Cereal at Night

Cereal at night, only three words can be said: BEST FEELING EVER.

I go downstairs, rummage the utensils box and dug out my favourite cereal spoon. You might laugh hard at it when you see it. It's a white plastic spoon, yellowed due to the years it's been hiding in the drawer; even the pink angel printed on it is losing its charm-- whatever, it's still my favourite cereal spoon.

Then, I search the stacks of plates, bowls, containers and basins that's in a hodgepodge of a mess on top of the kitchen counter, trying to find my Winnie the Pooh bowl; desperately. How can one have cereal with their favorite spoon but not their beloved bowl!? I gave up searching for it and took a substitute out of the cupboard-- my second favorite bowl, a highly-breakable cream coloured cereal bowl.

The empty fridge greeted me.

Empty. Empty as in there's nothing I like inside. If anything, our decade old fridge is everything but empty. Packets of unused McDonald's chili sauced stuffed between the empty egg holder, sugar cubes in a poorly wrapped package at the bottom with an almost empty bottle of mayo shoved between a new bottle of ketchup, hardened oyster sauce and some Thai chili sauce that seemed to have been there since the dawn of time. Is that a bottle of vinegar? Bags and bags of wrapped up nonsense blocked the orange light at the back of the fridge. What in the world are in these bags? They have been there longer than that bottle of Thai chili sauce! It'd be too much of a pain to clear them out now, besides, I see my box of cereal and that horrible carton of milk already. They are up front, I really didn't have to look. The mystery of those wrapped up bags remains.

The sound of cereal against the bowl. Relaxing. I never want it to stop. But if I don't stop pouring, they'll fall out of the bowl, roll onto the floor and get stepped on. No, I wouldn't want that to happen! Goodbye, sounds of mini balls filling up an empty bowl!

I take one piece and put it in my mouth. Crunchy. As my teeth crushed that one little ball, I sensed a burst of flavour. Mm... Wheat... I love the taste of wheat. It reminds me of Oishi brand genmai green tea that I would always drink in Thailand and somehow, that taste brings me to an open field at sunset with storks bathing in the muddy water. Of course, once that taste is gone, I stop reminiscing. 

I take a spoonful and shove it into my mouth. Shit, that's too much! Om nom nom nom... My mouth was dry, and as the chewed cereal went down my throat, my oesophagus had a hard time contracting its muscles; peristalsis almost hurt. Finally, I swallowed the ball of crushed chocolate pieces.

Time for the milk to invade my peaceful kingdom of chocolate pieces.

I dislike milk ever since a few years ago when the smell of it made me vomit all over the floor. It was only recently that I've come to accept milk back into my diet. This white, creamy liquid, it's as if I could still smell that farm and cows of Dutch Lady when I open the lid. It makes me sick. But alas, what's the enjoyment of having cereal without milk? This deadly combination is my guilty pleasure in the dead of the night.

I let a piece of cereal slide onto my spoon, then carefully, I let the milk fill up whatever space that's left. I raise it to my lips. One lick of the milk, using the tip of my tongue like a cat. It's time to feed myself properly-- not quite. I like to taste the milk and cereal individually first, thus the reason why there's only a piece floating in my spoonful of milk. Before the innocent white of the milk gets contaminated by the chocolate, I'd like to feel its blandness on my tongue and that indescribable taste which I loathe yet at the same time, it soothes me. 

Time to feed myself properly, like a human being, like a seventeen-year-old highschool student.

I look over at Sarah who took a bowl and sat down beside me. I told her how I like to eat my cereal. She stared at me incredulously and I started laughing. "You're the only abnormal one around here!" and she left me there, alone under the creaking ceiling fan and dull lights.

Ineligible Ideas

I'm not a big fan of essay competitions, but what the heck, I participate anyway! I love writing, I just don't know what to write when it comes to a competition.

These competitions are mostly for educational purposes, so we're encouraged to write about positive stuff... You know me, I prefer the darker way of writing; the Japanese way. Japanese novels are brilliant and sexy, that's why they're my favourite.

Sigh...

I don't know what to write about.

I have ideas... I just don't think those ideas are suitable for the competition.

I'll go write now... And if I get too frustrated, I'll go to bed.

Good afternoon and happy mother's day. Do something special for your mummy.

The Frog that Climbed Out of the Well

One thing leads to another. Unknowingly, a new bond is formed; two persons cross each other's path. 

When you give yourself a chance, when you gather all the strength that's left in you and crawl of the well you've been trapped in for years, you'll find a new world to call home. From beneath the well, all you were able to see was the sky when the Sun shone and the stars when it set. That round picture of day and night, it was enough to satisfy you, and so you tell yourself you'll never leave that empty well, even if it started to crumble. 

I had nothing left to salvage, so I bid the world I knew goodbye as it fell to ruins.

At first, all I could do was cry. I curled up on the cold hard ground, sobbed my days away because this new world was unknown to me, I didn't know what to do or where to go. I thought of giving up, and I drugged myself with the memories of my past so I'd leave this life peacefully. As the scenes of how my world fell apart flashed in my head, I jolted awake. Those memories, they were all too painful to bear. So I ran.

I stumbled, fell, cut myself. I couldn't see where I was going. I ran without direction, without a destination in mind but soon, I heard distant voices and saw faint lights. My body slammed against something hard, I lost all my senses; fainted.

The best things come unexpectedly when one isn't even looking.

How can someone move on, I wondered as I drifted in and out of sleep. Once, I loved a person. I gave so much, invested all my time in the first relationship I've ever had in my life, thinking that it'll last forever. He seemed so sure too, constantly telling me that he wishes to marry when the time comes. Years passed by like that, and we were a step closer to our goal as each year went. It wasn't always rainbows and butterflies, compromises were made, but I never thought that promises would be broken. 

Spring, the season where nature is reborn. It was then that I suddenly became a part of nature, needing to sprout out from the earth once again. Indeed, I lost everything I had that spring. 

I finally woke up.

My head rests on a soft pillow, white sheets covering my body. I could smell breakfast, the sizzling of bacon on the frying pan in the kitchen. 

A stranger had found me unconscious, so he took me to his home.

How can someone move on? I ask myself yet again.

Numb from the heartbreak, I don't want to fall in love again. 

I was convinced that the world was only that same portrait of day and night when I was a frog that lived in an old, empty well. I convinced myself that what I knew was as good as the world can get. I was wrong. 

There is someone ten times better than you are. A hundred, maybe a thousand folds better than you. Losing you and meeting someone new, I'm starting to realise what I'm looking for in a partner-- though I don't want to date again so soon. Companionship, that's all I long for at the moment, and I seem to have found the perfect one. I never thought I'd be able to give so much in such a short time, to a person--in my candid opinion-- not very good looking. 

Nobody's perfect, but then, personality and inner beauty would make even the ugliest beings beautiful. 

You, Me, John

He's a nice guy. That's all there is to say.

Months ago, I sat in the living room of a one-bedroom studio apartment, listening to the sound emitting from the filter of the fish tank while my eyes were fixed on the 27 inch screen. Though not a big fan of Apple, the iMac was the only option I had at the time. It was past midnight, I couldn't sleep. Alone in a foreign country, where else was I to seek company?

He was one in twenty-thousand.

I was ready to press the Esc button any time, moreover, I wasn't in the loveliest mood that night-- frustrated, and answering rudely. I was surprised that he still opted to talk to a grumpy sixteen-year-old. We exchanged emails and that was it. I had no intention of looking for him ever again.

Five months later, a chain of events led to where I am now.

He's in the shower at the moment.

I'm sitting on the bed, legs folded. The morning sun is shining through the window, lighting up part of the room since I only bothered to pull back a small section of the curtain. How long has it been since I woke up so early? It's not often that I see sunlight like this through the dusty glass windows.

I like talking to him, I realise. Hah, if I didn't, I wouldn't have woken up at half past five this morning!

What we have is rather peculiar. I am still numb from the break-up a month ago, I don't feel the need or want to be in love yet I enjoy the company he's providing. Truth is, I feel sorry him. I don't feel what I felt -- and still feel-- for You when I'm with him. Something's missing, but I don't know what. To say that my heart is nowhere in it is a lie, because he makes me smile and I'd want to see him happy as well.

You, always in my mind still. I feel like I'm trapped in a labyrinth of my own emotions, forever wandering around this complex structure, unable to find my way out as each turn I make brings me to the walls that holds the memories of our times together. I break down in front of those cobbled walls before moving on again.

He's out of the shower, standing in front of the door at 6' 4'', you'd wonder how many people on the face of the Earth that's actually so tall.

I smile at him.

Behind this smile of mine, there lies those bittersweet thoughts of first-love. What is this shadowed smile of mine then? I don't know either. I feel nothing, but I am happy.

In Chinese, our situation would be described using four simple words: 有缘无分, meaning not destined to be. Fate is cruel, don't you think? But ah, compensation; this is as good as it's going to get.

3AM

Here I am, missing you at this hour. I wonder if I cross your mind at all, but judging from your posts, I'd bet all my money on the fact that you don't think about me. Not even when you read what I write.

Nothing excites me anymore.

Back then, my heart would stray so easily, even to those I am unfamiliar with it would go. Now? It feels as if I haven't a heart at all. Don't talk about falling for another person, it doesn't even race when I watch clips that supposedly turn people on. Others may call me cute, but I feel nothing at all; not the slightest feeling of happiness.

Everything means nothing now that you're gone.