The Outlier

the edge of a sea of sober pensiveness —

I stood, silenced.

caressingly strangled at the hands of restriction,

I fell into dormancy. 

the oasis that is out of my reach: 

watch as they bask in the warmth of sunlight and 

ignorantly laugh at unimportance and

preoccupy themselves with meaningless small-talk that

defines their very existence to

justify the mockery they make of us for

what we are. 

wicked.

winter's dawn:

no sunlight came to our side but

bitter chill —

and northern lights become mere myths. 

the world of greying navy skies and white ice

in which we condition ourselves to survive —

turns the fire in our hearts

to ash.

Darkness holds your hand

like a mother would her child. 

"Shut out love, my dear";

"is there goodness here?"

then, to your ear, she'd whisper, 

"when you cross the invisible line that

protects you, 

the end is marked near."

still / broken

sigh

Staring at the purple wall behind her study desk that faced her, she wondered - why?

the purple wall packed with shelves and a framed painting faded to a blur 

She gave it everything she had. Everything then does not seem like much now, but for a fourteen-year-old girl, it took a great deal of courage for her to even think of doing what she did. She would know; and her six year experience in an all girls' school didn't do her much justice in this aspect. 

Then again, she still remembered what made her do it. There was a lot she could say; and, yes, it was those cliche reasons you'd see in a chick flick. What did you expect? For an immature, young teen-aged girl who was only in her second year of a daily encounter with boys in school, she only knew those kind of reasons existed. What really surprised her was how much it'd affect her. 

Go ahead, ask. What was the reason?

She'll still smile when she pictures it in her mind - his smile. His dimples fell nicely on the sides of his cheeks when he'd smile, and dimples are always cute; to her at least. Even now. Of course, that one plus point made everything about him seem almost perfect in the eyes of a young teen. 

In the early days of their acquaintance, she worked with him. His playful outward personality made her seem more like the teachers' pet, and she hated that it did, but she saw otherwise. You see, if a person was truly that playful - which was what they'd call "irresponsible" - he wouldn't have even bothered to reply her  text messages when she mindlessly freaked out over not returning the file to the office like she did. (It was part of their duty, and for her, it was a big deal.) 

He (and a friend) got into trouble once, and it wasn't those mild kind (like forgetting to do homework), it was pretty serious. To be completely honest, she still didn't know why they made it such a big deal. After all, it was only for dropping a bench and the loud bang led to a slight commotion. It was the only time the school was naturally "united" for something that wasn't an official school event. The hypocritical thing is that, with all the talk about establishing unity, they made that one instant seem a crime. (Don't blame them, this is the nature of our society.)

There was talk of a suspension. The ridiculousness of it all pushed her to write an email to their teacher to try to save him. Of course, being the coward that she was, she emailed it to the nicest teacher she knew then. She still isn't sure whether or not it worked. Perhaps the big trouble he was in was a compilation of all the minor mistakes. She didn't know anything. Still, she did all she could. Although, she shouldn't have assumed. She knew that. Who was she to interfere?

Everything else is a blur to her now. Even all that wasn't what she was confused most about herself. 

He never liked her back. Obviously. Why would he like an overweight, overtaken by puberty, goody-two-shoes like her? 

She did fess up to him before. At the bus stop on the way home, she mustered enough courage to text him "I like you". 

Yes, he used the "friend" tactic in his reply. Harsh? (It actually wasn't. It was pretty nicely put.) 

That wasn't enough to stop her.  

what was wrong with her?

❤

She got a jar. 

And purple paper covering. 

She made 99 straw hearts. 

She put them in the jar. 

She gave it to him in class. 

Not the best idea. In class? What was she thinking?

She heard him mutter "walao". Okay, the sign of bad news. 

Long story short:

A while later, someone told her where it ended up. 

Then, she cried - long and hard. (that's what she said moment not intended)

Guess where it ended up.                                                                      

♡

The pain still lives in her; it's just kept away, but she would never forget it. 

He wasn't mean to her or anything. He's a good person and she still believes he is. She doesn't have the right to blame him or think of herself and what she's done as 'spectacular'. It really wasn't because she isn't.

What do you know? A fourteen-year-old's idea of love. It's as innocent as that. 

The important thing is that, for what it's worth, she loved. It was an experience. :)

❤

O heartbreak - fare thee well

they walk past me;
methinks love hast made me a fool.
      eyes of pity;
      tears - thin as tulle.

thou art my compass
      giveth me much comfort, but -
O, 'tis thee?
      nay, I beseech; wilt mine eyes hath failed me -
      just as my heart
which, at last, hast broken.

still, I pardon thee;
thou need'st not be sorry.
'tis fate - cruelly
showeth me that it shall never more be love,
for it never has been.

I shall pardon thee,
      pain hath befalleth us, I doubt it not;
            dost thou weep thus?

if thou could'st, thou wouldst hath loved me
as much; 'tis not in thy capacity.

      ay, fare thee well

the silent death

       a piece of creative writing

         by Victoria Chwa

     

The Forgettable and The Insignificant

Spring. 

She sat, alone, atop the hill beside the lake, watching as a single Redbud tree grew in full bloom. It's beauty captured her completely; she had not broken her gaze upon it.

abnormal

What was there to not love? It was a magical sight — the simplicity of the little heart-shaped leaves as they rested alongside the delicate clusters of flowers naturally tinted in ombré magenta, all planted on a cleverly twisted trunk and outward spreading branches. There and then, the Redbud seemed to have enhanced the allurement of the whole scenery - the vibrant green of the frondescence, the soft blue shade of the sky surrounded the moieties of pure white clouds; its beauty was infinite. 

fool

Yet, there and then, tout de suite — she was overwhelmed by dolor. Solitude hadn't bothered her before until its impendence sunk into her mind and heart. The quiet indulgence of every hint of peace and happiness that often came from innocent reclusiveness had become a sign of social suicide and, as the universal apperception would have it, there would be no survivors. Admiring the Redbud tree still, she screamed and began to tear. 

not good enough

The day was fresh, with a lively spring wind, but it was horrible to be among such amazing company without a heart to truly savour every bit of it. You see, pain was as simple as it looked - you had to cry and try to let it all out before you are silenced by the voices inside your head. 

unworthy

But she stopped, remembering that screaming was not normal. You had to understand that eccentricity was a deformity. There were no positive connotations in being bizarre, and it certainly was nothing to be happy about. fall She stood, silently and slowly, as the pain gradually took control of her every subsequent move and thought. She forced a wry smile that pinched her face instead of smoothing it. As their words turned, repeatedly, in her mind, she began to realize that her life was one of experiment. lose The search for herself was entirely internal and she was fighting a losing battle against society. 

prisoner                                                                                                                                                    be free

Reality has it that you had to be normal to be accepted, which is subconsciously always being harped upon because your acceptance determines your survival. It was a social rule; non-conformity means death. Your thoughts didn't matter to society, neither did your feelings. Only achievements that are socially deemed as successful would acknowledged as 'true success'. It didn't matter whether or not you were beautiful, much less unique on the inside. Image had always been secondary to her, but not to society. You had to look the part to play the part. You had to be perfect. The irony - so much said about being yourself when not a soul was brave enough to stay true; fear her - especially. 

just...

fade                                                                                                                                                          stay true

The vibrant flora, ardent blue sky and flawless white clouds became increasingly blurred.

The Redbud tree, once alive, dimmed into a dusty shade of gray.

Those who wandered - disappeared.

All that was once authentic - now a mere product of society.

Smiling, sincerely (for the first time in forever), she shut the windows to her soul and said to her beloved, "when we become forgettable and insignificant, always remember - we had today; then fade away and be happy."

away

The Existence of Magic

♥

I dedicate this (part) to you in particular.

In all my life, I never thought that something as magical as this could happen to me.

Then, you showed up and you proved me wrong.

Thank you.

♥

When she was there the first time, she hadn't actually considered that it would be her second home for the next two years of her life. Before she knew it, she had to face the reality that she had never thought she would. With her old, reused, black-and-pink coloured backpack, her hair pulled back and tied in a single, simple ponytail (that did not compliment her) and her fear overwhelming her (which was no surprise), she stood by the concourse, lost and clueless...

♥

There he sat, quietly, beside me. I could hear him breathe slightly heavily; perhaps it was the result of rushing into the hall just a while ago. As we waited for the commencement of the Orientation, the thought of taking the first step to make some new friends had turned in my head for the millionth time. After all, that was what this whole week was about, wasn't it? 

Yet, the only thing that was holding her back was the apprehension that had crept inside her ever since this whole thing started, and something told her that it wasn't planning on leaving any time soon. Still, as the saying goes - "if not now, when?"; and that was when she decided to take the risk. She looked around her and tried to look for a possible 'target', but everyone else seemed to have had a head-start. Just when she was expecting things to take a turn for the worst, she realized that the only other person that seemed to be "lagging behind" from others in this struggle was that boy sitting beside her. 

"Here goes nothing," she thought to herself - mustering as much courage as she could possibly have had inside her at that time - she turned to him and said "hi". 

While that was happening, she was also contemplating about how the next moment would end up like, and she came to a conclusion that it would be awkward. Little did she know that the denouement would be far from her prediction, because at the very instance of her making an attempt to start a conversation with him, he did the same thing, at the same time.

Wow. 

Is it possible for something so simple to be so enchantingly serendipitous?

The weird thing is, though, the concomitance did not culminate there. Just as they were laughing at what had just happened, they both turned to each other and asked "what's your name?" at the same time as well; that was when she realized that, perhaps, this wasn't a mere coincidence. 

Perhaps, this is the existence of magic; and, perhaps, this whole journey would prove it.

♥

Overthinking | Death of The Outcasted

A while back, I posted my thoughts on over-thinking. I've decided to turn this into a series of posts because one post is just not enough to express how the pain of being and over-thinker through words.

So here goes.

Perhaps one of the more frequent derivations of over-thinking is from feeling like an outcast. I say this because this has been happening to me a lot lately. Without a doubt, it is becoming incessant; but then again, that isn't the real problem. 

Everyone is bound to feel like an outcast once in a while. I think we've been made to think that it's okay, and that is where the real problem comes in. You see, it is because we have been made to comply to 'what's right' and think that feeling like an outcast is 'normal' and 'okay', close to no one will think about caring when they see someone looking like they feel like an outcast, even if that person is someone they know, because no one would care enough to observe and see if anyone is feeling like an outcast. It is also because of this that The Outcasted will then feel like because no one seems to show any concern that what they're feeling is wrong and they shouldn't speak of it or they would be, as some would say, 'abnormal', which makes them feel more outcasted than they already feel like now. This is where over-thinking comes in, which inevitably leads to inner-death.

For some reason, I have been feeling like an outcast a lot lately. I think it's growing on me - into some kind of phobia; because of this, I am perpetually afraid of being hated or alone and especially of being ditched by friends, because it's kind of like an indication of my inadequacy of being a person, let alone friend, that pushes them away from me. And it's scary to be living with this fear.

Scary. 

I'm beginning to realize that the scary thing about overthinking is that it kills you, slowly, from the inside. It is the constant turning of all the negativity and angst from being outcasted that makes us victims of this silent, invisible murder. What's scarier is that all this will lead to a never-ending internal war between us and them. The moment we lose our sanity - they've won. Perhaps that is the most common and often unsaid cause of most people's death.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone else can relate to this...