Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

Would we meet again in another life?

28.10

After all the time and all the things you've put me through, I still wish that it's You who would say "Happy birthday, Sunshine." instead of a hundred people.

"Happy birthday, Sunshine."

"It's not a happy occasion being born into this world."

"It is for some people."

"It's not for me. I'm not talking on behalf of everyone else."

"I know it is for you too. You're just being a hard ass."

Good days, hey.

He used to call me Sunshine. Good morning, Sunshine. Sleep well, Sunshine. I miss you, Sunshine. Sunshine this, Sunshine that. And I used to ask him,

"Is it because London is so gloomy and lacks of sunshine?"

And when we argued, it's Sun Scorch. So our days were either bright when we were all civilised and loved up or brighter (that we burned) when we were beastly.

The flints of memory lane.

There he was, standing alone. His eyes fixed onto the room filled with enthusiastic pompous souls, young and old. The glass of bubbly was brought onto his lips once in a while. He sipped and he gazed.

He has very deep gaze, this young man. The sort of gaze which would penetrate straight into your soul and make you edgy. The gaze bent in shifting your focus onto the china on your table amid your attempt to return an eye contact.

11 October 2007. 2 days before Eid.

Right now...

I wonder, if you are still the young man I used to know.

I don't usually write when I'm in a good mood. That's when I want to be out living a life.

-Daniel Johns, silverchair.

If you haven't already known...

Neil Gaiman is a genius.

E.E. Cummings' precision.

1(a
le
af
fa
ll
s)
one
l

iness

Hopes, bygone.

For sometime, I have lost the will to write and lost the heart that was vast with rainbows and storms. My words became pathetic attempts at blurting out nothingness. And I became a sod who is hung up on memories.

My life. Let me revel in my sadness at every chance presented to me.

Biar.

31

Happy birthday, Love.

I'm sure God is taking good care of you wherever you are.

Sprinkled stardusts.

(From the Little Black Book)
Wednesday 27 August 2008 7.00pm Home

I wish upon all the shooting stars for you
because you deserve no less.

After all, someone among us has got to break the curse, yes?

(To a confidant)

I wish, Yvaine.

(From the Little Black Book)
Tuesday 15 September 2009 9.20pm Home

We laid our back down on the hot sand, staring into the vast night skies. There were little stars scattered across the dark canvass, like beautiful eyes that glitter while they are looking down upon you.

"Everyone has their own stars, to light them through their journeys and to look after them when they stumble upon their own feeble feet," I pondered. You know, those electric blue eyes which light a warm fire in your heart everytime you stare into them and all of a sudden, you feel that Apollo is singing a night hymn to you, healing your wretched soul.

"In the real world, I'm actually not a very humourous person," I broke the soothing sound of waves enfolding our night.

"We know. That's why we try to make it as bearable as we could for you," she replied slowly while reaching out for my hands.

We continued gazing into Heavens. The night was enchanting with the resplendent dots sprinkled transversely, as if they had been carefully carved in such a way to represent the hearts of a million travelers.

"Look, there's Orion!" My forefinger pointed directly to a constellation of three stars. I paused while thinking, it does look like the outline of a great hunter's body, like the Greek myth.

"Kind of like the three us, isn't it? Together and effulgent."

We looked at each other and chuckled at such self-indulgence, letting the brilliant twilight take us over.

And the moment lingered.

I don't know what he's talking about...

John sat down in front of me and smiled, looking me straight in the eyes. He blabbered something which was drown by the deafening music filling in the closed-space of the room we were in.

"Blablablabla... you blablabla sober?"

"What?? I can't hear you!" I replied with a half-scream.

He continued looking at me and repeated his question with his screaming which was louder than mine. Amidst his effort in trying to beat the sound blaring from the nearby speakers, I looked at the movement of his lips glistened with beer froth and made up what he was screaming about - 

"WHY DO YOU LOOK SOBER TODAY??!"

Markdown.

(From the Little Black Book)
Friday 7 August 2009 1.30am Home

If Hearts were on sale in hypermarkets,
I most probably would not buy one
not even on Sunday after I got paid
because all they do is
break, and
beat, and
beat blood,

and...who needs blood when there is no-one left to share it with?

And so, on that day when I walk into a hypermarket

and I look to my left and see that rack of hearts

with that red and white 50% off sign,
I will walk right by it
and go purchase myself a spine instead,
even if it is full price.