Lara's Maze

A little bit of a dumpster from a maze I called brain. Write, share, fun.

[lesucremygic]

13+13

It's as if the title is going to give you a glimpse of everything terrifying. It's not haha, or maybe it will? Being past 25 is quite terrifying to me.

But I'm very excited about turning 26. The age does feel like I have a new start. I mean technically, I can always make my new start regardless of the time. It's up to me, what is it the society gonna dictate me for again? They have demanded a lot from me.

But walking away from the big number of 25 does feel a little bit like an accomplishment.

I guess life is not always this leisure, but after being in a fight or flight mode for quite long, to be able to taste the mediocrity, the mundane of slow life I can assure you, I can see more clearly.

Last year, I realized that I have never really celebrated myself properly, it was quite a revelation that rendered me speechless. I actually didn't know how to appreciate everything that I have in me without looking at them from the glasses of social expectation.

For someone who does have quite a principle, I always have some kind of battle with myself. But then I realize, those fights are my way to learn, to be a better version of myself. It means that I am still walking despite getting stuck a lot here and there.

One of my ways to celebrate myself and satisfy my teenage self is getting a self-portrait as it was a medium for me to celebrate my existence. I can see myself clearly as someone who does think, who can implement concepts and ideas into something tangible as photographs of my own being. I thought it was going to turn cringe, but apparently I’m happy with the way the whole concept turned out. I can see myself as… you know, me.

Birthdays used to always feel like gloomy revelations that your time is running out, that the clock keeps on ticking like crazy, that you have to run even aimlessly despite how blurry everything is in front of you. However, I decided to change the way I think about that bitter point of view since I realized, our minds sometimes are the cage. 

I’m the one who trapped myself inside it. 

To feel lost and gloomy is very normal, there is actually nothing wrong with that. 

But to dwell on something that is actually proven to be as temporary as life, instead of joining the chirps of the birds and nature singing for their purpose is one big loss that somehow I regretted for not doing sooner. 

There is so much to appreciate about getting older. You get wiser, you get calmer, you get to think from a lot of resources you have collected all of your life, you get to solve stressing situation without feeling like you need to be decapitated exactly at the moment of crisis, you get to experience the joy and the flow of having to live as you are in spite of still searching for your purpose. 

Life does get crazy, as you get older you actually understand that it’s never going to get easier. You just have to accept your situation and walk with determined steps, it can falter sometimes but that’s also okay, just rest for a few moments before taking another. Big steps, small steps, it doesn’t really matter, take the steps even if it’s just a centimeters wide. 

All you have to know is, you did walk, you survived, you celebrate you for existing when it gets too tired, and life does go on. 

To all of my platonic, familial and remotely romantic loved ones, all of my thanks to you for joining me in my journey to go on. My deepest gratitude for helping celebrate myself in ways that resonate a lot with me. 

To all the years ahead of us, I hope we can always remain healthy and sane.

Haha.

To 26, to getting older, to living life. 

L.

---

Happy birthday you pocket sized environmentally friendly human with a barely retraceable carbon footprints who loves the wonders of sea even though you're scared of the deep waters.

[lesucremygic]

The Moon, PMS-ing and Us

There are times when you’re almost on your period or during it, you’d always feel like trash, a sad excuse of a human being, unworthy of anything good or the world just really tiring. 

You want to cry from the sheer frustration for not being able to stop feeling like that even though you knew, positive things still do exist in your world. 

Even though you understand and realize being grateful is important in times like that.

Actually, letting the emotion happen, is way more important than hating yourself for not being able to stop all of that from happening.

But, you have no idea how to brush off the weight of helplessness everytime those feelings grace your presence, because it’s almost impossible to not feel them sometimes. 

Ever since I got my period, more than a decade ago, I have never been prepared for these huge changes in my emotional state, or even physiological beings. I’m way too underprepared and it made me all over the place. 

I think a lot of us women and girls still feel extremely frustrated whenever we’re at a loss when something is happening to our body and there’s very limited information about what to do when those things happen. 

Most of the time, we almost always find countless baseless misinformation which are actually harmless for us instead. 

That is, foul, to be honest. 

It always makes me wonder, how exactly does the world view us women?  

I didn’t know that my emotional state is going to be so… wildly untamed when I’m PMS-ing. No women in my family told me that I’m going to experience that every month, that I’m going to be irritated with everything, even my own self. 

But overtime, later in life, once I somehow slowly let go of misogynistic views about myself, women and girls in general, re-learning and re-educating myself on my own biological condition and needs, I understand that these things better to be felt. 

Those irritations are, I think, a byproduct of bottling everything up everyday. Thinking that you’ll handle those emotions later because you don’t want to be seen as overly sensitive by people, or that you’re weak for not being able to handle them and not being able to smile every time inconvenience occurs. 

The burden of smiling. 

The burden of always appearing pretty and collected. 

The ridiculousness makes me want to rip my hair out. Everytime. 

Despite all that however, I’m slowly making peace with them even though it’s still difficult for me not to take my anger out on people who irritate me so much when I’m in that period of time. Because even when I tell them I'm sensitive and trying to regulate my emotions, they will mostly take that as a challenge to be so annoying. 

Blaming me in the end for being overly sensitive when I blew up.

I always warn them before they challenge themselves and be stubborn. But alas, they brought it upon themselves. 

Periods are difficult for me. Even with the constant diet change, being more active in windows where I’m supposed to be active and resting when I’m supposed to be resting, period will always make me feel like a total shit. 

Dealing with emotional ups and downs is one thing, dealing with the pain, cramps, and headache that will always follow after is another. 

That’s how sometimes I envy girls who barely feel pain in their body whenever they’re having periods, or that it’s easier for them to navigate through life. 

Good for them, truly, because if I could, I want all girls to have it easier dealing with periods. 

It’s just sometimes, I’m envious that I can never feel light for a long time when periods are coming.

Being girls with a built-in pain inside their body is not easy, it’s too hard to make men understand the great burden we have to endure every single month. It’s too hard to make them understand that we will never get used to it. We will never get used to the pain. So most of our irritations are totally valid to begin with. 

There are those who were raised by their parents right and could empathize with us, I’ll always appreciate those men, even though that’s a total bare minimum… but the ratio of those who understand and can empathize with those who will always think it’s natural for us to be like that and to just suck it all, is way too phenomenal.

Not to mention when they already have a sticky false upbringing about women and menses in Islam, a religion that I believe in,  women and menstruating somehow became a really taboo topic for a discourse in most Islamic communities, which is another horrendous foul thing to ever occur.

So it sucks.

Period is sucks, not having periods also sucks… 

It’s just how we’re built, I understand that. 

What frustrates me the most is when the society gaslighted and guilt-trips me to not feel any of these irritations even though we have to endure a long excruciating 7 days with pain and being stuck in discombobulation. 

I just want them to be more understanding, if they can’t empathize that is…and more discourse about it so a wide range of people, women and men alike, can understand more about healthier approaches and education about menstruation. 

In the hope that in the end, it would make them kinder…

In short, I just want a break. 

L.

---

Dedicated to all women and those who menses, because sometimes, we just want a freaking break.

[lesucremygic]

Can't get over Mingyu and Seungcheol's part...

Not to mention the Jakarta's concert fancam when it was pouring rain and Mingyu's glistening honey skin looked really beautiful on the big screen :")

[lesucremygic]

Discovering Me

Three: The Shore, The Aftermath

Fueled with a new set of determination, despite the horrible pain and big limping strides, I went on deep inside the forest. Now full of normal green leaves, the overly orange hues also had subsided. Still lingering there but my vision has become much clearer. The wind now carried a little bit more of a pleasant smell of fresh earth and sweet acidic apple. I actually don’t remember where that particular smell reminds me of, but they are not as haunting or lonely as what I’ve witnessed before.

The earth beneath my feet felt a little bit soft and soggy, nothing I minded, they actually felt like the soft grass bed around the rice field I used to play around back in my childhood days. The memories make me ache. I want to reach as far deep into the time where I only worry about having to soak my feet in salt baths whenever I spend the whole afternoon around the pads of those rice fields since my mother never finds my calloused and dirty feet amusing.

Having to walk in a nice ambience for a while, I finally had to face three junction paths with their contrasting facade almost giving me some kind of aneurysm. The first road on my left actually looked the same as the current path I’m taking but I didn’t trust the wind it carries in between the branches. The middle road was covered in green moss, from the trees, their big roots sticking out from the ground and even the soil were covered in moss. I can smell the rich strong aroma of wet, damp soil. It looks like the path is going to drenched my already wet and dirty tourniquet quicker than it is supposed to. The forest floor on the last road however, was full with a bed of fallen, rotting leaves, but the wind carried a strong scent of salt and humid air. It reminded me of the shore, the calm wind always contrasted with how the waves raging in between the beach rock.

I looked up to stare at the canopy of leaves, preventing the majority of the sunlight from abusing my eyes but billowing softly as if they’re slow dancing with the invisible music only they can hear. At that moment, I couldn’t help but feel like the world knew no bounds, my body was within the world and my mind was nothing but a numb buzzing sound of the TV when the broadcast programs were done for the day.

For the first time in a very long time, I let go of everything to the wind.

Letting all my thoughts and Voices, the permanent resident inside my brain, melting with every fiber of my being along with the soft rustles of whispering wind.

The wind that reminded me of the shore softly lured my consciousness to the last road of the junction that I saw full of fallen leaves. Rotten fallen leaves.

Steeled my resolve, I decided to take the last road.

At first, the smell of salt and dry humid air intensified, as if they were the only thing present and attacking my nostrils but overtime, they dissipate lingering only in the back of my mind. Slowly, I walked ahead of the path, the rustles of leaves from beneath my feet reminded me of the weekend mornings back when I’m still very young.

A kid. Listening to the sound of my parents sweeping the garden from all of the fallen leaves from a Kerai tree that flourished there on our frontyard.

I was so young and clueless.

The more I walked deep inside the walkway, the trees slowly dispersed and were replaced by bushes and bushes of vines. True to my previous inkling, I could faintly listen to the sound of waves crashing. The wind got even more humid and I don’t really have a choice but to walk even faster. My curiosity got the best of me.

Feeling like it was forever since I’m seeing everything in mono, the orange hues of my vision were replaced by a burst of colors. Then I could see every color out there. As my vision got clearer, my whole body got rejuvenated with a surge of unknown energy when finally, the sweet blue of sea said their hello to me.

So the next thing I know, I ran, despite the faint throbbing pain, I ran down the steep hills. I ran until my feet gave out and my whole body just stumbled down instead.

Stopped only when the hills ended, my whole body felt like it was in a burning fire. Sore and in so much pain, I decided to crawl on all fours towards a shaded tree before passing out, spread out like a starfish. The sound of the waves crashing down the shore lulled me to sleep. So I did, despite the remnant of my consciousness kept telling me to stay awake or my already frail condition would get even worse.

“I saw you had the hardest fall just then, are you sure you want to keep closing your eyes?” panicked by the unfamiliar voice, I immediately opened my eyes and was greeted by a face with a deep frown on its face. It’s him, someone I knew before but never expected to see around here.

“How did you get here? I didn’t wish for anyone to come, this time.” I answered, finally having found my own voice.

He only looked at me curiously before sitting down beside where my head was. “Yeah, I’m that unknown variable you always avoided before,” he paused, frowning at how I sprawled on the sand, “Didn’t you used to hate laying down on the sand without a picnic carpet? What if a small crab walks inside your ears?”

I rolled my eyes, of course he remembers how I despised the sand on my bare arms. Out of all the people I met during college, this goofy person always remembers every single little detail about my habits and complexes.

“So did you break up with him?” I only hummed to answer but he somehow got my point completely because he chuckled, amusedly. “He’s even worse than the previous one, I didn’t get why you even wanted to go out with him in the first place.”

Shrugging, I replied, “I did like him, in a way. But now I realized that it’s way too rushed. I just desperately needed to get out of that other one.”

He sighed and I immediately knew a full scolding was coming. “Even if you just want a way out, think about how the damage is going to last on you if you acted on a whim. Not to mention the damage on others as well! Did you actually realize that there are other ways to get out?”

I only scoffed, regarding him only from my peripheral vision. Even if I did try to use another way, it won’t guarantee that I will be completely free or the loneliness would make me come crawling back, ignoring my own dignity.

To be trapped in a complete figure 8 wasn’t pleasant and I hope people will understand even though I knew how terrible the way I handled the whole situation back then, I managed to break free. I hope people just tell me it’s okay, I hope they congratulate me for getting out.

“The last one broke up with me. I did see that coming since probably I was a little too overbearing. My feeling wasn’t hurt, just pissed as hell because of how bruised my ego was when he broke up with me over text and completely disappeared only to go back when he wanted something. So I dodged a bullet with that, honestly.” I laughed loudly, suddenly feeling ridiculous with the whole situation.

“Still, you should’ve thought more-”

“Did you have any idea how grim I was back then? I literally started to lose my purpose, myself. You’d think I won’t be using even the first chance to get out? You’re crazy to think I was willing to stay a little bit longer just to find a better alternative.” he only looked at me with wide eyes after my slight burst of emotion. People kept telling me I should have been more graceful with everything like they knew how I was trying to ask for their help before and no one came close to help me other than some select few people who actually do.

For quite a while, he didn’t reply, but then suddenly he mumbled something that triggered a fire within my core, “He’ll think that you’re a cheater.” it was really quiet, almost got lost with the sound of waves crashing to the shore, but I did listen. I did.

“Is it really my business what he thinks of me? No. I don’t care, I’m not him, he can think whatever he likes.” I practically spat at the wind, “You also need to understand, I’m just a lost and broken soul that desperately needs a way out. Nothing else. Not a damsel in distress. I’m in distress and in rage but one thing I know for sure is, I can fend for myself quite fine. Me and people that actually care.”

With that, I decided to completely ignore him, only shutting my eyes, to listen intently on how much the mixture of the wind and waves was raging. They were matching the noise inside my head. Overtime, instead of listening to their cruel voices, the wind drowned them out and the waves took me away into another dreamland.

The next time I woke up, nothing significant changed in my surroundings. The only difference was, he’s gone, replaced by a first aid kit bag. I winced as I tried to sit up, my sides felt like they’re burning with so much pain I could barely control the yelp escaped through my closed lips.

Rummaging through the bag, I found all the necessary things to at least tend to the scratches scattered around my arms and face. Finding a new bandage deep in the bag made me relieved, something about that almost brought me to tears. The current one on my leg has turned vile to a point I can’t even bear to look at them anymore. But in the end, as no one could help me to shed them, I did it.

My energy was spent just to put ointment and bandaging myself up.

To heal, I realized it consumes much more energy than damaging yourself up.

When you get hurt or if you try to damage yourself, everything happens quickly. Sometimes it’s hard to see that time has passed before your eyes. The next thing you know, you came out with scars. Big open wounds, scratches, blisters, or even stubborn thorns stuck inside your skin. Whenever you tried to remember how they got there in the first place, nothing came to mind. Only collages of the same repeating frames.

The useless ones that got you obsessed. Always analyzing the hell out of every single one of them so you can blame yourself over and over almost endlessly.

But healing, it takes more energy, it takes a great deal of courage to see beyond those repeating useless frames that got you numb. Healing is even more complicated, it’s terrifying since the courage to face your wounds along with the demons that caused them usually stays only for a bit. Building courage usually takes time too.

But along the process, somehow, you will stumble into an epiphany. Usually it would be like a sudden burst of wind, knocking you speechless. The epiphany is going to be your start.

Mine was the great flood.

Navigating out of the overwhelming current seemed impossible, but if you held out, it turns out all of those water are going to flow somewhere away. Apparently it does for me, but the aftermath.

Now that’s another story.

Actually, this story is about the aftermath.

The aftermath of the epiphany.

L.

----

Originally published on Medium

The Shore, The Aftermath

[lesucremygic]

Re: Life is love

“You don’t even know how to love. Because you have never felt love for anyone.” said someone who was frustrated when I shared them, most of the love I felt throughout my previous romantic relationships don’t really speak to me anymore. As they have lost their meaning and relevance once I know, those weren't love only infatuation and the feeling of being scared to be lonely. 

The interesting take about those sentences is that they only applied to people who knew and understood one type of love all their life. For me, I’m confident to say that I love. Immensely. In various kinds, shapes and periods of time. 

“I love, therefore I am.” I exist because I love, that I am a lover. The source and power of my life is my ability to love. 

I love the wind, when it calmly caresses my skin with its biting coldness or whenever it has the leaves whispering softly as I walk my springing steps. I love when the sun still warms me up despite the coldness I’m feeling all over my body. Or the faint smell of the earth when you got too close to the soil to bend down and inspect the interesting flowers you found along your walk. 

The beauty of the sky, stormy, cloudy or when they are clear. Telling you that it’s okay, there are many more possibilities for me to sail and see. That more in life awaits you despite all the raging storms inside your head. I love to take a random trip with any public transportation to look out the window and let myself set free in a pause. Away from people’s and my own expectation, away from the prying eyes and curious ears, away from the horror of mundane routine. Just to take a pause and love myself all over again.

I love the hustles and bustles of people in a packed cafe where the music is playing low. I love when people laugh so hard at a joke from a friend that I only find remotely funny. I love seeing the squint on their eyes whenever they smile. I love witnessing when people try their best to translate love into small careful actions. Actions that show the world “I think of you greatly.” 

I love music, how they sometimes can articulate my thoughts better than I ever will. Songs that speak to you, conversing like old friends under a shaded tree. I love to awkwardly dance in my room to songs I’ll never tell a soul I played through my headphones or speakers. Just to toss out all the care I have out of the window momentarily before scrambling trying to get my dignity back before someone can walk in on you being silly. 

I love the book I find throughout my life, complex and complicated thoughts from like minded people or even others that I don’t really fancy to ever revisit. I love books that unlock gates after gates of intricate worlds and wonders in me.

I love to read poems that slice and pierce right through my heart, making me sob uncontrollably or even hide the tears until my head hurts from holding them back. 

I love every miniscule change on actors' faces when they’re on a roll. How there are a lot of people who are really good at what they do. How my mediocreness means that I’m alive. I am still alive and loving.      

I love my mother, in all of her weary and tired years, in all of her soft but loud beauty, in all of her unwavering kindness and stubborn strength and in all of her nags, even her cute efforts to be the pacifier. I love my dad, despite everything, despite our constant clashing opinions and views. I love my siblings, with all of our distances and silly inside jokes, with all of our fights and silent make-ups. I love my friends, people who taught me, who show me that I can also choose my family. People who show me kindness and selflessness, people who think of me as much as I think of them greatly. 

I love the arts, I love nature, I love the people in my life, I love the unpredictability of my life, the stability, endless dreams and even all the boring routine. 

I love myself, even when I lost her before. Even when I don’t even know who and what she is. Even when I’m still searching for what and who I am. 

I might have never actually had a pleasant experience when it comes to loving another person romantically, since I have never known peace when I do. 

But to say that I never love, that only does injustice to love itself. 

As Kim Namjoon on his song, Trivia: Love, says, “I live so I love.” 

I bid you adieu. 

This proves that love is solitude and togetherness. Love is you. Love exists, love prevails, love is us and all the things that bring us peace. 

L.

This writing is originally published on Medium

“You don’t even know how to love. Because you have never felt love for anyone.” said someone who was frustrated when I shared them, most of…

[lesucremygic]

Discovering Me

Two: Deep Into The Forest

I chose the path straight into another tundra, this time there were a lot of colors from various kinds of bushes I didn’t recognize. A lake was on my right the moment I entered, greeting me with the sight of icy cold water among the thin layer of ice on the tundra floor. My legs were still a little bit weak but I held on and walked ahead. Fighting the coldness, shivering madly as the wind also blew the same chilling air into my skin and bones.

I can feel them biting, forming scars on my naked arms.

Long after that, I can finally see where the lake ends and an array of trees far ahead could be seen beckoning me towards them. It was right when I felt like passing out from the cold since the wind was a little too strong and the land was far too wide, open and barren for me to manage fine on my own.

The forest. I’m reaching one.

A change of place, a change of view.

The place where the dense trees hide far too many secrets and unknown beings.

But a place I needed to go through.

There was suddenly a sliver of sunlight in the sun peeking from behind a gray cloud, warming up my lonesome journey towards the other world where I have to accept my anguish and the aftermath consequences of that great flooding.

When you had your heart broken before, there’s this weird phase in your life that is so ugly they sometimes make you worry about yourself. But there’s nothing you can do to stop it unfolding since many parts of you were also paralyzed. So you can only watch from afar.

But at that time, I decided to immediately go inside those unpleasant and very unknown territory within me. I didn’t know back then of how much I was fed up of being trapped, of how terribly lost I was with my own sense of identity. I was paralyzed, coughing so much water out of my system, I thought of dying here and there because of how intense I was trying to stand on my own two feet but only the feeling of great sense of failure that consumed my whole being and the appearance of the other me in lilac dress that got me up.

The embodiment of fear and hope.

I was lucky to find a temporary refuge within the warmest embrace of my own two closest friends back then. People that I don’t exactly realize are going to be an important part of my life. Kind and encouraging but full of fuel to get my own bearings back.

Entering the next part was a forest full of red and orange leaves trees. I recognized some Maple Trees but the others are unknown to me. The sliver of sunlight was immediately gone, replaced by this entirety of orange hues, the sudden contrast change almost blinded me, I can barely see.

As if the world I was seeing was burning eternally in flames.

The trunks and branches were twisting around overlapping with each other. Some of the roots sticking out from the soil were humongous and the path that led through the inside of the densely packed forest stopped in front of a huge birch tree. I didn’t know if it’s possible for a birch tree to grow that wide and tall. But I can’t find a way through since it blocked my path.

It occurred to me that I can always go back and find a way around the tree since it looked quite impossible for me to go on, but something in that tree was mesmerizing and I didn’t know why I was stunned by its beauty. I was contemplating on climbing it, but since it was too far from the ground to reach the first branch, I resorted to peek around the other trees around it.

There will always be a way. I’m sure of it.

But all the gaps in between the other trees with twisting trunks and branches were really small, so my foot stuck in between when I almost managed to get myself out of those complex woven branches and trunks.

That made me scream in frustration, those unbelievably dense trees.

It wasn’t a very loud scream, but that single sound trembled the ground beneath me and suddenly there was a low grumble from all around the forest. Abruptly, I got dropped to the ground as the trees all around me were slowly opening themselves like curtains.

But I wasn’t elated. I was terribly scared of what’s coming from the unfolding spectacle.

Pushing myself from the ground, a startled yell and whimper came out involuntarily from me. I didn’t know how my foot got scraped really badly. Standing unsteadily on one foot intensifies the sudden headache coming my way. Then I realized the trees had cleared up, standing tall on their own, revealing countless roads ahead of me.

No, they were all around me. From a small path to a bigger walkway that led to the unknown. Most of them look like regular walkways you see in forests, some have flowers lining them up, the others look like they will lead you to a dingy Witch hut somewhere deep where you will be met with your demise like Hansel and Gretel.

Limping and very much confused, I started to walk to a familiar road. A road I used to take whenever I went back to school when I was still 14. Not the usual ones I took for a whole 2 years before that, a new one I accidentally found out because they led me into a small open playground.

I used to sit at the lonely emerald green swing there whenever I went back a little bit late from the final year exam preparation academy. The whole district where I grew up was having this crazy main road construction back then causing terrible traffic jams in rush hour, sometimes there is also flooding in so many areas since the typhoon season was passing us by, so the public transportation can’t take me further to where I live. It was one of the messiest years I have had in that city.

Sometimes when I’m very unlucky, since I didn’t have a cell phone back then to call my parents to come pick me up, I would spend 2 hours walking home from the last stop before my district, walking on my two little feet in between the traffic jams where no cars or even motorbike could move. Between the buzz of vehicles, noisy engines and honks of impatience, also tired curses from people trying to get home, I found a weird sense of calmness. It was like I’m an empty vessel operating on auto-pilot. But when I got away from the main road to the smaller one, the quiet gave me an uncomfortable coldness but weirdly, that swing set always calmed me down before I needed to come home and saw my parents’ apologetic gazes.

So I usually stopped there, sometimes the playground was empty, other times there were children who just got back from their Maghrib Quran Tajweed lesson at the mosque kept me company.

Being curious and entertaining at the same time.

I remember when I told them I was moving away to another city far away to the east part of the island, they wept. But they stayed until I decided it was time for me to walk back home.

I hope those kids strive in life somewhere.

The road I’m taking now resembles that one I accidentally took back when I was a broken and lonely teenager.

Only this time, I took them on purpose.

Limping away further into the deep part of the forest where the road takes me, I found out that most of the scenery resembles that old road I used to take. In an eerie sick joke kind of way where nothing I could remember from the nostalgia. Just duplications after duplications I can’t even recognize. I was about to scream a curse when the road suddenly stopped and I was faced with thick thorny branches blocking it. Or maybe it was the end of the road, I can’t be sure.

But I slumped myself down at one of the trees since I didn’t have it in me to think clearly. The wind carried nothing, only adding to the weariness of the silence. So I decided to sleep for a while. I didn’t know how long I was asleep there, but when I woke up the thorny branches were still there and my vision was still full of orange. The different was only this sudden loud sound of whirring engines that suspiciously resembled a saw machine that shook me out of the stupor.

I was contemplating on running away but before I could manage to get myself up, there was a maniac victorious masculine chuckle from someone who managed to cut through the thick thorny branches with whatever tool they had on their hand. I realized amidst the chaos, that maniac laugh was belong to another friend of mine. Infamously known to be quite reckless and living almost like an outlaw, I didn’t know why I befriended him in the first place when I was in high school. But seeing his face made me unconsciously grinned stupidly.

“Idiot. Were you about to give up? Going back to where you came from with that leg? Let’s go, the exit is through this way.” he rolled his eyes before sawing the rest of the thorny walls apart. The moment I saw a gap that’ll fit me, I immediately took off in big limping strides. Away from the empty wind, away from the suffocating repeating sad nostalgia.

He was talking fast, probably a kilometer per hour, about the importance of bumping your way into life. Just make yourself like a Rhino whenever there’s a wall in front of you. Or use a chainsaw, a bulldozer works too, just bump them away. I only regarded him with a small smile since that philosophy only works just a little for me, but it’s always nice to hear a familiar voice in the middle of your lonesome journey. It’s nice to be able to see things from another perspective.

He led me into a small path where everything was familiar and also not at the same time. The dense forest of complex branches have dispersed, leaving us free from their horrifying sights. Quietly, and still limping, I followed him with great difficulty along the small bumpy trek until I could hear a faint sound of water from a small stream nearby. We stopped at the bank of the stream, both being a little bit confused on what to do next. But before I could even conjure a thought or formed a sentence he beat me to it. He jutted his chin sharply towards one of the comfortable looking rocks near the stream. I took a seat there before tearing up a little bit of fabric from the end of my long shirt.

Wordlessly, he helped me wash my hurt ankle from the dried blood there. The wound was still quite open so I winced lightly before handing him the torn fabric to use as a makeshift tourniquet. Finally, satisfied with his own handiwork, he patted the top of my head fondly.

“You go on ahead on your own again crossing this stream. I have to go back and wreck a lot of other walls.” he helped me stand up, “don’t forget to call me again after you finally found her, okay? Take care you clumsy idiot.”

With that parting words, I gave his shoulder three squeezes before continuing my journey across the stream. I didn’t look back when I finally reached the shore and entered another thick forest of weird braided trunks. But the sound of chainsaw from afar instantly brought a smile upon my tired face. He’s starting another hunt.

L.

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This story originally published in another platform.

Two: Deep Into The Forest

[lesucremygic]

Discovering Me

One: Escaping The Great Flooding

There was this metaphor I read from a song’s lyric on accident. The singer was talking about how nearing the end of every relationship, there’s always this weird swinging power imbalance between all of the parties involved in them. They, the song writer, represent a repeating seesaw to help us understand better about the message they’re trying to deliver as the analogy.

It’s the stage where both ends know that the relationship has come to its end but chose not to be the “bad guy” to end it. So they unconsciously hurt each other for that decision alone, going back and forth to present something to balance the dangerously swinging seesaw.

But in all its fairness, it has to come to an end. Nothing you do can ever bring it back to life. They will only mine your sanity empty. So one of them needs to get off from one end of the seesaw before the inflicted hurt and pain can get any worse than it already has.

At the time I read it, I was in a very confusing stage in my life where there was a very thin line between wanting to stay in a relationship I have built, ironically, on my own for the past three years or so, and wanting to get out of them since nothing in the relationship brings me joy anymore.

I couldn’t see where the line was.

At that time.

But the more rational part of my brain was screaming at me to find a way out or I will be miserable for as long as I’m staying.

Desperate as I can be, that song actually awakened something in me so I chose to actually walk into the direction where the rational part of my brain was leading me to. Into the direction of a part of me that actually has been desperately trying to wring its neck to get away from the dark pit of confusion and helplessness.

The song actually sticks to me to this day. It has become a reminder to me that it’s okay to walk away first even though you’re going to be pictured, to be framed as the bad one in a relationship. Any kind of relationship.

My decision to walk away, even when I was torn into pieces has led me to an enormous oak door. Peeking behind that door was a strong stream of buried lies that actually gonna hurt me more when I discovered them.

But at the end of that stream was a version of me where all of the sharp edges are blunt and radiant. She looked really content despite the visible scars that are apparent on her skin.

So I let the stream of those lies crash like a big wave to me. I opened that big oak door to let the strong stream crash into me when I was just holding on onto the latch of that door.

I let them drown me, I let them almost lull me into a deep slumber, I let them pass away into a sturdy concrete pool where it would be packed and stored away in gallons and gallons of memories. I let them crash until I can hear the faint chirp of the bird singing away in a nearby branch of the tree.

I didn’t recognize that graceful version of myself at first when she was standing upon me, who was panting and coughing so much water out of her lungs. She only crouched down to watch me patiently in between her softer gaze. The mere presence alone sobered me up. But without her lending her hand out to pat me on the back when I was still coughing water out of my system, I knew her silent encouragement right there and then,

“It wasn’t your fault. You’ve done enough for the both of you. It’s time to walk down the path of those barren tundras and forests. Find me at the end of them where there is a path full of yellow flowers. Even if you wavered somewhere along the way, take a break and ask the wind to take you to me.”

I barely opened my eyes then and the sun was quite blinding for once. The ringing in my ears was still annoyingly clear amidst the soft whisper of the wind and her gentle voice. My chest was burning and the sting on my eyes gave me a hard time to actually conjure up an actual sentence.

Before I managed to croak something, she ran towards where the deserted dried stream starts, her lilac dress flowing with the wind behind her.

When the excessive water on my system finally left me, I tried to crawl forward, because even though I was still having a hard time to properly stand up, my curiosity got the better part of me. So I crawled, dragging my feet behind me. I was halfway outside the door when suddenly a pair of arms heaving me up into a sturdy but soft back of someone… or something.

Looking up blearily trying to put a face on the sudden disruption, I recognized the kind faces of my friends smiling at me cheekily. There were two of them. One was caressing my hairs away from my face and the other was their back I was currently perched on. They started to bicker about anything and nothing in particular when we started to walk towards somewhere I assumed as one of the barren tundras. Still a little bit in a daze, I tried to cough a sentence out only to be stopped by a gentle hand at the back of my neck rubbing soothing circles.

“We’ll take care of you, sleep a little bit.”

For once in those excruciating years of self-doubts, I shed tears of content and happiness in a warm embrace of friends. Those who love me despite I almost drowned myself a few moments ago in self pity.

I didn’t sleep for long but being on my friend’s back, listening to a familiar sound of them bickering, and the singing of the bird was getting clearer on my sleep-addled brain enough to calm the raging fire inside of me. They poke fun at me when they realize I have come back to reality looking funny with my eyes puffed up. A good natured teasing that I knew didn’t mean anything but care and affection.

As I tried to get down from the piggyback ride, they scolded me, told me to wait a little bit until we passed the first tundra where there was only the color gray everywhere you look. The floor was full of burned grasses and shrubs, something that added more grimness to the initial barrenness. As you’re looking far ahead, there wasn’t any energizing color the nature usually offers, only muted gray and thin layer of ice pooled in some random areas.

The walk goes on for a while, I can’t remember exactly how long it was because I don’t really have an exact grasp of time as nothing really indicates life all around me. Only the three of us, full of loud laughs and mischievous smiles, lighted up our ways forward.

“Are you going to be fine forwards at the end of this place for a moment on your own?”

“We’re going to see you at the start of the next after…”

Mutely, I nodded. Aware of the way they want me to walk on my own for a while. Because even though I know they are one of the lights that helped me forward, I need to face a lot of these scary places on my own. Because they also have their own battles and worries to face.

“We love you, just call us when you think you can’t go on by yourself.” the vibration of their voice traveled to their back where I was still perched on. It woke me up fully out of daze.

“There will be some helping arms if you ask them. Don’t close yourself up.”

I nodded again as I was getting down from the piggy back ride. They walked into separate paths on each of my sides, waving excitedly and yelling at me not to be an idiot.

L.

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P.S

This story originally published in another platform.

One: Escaping the Great Flooding

[lesucremygic]

Recurring

This morning, I woke up feeling like all of my energy was drained from my body. I didn’t know what to do after I prayed except to go back to sleep since I still had a few hours to spare before I start my daily activities. But then when I woke up from the second sleep, it felt even way worse than I felt initially. Feeling like crying but also screaming profanities to no one in particular and my eyelids kept on giving up on me.

Frustrated, I sat up on my bed for what it felt like a really long time, when actually I just spaced out for a whole 10 minutes. Sitting up, gathering my thoughts and deciding that today the sunlight would be my enemy number one if it won’t stop blazing my eyes. 

My body felt fine, there were no resounding cracks like it usually presents whenever I pulled an all-nighter. My joints cooperated with me, for once in a long long month. They didn’t crack or even ache like they used to every single morning. But I feel worse. Seemed like there was not an ounce of energy left in me. 

The world felt like it’s too sharp, the sunlight, the chirping of birds, even the faint sound of tinkering machines up on the hills in the neighborhood. They bothered me. I didn’t know what was going on and how to improve my energy and mood. 

I just wanted to cry for hours and hours but at the same time, didn't want to explain anything to my parents about the reasoning behind my crying. In the household, crying is still regarded as a very weak thing anyone can do, despite my radical, not really, declaration to the whole house a few years back that I’d rather cry than being an emotional time bomb. Despite the previous reason, it was just simply because I don’t know what was going on with me. 

Only the immense lack of energy and deep unlocated sadness.

How am I going to explain them while also sparing the lectures that always follow afterwards?

But in the end, I got up. Because my bladder forced me to and there was still something inside me that screamed for me to get up, inhale them and start your day. For the rest of the morning, I did feel fine until I stumbled across the emotion wheel poster I put up on the wall in my room.

Then I paused. No thoughts screaming, not even the clanking of pots and woks in the kitchen bothered me at that moment. I was completely struck in front of the emotion wheel poster, staring, more like boring a hole, into the paper like it will give me the answer I’ve been searching for the past few hours. 

My eyes stopped and stayed quite long on the blue and purple parts of the chart. The intensity of the revelation made me chuckle. For the most part of my days ever since the start of the year, I was always haunted by the fear of not being able to fulfill everything I wanted and needed to. Going back and forth between the two to find out which are things I have to prioritize first. It occurred to me one day when I was watching a Korean movie about a lonely young woman navigating through life in isolation despite many giving their helping hands to be companions. It occurred to me how sometimes I am detached from the whole world because I can’t even take the pressure of not being able to excel in things like I used to. The changes make me drifting ashore.

The sadness comes from the inability to stay in one lane or navigating both to my life. I realized, the situation, systemic and my own creation, made me set a high standard for my own self. I realized I have been way too cruel to myself for the past few months because of how frustrating the bleakness of my situation is regardless how hard I tried. 

Faintly, in the midst of the musing, I was reminded by my friend’s words. 

“Take it easy, try and try again despite how dark the paths are. Take those walks you always love, take those pictures of flowers as much as you like, disconnect from the digital world, breathe those icy cold winds, work out, write, draw, do all of those little things that always improves your mood. Tell your story, to the written words or to lended ears.” 

The same person who used to scold me for being an apologist to a person who used to give me a really hard time navigating through life. 

“Listen to your feelings, to your emotions…” 

In the end, I decided to listen. After I finished everything I needed to do that afternoon, I worked out. The improvement of my mood then was distinctive. A miserable feeling of holding on to your body weight on every set of moves got me almost in tears and somehow sent a wave of happiness into my brain. The pumping feeling and the sense of accomplishment after getting a set done improve my mental energy a little bit. 

I will probably get a sore body tomorrow morning since after that I got dragged helping people in my neighborhood preparing for tomorrow’s gathering, then I got dragged by a visiting friend to frolic around in the city with her, watching her and her boyfriend fight over who got to eat the biggest piece of the snack while in the end, they gave them to me, blinking cutely expecting me to take them like I’m some feral cats or something. To be treated like a younger sister but not looked down to, I didn’t know how much I needed them sometimes.

Catching up and talking a lot about our life, I laughed so much for 2 hours or so. The sadness was still lingering somewhere inside me but at least, connecting with people and being active helped me a little. I know that sometimes I need to talk about them with someone, even when I don’t really need a solution to every kind of sadness and fear I’m feeling. I just want someone to listen, but that could also be so hard. Most of the closest people in my life are either way too tired on their own, which I respect immensely, or will immediately jump to talk my ears off instead. 

Even though most of them kept on telling me to tell them about my worries or whenever I’m weary, but everytime I do, instead of listening like they’re promised, I get my ears blown off instead by the way they respond. Trying to relate while I explicitly ask them to just listen and I only want to tell them about my worries, not asking for a solution. That’s how most of the time, instead of looking for someone close to tell my tale, my hyper-individualistic soul chose to write them instead. Or silently hang out in a quiet coffee shop, basking in the white noise with a book to keep me company. 

I always have trouble finding someone to confide in. Listening, I realized, isn't really most people's forte. Strangers, they usually listen to you, but baring your soul to a stranger, the idea is terrifying to me. People who are close to you however, they usually have this certain image and expectation they hold of you, so instead of being comforted and seen, I will always feel small.

That’s probably why when the pair of friends that were visiting and dragging me to frolic around the city decided to listen to the horrible feelings that keep on raging inside me since early in the morning, I feel very much seen and understood it’s almost ridiculous. But I’m grateful for their existence, present when I needed someone to listen to me the most.

I could only chuckle, God’s plan sometimes came almost like a miracle, and me a mere human can only listen and listen. 

[lesucremygic]

Through The Window, I See You with Fondness

In the lights of recent events in my life, I can’t help but to admit a defeat to life and how it always shows me its beauty. I feel like life is laughing at me and my skepticism but also I am endeared by its constant effort to show me how everything is worth it. 

Not me making an abstract concept phenomenon as a third person subject.

Ah well.

So to continue, two friends of mine are finally married. The bride is actually a very close friend of mine, someone I have been looked up to for the past 10 years, more or less. Someone I spent the most of my teenage years with and a person who usually gives me a lot of different perspectives whenever I hit a rock bottom. 

One of few people I actually hold dear in my heart. 

The groom has also been my friend almost as long as the bride, but we were never really that close in terms of friendship, we just exist in each other’s circle of life. Chilling.

It is true, when people say that you will feel a distinct wall in front of you with your friends once any of them, or you, got married. Something really distinct, it made you a little bit sad with how immense they could intensify later with time. Growing up together with constant people in your life can make it a little bit difficult to accept the reality once they’re moving onto the next step in their life. There is some sort of disbelief since you always remembered them to be a constant equal presence in the way you navigate through your days. 

Where in other cultures and or religion, the marriage proceeded as each of the groom and bride made their vow to each other and someone with way more wisdom and knowledge  officiated them to be as legal in the eyes of the country's documentation and the higher beings of their beliefs. In islam, the wedding pledge or usually known as ijab qabul was actually conducted by the father or legal guardian representative of the bride as in simple terms they offers to pass the bride’s care and wellbeing to the groom itself who in turn will accept it. 

For the remainder of both of their lives. It goes way more sacred than my simple definition, but the wedding pledge is the most important part of all the ritual processes. The thing is, there are a lot of grooms who actually got nervous so bad they kept messing up the simple acceptance sentence. In Islamic law, you have to postpone the whole marriage procession if the groom can not, for the life of him, say it without doubts and stutter for more than 3 times.

In short, 3 is the charm.

On that specific part of my friends’ marriage, it went by very smoothly. The groom even made me amazed at how fast and confident he said the acceptance or the qabul. I was actually pretty impressed and convinced myself for once that I can trust the wellbeing of my best friend, the bride, to him. Some of the residue of tension built up before that however, got me extremely emotional to a point I have to restrain myself from bawling my eyes out. Not to mention, the bride's sister was openly crying after the ijab qabul was done. It only added to my misery of trying not to become a sobbing mess since I knew that I couldn't stop once I let the waterworks out.

Sad and impressed was actually a mix I got so unfamiliar it left my brain in a buzzing state for a whole 15 minutes before I got my bearings back and actually looked at the two of them. Extremely nervous, totally in disbelief but also had this inexplicable happiness radiating from both of their respective faces.

It brought a smile to my face. A unique and an unlikely pair that actually works together despite all the hardships they have to go through before reaching this milestone. Not to mention, the journey after this step is going to be a long one, I can only hope for them to always count on each other.

And to find peace within each other.

The procession went on afterwards, I was positioned as a bridesmaid where I also attended as a personal assistant to the two of them, so I was actually in a haze by trying to watch them like a hawk. I didn’t even remember the entirety of the reception since most of the time, I spent it watching them making various and a lot of wedding documentaries. 

It was really fascinating to see how professional and passionate people do their work. Those photographers really went all out capturing the happy moments, little appreciative gazes the bride and groom throw for each other, and just the euphoria of the whole event. 

One specific session however struck me up the most. I was sitting at the sideline, trying to gulp down the uncomfortable itch on both of my eyes from wearing fake lashes, but also peacefully people watching. The documentary team was staging for my friends to have this intimate moment where both of them standing closely with their foreheads touched with one another, looking at each other's eyes lovingly while swaying to an imaginary peaceful love song on top of the almost clubbing rhythmic of the actual song played in the background. 

Time seemed to halt for a moment for me. 

It was surreal but I felt like I could ignore the blatant ridiculous contrast of the actual song blaring through the speaker and totally sucked into their bubble as a spectator. In that specific moment I was reminded of the time where both of them usually butted heads from their days dating in highschool to the day before they got married. How the two actually have a very different personality and characteristics but they made it work. 

The gazes speak to me a lot. It also wordlessly speaks to one another beyond my own comprehension. 

Their own secret language.

Their way to bare their soul from the window of the mind.

My heart aches with an extremely distinct gratitude that life actually showed me how beautiful a moment is when you actually sit back to bask in it. The sight tears me up. That moment was like a clarity to me that both of my friends can do well moving forward. The distinct wall was getting more visible but it doesn’t weigh me down anymore. Since I finally understand its importance and even though we’re finally in a different stage, we’re not going to drift away completely. There’ll always be some sort of understanding between all of us. 

Feeling like I’m intruding on a private moment, I instantly looked away once I realized  I was staring too long. I tried to gulp the sobs that got held in my throat back down and fanned my eyes a little in hope it would get the sting away from the unshed tears pooling in the corner. 

Both attempts left me with shitty results. 

But I managed not to cry again. 

I could only hope that the documentary team managed to snag a really gorgeous picture of that moment cause I would be so pissed if I found that they’ll never include it in the final album. Honestly, a video could work too. 

I’m so old, I just realized. I didn’t know that life could fly away that quickly and every moment in the last decade I’ve known and being friends with the both of them made me realize that a genuine friendship that transcends long into life has its speciality.

Or I’m just a very sensitive and emotional person.

Either way, life has proven to me once again that my skepticism can be derailed with its mere beauty.  Even as simple as seeing them in your friends getting into the first big, big milestone in their journey as lifelong partners. 

 L.

Life giving me lesson, as they always do.

[lesucremygic]

In The Face of Nostalgia

You know that feeling sometimes when you have a lot of things going on in your life but during the whole time you can barely take a breath to yourself or even get a decent sleep? Everything looks like they are built in gray mundane colors, they feel like crushing your whole body down with the amount of force that feels like it could annihilate your breath away altogether.

At least that was how I felt at the start of that weekend. 

The whole week was exhausting. I was almost giving up at the intensity of all the things thrown at me. Work just pissed me off, and that weekend was the only time I felt it was possible to center my whole being back, well at least maybe some of them, before starting another excruciating one in front of me. 

But my hopes just shattered away.

I didn’t know what drove me to become so annoyed that weekend. I was already too weary to go on with life but the cherry on top was when my dad asked me to go with him to visit  Grandma. I was sure I was about to blow up right there and then.

But I didn’t, I went with him instead. Visiting my sweet, sweet Grandma. 

On the whole way there, I was trying to put up a good front for my dad even though I wasn't really present at the moment. Because to be honest, I’m still bitter about the fact that I had to spend my Sunday, the only day off I have for the whole week, at a relative’s instead of having a maximum day recharging my energy goofing off with friends.

Or just be with myself. Doing whatever I want to.

But for the sake of having a civil day with my dad, I chose to not show my annoyance and could only repress them to the back of my head. To be honest, sometimes I don’t think I ever really put myself before anyone else, the more baffling thing is, I have no idea why I did that and that weekend was no exception. 

The whole way there was quite excruciating since my brain only kept on thinking about the endless possibilities I could do instead, if in some wild scenario this visit is postponed. But being a little devil that my brain is, I was suddenly graced by the memories of how I usually visit Grandma with my mother. When she was still making me feel like a little kid by trailing over her and also a big boy at the same time since I could be of use, actually enjoying every single time the whole way from our own house to Grandma’s. 

The stark contrast of those little flashbacks and my predicament back then being forced to go with Dad gave me a lot of mixed feelings. It might be because Grandma is someone who has been associated with the presence of my own mother her whole life, so I got a lot of flashbacks on how it used to be when she was still with us or it's just time demanding my attention.

I can suddenly remember of how her warm presence and little laughs acted like a splash of  color on my bare canvas.

Funny thing, memories are. They could open a gate to a flood of emotions we never knew existed at the first place, or just brutally made us confront the ghost of the past.

The moment we got there however, all of my vile thoughts of ditching this trip instantly flew out of my head. I was grazed by the warmest smile once I greeted and kissed Grandma’s dainty hand to give the utmost respect to the weary years before and ahead of her. The familiar shade of warm blue suddenly filled the whole canvas, something that made me realize that maybe sometimes, I can get trapped in my own head while ignoring the bigger warming picture in front of me.   

Her warm welcoming comfort, inexplicably, made me a little bit ashamed of how I reacted before on the way to her house. These little moments where we’re always welcome at her humble abode, under her careful care, these little moments I should’ve cherished more even when Mom is here. 

To some degree, I think it’s true when people say that you can only deeply understand gratitude when those precious things are already lost from your hold. 

Like a little tradition whenever we’re visiting, Grandma always offers us a big full meal where we usually have them in the traditional kitchen of the house. A simple, warm and very much functioning part of the house even when time has visibly engraved its marks on them. It wasn’t exactly a room, more like an open part of the house where it has a roof and you can see that it is connected to the backyard where a small garden is still standing in its full glory.

The most distinctive feature of the kitchen is probably the stove. The one adding extra warmth in the cold kitchen. The low burn of the woods there spread out a different type of warmth to the whole kitchen and to my own core. Grandma still uses a furnace stove to cook daily. The dishes cooked there could sometimes make you taste a little bit of the rich aroma of burning wood. The flavor of where time graced its mark.

But even so, there was also a gas stove, a token from the present that made its way into her life.

We usually will have a meal after settling ourselves and things down. In the middle of all that, Dad was having a conversation with Grandma on the long bench and a rackety dining table, surrounded by the familiarity of home.

I can faintly hear the crowing of roosters she kept near the kitchen, the quiet squeaks of trees outside and the hushed voices of their conversation when it suddenly occurred to me how enamored I was with the sight.

How their gazes were still full of respect and warm gratitude towards each other, how envious I was with the way they still take a good care of each other even though the person who brought them together is no longer sitting in between us to share the same laughter and weary tales of life. 

Having to witness how Grandma could be a little bit slow whenever she’s trying to process the funny anecdotes Dad usually made, a jokester he is, and the smiles they exchanged between each other, having to witness all that made my heart ache. 

Just a little.

But it was aching so blatantly, I can’t help but to feel it raging. Along with the regret of how badly I reacted before we got to her house. Even though I’m the only one who knows about that specific internal battle, it still made me feel bad.

Because I regretted not cherishing these moments years and years before when it was still the four of us exchanging the family tradition together. When there wasn’t any blank spot in the intimacy of the moment. When I could still look at the three important figures in my life giving me each their own version of fond smiles to me.

If only I could realize it sooner.

Even so, with all of my regrets, I’m still grateful for being graced with an epiphany at the time. Because then I can finally reminisce about the beauty of the past, to bask in the calm buzzing of nostalgia in my head.

To breathe a little bit in ease.

In an instant I captured this one moment, storing it in the gallery of my collective photographic memory so I can finally cherish them, some days when I feel like life brings me down low with it. 

To have my little bubble of comfort safe within me as one of my most prized possession.

L.

To a friend of mine, I wish I could explain them a little bit more better about the beautiful moment you wished for me to narrate. Thank you for trusting me to write this precious memory.

May you find your path in life and live them to the fullest. To a great years ahead of you, happiest belated birthday.

[lesucremygic]

Shimmering Softly in The Harshness of Blinding Light

How to describe him? 

At first glance, you could only see how he usually spits fires and doesn't really take any nonsense that doesn't resonate with him. Not from anyone.

He carries himself with so much power and grace. You could see he knew what he wanted. He knows those dreams are the things that kept him going. But he’s realistic. The moment something turned out to be the one he didn’t hope for, he took a little breather to reflect before going on with his life. With hands full of lessons.

Ready to start another path. To keep on marching.

People always described him as the “feisty one”. 

Interestingly, he’s one of many people who embodies the saying “when one door closes, another door opens” into one of his many fuels to get through this life.

The more you get to know him, however, you’ll be reassured and comforted the moment you find out that he’s actually a very soft spoken person with a heart as kind and golden. Years and years of struggling, going from having nothing and needing to choose one of many paths he wanted to take, have given him the chance to sturdy his heart into one of the most unbeatable beings. 

Years of struggling shapes him into a person with unwavering kindness. When once he approaches life in an aggressive manner, letting frustration and anger drive him, he now walks calmly with determination.

Many of us might have found a certain solace or comfort in the way he carried his heart and life. Or probably at the way he kept on telling you to keep on walking despite everything, because the most precious thing in your life is yourself, and you need to take better care of it. 

But the moment someone told him that they decided to stop because it was too hard for them to keep on walking at the path where nothing excites the heart and the mind anymore, he doesn’t, never, dismiss their decision of giving up. Even as far as patting you on the back for choosing that path. Because he knew, it takes tremendous courage to give up on something you used to love.

To stop and to start, you are your own captain and sailor that is sailing the raging sea of life.

In the world where taking things slow, giving up something that tires you out, and even stopping to take a little bit of time to self reflect are frowned upon, he becomes like this beautiful oasis, full of empathy and comforting healing words. Those words are always simple, but they touch your heart on where it matters.

It’s genuine. Whether when he’s spitting fire and cursing anything within his vicinity or when he’s sitting in front of you with carefully crafted words that gently caressed your growing anxieties and sadness. 

All of it is genuine. 

When you finally see him in a different light from the very first glance you see of him, there are many things you finally see that actually speaks volume of his existence.

It’s rare to see a man who embraces his everything. The bad, the ugly, the pretty, the softness, the blunt edges, and also along with all the sharpness of it. 

Someone who unashamedly touches his domesticity even though he's currently in the sea of hard defining masculinity. 

For him, there are nothing wrong for a man to excels in domestic manner that usually associated as femine traits. Traits that are usually looked down upon in society because they are considered feminine and no man should ever touch it.

“I can cook, yeah, that’s not as special as you think. Isn’t that a basic necessity people need to have?” he calmly answered, as evidence that shows how he excels in that specific area of expertise can be found easily anywhere. 

People then wondered why there are many who are instantly attracted to him.

You see, a lot of us claim that the door to a heart is one’s stomach. Tell me now, how can you not fall in love with someone who can cook you elaborate dishes like he does?

He's even aware about different table tops and how to treat them when encountered with cooking utensils carrying out extreme temperatures. 

I just knew, moms appreciate that kind of son-in-law.

You sometimes see him sit in a corner somewhere quietly just admiring the interior design of the room, waiting for someone to ask what he’s doing. And when someone does, be prepared to listen to minute and minute intricate  long monologue about his fascinations in that soft deep voice of his.

Oftenly, he’ll shock you with how good he is with something very domestic. 

He can knit. Knitting, another activity that is deemed feminine in modern city societies, an activity that requires great extra patience, something that even I found to be very frustrating.

Many times he openly admitted that he likes to be called pretty and cute. Never shy away from them. He even addressed himself sometimes as a cute little person. 

Never seen repulsed with the idea of him perceived as soft or feminine with makeups. 

He doesn’t see femininity as a negative thing. 

He accepts. Never rejected. 

Whether it's femininity or masculinity, his personality isn’t limited to them. 

“But he sometimes raps rudely and usually appears with harsh masculinity!”

Complete with combat boots, leather jackets, broad shoulders, long veiny hands and a swagger that defines a lot about that part of him, he can appear like men we usually see everywhere.

That is very true. He doesn’t reject that specific part of him as well.

A very relaxed individual when it comes to gender and sexuality. A smart man, in fact.   

He doesn’t hold what you decided to be against you. Never raise his voice on anyone, except when he’s frustrated with variety show’s games, and very soft spoken. 

No wonder there are endless marriage proposals everyday for him.

I am a little bit jealous. 

Just a smidge. 

But he is his own person, and I can understand why there are way too many people fancies him.

On the last but not least thing when describing this person, you can unfold something that he usually talks about with fondness in his eyes. Something that made you wish for the stars and twinkle in them never dies down.

Music. His lifelong dream. 

His first love.

He wrote a song about it, about a brown piano that starts sparks of passion deep within him. 

"Because my beginning and my end, you are the one who's going to witness it all. A brown piano sitting in a corner of my memory." 

He understands that first love isn't always about someone. It can be a passion that gives you strength when you find them at your lowest.

If you ask me how to describe him, I will tell you to listen well and understand the message his music is trying to convey. 

Humanity.

The struggle of humanity.

Love.

Self-acceptance.

The ugliness and beauty of life.

Friendships.

Identity and how to be wise about it in the midst of his rising.

Or sometimes, just the simplistic beauties the world offered us.

Artists approach their art in various philosophical ways, the same like regular people who usually enjoy any form of them with their own views. 

His, comes in a multidimensional way.

Blunt, honest, comforting, raw and open.

The genuineness that transcends to lots of wandering lost souls. Because he knew how it felt when he was one and never wished that on anyone. 

Min Yoongi. 

A comfort personified. 

The one who always tells us to keep on carrying out our best in life even though bullets and thorns are being thrown at us in ridiculous amounts and speed. But he also always reminds us that it’s okay to stop and breathe for a little while if you need them. As long as you’re doing something good for you and your community, you can be whatever you want.

He’s a person who appreciates life quietly and simply.

Who celebrates differences without judgements. 

Who usually divert attention from him when he’s shy, can barely hold eye contact for more than 2 seconds, a cheeky man with a borderline juvenile humor, an introvert who enjoys his hobbies and business calmly, a person who is easily flustered despite his hard exterior.

Sometimes he smiles this beautiful gummy smile that immediately melted you. Or scrunching his nose cutely while laughing with barely no sound and his whole shoulders shaking. 

Someone who doesn't really make a fuss over his outward appearance but knowing very well he has some beauty and quirks that people love in him.

He’s a person who can make you feel seen even when you don’t want to see your own selves.

I always hope that life treats him really well.

I'm glad he has come so far from long dark days and decided to bring his all to get out of it.

Thank you for sharing your struggles, to always encouraging us to be better, to always teaching us to never diminish our emotions, whatever it is he hopes we strive for life in our own ways.

I hope he will always be one of the kindest, hardworking souls out there. 

Thank you for showing us that kindness doesn't make you weak.

L.

****

"Character design: describe someone in depth."

I chose to write him because these past two days he's been everywhere and so active. Not to mention how I never really had the chance to try and describe him ever since he's overthrown everyone from the bias list.

Haha, I present to you, another of my writing exercise.

A whole essay of how I see Min Yoongi.

[lesucremygic]

Compassionate Strength

There was a friend when I was still in middle school who used to tentatively watch me write. The sparkles of interest on their eyes were really enticing to a 14 years old me. To think back, it’s been a while since I was 14, but this significant moment still puts a smile on my face.

One day, when we were carrying out our usual routine of staying sane in school and I was scribbling something on my notebook, they suddenly blurted out a simple sentence that has been engraved on my mind ever since.

“I love seeing the way you write.” 

They told me I made a pen look like they glade easily and smoothly on the coarse paper. Of how they love to watch me write in cursive. Of how it was interesting for them to watch me focusing on my writings.

Sometimes whenever I’m aware that they were watching me write something on my school note or when I was writing my little story projects with a watchful but very tentative eyes, my heart soars.

It was only a small compliment from over a decade ago but its power sticks with me to this day. The power to find my love in writing back when I was adrift with my identity some years ago.

Back then, 2011, I denied their compliment when they told me I have beautiful cursive writing because I was trying really hard to fit in the school’s standard. I’m still really pissed at those teachers, their cursive was actually hard to read, and mine was readable but why on earth did they tell me to change it. 

Today however, after I decided to revisit my roots of loving writing and storytelling, their little compliment made me thankful that I decided to go back to the things I used to love so much as a mere child after giving them up for the sake of growing up. In a sea of people in my generation who hate writing in cursive, I love them. 

We haven’t communicated for years now since I moved into a different city. They were someone I spent my school years with, someone that appreciated my whole being, the one that forgave me even though I made a grave mistake of betraying their trust.

To you, a person who speaks softly and with a heart as kind who accompanies me the shy little firecrackers through the whole 3 years of being a middle schooler, I’ll forever cherish your beautiful words. 

Words that became a reminder of who I am then and today. 

Thank you for crying with me when I said my goodbye. Thank you for being a really understanding person and a good friend. I hope you and your little family are well. 

Yours truly,

L.

***

It's a writing exercise but also a letter to an old friend of mine.

Write something that made you remember something about a certain memorable period of time in your life

So, that's that :)

[lesucremygic]

What if?

"So basically, the best day of your life walking around the big Botanical Garden was also the worst?" he looked at me with one of his eyebrows cocked really high to the side. As if he was in disbelief but also mocking me. 

You see, I could always take slander, but after a stressful week, sometimes I couldn’t bring myself to care as much with his judgy stare. 

He always does that anyway.

Hangouts have become his favorite pastime of slandering my very existence. And people asked me why we’re not together. Yeah, I could probably experience a premature death if I became his girlfriend.

Defeated with just one simple recap sentence he just said, I sighed heavily. Really, after about half an hour retelling my sappy annoying experience, he decided to make a single recap sentence that just struck me to my guts. I wasn’t hurt or anything, it’s annoying, that’s all.

"Yeah. I was on my heavy flow period window that day, but we decided to rent one of those bikes after hours of walking before. What’s worse is the trek wasn't helping my calves or even my freaking crotch. I was miserable towards the end." 

To be completely honest? Everything was cramping on my body. But if I say something, the stormy expression of my then companion will make my mood even worse so you bet your ass I relented instead. But I didn’t tell him that because I didn’t want to sound really whiny.

To think back, I was fascinated with all the trees at the site and maybe I'm a bit whiny since I was with someone who planned to go there for their academic research purposes. 

People who needed to move fast and efficiently, not just for leisure. So, after hours of walking and taking an hour break, it’s only logical that my energy was all spent since I'm on my first or second day of the period cycle at that time. 

Oh, to be men who function properly in a 24 hour cycle rather than the 28 days!

To have your prime time most of the time without having the fear of “Shit! I can’t push myself too much, it’s almost a new cycle!” because when you’re nearing your new cycle window and you push yourself too hard, just prepare to feel annoyed with your body for a whole 2 weeks.

I do realize that not all women experience the hellish hormone cycle I always went through but hey, for someone who falls under the miserable category one, I also want to work out with good stamina one day and won’t feel like a weak sack of potato the next. 

I am aware that a sack of potatoes is really sturdy. If you throw them to someone, they’ll probably have a concussion. But a sack of potatoes can’t really stay straight without leaning on something. So that’s the point, I have a total lack of energy, but if you throw me to an unaware person, I can do some pretty damage. I’m pretty heavy with bones, fats, muscles and all.

I wonder how it felt like to always have a constant energy cycle throughout the day, but yeah I don’t want to be a man. 

Gross.

But you like men, right? Yep. Some. Not all. Are you crazy?

"Did the people you went with asked whether you want to take a break or not?" He jutted his chin out towards the general direction of the soy sauce bottle on my left hand. I wordlessly passed it to him who immediately poured quite a generous amount into his ramen bowl. I tried so hard not to visibly cringe at that but he caught my frowning expression and only stuck out his tongue childishly.

"I did. But I think they didn't want to leave me on my own at that huge facility." I finally answered.

"What do you mean?" He looked up as he mixed the ramen in his bowl.

"They actually didn't want to take a break again after we did have a lunch break an hour or so before... my ex wanted to keep going cause-"

"I'm sorry? Your ex? Why? Shouldn't he at least listen to his girlfriend who wanted to take a break? Why would he want to keep going?" 

I was a little bit dumbstruck with the complete sentence he just spewed like whenever SUGA is rapping, but I only shrugged, "He wanted to continue his research and keep going so yeah they couldn't afford to take another break nor leave me on my own devices."

I dipped my sushi into the soy sauce and wiped a little bit of wasabi on top of it. When I looked up, he was only looking at me totally in disbelief this time. His chopsticks even hovered in the air. 

Was that really shocking? 

He cleared his throat awkwardly when he finally came to his senses. Putting the chopsticks back to its stand beside his bowl before folding his hands neatly on the table. He was regarding me with an annoyed and fascinated look at the same time it made me kind of want to punch his nose a little. 

"I'm taking you on another platonic date to a beautiful garden full of pretty flowers and… not so big trees. Cleared up some schedules." A little bit confused, I only blinked at him before blurting out a very unintelligent "Huh?" as my sushi was the one which was hovering near my mouth this time. 

"Why did you just huh me? I said what I said." he reached out to my hand to put it down. He was probably anxious that the sushi would free-fall to my lap or the dirty table. 

Never in my life a guy declared they would take me on a platonic date.... twice even! 

"I don't wanna go back there yet. I'm still uncomfortable going back."

"Who says I'm taking you there? My aunt has a private garden she usually pays me to tent to. You can meet her too if you'd like." he finally took his chopsticks to eat the ramen which was waiting all this time to be devoured.

"Well, aren't you rich?" I finally got my bearing back after the initial confusion and wriggled my eyebrows teasingly at him.

He playfully scowled at me in return as he gulped down the earlier scoop of noodle.

"My family is rich. I'm just mediocre just like you. I'm offering you to meet my aunt since she's the only one who will take our words as it is about the platonic date and you," he pointed at me with that long bony index finger of his, "will talk nonstop about flowers with her." 

I grinned cheekily at him before nodding, "Okay, let's see if I can clear up a day for the foreseeable next two weeks." 

"You would instantly clear up your schedule for your girlfriends!" He protested with a mouth full of ramen.

Yep, not the best view I’ve seen so far.

You see? Not all men.

"They are my best friends, you only use me for my company. Shut it." 

I didn't know a deep hateful scowl could make me hollered a satisfied laugh. I could hear him mumbling something along the lines of “you only use me for my company too…” but I was too busy laughing to respond.

Because in all fairness, that’s true.

…

"Oh, for God's sake! Nothing. Is. Wrong. With. Your. Cardigan." He dragged me by the collar of my shirt easily like I was a shack of 5 kilos rice. After a short while as we were standing awkwardly in front of an elegant heavy wood gate, he released his dead grip on my collar before straightening them. 

“Stop fussing about! You’re giving me the impression that you dressed up for my aunt and not for me!” he slapped my hand away as I was trying to fuss with the sleeves of my cardigan again.

Well, I was just anxious. When I’m anxious, I tend to stress over my looks because most of the time, I will always find a small flaw and it will send me into a haywire and panic overdrive.

Hence why I fuss about my clothes very oftenly when I’m meeting new people.

After making sure I’m keeping my hands to my side, he pressed on the small bell by the gate. Not long after that, the gate was opened by a tall woman who looked like she's in her early 40's. She was wearing a really beautiful yellow sundress with dirty gardening gloves and sun hat on. 

"Hello dear nephew. Finally graced me with your presence, now?" He was fidgeting like crazy when she finally addressed him, a sheepish grin on his face as he locked eyes with the beautiful aunt. 

"Work was really busy and I can't exactly visit these weekends since your brother and my mother wanted me for themselves." I didn't know what I was expecting from her after he said that, certainly not a really loud laughter. 

Snorts and all.

She even slapped her knees in glee. 

I looked up to him to give an inquiring concerned look but he only brushed me off. 

"Right, of course!" She giggled, it was really cute. I didn't expect that as well, "You're the youngest. They definitely still want you in the house often now since your siblings are married." 

After she calmed down, he nudged my shoulder. Slightly surprised by the sudden push, I stumbled to the front. I bowed my head a little while offering her a polite small smile.

She immediately cooed at me, asking all kinds of different questions to him who were also a little bit stunned like I did.

You would think that for being a small person with a face that looks fairly younger than my actual age, I would get used to it when people cooed at me or mistaken me for being a highschooler.

Nope. But in all fairness, even if I feel flattered, sometimes I have zero ideas on what to do when people do that. 

How are you supposed to react? 

I only smiled big as she showered me with so many compliments. But I almost exploded with insecurity and impostor syndrome intrusive thoughts.

And embarrassment. Who am I kidding? People will get embarrassed when they get complimented. It’s only decent. You’re probably narcissistic if you get high from them instead.

Ha.

Coming to my rescue, he finally tugged me out of his aunt's embrace back to his side. I really appreciate the gesture since I almost suffocated from her embrace.

"This is the friend I was telling you about, her name is Kiara. She's 3 years younger than me and no I'm not planning to date her. Just taking her so she can make good memories about plants and flowers again." 

What a blunt weirdo. 

I seriously need to reevaluate my choice in people that I associate with sometimes. To witness him saying all that with a completely straight face void of emotions, it made me sure, I have some kind of magnet within me that attracts weirdos.

Upon hearing that, like a mother hen, she immediately beamed and rushed us inside her property. A little bit flustered by the pair of relatives, I didn't have any choice but to comply being pushed together with him.

We were led straight into the back of the small house into the garden at the back of it. The first thing I noticed was a ray of white and pink rose bushes lined up the small stoned walkways. People usually say that roses are overrated and will always try to avoid associating themselves with them. Because they don’t want to be perceived as mediocre or “you can find them everywhere!”. If only they know how much care does roses need so they can bloom majestically. 

Sometimes mediocre is good. It doesn’t take much effort to blend in and live your life as it is. But it’s only surface appearances, even though we’re mediocre there’s always factors that make us different from one another. You are different even if you fall under the mediocre category.

The Rose bushes have always been a dream to me and my mother. Since it’s not easy to maintain and we have the lack of space to cultivate even just one tree, we never really try. Upon seeing many of them, I can help but to be a little bit jealous for a briefest of moments before finally fighting a wide smile from breaking out on my face.

Entering further down the garden, I was graced by a canopy of vines. Some of their hanging roots curtained above me. I was holding on to his jacket sleeve as I was looking up and fascinated by the simple beauty. He even prevented me from falling flat onto my face when I lost my footing. I sheepishly grinned when he lightly pinch the side of my arms to wake me up.

“Have the good memories come back already, dear?” His aunt’s voice was gentle and kind when she addressed me. Like Ms. Honey from Matilda. 

I offered her a smile. The smile I’ve been trying to hide ever since I entered the garden and was graced by the roses’ beauty. This place, concealed from the others’ eyes and I could only visit this one time, has already altered my tattered memories about plants and flowers. Giving me a new slot of emotions to dull the unpleasant ones.

The unpleasant memories that seeps away like water on the rich soil. Stored away somewhere in your system but it becomes something else that teaches you life.

“You have a very lovely garden.” was all I managed to say before getting swept away by the older woman to sit at a small gazebo where there was already a set of tea for two on the table. 

“This is an heirloom of my grandfather,” a wistful look passed by her face briefly, “He passed his love for nature to me. My children don't really share our sentiments for this garden but Lee-lee does. So I pay him to mend this garden sometimes when I’m not able.” she whispered conspiratory in a playful manner with me, flickering her gaze to Leander teasingly.

I already knew he is usually addressed as Lee-Lee by his family and relatives but it still sounds really ridiculous to my ear sometimes. That’s why I choose to call him Lee, his last name, since Leander is too long for my tongue.

“Really? Does Lee-Lee really love the job or does he love the money, ma’am?” I decided to respond to her in the same playful manner. Since Lee is our mutual target, we chose them to be the center of the misery instead.

She laughed instantly, “Oh, you’re such a darling! But please call me auntie or Samantha from now on, yes?” she squeezed the side of my arms affectionately before telling me to sit down at the chair in the gazebo.

I smiled gratefully and softly thanked her generosity. 

“Don’t be a brood and show your guest around the whole garden, okay Lee-Lee?” She was addressing Lee right now since he finally caught up to us. He only rolled his eyes, before brushing her off but with a fond smile on his face.

“I will. I’m the one who took her here anyway. Don’t worry.” he gave her cheek a soft kiss before she walked away towards the small house, clutching her cheek with a very fond expression. 

The house is really small. It probably only has the essential and 2 bedrooms. Compared to the garden, I dare say the house is only there to act as a watch post for the vast garden. There was a huge tree in the middle of it, probably the one that acts as a mother tree. I can’t identify what kind of tree it was but it looked many decades old.  Several other trees didn’t look as big, but they’re still canopying the garden floor almost densely. With a quick glance towards the whole garden, I can witness all kinds of plants coexist beautifully. I can see love flowing through the air. 

The people who tended to this place must have found their love for nature, and decades after decades of careful care and touch was apparent… somehow I found myself a little bit jealous of them, but alas, I love the way they sweetly carry a breeze of wind into my skin to caress them with tingling touches of content. 

That’s how I relented, leaning my whole body on the back of the chair while enjoying the fresh breath of green. 

Me and my jealousy to things that had been taken care of with gentle love their whole existence. My initial reaction of envy always turned into appreciation. Good for them. 

I locked eyes with Lee who was pouring tea into the cups in front of us. He dumped a spoonful of white sugar on one of them before stirring it and finally served the cup right in front of me.

“I know that despite your short temper and easily frustrated nature, you appreciate the beauty of the earth more than life itself. So, I guess bringing you here was a good call for me.” he finally settled down on his own chair beside me with a cup of tea on one hand.

“It’s good for zoning out.” was I simply said before taking a sip from the previously prepared cup he made for me.

“Besides, I appreciate life. I am content with it despite all the things I’m still lacking here and there. Earth is my beautiful home, can’t I just appreciate a beautiful home?” I added a little bit after the first sip. He only scoffed at me before taking a sip from his own cup.   

I finally regarded him when I was satisfied admiring the beautiful array of roses and azalea. After a few years of being friends, this is probably the first time I truly look at him. He is a very attractive person, both objectively and subjectively. He has a nice manner even though sometimes a little bit too snarky, a kind heart and a really great personality. He’s mediocre but ladies are lining up behind him waiting to be recognized since he’s good with everybody.

Our relationship didn’t start that great. Starting from a very distant acquaintanceship, to college, to friends, to almost a lover, to awkward acquaintance again and then we’re suddenly here. Friends. After meeting out again, starting over and actually seeing each other without any glasses of expectation on, we’ve built a kind of friendship that transcends more than its mere definition. A companionship I’ve never known I needed in my whole life.  

His language might sound alien to me at first, but as I grew to get to know him as a whole person, I knew the language was his. His whole being and existence. He always tries to push me to be a better person. Despite my upbringing, insecurities, buckets and buckets of traumas, or even my short temper that I try so hard to control, he still seeks my companionship without harsh discouraging judgements, only appropriate tools and armors. Also a little bit of dry but interesting humor. They’re there either to slap sense into my head or minimize the explosive fireballs I tend to let loose sometimes.

“Are you here for the flowers or my face?” his slightly teasing tone woke me up from my reverie. I’m very used to that teasing tone and playful serious expressions, but sometimes I can’t help the urge to trip him whenever they’re resurfaced on his face. 

“I’m taking a picture-memory to remember everything here. Your voice will ruin it, sussh.” I pretended to be in deep thinking, striking a pose of putting my index fingers on each of my temples.  

“Weirdo. How did you manage to keep the same friends all these years, I have no idea.” he pretended to scowl in return. The visible smirk really gave him away.

I only chuckled in glee before I decided to finish the cup of tea, Lee followed suit a moment after. He offered his arm to me as he was standing from the chair, gesturing towards the stoned pathways that spread through the garden. 

I stood up, brushed off my cardigan before taking his arm, resting my own arm in between the crook of his elbow.  Even though he was guiding me as he was giving a little tour of the place, he let me be the one who set the pace for both of us instead. His voice has this slightly deep baritone, the way he’s explaining things set a comfortable state in my mind. The soft rustle of leaves mixed with his voice sounds like a lullaby. The flowers on his aunt’s garden looked like they were giggling at me who was intoxicated by nature and my own friend’s calming voice.

Watching him as if he looks like in his elements, I tighten my grip on his elbow a little bit. 

“Thank you.” I mumbled softly. He stopped us from walking before tilting his head to the side to study my face. Deciding to take mercy on him, I added while I was giggling at the same time, “Thank you for taking the liberty to take me somewhere really nice.” 

As realization dawned on his face, he only hummed as a response, tugging me to start walking again. However, he was smiling as he squeezed my hand a little bit.  

I stopped and stared when there was a majestic red hibiscus in between some purple and white wild flowers I never really bothered to find the name of. A natural bouquet of flowers that put a smile on my face. 

I never really hated flowers or plants after those annoying events, I was just slightly pissed off whenever I saw a flower I used to talk about passionately with my then boyfriend because they held a different meaning to me now. Something I don’t want to remember. 

Maybe I will never recover from the trauma of trusting myself fully to someone like I did when I was just barely an adult, maybe I will forever have this insecurity from the scarring that could barely be removed away. To share a beautiful time together only to be shattered away by a betrayal done just because someone can’t stop, can’t find it in them to feel content with themselves.  The stark contradiction baffles me when I was younger. As I grew older, I just scoffed and shrugged it off.

We were born to struggle with ourselves. Some do try to be a better version of themselves, some just succumb to their own darkness out of willingness. It wasn’t really my place to fix those broken people as I was already full of scars that I barely tend to since I always put others first before me. So even though I have the biggest skepticism in today’s romance, at least, at least I’m trying to fix my scarred soul first. 

Healing isn’t a linear journey but I’m grateful that in this numb state, I could still take, give, and appreciate beauty in other things. Nature, art, music, stories and other kind souls…

“You know that break-ups aren’t always bad right?” We were standing by the mother tree now, two small humans looking up into the complex woven branches.

I hummed at him, pleased by the fresh breath of air the tree carries, “I know now. It’s liberating.” I was looking up at him as I said that.

He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply before exhaling and opening his eyes to look down at me.

“Sometimes you just need to leave something that only brings you pain. Sometimes you need to be selfish and set boundaries. Sometimes, you need to put yourself first.” The look on his face was intense. It gave me a sense of security. It made me feel… seen.

Again, too lost for words I just hummed my response in a committal sense. Even though I already knew about the things he told me, sometimes it’s reassuring when people I hold dear told me to fight for myself first before anything else

I finally tugged him back towards the gazebo, ready for my second cup of tea.

As we finally sat at the chairs again, I nudged his knee a little bit with mine, “Thank you for giving me new perspectives.” 

He smiled genuinely at me with his eyes crinkled adorably into a slight crescent moon shape, the corners of his mouth turned up widely and his nose slightly scrunched, a very contrast to the sharp parts of his face when they were relaxing, he looked like he could be the next dictator. 

“I know you don’t fall in love easily with people, but I can’t help but to say this,” he leaned his body into my space, “don’t fall in love with me.” the teasing smirk enough to fuel my next movement.

I swatted his arm and shoved him down his chair rather harshly.

“Loser. Do something about the line of ladies waiting behind you. They kept on terrorizing me.” 

He hollered a laugh, “That’s what you’re here for.” 

“To be your security guard?” I snarled.

“To be the chief of screening personnel. I’m in a dire need of a romance in my life, find me one from the line.”

I finally huffed and drank my tea in silence afterwards. Totally lost all of my energy to bicker further.

Before the silence of the afternoon finally engulfed us, he patted my hand on the chair arm rest softly, “You’re very welcome, dearest friend. I’m glad to be of help.”  

I'm glad there's still a he that made me feel safe for being me. I'm glad his parents raised him to be a man that women can feel safe to be around.

I'm glad we're friends and never taking things further than that.

L.

------

My dream, my reality, you can be the judge you can be the overseer.

It's a prompt exercise. But some of the details are from my own sad little romance life.

I kept on posting writing exercise because I need to work with my writing and ideas developing process quicker than I usually do. So here we go, fiction, modern setting. Romance? Emb yeah.

[lesucremygic]

I'm stuck with the Phobia

The 3 of my friends have been captured away just to get me into safety, but then here I am, being captured and imprisoned by these strange creatures.

They have eyes but you can never hold contacts for more than 20 seconds. All black and bulgy like some deep water fish you see in nature documentaries that you will find normal at first, but when you try to hold on for long, the pupils start to swirl around into deep red colors.

The floor under me was really cold but hot at the same time and felt really greasy. Where on earth are my shoes? How they even managed to get me knocked out cold then losing my shoes at the same time? How exactly do they pull me out of that tiny alcove by the dingy warehouse?

I realized I should’ve been more afraid to be handled harshly by these unknown beings, but I feel more and more annoyed about losing my shoes. All I know I’ll ended up with tetanus and died before they even torture me to get the information out.

What do they want with me again?

I was suddenly thrown into a room full of white. Extremely stark contrast to the whole corridors of the ship. Full of metal, rust, probably piss, gasoline and motor oil mixed together with a blazing orange of engine fire everywhere. 

Was it a spacecraft or a scene from Silent Hill?

All four walls and even the floor are covered in white paint. Right, the floor was probably made from some kind of marble since it still felt really cold. There was a rectangle rug in the middle of the room, also in white. A small table and a chair by the wall in the corner of the room, a small bed and there was a small aquarium with a goldfish on it.

There’s a door leading to another room which I found out was a small bathroom with a toilet, a sink and a small shower cubicle with a small showerhead as well.

There was no bidet, only toilet paper. Ew.

The door to the outside of the room has a little window, enough for someone to peek in. It seemed like it was made out of some steel. The only one which were painted in metallic blue.

For two days, the same unknown being only came 3 times a day to put a tray full of food by the door. They quickly shut the door when I didn’t budge and only stared at them from the comfort of that little bed.

Everyday I only listen to the low hum of diesel machines from the outside and also the low hum from the filter of the aquarium. The water in the bathroom glowed golden. I was almost scared it would stain my skin but apparently, they only made my skin sparkle for 10 minutes after the contact. 

I vaguely remember someone told me to use as much of the golden water if I ever encounter one. Something about vanity and prosperity? I couldn’t remember the effect it brings beside sparkles. 

By the third day in the morning, someone dressed as the usual creatures who brought me food was standing by my bed staring down at me as I woke up. I almost screamed bloody murder but they put their hand on my mouth to stopped me. 

I elbowed their face as an instinct, the satisfying crack was felt under my arms and I was prepared to call for the guards when they opened their helmet to reveal the man I recognized. 

The man who I love in every universe I am trapped in with no way of escaping. 

“You silly monster! How could you elbow your boyfriend?” he hissed in pain and I immediately rushed to him, cradling his jaw delicately as if I was afraid he’ll break with just my touch. He leaned his face on my hand for a moment, nuzzling and almost broke down crying as I watched a tear slipped out of the corner of his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I said softly. He only smiled reassuringly before his whole face changed into something serious. His eyes flickered back and forth between the door and my face.

“Run when I appear here again to open the door.” he simply said, clutching my head with both of his hands.

“Run where?”

I hope he didn’t hear the crack in my voice. 

“Take your left as you get out and run straight down without making a sound until you can find the second stair by your left. Climb them up and run again until you find a red door with 75 written on a white paint. You’ll know what to do afterwards” he said in one breath, I barely caught what he said.

He put our foreheads together before mumbling “Please be safe. Find Odora once you get out.” Then he got out as fast as a cat that set its eyes on a prey.

How am I supposed to find Odora if I didn’t know who it is?

Once he got out, I immediately gobbled up everything offered on the tray.

You might be thinking, “She’s been taking all the food without knowing if they put any sedatives or funky substances in there?” 

But you know, I’m an opportunist at times. If I see food, I’ll see them as they are with their initial purposes. If I die from poisoning, at least I can wake up. They won’t let me die. Not until I blabbed out about everything they wanted. 

Besides, I’m easily hungry and could barely think when my stomach is empty. 

Blood sugar level is a no no for me.

I waited for I don’t know how long since they don’t provide me with a device to make me aware about time. It’s at the second food delivery that my door opened. But it wasn’t my boyfriend. It was the usual creature. 

This time they lingered in the room for a little bit more, sniffling the room cautiously before addressing me with a long bony and very ashy human-like finger.

“Did you get diarrhea?”

A fucking what now?

I only frowned before shaking my head no. They hummed indignantly before sniffing out the room again. 

“Erlo, what are you still doing here?” a newcoming voice made the both of us jump. A new figure, slightly leaned and shorter than the tall creature in front of them, appeared from behind this Erlo guy.

Erlo was fidgeting a little bit before talking in a different tongue. The one I can’t seem to understand or recall in any kind of The Dreaming Realm languages I’ve ever known. This newcomer is apparently a human but he’s taller than me even though a little bit shorter than the creature.

After being in a little heated discussion, Erlo nodded before getting out of the room, dragging its two big feet, a little bit limping.

The door clicked shut as this newcomer finally opened the helmet on his head with just a flick of his hand. 

For someone who looked very sinister like the late Alan Rickman when he plays Severus Snape, this person appeared quite handsome. That if you can ignore a long gash of scar on his face stretched diagonally from the left side of his forehead into the right side of his jaw. The scar still looked quite pink so it must be quite recent.

He looks like he was almost splitted in half.

“You were staring, Miss.” he smirked as I finally came back to reality. 

I ducked my head down to my lap, “Yes. My apologies. Your scar is just interesting.”   

This person suddenly chuckled amusedly. There wasn’t a sinister or malice intention from the laughter. It’s just pure amusement out of my blunt innocence. 

In the Water Realm, I’ll probably already get thrown out into the large open bodies of water. Gasping for air before finally drowning and woke up as if my lungs just got punched.

“I can see why my brother adores you so.” he said as he finally calmed down. 

Brother? What brother? Does he mean my boyfriend?

I cocked my eyebrows at him but then he was looking at me with so much pity on his eyes before bowing, “I am Extera. I’m looking for my brother. The man you could never remember the name of but always gets you out of dangerous dream realms.” he took a pause as if sensing I need some time to digest the information, “Your boyfriend? The one with average height, well built, dark brown haired and a kind soft face?” 

I realized my eyes widened a little bit because he smirked, this time maliciously. The next thing I knew, Extera, the emo weirdo suddenly sniffing my hair and neck as if I don’t have a personal space and will let anyone sniffed me around. 

I was shocked for a second before pushing him away with a force I didn’t know I possessed. He snarled as he realized he was supporting himself with his hands on the floor.  

He was about to get up and ready to give me some kind of claw in the face or slap me but then he let out a long exhale.

Now I’m kind of afraid of my situation.

“Extera. Let her go.” the familiar voice of the man I love and whose name I could never remember sent a sigh of relief out of my body. 

Extera however was suddenly on his feet and approaching my boyfriend with a dangerous prowl. 

“You let her go, brother.” Extera snarled before he threw a punch towards my boyfriend.

I can hear a soundly crack of a bone before my boyfriend’s voice could be heard in my mind.

“Run!” was all he said before I took off out of the room. The last thing I heard was a desperate plea from Extera beggin me not to run. But you see, even though I know sometimes familiar faces can be dangerous, I trust familiar faces first before anything else. To be safe, however, I took the gun out of a bewildered looking guard on patrol and made him passed out.

I’m so sorry.

I ran through the hot metal corridors as instructed by my boyfriend, up the second stairs and ran again until I found the red door with number 75 painted in white on it. I made sure the safety of the gun was off before opening the door.

There was a small space ship in the room. It seemed to be some kind of garage.

But why should it be a red door?

I was about to get inside the ship when I saw a movement from my peripheral vision. Immediately pointed my gun towards the source of the movement before I came face to face with a lady dressed in beige from head to toe. Even her hair was blond. She was another familiar face, a queen fae from the water realm who loves to throw me from a cliff to large bodies of water or huge waves.

I cursed internally. There’s no way I’m moving realms.

My mental energy has run out. I need to wake up.

“You’re coming with me. There’s a disagreement between the sun clan and the flower clan. I can’t seem to make them be at peace.” she said in a broken human language. But I understood her cause Water Realm seemed to take a liking in me and always involved in one of their daily squabbles with each other. 

I sighed heavily before putting my hands up in a surrender. She took my body language as a yes and then came to approach me. But before she could even step forwards, I put the barrel of the gun in between my eyes and fired a shot.

The last thing I remembered was her screeching like a mad banshee with her fangs and ugly golden wings came in full display.

I woke up with a startle before groaning as my alarm that day was blaring Phobia by Stray Kids. I rolled aside to reach the table for my phone.

5.00 am

Ironara isaekkiya

Wake up, please.

Uang tidak datang dengan sendirinya unless you were born from a corrupt conglomerate family.

I really hate that Queen Fae.

L.

PS:

Inspired by true events. Yeah well my dreams. Elaborated version. My dreams are usually happen quickly and I sometimes remember them vaguely. But I found out that I wrote this dream quite detailed in one of my journals. So, I'm just filling out the blanks and ta-da, the birth of absurd fantasy space story here.

Tittle is from a line in Stray Kids' song, Phobia.

Give it a listen. Bye!

[lesucremygic]

A Passing Lively Mirror

People sometimes say when a kid compliments you, that is the highest form of compliment you could ever get considering the majority of children's tendency to be as blunt and as honest as possible. Their view is still shaped and their innocence really could light up someone’s day. They could also be pretty unhinged and their intake on some topic can be extremely weird. They could either terrify you or make you laugh the most obnoxious laugh in your life.

My neighborhood conducted a get together for all of its residents in celebration of my country’s independence day yesterday night. We basically chill, say our prayer for the collective masses and the nation’s wellbeing, we talk among ourselves and of course we eat and snack.

After mingling a while introducing myself or striking up conversations with some of my neighbors I already knew, I was sitting on my own minding my business munching on some Bakwan and trying to finish a Candy Crush level when a small girl sat beside me. Both of us were waiting for our respective mothers who were busy distributing the boxed dinner for all of them attending the event. For those who don’t know, I rarely strike up a conversation with small children in preschool or early years of elementary school cause I always have this unexplainable anxiety towards people in general and or especially kids even though I have two younger brothers lolz.  

I don’t like children’s cautious stares and I'm just afraid they will cry if I say something wrong so then their parents will scold me senseless even though I didn’t mean to.

Let’s just say I hate the outcome of the strange unknown encounters. Especially the parents. I can understand their protectiveness but seriously, if I want to harm your child I wouldn’t make them cry and wail. I can also understand children and their defense mechanism towards something strange but yeah I just hate feeling guilty of making children cry.

This small girl, probably not older than 5 because she was so tiny, was staring at me for a while. She was observing my face and Candy Crush gameplay for so long I got a little bit self-conscious. It was funny. Again, I don’t like to be the first one to strike up a conversation with small children so I just smile at her sweetly. Even though I know my eyes are just empty, soulless. But she took it as a cue to say her hello to me. 

I’m not a heartless human being, of course I said hello back. This time, I did it with more emotion and enthusiasm which was reciprocated by her. She asked for my name, and for some rare occurrences, I was elated because  someone pronounced them clearly on the first try. They don’t butcher it or change the first letter of my name. She repeated back my name to me clearly to make sure she said right. 

And it came from a kid. Hah. You adults, do that one better! 

I could hug her parents for raising such a brilliant and considerate girl.

When I asked what her name was, she told me with a really explosive excitement I can’t help but to smile and feel comforting warmth. When I repeated her name back like what she did to mine before, she just grinned and nodded enthusiastically. If only my brothers were this sweet when they were small brat, I'd be content.

After that she threw me a bunch of questions about the game I was playing, how old I was, what’s my favorite food, how much my phone’s cost, relentless but I didn’t mind. When she was satisfied with her short inquiries, she started to tell me her own answer to those questions she asked me. What an inquisitive chatterbox. It reminds me of how I was when I was her age. 

My parents used to tell me I was talkative the moment I could talk, I’d be running my mouth and almost making every one of my conversation partners’ ears off. I even used to animatedly recount my weird imaginations to a shopkeeper by the house my parents rented back then when I was a toddler. I can’t remember a thing but it’s always fun to see my mother recount those tales with a fond look on her face. I was her first born after all.

I let her talk to me while she leaned her whole body on my side, she talked a lot about what she usually does at her preschool, how her mother scolded her before they went to the event because she threw a tantrum of not wanting to use her hijab, and even retell me some of her older sister’s embarrassing stories. The said sister apparently was sitting beside her slightly to the back and trying to hide her face after hearing those. I gave her a slight apologetic smile and went back to amused the little chatterbox.

“Can I see your phone?” she finally asked me after eyeing the back of my phone for quite some time after her chatters died down. I shrugged then gave out my affirmative, I handed her my phone and she immediately turned it around to see the photos I placed inside the clear protective case. 

There are two photos, Jimin and Jin of BTS. It was from the editorial picture of their Vogue Magazine shoot. 

“Who is it?” pointed her one little finger to Jimin’s photo.

“Umm, a singer.” I replied, not wanting to dive into unnecessary details. 

“What singer? What kind of songs does he sing?”

“Korean singer.” The moment I answered that, she sat upright, took a deep breath before chattering away about her adoration toward Chimmy, one of the characters of BT21. Those characters were designed and created by the BTS members and have become some kind of their other marketing symbols to branch out to the other generations where it applied. Little kids usually are BT21's target audience. 

“I like some of them too! My favorite is Chimmy but I still couldn’t distinguish which one is Chimmy’s Appa sometimes.” she pouted and I resisted with all of my might not to giggle uncontrollably.

Of all the topics out there, of course we bond over BTS’ universe.

The sister is suspiciously quiet, so I assumed the one who tried so hard not to join in our little exchange was the shy older sister. I think the little girl knew about Chimmy from her, or the other older girls in her playtime circle around afternoon hours in the neighborhood. 

“Yeah? Hmm I like Chimmy as well. This is Chimmy’s Appa.” I pointed to the earlier picture of Jimin on my phone case.

“Ahhhh… Okay!” she flopped her attention back to my phone case this time pointing to Jin's picture.

“Is this Koya?” she asked.

“Emmb, that’s RJ’s Appa.” 

“Really? Hmm I’m bad at this.” she huffed then gave my phone back towards my open hand. When I chuckled, she only grinned up at me.

Some kids are really born to be sweet angels. I see, God, I see.

She was still beside me even when both of our mothers found us and handed our respective boxed dinners. The event already went into full swing where some people my age and the elders hogged the karaoke machine and sang to their heart’s content. My ears almost bleed whenever any of them belting out high notes with the poor sound equalization settings. The terrible treble setting almost sent me back home clutching my poor ears, but the girls beside me didn’t look bothered. I almost cry out of irony. 

I tried to distract myself by eating any snacks that passed by my presence, this time I was munching happily on Banana Molen when the little girl poked one of my cheeks.

“You’re cool.” she said while also munching on some sweet potato crisps, she took a moment before finally adding, “you also look really cute.”

When I told you my heart soared so high after that comment, I soared and felt like ascending to some sort of content feeling clutching my little tiara with my left hand.

This compliment beats any other flirting some guy my age threw at me.

When people say little kids' compliments sometimes can do wonders to your serotonin boost, I didn’t believe them. Never encountering a sweet kid makes me doubt that statement, I only see them happen on Social Media. My first hand experiences always consist of Evil Nazi reincarnated booger collector little demons. So this fresh change of encounter delighted my weary and gray soul. 

I openly chuckled for a while before replying, “Thank you. You’re cool and cute as well, kid.” I patted her hand “Waaaaay cuter than me.” she then giggled then slot her head on my shoulder for a moment before turning her full attention to her mother, fussing about not wanting to eat the fried chicken with her bare hand. 

“She was just like you when you were three. Like a little walking encyclopedia” commented my Mom while passing me a water bottle.

“I got shy pretty quick when I was her age though.” I replied, still trying to finish my forgotten Molen in my hand.

 “Yeah, I still wonder what happened.” 

Me too, Ma, me too.

L.

[lesucremygic]

Cease it

If you can tell me the meaning of all those gazes, I would be happy to take your hands and bring you down my path to beds of flowers or wave you away like a melancholic sailor being sent away into the maze of the great unknown. 

I can’t help but to yearn. Yearn for the affection you so carelessly toss me, yearn for the muddy water to turn clear so I can finally see the calm rough terrain of the bottom or probably the horror of what life has done to your weary soul. Only if you let me, only if you allow me to sail and run my hands over the surface. 

I know how to be friends with people I have feelings for but not reciprocated. I’m the master of pretending when I need to. It will all go away eventually. I will be okay, I always will. 

Only I want something more. I’m bringing a lot of things into the ship, when I have no clue where to put them myself. 

Does the door down to the lowest deck even open? 

Do I need to break them open with a brute force? 

Do I need to knock three times with the knocker and be on my way when there’s no answer? 

Do I need to live up here while the storm is flooding and taking everything I bring away from my grasp? 

I don’t want to lose myself ever again, not to you nor to anyone. But I hope, I hope from where I am standing, you will let me in or let me down gently. I just want something more than this endless gray area where I can only wonder. Wonder and wander on my own two feet. 

I can’t see the exit nor an open doorway. It’s just a sea of confusion.

Tell me, if you want to take these hands or if you still want to be within the comfort of your cabin on your own. 

I will fly away from the eye of the storm when you don’t want me. 

But tell me. 

Because I want to hear it before I can finally leave you.

I want you to tell me the meaning behind those gazes. 

I just want a name, even when you don't find it in you to take my hands, I will go. Just tell me, would I have a chance? Or would it just be another finished chapter where I let go again?

L.

[lesucremygic]

Written, Loved

There's something vulnerable from getting a letter. For someone giving their hearts out to you written in a paper with elaborate words. By reading emotions the writer trying to convey into restrictive forms of written word, to let the reader know how much of being known is important for them.

I love getting letters, despite how people told me how old-fashioned they are these days. But, as the days are getting by faster and faster, less and less honest words exchanged, it's just people tend to forget the simple act of being slow and honest.

That's why I love it when people being open and honest with their emotion in letters. Privy only to my eyes. Whether it's a sad or even breakup letters, I still appreciate people giving me letters.

Handwritten? Electronic? Doesn't matter the form it came to me, no matter how long, I will read them.

L.