Let Go.

We twist her body for the umpteenth time, gingerly adjusting her pillow so she gets the cold side. Her frail body is almost skin and bones, and her glassy eyes stare off into nothing particular as we speak to her.

My mother brushes the strands of hair off her face and murmurs almost comforting words, words she can only muster enough empathy to her mother who had never done the same.

Here lies the woman who, once upon a time, carried an air of pride and dominance with her. Her piercing eyes and upturned nose made her peers both admire and resent her, to which she revelled in the fact. She had filled her life with superficiality, caring little of what the world had to offer other than paper thin egos.

Tight-fisted, she counted numbers in her pastime, and smiled when the stacks piled higher and higher. When she was done, she would gather them all and gingerly place them in her secret cupboard, away from prying eyes and grubby, calloused hands.

Now she lies in bed, with nothing but a kaftan and the people she had once turned away from, gather around her with pitying eyes laced with frustration – for her grip remained cautious till her knuckles shook. Old habits die hard, she says with a sliver of a smile, ignoring the gentle massages on her cold fists.

When will she live so happily and carelessly?

Perhaps one day when death claims her for its own, she will finally raise a finger up to her worldly prison, and say fuck no to holding things gingerly.

Perhaps.

via Daily Prompt: Gingerly

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#WIP

Screen Shot 2017-08-10 at 11.23.36 PM

 

Messy lines, awkward strokes. Here’s a WIP because I am frustrated and my patience is wearing thin.

She drags her cigarette and puffs out the clouds of aesthetics she desperately tries to cling onto, like how it does on her clothes, nails and hair. But she doesn’t mind it so much anymore. She lets herself sink into the acrid smell, revelling in the two-minute caresses of comfort.

Good night strange world.

 

 

 

 

No Glitter

You want the photos but not the smell

of petrichor and saccharine garbage water

permeating the humid city of Kuala Lumpur,

You want KLCC but not the streets of Chow Kit

Dimly lit in nightfall with leathery-skinned uncles on basikal buruks

Pedalling hefty folded cardboard boxes bound by fraying tali rafias.

Not the pitter patter of footsteps crossing from one road to another,

tiny children laughing on their makeshift playground.

 

You want the #nofilter on your face –

strike a pose between undulating hills, exuding the all too common image of ‘wanderlust’

but not the back alleys scattered with cockroaches and

pudgy rats satiated by the abundance of waste to devour

where the mamak stalls set base

but that’s where the good nasi lemak is.

 

You want the glitter that comes with living but not the dust

that trails after.

You want the easy

– but who doesn’t?

 


 

A two-minute, half-baked ramble about things I’ve noticed recently with people – myself included. We all need a good slap of reality – because asking why can’t everything be easy is like screaming into the void and waiting for your echo to bounce back.

 

 

 

 

Smoke and Mirrors

I’m sitting on black wisps of smoke with my eyes closed. 

I smell the singe of thick, burning locks permeating the air; whispering their silly mantras like saccharine hisses caressing my ear. 

My body sways gently to the crackled melody humming from underneath my bottom, lilting experimental choruses; thick with distortion. Soothing. 

A smile creeps. Not from the smoke, not from the music – but this roller coaster jerking up and down on weathered tracks, it keeps me alive. 

Because who knew one could find a fucking pinprick of light inside this void? Even with her eyes closed.

I’m overwhelmed by the mess in my life but underneath all this disgusting clusterfuck, I’m happy. That’s it. 

Niche

Find your niche.

Stick with it and begin your journey. Create.

Mould it into art and nurture it with your mind, body and soul.

One day, when you have polished away the last remnant of its flaw with your bare, calloused hand, it will be ready.

The world will marvel at its beauty, its complexity, because this is where your heart is. You live in this creation. Only you.

Only you will be able to tell the stories that come with the scars, the little imperfections, the quirks of this masterpiece.

Only you will appreciate the entirety of this creation.

Only you will be able to see it as it should be. The vision that comes with, while some may empathise, can only conjure their version of your reality.

Only you can create this.

So savour it and take it all in.

Find a niche and begin creating. Every day.

 

2016 Favourite Reads

Burned Alive by Souad.

This book depicts the terrible cruelty of honour killings and the questionable practices present among certain tribes. Written in a first-person POV, this book shares the journey of Souad, a woman from the West Bank who was burned alive by her own brother in-law but escaped death thanks to Jacqueline; a European humanitarian, who nursed her back to health.

The book is split into two parts; Souad’s and Jacqueline’s. The first and major part was that of Souad’s story, where she described the horrible conditions that women were subjected to live in. They were considered “less than animals, because animals bring profit and women bring nothing but trouble” – a paraphrased quote from Souad’s own father was enough to establish the cruelty women endure on a daily basis.

The language used was fairly straightforward and it didn’t take me long to finish but it was mostly due to the story being so… intense.

Sadly though, this isn’t a true memoir and it’s undetermined whether the content is fictional or not but I loved it nonetheless. It opened my eyes to the horrific practices that are still prevalent in some parts of the world. It made me more aware of the different cultures and how they interpret and practice religion. A good read if you’ve got a few days to spare.

You can find it on GoodReads here.

Crank Trilogy by Ellen Hopkins

This YA trilogy tells the story of Kristina, a crystal meth addict. She is closely based on the author’s own daughter who also shares the same addiction. The first book introduces Kristina’s tumultuous relationship with the ‘monster’ that she first encountered when she met a boy during her summer visit to her no-good father. It was during this phase that she discovered her alter-ego, Bree, when she was under the influence of the drug.

The second book follows up with Kristina’s attempt to rehabilitate herself from the drug and her journey towards recovery. Nevertheless, it failed miserably and she went back to her old ways, sinking even lower than before.

The last book is the most captivating because it was told from Kristina’s children’s POV, who described the psychological baggage that came with being born from an addict. This book left a powerful message and was worded very differently from the first two. Kristina’s roller coaster of a life as a mother was revealed in snippets by each child who had their own fair share of things to say about her.

Easily, this trilogy is my favourite YA series to read this year. I remember seeing Crank multiple times in bookstores but never bothered to pick it up (probably because it didn’t have a picture of a fucking vampire or some shit). I think it’s a little sad that I’ve only just discovered this book earlier this year because it could’ve been a much more enjoyable read if I’d been a teenager. However, I do have to caution that the overall ending will leave a bad taste in your mouth. To me, it’s all because of Kristina. She is the most infuriating main character I’ve ever encountered, to be honest. Still, loved it.

GoodReads link

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

I know, I’m very late to the party.

This book tells the story of Esther Greenwood who seemed to have her life all sorted out but was slowly descending into madness. Written from a first person POV, Esther described her mental state through crisp, monotonous monologues that sometimes came across as pretentious. However, the deeper you get into the book, the more you get used to it because you start to understand Esther’s thought process. The way she described her multiple suicide attempts were very blasé and that was quite unsettling to read, to be honest.

I won’t say I enjoyed the experience of reading the book but it was deeply moving to step into Esther’s mind and watch her spiral into madness. It’s one of those books that is undeniably great but will not be reread immediately after. It’s a heavy book and took me a while to finish because of its writing style. This book is swimming in issues that not most would want to talk about – especially women. As I’m typing this, I’m considering reading it again. Maybe I’ll go out and buy the physical copy for that ultimate satisfaction.

GoodReads


That’s that. Hasn’t been a great year for reading but better than the previous. Maybe I’ll use this as an opportunity to read more books. Strive to read 100. Be that overachiever I’ve always feared to be.

Or I could stick to online articles because that seems to be my reading fix.

We’ll see.