# 83. the world, my playground, my job, my teacher, my home, my family.

picture by pinkforsure.com

grasping tightly the soft canvas of my oversized bag, i took the last sight of both my parents, holding each other tightly. both of their hands clasped closely together, white, while their remaining free hands, waved goodbye towards me. with all my might, i held my tears in captive. i turned towards the led lights that says departure. i know that will be the last time that i am going to see both my very first best friends in a very long time. and with that, i know that i am headed to what i have been longing to do my whole life. i know that the world is my playground, my job, my teacher, my home, my family. i know i am destined to take this path.

being in the limelight, being on top of the pyramid, being liked or hated by many, seem to be the destination that many of my peers have been chasing reluctantly. i have been there; not on top, not the best but though i've just a had little taste of it, i realised it did not interest me a single bit. being in the midst of dramas and the unkindness of humans, life seemed to have lost its meaning, lost its touch. again, there i was, in my nest, i wondered.

studies, degree certification, five-figure salaries, branded handbags, five-inch stilettos, shiny automobiles, 1000sq mansion. is that all there is to define life? does looking like models in high fashion magazines gonna define who i am deep down inside? does owning the best in the world going to make me the happiest person? does gaining approval from the rotten society going to make me any better as a person? i highly doubt so. so what is there to life? when we were all born with only our very first best friend; our imagination, we dared dream, we dared live, we were simple, we were happy. why now should the meaning of life be any different? why now should we learn to be sly to survive the cruel ways of life? why now should we succumb to the complication of human nature? i don't know, but all i know is that i don't belong.

i wish that i am not chained to the ways of life. i wish that i am not binded to commitments. i wish that i am not judge by the ways of society. i wish that i can just go. no plans, no possessions, no stops. afterall, we were all born with no possession, no plans, no stops to start with. so why do we all get tied down to the need to conform to the ways of society? why do we desire for more possessions? why do we plan when life is just as it is? life is simple, it is only us humans which complicates it.

good or bad, right or wrong, i just want to live again. i just want to go.

inspirations.

# 82. a lil thing called growing up.

Solitary by Asia 2009.

i used to think, falling down was painful and unbearable,

until i knew how to stand up on both my feet.

i used to think, jumping off a cliff was scary,

until i learnt that life is all about taking leaps of faith.

i used to think that the world was of rainbows and unicorns,

until i learnt that rainbows only happen after every storm.

i used to think, that dark and small rooms were suffocating,

until i realized that life itself is suffocating.

i used to think that everyone were family and friends,

until i accepted that there was no room for you and us with "i" around.

i used to think that there is more to life than evil and unkindness,

i guess, that's just me, never understanding unkindness,

or perhaps its my stubbornness acting out, not wanting to give up.

so here i stand, alone and scared,

until that day comes, i wonder, who will i be.

Inspirations.

# 81. Sens de La Vie. Chapter 1.

picture by inmagine

Chapter 1.

Everything became slow motion. Against the agonizing pain that I was feeling at the back of my neck, I turned my head frantically to look for little Jamie and I saw Joe. I could see Joe shouting out for me, but I couldn't hear a single word he said. With the buzz inside of my head ringing so loud and the blood flowing from my head, I can only only squint my eyes to see that his mouth was moving in a constant rhythm. I was trying to my best to focus. I couldn't make up what he was saying. The buzzing became louder and louder. And my world gradually became pitch black.

As I opened my eyes, the scorching sun rays was too much for my pupil to bare, my palms worked its way to act as a shield to my eyes. Images begin to register in my mind as I turned around, absorbing the new environment that somehow felt familiar. A red mud-stained toddler's tricycle sprawled aimlessly across a well maintained, beautifully kept green lawn while a blue toy car, now rather half flattened was only a few meters away from the tricycle. The lawn sprinklers decided to come alive as the front door of the house spat wide opened. A woman, so beautiful I thought, stormed through the hallway. Her eyes dilated, mouth working furiously, hands and arms up in the air wildly. She was the one woman in my life, who have taught me how to ride a bicycle, how to behave like a woman, and how to love unconditionally. She was my role model, my mama.

While she was in the midst of her rants, making her way down the patio, she stopped abruptly only to continue her steps by running frantically towards my direction. Her eyebrows crinkled her forehead as she squatted down right next to me. With tears forming around the corners of her eyes, she still looked as beautiful as ever. Her touch so gentle and soft, she was holding my bruised knees with such care, she slowly blew away the grass and dirt around my wounds. I tried to call her, but all I can hear was her comforting voice saying, "Shhh, don't cry baby, everything is going to be alright," I looked down at my palm, it was very much smaller that I last remembered and a scorching pain hit me as I looked at my equally tiny knee which was bleeding severely. Confused, I looked around and I caught a reflection of myself. I was the three-year old me wearing a pony tail on my head with a huge ribbon to match with. My mama worked like a superhero, so fast that I did not even realise the pain anymore. I have never figured out what was her secret; how she can make everything so scary be as beautiful as marshmallows and rainbows in the skies, or how can she always keep me warm and safe, away from the big bad old monsters that creeps around at the end of the streets waiting to get us. Nope, I have never figured out what her secret was, never my entire life.

And as the last step to patching me up, she made sure that she used my favorite Pooh bear plaster. I watched her as she moved gracefully packing the first aid kit and gathering the blood stained cotton. She stopped and smiled at me and rewarded me with a sloppy watery kiss. I was disgusted as she pulled away. My hands irritatedly wiped away her remaining saliva on my cheek. She looked at me, giggling hysterically. I know she loves doing that just to annoy me. I used to continue letting her do this up till when I was in my middle school just to see that gorgeous smile of hers resting upon her beautiful face.

"Jessica! Where is my baby?" A tall, tanned, handsome, muscular young man crept up behind her and gave her the tightest embrace that I have ever seen my whole life. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead as she turned to face her love as a contented smile gently appeared on her face. Both of them looked at each other longingly for a second or two as though nothing else had mattered in the world. A thin layer of glass made of tears formed in my eyes as I witnessed such picture perfect view. I have forgotten about how much the happiness of these first two person that I know in the world had mattered to me and a strong pang hit me. I realised how much I have missed these two beautiful souls. Both of them, were my first best friends, my play mates and my guardians. As they stood together, looking at me smiling, the buzz in my head gradually became louder and I once again, am in total darkness.

Inspirations.

by

melaniehwa.

# 80. ps. thank you.

i've always believed that a simple thank you is able to go a long way,

not to making someone's day,

but to making my very own day a better one.

words are never and never will be enough to express gratitude,

but here's some post-it notes for the people who matters,

but i know,

this is nothing compared to what i feel grateful for deep down inside.

so, thank you.

my gratitude goes out to the many people who i couldn't name one by one.

colleagues, i thank you for the opportunities to learn, to explore and to play with you guys.

labi-labi, i thank you for letting me know that there is always still hope out there.

friends, i thank you for those who have stucked by me and also for those who didn't.

and everyone who i did not mention, sorry and also i thank you.

i thank everyone who have crossed my path of life because i believe that you have made a difference in my life somehow, someway, even when you and i don't even realise it.

so this is a personal thank you note to everyone in my life,

and also to you who is reading this right now.

thank you.

Inspirations.

#79. What is love?

picture by julkusiowa

I remembered that my little toes wiggled in excitement as I happily stood still when my mother dressed me up in my new pink princess-like dress. I feel as though I was the prettiest girl in the world at that moment. I was getting ready for my third birthday party and that day, I secretly wished that my prince charming would appear on his beautiful white horse and carry me away in his strong arms and live happily ever after. That I was told to believe in when I was three, young and naive.

I remembered that I couldn't help but to touch the crown of purple and white roses which felt so soft and subtle on my head as I walked down the white aisle behind my dear aunt, who I thought, had never looked anymore beautiful than she did that day. She was dressed in a graceful, long white dress with detailed designs made of shiny pearl white sequins, hair dressed up in a clean bun, eyes sparkling, edges of her lips reaching the sides of her ears as she walked towards the man of her dreams. That was when I was nine and I witnessed recruited true love.

I remembered when I looked straight into his puppy doe eyes, I felt as though nothing else mattered in the whole wide world. Every single time when his fingers link mine, my heart skips a beat. Every time our lips touches, nothing in the world could explain that feeling, not even fireworks. Every moment we shared, was simple and sincere. That was what I experienced when I was sixteen, an innocent first love.

I remembered that my heart was pounding and tears were rolling down my cheeks every time I see my parents quarreling and arguing. I remembered my mother's horrid-stricken face, tired and sad, trying her best to hold me and my sisters close to her, preventing my father from hurting us. I dreamt every day and night, the horrendous angry looking face that my father had every day when he drunkly steps into the front door of our house, reprimanding my mother and demanding for more beer. I was still in my college years, only twenty, when I stopped believing in marriage.

I remembered I was alone in my room, trying to keep my voice down, sobbing against my pillows as the picture of my fiancee cheating on me in a hotel room with another girl painfully popped up in my head. Those sweet memories that we shared, years of growing and learning together, smiles and laughters, and dreams of building a future together, all doesn't seem to mean a thing any more. I was twenty six when I stopped believing in love.

So love, was supposed to be the only thing that matters in the whole world, the key to making the world seem much more bearable regardless the evil in the world. Love, so fragile and pure, is also something that many had lost faith upon. So, what is love then?

Inspirations.