Blue

When I met you at the park, it was the colour of the sky. As we watched the lovely swans, it was the colour of the pond.

     

It was also the colour of the berries we liked to eat at picnics. We gazed from the beach at our dates and it was the colour of the sea.

      

It was the colour of the syrup we’d like to have on our pancakes during breakfast.

       

On the first time you asked me to dance with you, it was the colour of your shirt. It was the colour of my hair when you kissed me on my favourite band’s concert.

 

Mystery,” the representation of the colour of the rose you gave me.

 

We were as unpredictable as the colour of the gem embedded on the ring in my left hand. Yes, it was also the colour of my dress when you asked for my hand in marriage.

       

Truly, we were as enigmatic as the colour phase of the moon that rarely occurs but such a sight to see.
It was the colour that felt the most significant for me. It may be the colour of ambiguity but

 

I knew it was the colour of our love.

 

Little did I know, it would be the colour of the car that would smash into you before the day of our wedding.

       

How I wish I could still have one chance to stare at your eyes which also features that exact same colour. That was indeed the colour that symbolises us, because it still remains a mystery to me. We fought so hard to give the colour a different meaning, but depression and sadness and grief was always it would be.

     

-fin-


(featured image courtesy of fanpop.com)

An Open Letter to My “Broken Dreams”

Note: This blog entry is for all the dreamers and believers out there. Don’t let anyone define the worthiness of what you who and what you want to be in life. As long as you don’t hurt anybody, your dream is worthy. This one’s for you so keep on dreaming. Be whoever you want to be (unless you want to be a serial killer, obviously) Haha x


My dear, 

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry my parents find you as a risk not worthy to be taken. I’m sorry my colleagues don’t find you as something cool enough to achieve. I’m sorry my teachers’ view of you is something not as ‘big’ as what they have hoped for and expected from me. I’m sorry the society says you are something broken that my numskull mind has created and wishes to fulfill.

They may be right. Not much people would think of you, nowadays. Even I find you as a road or path less traveled. In a world where money is a great standard and ubiquitous basis of what everybody calls ‘success’, you may not be the best asset in accomplishing it. And yearning for you may be a lost cause one way or another.

They may be right. I would not be the world’s next multi-millionaire person by pursuing you. I would not be drowning in material things any time soon if I risk everything to get to you.

But they may be wrong. Of course, they are. Who are they to tell me what I want to do with my life? Who are they to judge the worthiness of who I want to be someday? Who are they to conclude, that you, my dream is broken and lost cause?

I chose this. I chose you

So, I continue to take the path that leads to you. Behind me is my own shadow that walks with me. The only thing that keeps me alive is the beating of my own, shallow heart. I know as I walk down the less traveled road towards you, something out there is waiting and somebody out there is also pursuing the same, less traveled path I’m taking. I know there are others like me who feel this way.

So I forget everyone who tells and insists that you are not worthwhile of my precious time. I ignore everyone who says all my efforts in primary and secondary school are all thrown down the waste bin because I chose to follow the path that would lead me to you.

Because I know that when I reach you, I will meet other people like me who used to feel this way because of the judgmental world we live in.

Until then, I walk alone

But I know when I achieve you, everything will be worth it. I will be happy. I will be free. I will get to do what I truly want. I will earn enough  (if not, more) for a living; because I love what I am doing.

And by the way, I would not bother fixing you either.

After all, it is difficult to fix something which is not broken.

Yours truly,

Dreamer x

-fin-

(featured image courtesy of deviantart.com)

11:11 (8 words in 8 lines collection)

If I would be utterly honest with you,

I’d say you are numbest of the numb.

       

And if I would be honest with myself,

I am definitely the dumbest of the dumb.

     

I know you would never notice me; and

I’m not sure if you’d read this rhyme.

     

But still, if only you knew; you’ve been 

my 11:11 wish for a very long time.

    

-fin-

(featured image courtesy of blogradio.vn)

Infatuation (8 words in 8 lines collection)

As I look at him, I suddenly knew

He was so close but so far away.

The moths in my stomach I felt through

Stealing a glance at him day by day.

These scary, yet surreal and very humanly delusions

Are feeding up my pathetic, overly-hoping illusions.

Can someone even save me from the depths

Of this feeling I call immature, teenage infatuation?

-fin-

(featured image ctto)

Don’t Write Fairytales; Live One

ROMANCE NOVELS ARE the epitome of picture-perfect life anyone could have asked for. They portray a life where boy meets girl, good girl meets bad boy, cheery meets enigma, pauper meets prince, peasant meets billionaire, and insert here whatever couple you like. Just like every other unique story, romance novelists point out the irony about typical books depicting uncomplicated love stories with a common plot.

Personally, I do not think I could stereotype that most romance books contain the same, boring plot because I have a limited share of books I have read that fall under this genre. Fortunately, the limited amount of books in this category that I have come across seem to deeply and accurately delineate the true to life and seemingly believable struggles and conflicts of fictional but relatable characters.

I believe it’s just about picking the right books which truly knows the term complication but at the same time, arrives at a worth-the-wait happily ever after. At least the characters attain an ending they deserve after all they’ve been through (although I admit my usual pessimistic self is a sucker for tragedy).

But the real point here is that the amount of books one has read can make one crave for something similar in their own lives. However, everyone’s life moves as unique as everyone else’s.

Perhaps, that’s the reason why no one can create a real-life love story that goes exactly like that of a certain plot featured in romance novels. No one ever happens to write a fairytale and turn the precise fictitious events into reality.

I suppose it is because the best love stories are never merely written–they are lived. 

So when the right time comes, don’t write your own fairytale. Live the one you deserve.

-fin-

(featured image courtesy: pinterest)