The glass fell from the wooden table and shattered in thousand pieces over the black marbled-floor. It’s as if I was staring at the stars, but instead of gazing up I was looking down. The stars on my feet, only a meter away from my hands. I know if I reached out, I’d injure myself. 

Beautiful things come at a great cost – sometimes it can hurt and sometimes it is better left untouched. 


Mid-air. I am falling, non-stop. Gravity pulling me back to the ground. I hear your voice, familiar and comforting “Take my hand, take it. Do not hesitate.”

I then smell flowers, strong and wistful. Now Im walking towards a river, blue and foamy. I see you sitting by the rock with your feet submerged, you were waving and inviting me to come and take a plunge. I knew it was freezing because you were shivering but you try to hide it. I can see through you though. I will always see. 

I wake up. I realize I’m still alone in bed, sweating. I hear my heartbeat – loud and thumping between my ribs. I can hear your name in every beat; my heart screams for you, pulsating through my veins. My heart was is restless. 

Broken & Shattered

I felt it, the sadness and torment of jealousy. The monster eating every bit of happiness you had with the memories you shared peacefully. Jealousy begins with doubt, and with doubt it breeds mistrust. Anger, neglect, and exacting retribution. It will be a fall you can’t stop. You regret and end up being strangers.. Strangers to each other, strangers to the feelings you once felt. Both of you a foreigner to the world you put together. 


I want you here and whisper me words. Warm words and colorful ones. Those that make sleep full of wonderful dreams and mornings unforgettable. I want you here and trace your back with my fingertips as we snooze our way to Neverland, where we float on magic boats and travel for eternity. I want that smile you make every morning and say you want a hug in a low and tender voice. I want you here with me, always. I want you forever.


Plucking out the pins stuck in your heart is easier as it might sound; all you have to do is pour a litre of anesthetics over your poor pumping organ, wash up your throat with a tankard of the strongest ale, and find some cloistered hut where you can remove the pins one by one without waking up any neighbors as you scream. The most painless yet sneakiest way to do that is, as cliché as it might sound, not doubt at all.

I am capable of doing that. I did, and I can if I should.

              I found myself recollecting all the describing words my mind can muster, to pinpoint the exact word I felt on that very day. That most amazing moment when I had to break someone else’s fragile heart (the fragile part might not suit that person’s pumping organ but that is the closest adjective I can think of right now). Yes, I am the lord of impassiveness – where the heartless are ever so leal, where danger is always the other side, and disrespect and broken trusts are all the rewards one can get. Then I unleashed the words; the little letters that would crack open all hells and end someone else’s providential life.. that was the moment, the moment I breathed the fragrance of liberty and relished the taste of relief. And after a minute of pleasure I eventually inhaled another kind of stench, that of reeking conscience and bitter tastes of regret. I knew I had much of it as these words start to dance in my mind, “It is too late, face it or dig your own hole to hell.”

When the bidding was over, the audience certainly craved for more.. more of that onslaught and what-they-seem-to-call-as-savagery (but the usual bread-and-butter for me), I started to suspect my onlookers with their dark eyes, those filthy audience summing up and jumbling their judgmental words like critics and shot them right at me like a prey on the run. But I stood tall amidst their false interpretations because I knew they were all wrong, I knew everything because I’ am the one who made that stuck-up decision. I ignited, and burned all those arrows made of words down to ashes. I wished I could smolder the persons who released those arrows too, but I hesitated and listened to their words instead..

I could perceive their repulsive words; “I heard he mercilessly killed someone!”, “He is a treacherous sly who eat hearts for breakfast” and “He is a fox in a sheep’s wool.” I bathed in their language, with a deceitful grin from ear to ear, because I know I am not what they think I am yet I savor the ripeness of being their lord.. the lord between their tongues and eyes and ears and attention. Then I would ask, “What are they saying?” Then none would answer. I reigned supreme over them, with one crown and no sword – apathy, and apathy alone.

Then I start to doubt again. And utter the words I say when I am too tired and too fed up..

“I miss being a normal human being.” How do I get beyond that? How do I become one again if I am emotionless. I get hungry, hungry for saneness and humanity. I want to dance with the crowd, read stories and share them, and smile and laugh and hope till all the moments I make are insurmountable that I forget I am apathetic the day I was born..

Unchaining the Trust

“I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they’re right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.”

                                          Marilyn Monroe

 I felt the ache slam in my caged heart. The hurt, the sadness, the screeches of my poor soul. The incongruity of it all; you give away the truest trust and then be paid back with mistrust that follows it. Like a fallen angel, you need to get a hold of the purest wings to return back to the heavens with untainted intentions. That’s how trust is given back once lost – you need the most logical reason for it, and the conviction to want that reliance again.

Sacrifices were exchanged, our devotion was lit, grudges and insecurities purged. But why then? Of all things need be broken; why of all, the chain that has bonded us? Is it because of the tight fastenings? Or of the loose rusty chain? Or were you sick of it all? Was I deaf by your insistent mumblings of the pain that chained us? Blinded by my principles? Lo then, I will remain silent, and not a word will you hear of me till I myself feel that soreness you felt. I will dwell with the silence, and live with the forlornness till I eye out the possibilities and answers I seek, and you seek.

I begin to trust myself and myself alone. Act naturally and smile and wink as I used to be. I am happy on where you are happy. Regret and repulsions are not the choices I palmed out with my hands; it was sincerity and honesty I requested. But tossing it away was severe..

 I then ask of you this, once the doors are closed; turning back is not an option. You go away, and bid you a good spree of what your destiny holds for you. And do not worry, for I.. I will be indiscernible – away from your sight, invisible from your attention.

Go Your Way

I already had my daily dose of melancholic grins and the nastiest expectation which I find it too difficult to pull back again as it swiftly fell along the hills of misery and deception. I had so much of those heart-breaking revelations, the dirty assumptions you hid, and the people unworthy of trusting.. of which, inevitably, also turned you to something undesirable. Where are all the trust and care you once promised?

“What the hell Nathaniel, I borrowed your phone just for a day and a friend of yours is badgering me all day long! Who the hell is Leah?!” she shouted. The vein in my sister’s forehead was so clear even if I sat two meters away from where she was standing.

I was shocked from this sudden outburst from her. “Wait Briony, I don’t understand you.. a friend? What? Can I see my phone please?” She handed it to me.

The revelations were so clear. Everything. Bad words were uttered, shattered trusts. I can accept them all, I sure can. But my family? My mother? You say bad words to her, and I swear, forgiveness will not even matter. We have loved her so much. Oh, and the one who even read the messages first was my sister! I trembled; scared of that fact and shivered with anger.

There’s no need for an explanation you say? Fine. If that’s what you want.

I stood there, blankly staring at the last SMS my sister opened. She was intently looking at me and asked, “Now Nathan, is she familiar? She’s on your phonebook anyway. ”

I don’t know her ‘anymore’. She set me free. She said things which cannot be taken back. She must have hated me. I am nothing to her and to them. The idea bouncing around my mind. Then I boldly answered – NO, I don’t know her.