You used to like him for what you thought was good
The keywords being ‘thought’ and ‘good’
Since both are pretty subjective
One personal and the other universal;

You never saw the other side of him
The side that is buried and tucked away
The face that is hidden from everyone else
The one that even he himself doesn’t know;

Yet with just one look you pass a judgement
A false one based upon perception and bias
Made with murky waters and expired smoke
One so misplaced and misconstrued;

You think you know better
But really you don’t
and well..

Neither does he.

What’s Best?

I don’t like the idea of posting a lot of what I write, but it’s been getting addictive these days so here’s another. I think it would be nice if I can write for a living, so maybe that is something I can consider doing in time. 

Here’s something to think about: is what we think best for ourselves really what is best for us?

We usually have a rough idea of what we want for ourselves in the things we do, and the things we seek to achieve when we set out on endeavours. We plan and chart our courses in such a way that we eventually get what we desire or think is good for ourselves, be it studying abroad, securing the next promotion, or proposing to our potential life partner. We think we know what we want and what is good for us, and we set out to achieve those things. 

Inevitably we face challenges, obstacles, and hurdles along the way.. and we lose heart. We start questioning if what we are aiming for is achievable, and if what we seek is really what is ideal for us. Some of us find another route to the same destination, others change their destination altogether, and there’s a bunch who stick by the same path and continue on tirelessly. 

We have a choice to be one of the three kinds of journeyman, and we probably have no one to check or justify with except ourselves. We only can know which is the best of the lot after reaching (or not reaching) our destination, if that is where we want to be at all. 

So I say, have faith in what you do and who you are, and let the rest take care of themselves along the way. There is little to do otherwise.

No Comfort Nor Warmth

She was a keeper in every sense of the word and he thought
He could dominate her and possess every bit of her as if
She belonged wholly to him – every single inch of her all under
His control and all for his manipulation and order;

He never would have thought that one day even this faithful of a girl
Could get tired enough to turn around and walk away from him – forever
Never to ever return a call or a text or to even see him once ever again:
Gone like the autumn breeze which never again would drift by for a moment in time;

It was when the autumn breeze no longer caressed the back of his hair
That he realised he should have enjoyed the magic in the air a little more
And cherish the lightness in his spirits and steps which she brought him –
A spark which only she and she alone could ignite and make blossom;

With her and autumn gone there only was
The coldness of winter left to comfort him:

That which is of no comfort nor warmth.

(Very loose writing inspired by three lines describing a relationship; a relationship which has past and is likely a forgotten memory. It’s a five minutes job in a cafe while chatting with a friend, but I still hope it is worth a read.)


(Just 5 minutes before going to bed; I’m in a super sleepy state of mind (not a New York State of Mind haha) but I’ll try to make up a few lines and see how far I can go)

There are many things in life which are fragile:
Things which are easily shattered by slight mishandling
Or broken by rough abuse intentional (or otherwise)
That hardly can be restored to it’s former perfection (try as we might);

Such things are easily ruined where just a slight crack anywhere
Can spread and cause a complete shattering
Which leaves on the ground shards of broken promises
That probably would take years to mend (and likely never fully mended);

Trust is one such thing and it best be kept safe.

A Drizzle, A Walk

  The bell chimes and the announcement is heard over the sound system. 

  It’s time for M to leave his zone of comfort and call it a night again.

  M steps out into the open and he feels the cool air descend upon his skin. He looks up at the sky and sees a thick layer of clouds hiding the moon and the stars, catching in his line of vision tiny droplets falling against the glow of the street lamp. The minute raindrops land onto M’s nose and slide down his cheek slowly as he takes every step in a direction which may or may not point homewards.

  He smiles slightly as the soft drizzle cools the air and lightens up his night, as though in unison with the little tinge of sorrow in his heart that tugs gently at him as he looks up and sees no inspiration from above.

  A lost track, a missing path, an absent trail.

  Such irony in going so far yet not getting any closer.  He continues walking in a direction which he knows not lead where to, unsure even if the road ahead would take him to greater heights or lower depths.

  He walks on.