A Girl Inside Her Box

I always say that I want a love that makes me feel like the Wonderland is brought right to my feet without the need to follow the White Rabbit down the hole, competing with the ticking clock.

I always say that I want to be grateful, the same way of how the lonely Fox felt when the Little Prince stayed, every day an inch closer than the day before until he was finally sure enough to tame his wild heart for him, opening the door and let him walk in.

But sometimes, when the stories end, the pages won't stop flipping back to where they started, and I can't do anything but to watch Alice waking up not knowing Wonderland exists, or the Fox wither along with the grass since the Little Prince never leave his tiny planet for his conceited Rose.

At times like this, I find myself stumbling against this weird feeling, a combination of a little sting from longing for something to hold onto so dearly, a little spark of excitement from wanting to try something new, and a little anxiety from not knowing what will I encounter next and whether or not the pain will worth it.

So when a new book appeared, I just kept staring at its blank pages, knowing whatever I write will end up the way I start writing it: A girl inside her box. 

Little did I know, that the story of Alice and the Fox have been completed, and though it's a sick cycle, Alice and the Fox did find their Wonderland- their Prince, and no matter how insanely tiring their journeys were, they would eventually meet their own version of happy ending in the end.

While my story, it never starts. I'm still a girl inside her box.

Repeating

One night I caught him smiling,

Before he asked me things I'd do with him.

I end up spending the night story-telling,

Until I close my eyes, still murmuring.

Though I could still hear him saying,

"If that was you asking,

What would I do till we're dying,

I'd only say three things

And that's loving you, laugh, and repeating,"

Effortless

Two straight lines:
Though only a milimeter away,
If they don't bother to change their ways,
They won't find each other even in another million days.

When...

When we have finally met,

I hope He'd give me that sudden longing,
like an irrational desire with bloods rushing,
Or my knees melting,
every time you're talking.

When we have finally met,
I hope He'd give you those funny feelings,
that make you remember,
The rapid beats in your chest, thinking,
"Oh dear, Lord, could this be her?"

When we have finally met,
I hope we could both be sure
That our desperate endeavors
Have finally come to an end, and ahead waiting, is our unpredictable future.

"But I haven't met you yet, and if I did, I'm not aware. I've been working on our future, crafting on my career. So when the day comes when I meet you, I could speak to your father. Communicate that I'm able to love and care for his daughter. Until then I can offer soulbeats and a letter. Painted inside my music, just wait 'till we see each other."

Gowe - Wait For You 

Twilight

Lace your fingers against mine, so that our hearts will burst out in colors. We'll paint the sky in twilight, as the sun sets and the bright stars follow.

She's...

She has a pair of cautious eyes, been awake since day one,

And an aware mind, more prepared than what lays behind her ribs was once,

Where the bruises stay, and wounds bleed at times.

All to welcome the night: the crescent moon and the stars that shine.

"Is she crying?"

It’s not about the darkness that creeps, but more to the silence that follows,

Because in silence she’d remember things she’s been trying to swallow,

Not him, or those memories he’s in,

It is the unrequited longing, and the pain it brings.

"Or is it raining?"

She’d spent hours watching the ceiling, thinking,

Of the what-if-s, if-only-s, how-s, why-s, all the wondering,

She'd let the questions hits her like an auto-replay, pictures of him would come and run,

But her eyes stay dry, she breathes normally, almost numb.

"There are clouds in her eyes,"

But at times, in one of those silences that accompany the night,

She’d let her cautiousness fades and awareness sleeps,

With eyes closed, falling tears, and a bleeding wound that kills.

"It’s falling, falling..."

A post inspired by a song

Me + You

Sometimes I think,

if we like too many common things,

we might end up liking each other.

But then he said,

"As much as I want, or had it in my dreams,

you've fell for him, and I can't forget about her."

Love Journey

I walked too fast on those first steps the day I began my journey, so fast that I'm walking too slow for now, too tired to catch up, satisfied enough to see others passing by.

Some walk hand-in-hand, side by side, others have someone waiting for them a few steps ahead.

There were times when I see someone on what seems like the end of the heavenly long stairs, waiting for me.

But then the man waved a hello to a woman behind me, and by then, the closer I get, the further the edge of the stairs seemed, and it made me realize, that the end of the journey is still a long way to go.

At hard times, I'd take a sit, straighten my legs down those steps, it always feels good, taking a rest like that. But then I'd be too lazy to continue climbing the stairs up, assuming days spent daydreaming would taste better instead.

But the wooden-stairs is not an escalator, neither is my life, and daydreaming won't get me anywhere near anyone I'd be willing to daydream about or with the whole time.

So slowly, I lift my tired legs up, forcing them to take baby steps up and ahead as I rewind the lines they used to say to me each time I feel like giving up, "the stairs will end somewhere, and when it does, your endeavor to find him will worth the waiting".

inspired by a post thoughtfully written

A Midnight Cig

A red burning flame with a little touch of gray as it turns itself to ashes, leaving black marks behind and dusts below. White smoke goes where the wind blows it, pausing each time she inhales. She opens her lips apart, letting it out; fumes of sighs.

Careful What You Wish For

"Careful what you wish for cause you just might get it". I spent most of my times in 2k14 nagging to Allah; about my love life, about my work, about everything, and it all lead me to a big question of "what is it you're planning to do in your wild and precious life?". I used to believe that I was born to do more than being good enough at things, but indeed, a lot of things in 2k14 made me doubt myself.

God knows it so well how craving for a better job I was, to have a roller coaster ride and challenges to face everyday, to get out of my comfort zone, to learn a lot of new things that excite me, and most of all, to have a job I would say, "I'm living my life" about. Maybe I did pray hard enough, or I nagged too much God finally decided to give me what I want just to see what I could do once I get it.

2k15 choked me in surprise. I got my dream job, one that requires creativity and my language skill, one with roller coaster ride and challenges to face everyday, one that kicks me out of my comfort zone. All wishes granted at once. But then again, no yin comes without the yang.

It exhausts me, both mentally and physically. I realized I lack in so many things, and it affects my self-confidence so much that I take what seems like forever to get a job done. It's frustrating, since I've mastered my previous job so well, but now I'm taking baby steps again just to understand what it is that I'm really doing.

But I'm considered very lucky to have a job I love, a job that thousands of people in the world would kill to have. So now, I'd like to wish again, carefully this time, to have countless patience and strength to get through 2k15 safely, to be able to give the best for my country, and to once again believe, that I was born not to just be good enough at things, but to be someone that brings advantages to people too.

2k15, please be nice.