A broken heart.

Lifehouse - Take me away.

This time what I want is you
There is no one else
Who can take your place
This time you burn me with your eyes
You see past all the lies
You take it all away
Ive seen it all
It was never enough
It keeps leaving me needing you.

Take me away
Take me away
Ive got nothing left to say
Just take me away.

I try to make my way to you
But still I feel so lost
I dont know what else I can do
Cause Ive seen it all
It was never enough
It keeps leaving me needing you.

Dont give up on me yet
Dont forget who I am
I know Im not there yet
But dont let me stay here alone.

Ive seen it all
And its never enough
It keeps leaving me needing you
Ive seen enough
And its never enough
It keeps leaving me needing you.

Take me away
Take me away.

I am beginning to run out of words to explain how I have so unceremoniously landed at today. It really makes me wonder when I reflect and see those visions but those visions were partaken by two. Why am I the only one with the flashes. They seem to have come far too late. I won't give in though to this helplessness. While realizing that the person I am searching for is already far ahead on a path I've been attempting to track them on. How long can I continue as such? I never imagined it would be so grueling to follow these tracks which have been meticulously erased by them in their quest to leave love so far behind that it can never track them down.

I keep questioning where have I been for the past two years. I have no answer. It seems like someone put me in a heart numbing coma where I did not feel anything no matter how hard anyone tried. My heart was unreachable. Now it's simply broken. I keep dropping small pieces as I continue my hopeless journey down this lonely path looking for the footprints of a person who walked this path not so very long ago. I am all the while hoping it will be two people making the return journey and not one for these strewn about pieces cannot be put together solely by me.

Has it been so long already.

Has it been so long already,
From the days we used to go steady.

Has the face of time not changed,
If so why are we still estranged.

Has the heart not felt such sorrow,
Then why do we not look for tomorrow.

Has the past not taught us affection,
Of a lover spurned in love's perfection.

Has the path never lead to none,
Why bring us back to where we begun.

Has the soul not lost its mate,
For whom it did timelessly wait.

Has the will to live not escaped,
For why else is this form now draped.

Has it ever occurred to you,
This adoration did no more than grew.

The merchant has a say.

It takes one an abundance of reminiscing about memories which are inherently saved in our minds to come to a conclusion which one should have really arrived at a long time ago. I remember no person except one. I have no memories except the ones given generously by this person. I love none bar this person. My mistakes will always haunt me. Your mistakes will haunt me too. How you ask? I could strive to explain but I suspect you already know.

You mention lies and love. About never needing to lie again and respecting love which is being given albeit conditionally. Well what about the lies we tell ourselves every single day about who we are and about who we are pretending to be. Putting on a mask to bring about a false sense of peace and security to the people we care so much about. Our families. What about respecting the love we have for ourselves? Doesn't this love force one to take action or is it overshadowed by the love we have for them. I know exactly what you think. I am where you are. But these monsters in our closets and caves will never be satisfied over a lifetime. They might stay dormant for some days but one day it will get so bad that even taking a breath will hurt and not taking one, a blessed escape to the house with the tree. Grinding, fighting, struggling will get us through you say. Surely it cannot be that easy. It is not simply about loneliness. Nor is it plainly about love either. I might be a strong person but even I don't have the courage to tackle these monsters for a lifetime. To bury these secrets deep and carry on with my life. I know you are stronger than me. You have a better chance against them.

Don't misunderstand my intentions I beg. I am not asking you to sell your dream. I am merely asking you to include me in them. It might seem like a wrong thing to do but I've been in them before and I'll be damned if I give up trying to be in them again. Your path will eventually lead you to a marriage. So will mine. It seems at the moment they will not intersect. I hope they do before we ever get to the stage where we feel forced to take these selfless decisions and ruin not one, not two, but four lives. If you can ruin three, I can ruin one and spend the rest of my days as I'm expected to by the same ones we don't intend to lie to and whose love we respect so much.

I remember your promise of being mine always. I ask you now to protect the sanctity of that promise. A promise made out of a perfect love. I was immature not to realize it then. I know you realize it too. For this love's sake fulfill your promise. Wake up and realize where this path, you are so bravely fighting on, will lead you. You think you know. No. In a few years we both will. The unhappiest people on earth. One finding solace in Jesus and the other in Allah. We do what is right and the right path is never easy. Maybe you are right, maybe this is the path to take. Two books tell us so. Books written by men. Men who notify us of what is right. Lead on, I will follow you on this lonely, unhappy, soul-eating, anguishing path of righteousness all the way to the bitter end taking solace in the fact that god will be waiting there with a smile and will tell us how proud we made him. Won't he?

Aren't I just a little boy.
Why treat me like a toy.
Is it something one can enjoy.
Is it like gazing at Helen of Troy.
Now that's a good game to employ.
But who did I ever annoy.
Anyway I do love making rice with soy.
To eat it hungrily with bok choy.
Sharing every morsel with macoy.
Hoping to bring back love and joy.
But I can't even pretend to be coy.
After all I am little but still a boy.

The ghost of a love past.

'Life is many things,
But maybe it is about time I let go of it all...

Fall back on everything You've done
Fall back on everlasting arms
When all the world is swept away
You are all the things I need
You're the air I breathe

I love You more than life
I love You more than life...'

'After all, how many words can you say to convince a heart? Damn my vocabulary, I don't know much. Promises are only words in a sentence wrapped up with simple flattery; such is the world, such is man, such is human love. They can be shaken, they can be bruised and they can also give way. Everything impregnated in this world has a beginning and sadly, also an end'.

'All of the king's horses
And all of the king's men
Couldn't pull my heart
Back together again

All of the physicians
And mathematicians too
All failed to stop my heart
From breaking in two

'Cause all I need is You
I just need You
Only You got the glue
So I'm gonna give my heart to You...'

And I said to Mr. Soh, mind opening the door a little...

Why don't you have a place for me in your heart.

Why don’t you have a place for me in your heart?
Is it like this now or it’s been so from the start?

I wish you could see, see what I see.
This place I have in which no other can be.

There are no wishes left to make, no places to see.
If only one didn’t suffer or merely to a tolerable degree.

My heart is very secluded, as there’s no one but me.
A sojourn is treasured, both, my heart and I, agree.

A visitor as such I wasn’t but was mistaken into being.
Hopes for an eternal stay, in any event, seemed fleeting.

Your visit will last forever, come here with me and sit.
After all, what is a heart without a place for you in it?


For my solitary reader.

I've loved you for so long.

Yes, It’s almost been an age.
Yes, It’s been so hard to face.

Yes, I’ve almost let them flow.
Yes, I kept inside what I couldn’t show.

Yes, I know you were never mine.
Yes, I did, to this fact, resign.

Yes, I knew I was barely alive.
Yes, I knew I wouldn’t survive.

Yes, I knew you weren’t in from the start.
Yes, I knew I never had your heart.

Yes, I’ve known this all along.
Yes, I’ve loved you for so long.

My Yesterday.

Paragraph 1

It is just so hard to see,
You walking away from me.
How did I let you slip away,
Left with no more words to say.

All I tried was to love you so,
All you did was let me go.
Now there’s not much left to do,
Remember when you loved me too.

Chorus x 1

Yesterday,
I was a fool and I played the game,
Lost you and even took the blame,
Even if I never see you again,
My love will always be the same.

Paragraph 2

The memories always stay with me,
Hurt me, haunt me, won’t let me be.
Still there’s something good in pain,
It makes me remember you again.

On and on it goes some more,
Like a never ending fall.
One day I’ll have to land,
Take my head out of the sand.

Chorus x 1

Interlude

I always knew we were meant to be, despite the obvious frailties.
I might learn better someday,
Till then I just have to say.

Chorus x 2

Walking away.

I can't remember when I stopped writing. If someone asks me what I want to do with my life, I tell them, I want to retire at 30 and become a writer. What about my book? Yes, I stopped writing. My characters. I can see what they see, feel what they feel, listen to every word they say but I can't write. I can't write about them. I can't write about you. I can't even write about me. I always said that only a poor writer needs to use what's happening in their life for inspiration. What about the writers who can't even do that? How could I stop...

What does one do when they run of inspiration? When they can't tell stories anymore? When they fail to create something out of nothing? I thought about giving up, it was tempting. A book once told me the world is full of written garbage, to not add to it. I'm doing it right now in the hope that somewhere I will see why once I thought I could write. If truth be told, I actually thought I was a good writer. I was stupid. Producing a few poems or some stories does not make one a good writer. Either you're born to write or you're not. Same with how one is born to act. Sure many people learn how to but they can never be as good at acting or half as good at writing.

As far as writing is concerned, I feel I have reached a dead end. It's a pity I cannot finish what I started. It was a good story and the fact that it really happened made it better. I've tried adding words. I cannot do it justice. I'll walk away now in the hope I might finish it one day when I'm feeling a less content person and a better writer. The irony is devastating.

Angular momentum.

The city of angels.

Los Angeles. I know that I will invariably reminisce about these last few days like I have about the preceding days here. They have literally felt like being in another world and living someone else’s life. From the start to the finish it was too good to be true. Yet it was true. All of it. A chance meeting after three long years will probably have some unexpected consequences. Whether they are good or bad, only time will tell. Unexpected consequences from unexpected meetings. Makes complete sense. I remember the first meeting as if it just happened. Perhaps this was the last one, perhaps not. In truth it doesn’t matter. The story will always be there to be told. A story of impossible loves and immature passions. Despite it all , I promised myself to not come back here because it could never be so much fun again.