive and wrong. The best way to move on is to realize you can not be in it alone and so you gotta give up.

I did a lot this year. A true workaholic. All these things I am proud of. Yet so alone. All these people around. Yet so lonely. Even if you were with me, I wouldn’t be able to share. The last thing you told me was ‘don’t work too much, spend time with M’. Yet it is the only thing I do. I work then spend the money to pay someone to spend time with M. Ironically! So you would not like the me right now. I am opposite to what you want or like or even need. You would not understand why one has to work so hard.

I don’t fully understand either. Money only matters to a certain amount. More than anything, it feels like that is the only way I am worthy of this life. Not being a good person, not being a good mother, but being a good worker. That is twisted isn’t it? Contributing to something that completely can move on without you and don’t care about you. Yet you care about it like your own blood and soul. Utterly strange.

If you were with me, would I find another happiness than the one I found in working? would my twisted view on life change?

Would I stop feeling lonely?


What a month…

A two moon month! I get to see you twice Moony! And the piece of me on the ISS will get to see you even more!

Life could have been very different. Maybe more balanced. Maybe more relaxed. Maybe traveling the world. Maybe with your head rested on my shoulder. Maybe filled with happiness. Maybe less alone. Maybe less lonely. Maybe on the brink of poverty. Maybe win a lottery.

Life could be the same. Late nights soothed with salty ocean breeze. Full moon greeted with tired eyes. Loneliness calmed with bittersweet memories. Failures met with tiny successes. Roses kissed by passing winds. Sky hugged by the vast universe. Love wrapped in this tight chest.

Life is always changing.

So now… missing your roses, I grow my own.