you are beautiful
like when the sky meets in the middle
of dawn and dusk
you are beautiful.

and I love the way
your fingertips meet mine
like the way the rain meets the pavement
I love your ways.

to not have you
but to be beside you
is all I ask
I don't want to have you
I want to be part of you

We are taught to write neatly
but how can I deny what you write so deeply?
With your scruff and ease,
that no one else sees
but me.
I feel honoured to decipher
what's laid before me.
A survivor
a desire
a provider
a divider
a whirlwind of fiction
all balanced in the depiction
your ink puts to pages
and pages of this contagious
frenzy we call "writing"
and now I'm squirming and writhing
in the itch to just
pick up a pen
and not care about handwriting.

As I lay in bed
thinking, I feel like I’m just
reaching into air

It must be hard to have me as your older sister.
It must be.
I call your cute little jokes "lame",
and ignore you when you tell me about your fantastic school day.
I refuse to hug you to sleep at night
even if you're afraid of the darkness that could swallow you up anytime.
I order you to do things around and you do them but
when you ask me to do things, I don't.
You try to get me to stop paying attention to my phone and
start paying attention to your piano pieces.
You try to get me to stop lying around all day and
start going to swim with you.
You ask me all the time:
"Can you go swimming with me?"
I always reply:
"No, I've got work/I'm lazy/. Go swim yourself."
And I don't understand that when you keep calling your friend over
it's because you feel lonely
She's the one who listens to you
play with you
talk to you
when I don't.
Well maybe I didn't understand that when I said:
"Why is she coming over again? You guys play like every single day. Do your work."
You try to make me happy by telling me interesting things.
I silence you out when you do that,
popping in my earphones
and you just sit there quietly.
It must be hard to have me as your older sister.

It must be hard to have me as your daughter.
I talk back 99% of the time just to prove I'm right,
because I am so thick-skinned I wouldn't actually admit even if I'm down right
wrong.
I always change my mind the last minute,
leaving you panicking and worrying about what to do.
I treat my younger sister badly, being really mean to her,
I don't understand how we are both precious to you
You don't want to see any of us getting
hurt.
You work so hard for me
I don't come out of my room to say hi to you when you come home
You bought a new wifi network set for me
when I kept complaining that the current set wasn't working
when it was just my fault for using it
too much.
You meticulously worked to come up with a nice study table design for us
I complained that your laptops were taking up too much space
and you moved it away to the living room
where you could only use it while standing.
You didn't say anything about it.
It must be hard to have me as your daughter.

It must be hard to have me as your friend.
I blast at you
and treat you like a punching bag
not being sensitive to your feelings.
I make you worry about me even when I have hurt you.
I tell you what I feel so frankly and
you get hurt.
You tell me you're always there to listen
yet I never listened to you.
You always notice when I'm about to fall down into that deep abyss of the unknown,
yet when you're falling I still can't find a rope to help you up.
You try to watch videos with me and
I move my attention to my phone.
It must be hard to have me as your friend.

I regret so much bringing you on to that
train
I felt like a fool
a useless friend
a mean person
who did not understand.

I regret so much losing you in the crowd
but I tried to find you
Saw you and your gray jacket
Red Bag
Lovely long hair
disappearing into the crowd
that was swallowing you.

I regret so much to not being a good friend
who listens
and tries to understand
and keep quiet.

My apologies if I kept asking you
for a reason and
if you were
okay.

I was really scared.
I cried.

came up with this analogy with you and I swear it cheers me up every time I think of it

:-) is such a misleading face.

one

Let's just say that
:-) is Tom Riddle
and
:) is Voldemort
Same being,
but they exist as different people,
different statuses,
different motives and
their existence have different effect on people.

two

:-) is the face of a snowman
: are the eyes
- is that dry, swollen carrot
) it the smile the children the children put on to the snowman's face because they love their snowman to look happy

how does it feel though,
when it's alone in the wide field of snow and cold probably without anyone else to accompany them?

how does it feel
when it watches children play in the beautiful winter snow and can't join in
when the only thing is can do is watch and risk getting attacked

how does it feel
when it leads such a transient and short life
and all it does is stand there quietly

that's when you came in*

how does it feel
when it sees the smiles put on children's faces,
feeling their warmth and delight
as they play among the soft white blanket of winter chill,
when it listens to the melodious festive songs
playing in the neighborhood
soothing its soul,
when the aroma of the warm food
wafts through the air and
lands on its lovely carrot nose with a silent hiss?

**blessed.

You know how you try to hold water in your hands
but the water always slips away?
And then you try and try and try
to make sure the water doesn't slip away.

It's never ending,
no matter how many times it slips away,
the next time we try,
we would do it again and again to make sure it doesn't.

Maybe it's the same for love.
Well,
similar
not same.

When you try to hold love in your hands,
no matter how big your hands are
or how tightly your fingers are put together
love will still slip
through those small little gaps
you will never be able to cover.

But as love slips,
unlike water,
it leaves a
wound
scratch
abrasion.
And even if time heals them
the next time we try to hold love in again
it will still slip away
leaving us with
hurt
agony
pain.

That's how love works,
merciless with side effects like
rejection
conflicts
misunderstandings
over thinking
over caring
leaving you with indescribable pain.

But at the end of the day
the love left in your palms
is the love we deserve
for trying so hard

What if every human being existing
are all creations of
a large
large
LARGE
factory?

In factories,
there's such thing called
quality variation.

Which means
there's a range of quality in the things made.
So there's this section of things that are
in fantastic quality. (minority)
Another section of things which are okay. (majority)
and the last section are things which are of
terrible quality. (minority)

hah no they don't just throw those terrible ones away
they keep them there.
so the good ones will seem even better.
contrast you see.

ahh
I believe I'm the one of bad quality.

Silver*

is a lot like the night when the gentle moonlight shone through my windows
and I swore it was perfect for a slow dance —
those kind of dances when you feel every molecule of your twirling and swaying;
those kind of dances when you dance to your own music –
legato and occasional staccatos during moments
when you close your eyes and feel the world beneath your feet skip to your beat;
those kind of dances you swore that you could win the title “best dancing couple”
even if you were dancing alone
because your best accompaniment is often yourself.
Silver is a lot like when we wished on that 1111 moment together and
you said you wished for me to be happy,
it may have just been a simple wish but
it sent this tingling feeling down my spine
and I could feel my heart thumping (lub dub lub dub),
pumping the pure essence of happiness into my veins.
Silver is a lot like the day when we first met,
when our eyes first met in this 2 second glimpse
that made the little butterflies in my stomach go crazy.
It’s what I remember my dreams to be.
Sprinkled with glitter
and how I woke up to the freshness of the previous night.
Silver is watching darkness engulf the place where I took a little stroll,
I remembered the crickets chirping to the dampness of the air,
I remembered how the wind caressed my face with it’s soft touch,
I remembered the trickling of the river water
which carried with it so much potential and brilliance.

I remember.