Pieces of Me

some called it violation. i call it unethical. and when the doors into our life are left too ajar, our heart too generous, all we found at the other end of the tunnel is another genteel crap that sells. where life is an ingenious scheme of sanctioned depravity, my inadequately attempted savagery is somnolent by comparison.

the labyrinth is full of complexities and perils. a careless slip will fall into the abyss of eternal darkness. be warned, careful of the vultures, they said. and he has bitten the very hands that fed him. betrayed the trust that has flourished him.

we walked in this world alone. we treaded on thin ground and fumbled the darkness beyond. and at the end of the audacious search, we realised that the best thing about farewell is coming home. "i don't like this." he said. " it makes me angry."

it is alright. i am alone. i still have me.

there are still some memorable things to cheer about. i love my moments alone. i love reading that hilarious novel of a gal who is crazy about shopping. i love my new brazilian wax. i love my newly cosmos permed hair. i love the way my hair moves along with the wind. i love the delicious smell of my skin. i love whipping up that hearty braunschweiger dinner with my ramalade and tons of raw onions. and i have just learned that wild blue green algae, chlorella and spirulina are the best superfood for our bodies.

these days are hard for dreamers. but i will still dream my little dreams in my own small little affectionate ways.

maybe. just maybe. someday someone will read these little memoirs of mine, and get it published into a novel with a pompous title called 'I have a Dream'. and maybe, my allegory travelled so far and wide that it snowballed into a great film which will be critically acclaimed to be the greatest and most inspiring flim ever made in film history. with prologue that said based on a true story or film credits that said inspired by the most intriguing woman ever lived.

the lights are out. the mices have gone home. but tucked between those fluffy layers of quilts late in the night, i still have my little dreams. no one can take them away from me. generations from now, when they have read me, they will know who am i, where i have been, and because to them, i am beyond discontent or phantasy. i will be that wanting, and the bedtime stories told to the children generations from now.

once they have read me, they will never be the same again. i will forever be encapsulated in a few hundred pages. i will bring time to a stand still in that eternal moment. i will forever be that heroine that lives among the bookshelves. and in the middle of the night, i will bring with me my little stargazes, spread my wings and take off in solo flight. and i will be

immortal.