Hello darkness my old friend

Autumn in the city was disappointing. As I walked out of the apartment the cutting wind I had expected for Melbourne fall didn’t come. The mild breeze mirrored my boredom. I walked along the lamp-lit stretch of the tree-filled avenue, chill slowly crept over me.

Hello there, long time no see.

Yesterday night, I drifted in and out of sleep as C moved about. Lifting heavy boxes, discarding used papers, weighing bulky luggages. Complaining, sighing, denying, talking. The noises she made lulled me in and out of sleep. I felt content to be disturbed, wrapped in a warm blanket of her presence.

Yet, deep down I was surprised by how quickly I got used to such domesticity. Just 2 months ago I’d stayed in my room, done my own things, laughed to myself, enjoyed the solitude wrapped in my own imagination.

I’d been fine back then.
But not anymore.

Years ago when I first felt the blow of moving all the time, I realized that it was better not to have any close friends and thus be spared of the tearful farewell, than to feel that I left behind more than just boxes of donated stuffs. The hanging threat of separation could sometimes be too much to bear, and thus I strived to avoid getting too close to anyone, because I knew we would be parted, in the foreseable future.

What’s the point of making friends, when you’ll say goodbye in the end?

So I lived in relative isolation for some years. I enjoyed my own company more than anyone else’s. And yes there were fits of sadness when the isolation became too much. But what could I do? Even hanging around people made me feel lonesome even more. I looked out from inside the cobwebs of my own fortress, relishing in the treasures within while observing with mild interest as the world passed me by.

It changed, though, recently. C was amazed by my ideas, and in turn I was amazed by her amazement. Somehow we reflected onto each other, and both found the bits and pieces of ourselves that we’d lost for all this time.

But of course, life needed ups and downs to be interesting. Life wrote, a month ago, that C was to go back home to do its biddings. Whatever that was. And so the act of farewell began.

Now, I was going back to my old fortress, to dig up the key, open the heavy wooden door, step in, and be wrapped in the cold chill within.

Hello darkness, long time no see.



A Space by Words4jp – you should read this Countess

Link to post: A Space by Words4jp

OK, it’s not like I’m getting hot-headed or anything. This is what I want to say:

You want to protect yourself, it’s understandable. But once it’s time for you to let down your wall, then it’s THE time. And “He knows who he is”, he will let himself in, with your permission of course, and all you have to do is be yourself and expand your space.

Don’t expand your space to make room for someone else before you’ve found one. Look for permanent buyers, not renters.

And don’t settle for anything less. Know your worth.




Blogging and Reverie by Countess

Link to post: Blogging and Reverie by Countess

A brief history of our friendship, thanks Countess, for I am to high up on the clouds to tell.

Around mid-March 2013, I voiced my woes that as I am very used to speaking with her I will feel a massive hole when I go back. I said maybe blogging will help, but she said “I cannot maintain a blog because no one is reading them.” BAM. the moment when someone understands exactly how you feel. You see, I do have hidden blogs before, and even a hidden tumblr account, to scream back at the universe for my fate, asking this or that pain to stop. But they all didnt last. So I want to write differently now. Right now, I want to write daily things in a much more positive light, because even in my deepest downs of 2012, I have been blessed with enough food, shelter, clothing & emotional support. Most importantly, I have been led back to an even stronger faith in Christ.



P.S.: Can’t reblog any post from reader. A bit frustrated!


Let’s imagine a femme fatale. She changes her men like she changes her clothes. She lavishes them with bespoken suits and expensive adornments. She keeps them in her private corner where daylight cannot creep in. Like clothes, they get to touch the deepest core of hers. Unlike clothes, they do not last after the next week.

In the past, I have blogged like a femme fatale. I got myself a new blog, a new name, a new alias. I decorated my blog with widgets, themes and pictures all in one night. I might have even written one post. Then the next day, as I changed into another outfit, I got bored with it. Into the discarded pile it went.

But things have changed. Now I have a reader. Just one reader which actually makes a huge difference. It’s not like pouring my heart out in front of a cold wall that cannot utter a single word. At least, I will get responses.

So this, I do hope, is a page being turned in my storybook of life. I’m writing for this one blogger – Intelligent Countess – who encouraged me to keep a blog for her sake. That, I think, is one of the most flattering thing a person has told me in quite a while. She is strong on commitment; maybe it’s time I turn off the femme fatale in me, and start working towards the seasoned writer I have always yearned to become.

Thank you Countess. And this blog, for you.

Winter Reverie