Thursday, 9 August 2018

First non-amicable breakup


So numb.

Not even sure how to feel most times, when it suddenly hits me. When I'll be so happy, and then I look out the window, and think about him, and my heart starts to feel heavy. A very prominent, physical, feeling. Or now - a grey cloud that hovers above my head.

There was so much chemistry between us, and while I would never have admitted it out loud, what we had between us was... it was something - it was love to some degree. It could have evolved into a great thing. But it didn't. It devolved. Into distrust, resentment, and insecurity. And I felt that much more so from his end. Perhaps he didn't even realise. Or didn't want to realise. It was a level of toxicity that I have never had before - not with anyone I genuinely consider close to me.

So I walked out.

I feel like... you can never be completely prepared for how you'll feel after you separate.

While he was toxic for me, there's just something that still tugs at my heartstrings.

I had to learn so much from this, and maybe he will never ever realise - but the six months we were together is going to be one of those moments that define how I choose my future partners, and therefore, it's an experience that will/has changed my life.

I already know he has impacted my life in a big way. Even in just the littler things I do - drinking, going out, playing pool, knowing where all the best bars are in the CBD...

There were the really, really, fun times I had with him. The memories that sometimes still replay over and over in my mind so vividly, and torture me emotionally. The joy I felt before it turned to shit.

It's really hard to accept. Is it weird to say that I wish my friends could have seen us when he and I were good? ...

All those moments will be lost in time. Like tears in the rain.

Yes, I just quoted Blade Runner.

And I'm listening to sad music.

Saturday, 21 July 2018

Fuck. You.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

I have never had a friend who has made me feel the way you do. Let alone a partner. Somebody that I'm supposed to be in love with. Whom I am supposed to contemplate spending the rest of my life with. Have children with. Wake up and cook breakfast with in the morning.

Fuck you.

For every accusation you have made against me. Every shred of hypocrisy that you've displayed. The tactlessness that you've demonstrated towards my friends.

Fuck you.

The anger you've made me felt. Right from the beginning. The number of times I've forgiven you. Tried to be the bigger person. Tolerated you.

Fuck you.

I don't think you understand your actions. Your words. How much anxiety it's caused me. When I'm not even an anxious person. How much sadness you've caused me. When I'm not really a sad person. I'm optimistic. I'm inspired. I have hope. I want to help. And you disrespect that. Degrade that. Say that it's pointless.

Fuck you.

And by nature, I cling to the best parts of you. The good times we had. I want you to be the best that you are. I see the best in you. And I fell in love with that version of you.

Only to slowly get hurt.

And I shouldn't let myself be weak.

I should also recognise the worst about you.

And I now do.

And I hate myself for loving you.

For loving that idealised version of you.

I hate it.

I want to leave. I will leave.

And when I do. I'll say.

Fuck you.

Friday, 8 June 2018


Like roadkill
Scorched alive
Drowned in own blood
Left to die
Ripped pelage
A host to ants
A magnet for flies
A parallax of death
Cloaked by the night
Placenta for the earth
Assault on the eyes
This is a dead man
No longer has a face
Life unjustly beaten away
By the cruelty and prejudice
Of strangers passing by
Saw him as an animal
They left him to die
Body rotting
Sinking deep
Into the dirt
He now seeps
Somewhere faraway
In the dark
His lover lies
And begins to weep

Wednesday, 14 February 2018

We're finally free.

I can see it. I can hear it. I can feel it.

The winds that susurrate through these streets.

And the birds that fly above these buildings.

The sound of water lapping gently toward the sand. 

The magnificent blood orange torch of a setting sun, beaming across the horizon.

A light so intense you can feel it glow on your skin.

The ability to love and be loved.

The small smile on his face. His human smile.

So fragile and full of emotion, yet a heart so strong and withstanding of the greatest obstacles.

We let our fingertips touch as we stare into his world, and leave mine behind forever.

Sunday, 21 January 2018

To him

I woke up crying from this dream I just had. It was very vivid, and there was one scene where I was standing on a bridge in the city, and the bridge had a transparent criss cross facade on one side, like the ceiling above H&M at Chadstone. It was sunrise. As I was walking down ever so slowly, not even sure why I was on this bridge, I could feel so strongly the sunlight and shadows, as filtered through the facade, dance across my skin. I could feel the soft touch of the morning breeze, and closed my eyes to the first trickle of Chinese tourists that were oohing and aahing in the background, admiring what must be a beautiful cityscape behind me. I stood there facing the facade, and closed my eyes, breathing in very slowly - my body enveloped by this warm glow of light.

A voice had whispered to me 'karma will come, don't do to others what you wouldn't want them to do to you'. And for some reason, in this dream, I had apparently cut off all ties with my friends. I had lashed out, insulted them, hurt them, turned them away. And when I opened my eyes again, and saw them materialise before me, I could see from each of their faces that I was alone, and nobody would ever speak to me again. I called out to them, but they walked away, some of them hurling abuse, giving me what I had given them.

From that scene, I dreamt that I had woken up in bed next to my high school friend (whom I caught up with in real life yesterday). I was sobbing uncontrollably and reaching for a glass of water while she groggily sat up and patted me on the back, saying 'it's alright, it's just a dream, I still love you'. And she went back to bed.

Through my sobs, I got out of bed and walked to the balcony. I heard his voice. He walked onto the balcony from a different entryway, carrying some sort of clipboard, checking off things with two guys who looked like renovators. I could tell he was happy, and when he saw me, his eyes lit up so bright and an impossibly goofy smile unravelled on his face. He greeted me cheerfully, but I continued to sob like a devastated child, telling him about my dream and that everybody hates me.

He laughed in a comforting way, and then said "What! Don't be silly Cindy, of course we love you, you doofus! I love you." And then he hugged me.

Then I really woke up. And I woke up with real tears in my eyes. And I thought about all the little things and big things that he did for me while we were together. Every single time he picked me up, bought me food, told me I was beautiful, and tried to be a better person for me. Every time he smiled at me, called me stupid names with that goofy but unadulterated look of love on his face. Of a joy so pristine and peaceful. And yet I felt like I had thrown it away, or that he felt that way. Of course, I'm still certain that breaking up with him was the right decision, as we were two people at two different places in our lives, with mismatched values and personalities that didn't mesh well long term. Me unable to treat him as well as he treated me was a major reason why I had to do it for both of our sakes.

But I will always, always remember that smile. And no matter what I do in my life, and where I am, I will still love him. I feel bad that I had hurt him so deeply, or caused him to feel so much resentment. But with him, I had some of the happiest and most peaceful moments in my life. And I know there will never be another person like him.

Thursday, 18 January 2018


We watched as the car burned and melted. 

"Do you think maybe, we shouldn't have had that much to drink?" he asked. 

I couldn't take my eyes off the wreckage. 

"Yeah, probably," I mumbled.

The flames seared the bonnet of the totalled car and the smell of metal and gasoline became overwhelming. I remember reading somewhere, that space smelled like burned metal.

"We should probably get away from it for now," he suggested. I immediately agreed, but then asked him what we should do if the trees caught fire. I said I'd feel bad if that happened.

"Well, I don't think it will. But even if it did...would it really matter after tonight?"

I didn't answer, but merely shook my head to signify no - it didn't matter if people found out. Nothing would matter anymore. 

Hand in hand, we left what used to be his mother's car combusting on the side of the dirt path and walked toward the forest, deeper and deeper into an abyss. 

He flicked open the heavy duty torch and shone the path before us. 

The foliage wasn't too dense. The trees grew more sparsely in this area, allowing plenty of moonlight to seep through.

Soon enough, we reached the lake. 

It was beautiful. There was a full moon tonight. Its reflection a perfect mirror on the still water. 

We stood there and admired the scene before us for what seemed like an eternity. Breathed it all in.

He wrapped his fingers around my hand even more tightly. I looked at him, then he looked at me. Our eyes interlocking into a fiery trance.

"Let's do it," I exhaled. 


From the back of his trousers, tucked into his belt, he brings out the gun - his father's vintage revolver. The barrel was polished so shiny and black. The light hit it just right so that it seemed to glimmer like a jewel. I didn't know if that was just my mind playing tricks on me. 

With my heart pumping desperately, I watched him raise the barrel to his chin, angling it right. 

He waited a minute of silence between us, his eyes watering up as he returned my nervous stare. 

"I love you," he finally whispered. 

Then he pulled the trigger. And I felt his blood splatter across my face.  

Tears fell uncontrollably. My entire body heaved with ugly sobs and gasps. My knees weak, I knelt down next to his body, lying there so peacefully in the grass. I slowly unclasped the revolver from his hand. Then I brought it to my temple, my index finger caressing the trigger.

I looked up and admired, for the final time, the cluster of stars that lit up this part of the night sky.

I want to go out and not have to bring a purse.
I want to wear baggy jeans, an old oversized sweatshirt, and take a long drag of my cigarette while I lean on a balcony and the wind billows through my hair in the night.
I want to breathe in, and feel like things are moving in slow motion.
I want to feel curious, and enamoured by everyone and everything.
I know my heart will beat fast, but my mind will be slow.
And that nothing really matters but right here and now. 
I will feel the balmy summer breeze on my cheeks and neck. 
Watch an old street lamp flicker like a flame.
Then close my eyes. Tilt my head back slightly.
And feel an overwhelming calmness. 
Like I'm standing in front of an ocean. 
Watching the sun set across an iridescent horizon.
Glimmering tantalisingly. Red, orange, and blue.
So peaceful. 
So free of noise and bullshit. 
And when I open my eyes, I'll see the white moon in the black night sky above me. 
I'll wonder about the universe, and aliens, and other planets.
A vast space unexplored.

I'll rest my cigarette, and take another sip of whiskey. 
80s synthwave playing in the background. 

Friday, 12 January 2018


Two nights ago at the dinner table, I accidentally made my family sit through (at least) ten seconds of Andrew McCarthy pretending to perform cunnilingus on actress Jami Gertz in the 1987 film Less Than Zero. 

I should have known better than to watch a film adapted from a Bret Easton Ellis novel (he also wrote American Psycho) with my parents... I actually didn't even know what was happening at first, because the scene was so dark and the angle so weird. All I heard and saw were some mushy kissing noises, heavy breathing, some flesh, and random bits of cloth.

Then I realised that that was the back of Andrew McCarthy's head gyrating between Gertz's legs, underneath her skirt. Wow. And there we all were, me and my super conservative quinquagenarian Chinese parents eating fried prawns and chewing on pork trotters while watching a young woman scream in pleasure.

I eventually awkward laughed and changed the channel, having only waited an excruciating ten seconds because I thought okay, this is an eighties film, surely there would be nothing so explicit and this would be over in like 0.5 seconds. I was wrong. Ahh the liberalism of western pop culture.

But the whole time I figured - hey, my conservative Chinese parents need to accept that I often watch movies with a bit (and sometimes a lot) of sex in it. Plus, seeing young people have brazen extemporaneous sex would be one way of getting them to realise that sexual desire should not be something to feel ashamed about, and sex before marriage is a common thing, at least in the country where we live. Most importantly, that it doesn't make a woman some sort of dirty, grotesque demimonde. My morally anachronistic mother likes to describe these women as, 'an unwrapped, used, regifted present that no man in their right mind would accept'.


I'm glad I'm not fucked up like she is about this stuff

but honestly, it's surprising how I still know people my age that subscribe to such bullshit moral standards

Thursday, 1 June 2017


And when he smiles, I smile.
When he laughs, I laugh.
I feel his fingers around my waist.
His eyes on my face.
And I know this won't last.
But I relish all of it.
Every gaze.
Every touch.
That endures a second too long.
I love it. Love it. Love it.

Friday, 26 May 2017

Sweet dreams

Oooh. Ooooh.
She moans.
Body writhing.
Back arching.
A beautiful bridge.
Of flesh and ribs.
I kiss her chest. 
Admire her lips.
But as I stare.
Look upon her delicate frame.
My tears unravel.
A history of pain.
It's been so long.
She says.
Reads my mind.
Too long.
I whisper back. 
Fingers caressing.
Her eyelids.
Her nose and cheeks.
Where have you been.
I ask. Voice wavering.
A waterfall of tears.
An ocean of grief.
A small smile she gives.
A bittersweet marker.
Of the life she lives.
Having fun.
She laughs. Nonchalantly.
I watch her calmness.
Collarbone heaving.
Translucent white skin.
Her arms are reaching.
Around my body.
Pulling me towards her.
A grip so tight. I suffocate.
Never let me go.
I think.
I won't.
She says.
I close my eyes. 
Enclose her with my embrace.
Please. Please.
Let me sink into her.
Let me be with her.
Let her stay.
This one time. 

I open my eyes.
Daylight seeping through the blinds.
It hits the spot on the bed.
Where she used to be.
It is empty.
It has been empty for years.
And I can do nothing.

But stare.
In silence.
Because last night.
Was just a dream.