what a bore being thirteen. i've got a million bad habits to kick. not sleeping is one.


And I saw him at the bus stop.

“It’s quiet.”

                  “I can hear.”

“I doubt any bus makes its stop here.”

                  “I can see.”

“It’s raining. I don’t have an umbrella. It’s raining.”

                  “I can feel.”

“Then why are you still here?”

                  “I’m waiting for the bus.” He spoke calmly – never giving me a look.

And I watched him for an hour.

“It’s quiet.”

                  “I can hear.”

“We live in weird neighbourhoods.”

                  “I can tell.”

“It’s been an hour.”

                  “I know.”

“Would you like to have tea at my place?”

                  He smiled, “I thought you’d never ask.”

And I walked home with the curly-haired boy by my right.

Jan 6

Blind | October 1, 2013

They don’t understand me. They never will. I’m like a ‘nobody’ in their midst. I am like a hologram they walk past everyday without asking how I am or even bothering to strike up a chit-chat. I am alone. Darkness – it confines me in this little box of terror – myself. I don’t see the need of loving the ones who don’t love you. Why am I here? Why am I born? Why do I never see light, but only lives that are torn?

And so I mention again, love, never grow up. Do not leave your bed for this future that awaits in the dark. You can be alone by yourself, just you. Let your mind flow like waters from a rushing river. Let it flow down, down. Pour out from your soul, your mind, you heart. It takes no time more than a second. It will not go to waste, but just added to your life in daze.

They don’t see me. They never will. I’m like an invisible flower that has wilted, in the gardens of fresh grass and roses. I am nothing, but one with petals plucked off by a disgusting character we now call – society.

I don’t see love anywhere. Love was never in the air. I am breathing stale. I am breathing silence. In this room, I think. My mind and me. Just us both, we could get engaged – if that was ever possible. I like the way it speaks to me, I like the feeling of being in control in this particular relationship.  I feel royal, but I’m not worth the crown or throne. I don’t yearn diamonds or gold, I just want to be alone.

They hardly notice the way I am recently. I am just their little hut of shelter and a shoulder to cry on when they are in their gloomiest of days. And when I need someone, they fled like frightened sheep, as if I were a howling wolf after them. I would never be such.

This is utterly unfair, injustice. I don’t see why they are even borne in my environment. I want to stay in a box. I don’t want contact with the outer world. This sickens me – the ones who cake their faces, wearing attires that are not as respectful for a lady to wear. I’m in this clique, I want out. I want to pop this bubble of love and boys.

I don’t find satisfaction in any of these silly ol’ things. I don’t find joy in losing my mind over a bloke. I will not find love, till it finds me. I don’t deserve to be loved. I have done such wrongs, it’s shameful. But the world says it’s all right, but it isn’t. Not at all. Ugly monsters are used to feeling and being this way. I don’t wish to be portrayed as an ol’ hag, I want to be respected the way a young lady should be.

Loneliness it fills the cracks of my heart, the pieces shatter into many parts. I lost some of them. I don’t know where they went. I didn’t bother picking my satchel and go finding them. I let them sit on the roads, let the cars run over me like a razor would to skin. I feel empty and upset, but that’s just the way it is.

I walk the hallways with deep-set eyes. I don’t wish to speak to anyone, I don’t want to hear laughter, see grins or feel a sense of belonging. I am safe by myself. Leave me with a penny and a hairband – I am ready. Throw at me stones, sticks, boulders – but my heart would carry. This road ain’t long for a strong girl like me.

They don’t see me. They never will. I don’t need to see them either. For all I care, I would’ve written my will, but I have nothing left but the band. Who would want to own a band? They reject that little property of mine, selfish and ungrateful little ones. I spent the penny on paper, I spent it on white paper, whiter than the outlines of my slow-beating heart.

I don’t dress to impress. The lockers yell at me to unlock them, the doors slam at me to open them; but I’m deciding to keep it closed. Just for now. I need this moment to sort everything out.

So I sit, sit here on the steps of school, thinking about a girl – they never see them. They never will.

Jan 5

It’s sad how I belong to no one.

Who belonged to everyone.

Jan 5

2014

It is scary how time flutters by and the realization of growing five days into this fresh year scares me further. But the good thing is that I know that I’m forgiven and the worst of memories – I shall forget. Now blessed wholly with a brand new set of 365 days to be better. Everything that I am, everything that I have – I am grateful.

Gratitude | lovely people who care and understand me dearly and great family.

Setting that aside, oh, how I surrender my worry and anxiety of introducing my parents to registering me for homeschooling. May He open their heart, soul and mind towards the system that I will suggest pretty soon.

Hopefully, it’ll be positive.

All love,

Negative.

Jan 5

s.t.