Scenario #6

“What is love without money, if not eating dirt to live?”

Cruel but truthful, isn’t it?

And so we played. We foolishly bet our love on this, and we lost bitterly.

The die has been cast, and we have lost each other. The promise of happiness in our hearts and cash in our pockets was never fulfilled. We asked for too much. We wished for too much. We begged for too much. And no one was entitled to give us what we desperately hoped for, what we knew deep down we never deserved.

We should have known better. We should have known our place. We should have been content with our miserable, impoverished, debt-ridden life and made do with what we had, rather than dreaming of Eden and landing ourselves in this hellish place.

A place with golden chairs and silver cups, but not a single door to escape whatsoever.

A place lit by thousands of crystal lamps, as if to overwhelm its own dark terrors.

A place where I can see you, but cannot touch you. A place where I kill you, hour by hour, but cannot save you.

I’m living the most extravagant nightmare, and there’s no one to rescue both of us.

Help me…

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Scenario #5

Suddenly, I sound so desperate =.=”

I can’t stop.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

For the first time, a girl looked at me right into the eyes, coldly and calmly.

For the first time, a girl approached me without blushing, without squealing. Calmly like the winter winds after a snowstorm. Your long black dress fluttered in sync with your footsteps, your white shirt glowed majestically under the sunset. Simple yet beautiful.

You gave me back the paper along with a single word: “Here”. Your warm, gentle voice is smooth like water, the cold and deep water held in your eyes. A strange yet enchanting combination.

You gave me a slight bow, then turned and walked away. You walked into my heart and mind so impudently, so elegantly; then you walked away so quickly, so cruelly.

Just like that, you made me want you. You made me yearn for you, think of you, sing for you. You made me search for you, in vain. Where are you? I want to at least know your name; but how can I have it, when I couldn’t get even a smile from you?

I want to see you again. I want to talk to you, about anything and everything. I want to know your name, and much more. I want to smile at you, and be reciprocated in kind. Such a fleeting moment, and yet countless possibilities are awaiting us.

Dreams, hopes and fears, they excite me, burn me up until I’m nothing but part of this hateful reality, this hateful reality that our meeting is fated, but our destinies may never intertwine.

I cannot accept it, that our lines only intersect. How sad it would be, how regrettable it would be! I want to live with no regrets, and I want to test all the possibilities. That straight line of mine towards what was once my goal, I will redraw it to circle around you. Yes. I will find you, chase after you, until you look at me again.

Let me hear more of your voice, a voice sharp and clear, firm yet kind.

Let me see more of your eyes, showing none while hiding all.

Let me know more about you, girl who got my heart.

Won’t you want to know more about me?

Scenario #4

I hate you. Oh how I hate you. The way you ignored my texts, the way you hung up the phone when I called you at work. It’s just: “Baby, how are you today?”. Honestly, it’s not that hard for you to answer my question, right?

Why must you be so fickle? Why would you give me a cute wink, then glare at me 5 seconds later? You said I was bothering you? How can that be, when you once said that I’m the most precious to you? You even said it in front of thousand other people, have you forgotten?

Maybe you forgot. In that case, let me remind you: I am yours, and you are mine. We belong to each other. WE. BELONG. TO. EACH. OTHER. You said it, didn’t you? You even said it in front of thousand other people. YOU SAID IT.

And yet you lied to me. Why did you? You said it was just a rumour. You even said it in front of thousand other people. You cast it aside so casually, with that angelic smile which I adored so much. As if it didn’t hurt at all if it was just a rumour. But then again, it was not.

You betrayed me. How could you? Don’t you avoid my eyes. You know what you just did. You went out with him, didn’t you? I saw it all. He waited for you outside your house, then you and him took the train to Shibuya*. Holding hands all the while!! You went with him into café, then a bookstore before dropping by a bar. And then you let him kiss you, let that devastating moment of our love forever be captured in that selfie!!! “Right”? What is “right”? What is “privacy”? Even after all this, you still have the nerve to demand “privacy” from me? You unfaithful heartbreaker. I love you, it is my right to look after you!!! Not a random pretty-faced guy from Johnny’s!*

I wonder how on earth I could sit in that dark corner, watching the most horrible drama episode of our romance being played out, starring you and that guy. Perhaps I was thinking too much, trying to make sense of it. Why him? Because he is handsome? An eye-candy? A sweet-talker? A heartbreaker, perhaps, just like you? No wonder they say like attracts like.

You gullible, stupid girl. You seriously think that guy loves you more than I do? Does he listen to your songs 24 hours a day, 7 days a week? Does he buy a pile of your new CDs just so that he can hold your hand for a few seconds?* Does he call you everyday, worry about your wellbeing every hour like I do? And does he silently yet happily walk you home every night, after all the shows, to protect you from any perverts in the dark, never mind that you don’t even realize it? Is he that devoted and faithful to you, like I do? And yet you are foolishly, helplessly into him. Are you even allowed to be with him in the first place?*

You have forgotten who you are. You have forgotten me, the guy whose heart you took away and ripped into pieces. In that case, I shall remind you of who you are, I shall remind you of our love. I shall take that guy’s heart and rip it into pieces…

The world around me erupted into screaming as I entered the light. It was so blinding, it was so liberating, finally the world will understand our undying love… through death!

*Shibuya: A ward of Tokyo, Japan. Well known as a fashion centre and nightlife area

*Johnny’s: Johnny’s and Associates, the biggest talent agency in Japan that produces many famous boy bands. Aka “The Pretty Boy Factory”.

*Refers to a sales tactic employed by AKB48, the most popular female idol group in Japan and other idol groups. Fans buy multiple copies of the same CD to gain access to exclusive handshake events with the group members.

*For the idols in AKB48 and other female idol groups, they are not allowed to date

Endnote: My first attempt at unreliable narrative =))

Scenario #3

I’ve been absent for so long T.T, the end of year exam was tough. Anyway, back to writing =))))

 

Handsome guys are misfortunes.

She stared at the bookstore shelf, jam-packed with more than 20 titles of magazines, from lifestyle to pop then fashion and romance-related. There was only one thing they all have in common: that one boyish, supposed-to-be-cute face printed either alone or along with other similar faces in their cover.

Well, not that his face is not her type, but for a person worshipping balance and neutrality, anything in excess – even hotness – is harmful. Not only to the mind but to the body as well. And she knew it deep into her bones, for they were still aching terribly.

CRASH!!!

.

“…my goodness…”

“Why is he here?”

“Is he OK?”

.

.

.

“… That hurts.”

She staggered to her feet, not at all amused as the crowd of fellow freshmen totally ignored the victim of the incident in favour of the culprit. Her head was still spinning from the impact, the bike’s handle must have left a dent in her back somewhere and its owner hasn’t uttered a single word of apology.

“Damn it, this is the third time this month already. Arggh…” She gritted her teeth. At this rate a hospital might be her new home and not the dormitory.

“I’m… I’m so very sorry! Are you alright?”

Hang on, this voice…

Wait. No. It can’t be. IT CANNOT BE. It cannot be…

“YOU AGAIN???”

For a one over millionth of a second, she was thankful for leaving her clinical tools inside her wardrobe. A traffic accident needs not escalate into a murder. Yeah. IT NEEDS NOT.

“Oh my, is that the girl from the other day? The one whom he crashed into after the celebs’ marathon?”

“I thought it happened at the front gate 3 days ago?”

“I witnessed both. This feels like déjà vu…”

“More like destiny isn’t it? Haha…”

DESTINY. She creased her eye brows, feeling frustrated and slightly dizzy. There is no such thing as destiny. You either make something happen or you don’t. A phenomenon does not spontaneously occur at any god’s will. Even if it does, it will soon become nothing if nobody wishes for it to exist.

And she most certainly did not wish to see him again.

Scenario 2#

He opened the heavy, 19th-century-style door to find her hastily sweeping her hands over her eyes.

“Eugenia?”

She quickly minimized the window, then turned and smiled at him. The perfect royal smile a princess like her does and should always have.

“Eriol.”

He bypassed his fiancée and approached her laptop. A look at her Facebook page, then another look at her. Still that infuriating professional smile.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m OK” came the answer, and he regretted asking that question instantly. He should have been more specific. Or rather, he should not have asked anything at all.

The red hue around her eyes only intensified as he embraced her, then melted into pearly drops of tears. How foolish, my lady. What makes you think you could handle all this alone without telling anyone?

He patted and gently squeezed her shoulders, listened to her barely comprehensible sobs: “That… that was… only… a small ribbon. Even grandma… didn’t say anything..”

He closed his eyes in exasperation. Those devils called the tabloids and their avid followers called the public… How has a red ribbon on the sleeve of her black dress got anything to do with “disrespect for the deceased Nelson Mandela”? Must be something forever beyond his understanding as a boy.

She would have gone on wetting his shirt (how did it get drenched so fast is, again, something beyond his understanding) had he not graced her cheeks with some tissue paper. He did not conceal a sigh:

“If this is you girls’ definition of “OK”, then… can I say that life sucks for all of you?”

Wiping her tears, tidying her hair, searching for her eyes, soothing her heart…

“Listen, I may be too young to understand all that stuff, but I’ll always have tissue paper in my bag. So next time, please don’t show me this face and say that you’re OK.”

Then… make her smile.

“OK?”

A gleam of light, her rosy lips seemed to shine.

“OK”

It is only the least he can do for her as her betrothed, isn’t it?

“You should rest well. You have a presentation tomorrow at the university, right? And you cannot afford to miss the lectures.”

“I know… But you don’t look too well these days either.” Her eyes suddenly turned cold. “Don’t tell me you’re already studying for the GCSE. It’s not even next year yet.” 

“Wha… now why must I do that?”

“I can tell how much of a bookworm you are. Go have some rest yourself.”

 “As you wish, my lady.” His mocking deep bow incited some giggles, the clear, joyful sound of bells that made him smile as he closed the door.

Now…

Math homework,

Science project,

Art deadline,

Karate club meeting tomorrow,

.

.

.

Ahh… Life can be so difficult for a boy like him…

 

Endnote: I hope you get it =))

Scenario 1#

The most basic etiquette in enjoying words, to me, is this: Don’t like, don’t read. With that, please enjoy (or close your tab, if applicable) =))

She’s a lesbian. And she knows it. Embrace it, even.

But her parents do not know. Rather, they refuse to know.

They take her proclamation of identity as a funny April Fool’s joke, and her passionate texts sent to a certain girl an elaborate Halloween scare.

When she brought her love to their house, they frantically tried to explain it as mere emotional imbalance of a young girl whose parents rarely meet. They made up for years of their cold, distant marriage by nights of heated arguments and bitter tears.

They, who never cast so much as a glance towards her, are desperately trying to amend their past mistakes by yet making another. Why should they care about whom she loves now, after years of neglect? Why crying for her? Why pleading with her? Why even forcing her into an engagement with a man?

Why are they doing this to her?

Endnote: I wrote this not so long ago, after reading an article about LGBT issue in my home country. For love to be a sin, a dark secret… it must be really painful. I want to tell them: “Be brave”, but who am I to fully understand what they are going through?