Eight Days to Forty

I really hate traveling, I mean the packing, the planning, the long tiring journey, but I love seeing new places, meeting new people, eating new food. I guess I love the experience but not the nitty gritty of getting that experience.

I have been lucky so far, I have gotten the chance to see quite a few beautiful places in this world. When I was young my parents brought us around Malaysia, and we had marvellous memory of all the trips we took. When I was 19, sis won a contest and that took us to LA and it was an eye-opening experience.  Then when I started seeing Phil, I get to go visit him in the beautiful Lake District, and of course he brought me to see Wales and Scotland. He also brought me to Malta for holiday; that was a beautiful experience. Then Kak Limah hosted me for 11 days in Istanbul, I love that city.

So I guess, looking back, traveling wise I can’t complain, but there are still a few places I really want to go and I hope I will get to see with people I love.

Nine Days to Forty

I am going to be forty and apart from renting a house with my friends during university I have never lived on my own. I don’t really know how I feel about it. There are times when I really need my space, I wish I have a place of my own, but that doesn’t happen very often. I actually hate being alone, so I guess not living on my own is no big deal.

But whenever I watched all those HGTV series, I have this need of wanting a house to renovate and decorate. I have always liked to design houses. When I played Sims, my favorite part is setting up the house and as I level up expanding and upgrading the house. I don’t really enjoy the playing god part of Sims but I love what it was originally for – an architectural tool.

Forty and still living with my dad, not too weird in Malaysia actually, but yeah would love to have a place I can call my own where I can design and decorate to my hearts contend.

Ten Days to Forty

In ten days I will be forty. As always I don’t enjoy the coming of my birthday. But I have seen one of my Facebook friend posting every day for a month of things she is grateful for in he r life, and that have given me the idea of doing this countdown to my birthday. I am going to talk about ten things in my life that is important to me and whether I have achieved what I want to achieve with it up to this point in my life.

I am hoping that this exercise would help lessen that feeling of failure that I have each time I reach a birthday. I don’t think I can take additional stress on my depression, I am sad enough as it is now and the looming of this big birthday, my fortieth, is threatening to make it more than I could handle.

So ten days before my birthday, I think I will talk about my hobby of playing with my hair. When I was young dad made sure I wear my hair short, so it would be neat for school. At times it was cut so short, that teachers used my hair as example for the boys. The last time I let dad cut it short was when I was off to do my matriculation, after that I started keeping it long.

I have always liked to braid hair, but it wasn’t after I got to know Phil that I really learned how to braid all the different kinds of braids. I don’t really know how we got on the topic, but the next thing I know Phil was linking me all these YouTube channels that have hair tutorials. Turns out he has a few favourite channels he subscribe to. That is why I love my man; he has varied interest that fascinates me.

I am happy with all the skills I have developed concerning my hair, but because I am getting older my hair is not really in a good condition, so I guess I have to start researching on ways to baby my aging hair. 

Happy 70th Birthday Daddy

Daddy,
today you turn 70, yeah you made it. A few weeks back, while feeling really weak and sick you asked me if you'd reach 70. I said yes of course you would, you still have so many things to do, ladies to tackle, boundless 'children' to take care of etc.

I have already written you a tribute sort of earlier this month, so I don't really know what to add. Some more Adik has already written a long moving tribute to you and now I ran out of new things to say.

Just know that you are still my superman, best friend, counselor, doctor Daddy. I love you, happy birthday.

Writing Poems

I have been writing poems since I was a child. Reading them just as long. Recently I have compiled some of my poems that I have not lost and put it in one file. I debated whether to self-publish it on Kindle and let it go or trying to find someone to publish it. The first hurdle is to whom do I send it too. Trying to find addresses for publishers in Malaysia is quite hard. I tried one that I know the address to. After quite a while a letter of rejection came with an analysis that my poem are too raw, personal and not poetic enough therefore not viable to be marketed. So yeah, was prepared for that, art has always been a matter of perception, so I was ok with it, didn't really want to send it there because I don't think they would know how to appreciate or even want to court poets writing in English.

Then I tried sending to a couple that replied my email asking about who I can send my manuscript to. One wrote an unequivocal no we don't publish poetry and the other have not replied, not even an acknowledgement of receipt.

I am tempted to just leave it like I have been doing all this while. I don't need it published. The reason I write is because I have to, it is a compulsion and it helps me in stabilising myself. But it is a shame to have done all the work of nicely collecting it not to try to share with a wider set of audience. Someone once told me that reading my poems evoked strong emotion in her. That I have just the right expression that says what she wanted to say about a particular situation. Well to me personally that is what a poem should do, connect to you in such a way that what is personal to the poet become also something personal in you. So I guess I wanted to see if more people feel that way about what I write as well.

No matter I guess Of Thunders and Rainbows will just be in my personal narrative, for me to read when I need to remember.

#mymothersaid

This morning as I was driving to work and listening to Mix FM as usual, they were talking about in honour of Mother's Day their hashtag Friday would be #mymothersaid. This made me cry cause I miss Mummy so much and wish she is still around to say stuff to me. It is sad trying to recall things that she had said to me and realize I can't remember much. Mummy was the kind of mother that listen more and always there to give you a hug if you need it, she doesn't say much, well at least to me, I know she and adik talked a lot more than I did with her.

The only thing that really comes to me is what she said when I was crying for some reason or other. She always with irritation in her voice told me "Along, stop crying like you mother just died." It never manage to make me stop but I can still hear her saying it every time I cry now, which is often, and every time I recall it, I just said Mum now I can cry all I want cause you died and how I wish I don't know the agony of losing you.

It is funny that is the only thing that really stuck in my mind. I know Mum told me many things, wise things, things I should remember, but my brain is keeping it somewhere out of reach for now.

Well what is important is that I think I have absorbed what she had wanted me to know and how I live my life makes her proud. I miss you so much Mummy, Happy Mother's Day.

Daddy

I have called him Daddy since I could speak. And now when I am grown I shortened it to Da or D. When I was growing up he was daddy and abang Yassin to many, and before that cikgu Yassin to his students, and now he is Ayah to many more people.

According to Phil, dad is a great charismatic man, someone he would like to be like, and no surprise so many look up to dad. And it is not just respect he engenders, but love, to all these people he is really a father to all of them.

To me he is just my dad, my Superman when I was young, my best friend when I grew up. He annoys me from time to time, we had a volatile relationship when I was a teenager. Most probably because we're too much alike, both having really explosive temper, and both a particular perfectionist. Now we have a sort of understanding not to touch each other's sore spot, and exist on an agreed unspoken truce. So I look on to all these adorers with awe and amusement really, wondering why, my dad of all people.

Why I love him is not surprising, he is after all a great dad. But he is just my dad, very wise and kind, yet still in my eyes he is a normal human being with flaws. But all my life, I have encountered people who when they knew who my dad is have this kind of dazed look of wonder. Still amuse me to no end.

A group of his adoring 'children' is collecting poems to dedicate their admiration to dad, and dad asked us if we want to join in. I just said, Da I write in English, I don't think my poem can fit in. So yeah, I am writing this instead on my blog. Though I rarely write poems on command or a theme, I am an inspiration kind of poet, I will try here and see if we have anything to go by.

Daddy

When I was born Mummy apologized for me being a girl and not a boy she wanted to give you

But you said it is alright and proceeded to measure all the other babies' foreheads because according to you mine was huge.

From the beginning you brought me everywhere
Even when you were fishing
there I was all red face
being in the sun too long.

Our favourite thing to do is walk around the kampung
with you holding me by my feet
and me dangling upside down
squealing with delight.

When adik came along
She wanted you all to herself
Even Mummy was pinched for holding your hand,
But you were still there for me
Whenever I need of you.

We have had times when
we didn't see eye to eye
voices were raised
tables were flipped
glasses were flung
but not once did I doubt your love
and that I will have it still
no matter what I do.

In my life, what you say is sacred
it would come true
and I would suffer consequences
if I don't heed it
not by you but by the hands of fate itself.

So I appreciate how now
in my situation, how careful
you are with what you say
even though I know you are wanting to tell me what you think
But because you love me
you let me navigate my own way
and trust me enough to know
what I want in my life.

I don't have Mummy any more to wish happy mother's day,
So in this month of May,
A mother's month, your birthday month too,
I write this Daddy to say I love you.

rya

2/5/16

6.38 pm

The Two Chains

The story of my two necklaces. I haven't worn a necklace for quite a long time. My last necklace was given to me with a key locket by dad when I turn 21. Not long after we had to pawn it for what I can't recall. Since then I never wear a gold chain again. Maybe once in a while I will put on a costume jewellery necklace but never another gold chain. When I started seeing Phil, I asked him about the gold chain that he wears. He told me when he was fourteen, it was very popular for guys to wear chains. He worked and saved up to get him a chain. Of course the one he wore is his third or fourth chain, but it has become a symbol of his ability to earn for himself anything that he wants, his independence. When we started to go to and fro each other's country and I started missing him badly I kept hinting that I would love to wear his chain so I could have him near me. For years, it became a sort of a joke between us, and he kept saying the chain is a part of him and the only way it will leave him is when he dies and he promised he will leave it to me in his will.

The last time I was visiting him, feeling very vulnerable about leaving him yet again, I timidly told him that I kept asking for his chain and I didn't even know if it would fit me. He was like kind of exasperated and went on to take it off and put it around my neck and proceed to say, take this as a loan, and as a token of my promise that I will come for it and for you. He never gave me an engagement ring as such, and I don't need it but that gesture meant a lot to me. Having it  helped me through the worst period of my life. I kept holding on to the promise of when it was given and that faith kept my sanity intact.

When I got home, dad saw my chain and asked about it. I told him the story, and little did I know, he was thinking of my old chain. A few weeks later at a poetry event in Kuala Kubu Bharu dad handed me a chain. He didn't say anything just tell me to wear it. I asked him, wear two chains? He said what's wrong? So after years of not wearing any chain, I now wear two chains given by two men that I love and love me.

The Story of Us

I miss him so much. He told me I over think stuff. I told him my paranoid voices get really loud when he doesn't distract me enough. Now he is keeping silent most probably trying to heal in private like he always does and I need a distraction before I get out of control when all my voices get too loud. I will try to recall our journey so far.

Near seven years ago, while I was struggling to start my thesis, getting hit by one of my worst depression, I found a game with a very strong sense of community. Knighthood, it was a fascinating game of war, but the people playing it was far more fascinating. I was finding my way through it, doing what I do best writing about my experience in the forum. Little did I know, that one interaction with an interesting viscount would lead me to my best friend, soul mate and the love of my life.

I was a veteran of cyber communication from IRC to Yahoo messenger. I am not new to guys on there. So when Phil ask to talk on either Skype ( which I don't have at the time) or Yahoo messenger I was wary. But throughout he was a perfect gentleman, and soon we were talking daily and became very good friends. I soon had Skype because it was way easier to talk there and Phil became a constant in my life. He kept me sane when my world was falling apart. I was failing in my PhD thesis, and losing my grips on my depression.

We had a lot of fun playing together, but sadly the game ended, and I was losing Phil to WoW, he would not talk with me for days while playing it. This was when I found out that we have quite a strong bond. On days we don't talk I got very distraught, one day I cried in front of the pc, calling out to him. The next day, the first thing he asked, was if I was alright. It seems he dreamt of a long hair brunette girl crying out to him. He made sure his sisters were ok and now he is making sure I am alright as well. I didn't tell him then, that maybe in my despair I somehow connected but that was a clue how much he meant to me. At about the same time, Phil was making arrangements to come see me during his holiday. I was so looking forward to it and really scared too.

When he came, from the moment he landed, we clicked. There was no awkwardness, we were best friends, like we have known each other for years. But there was this instant where our eyes meet, that gave me an inkling that there was more, it was the moment I understood what they meant when they say the universe aligned. I actually heard bells ringing and see fireworks going off in my mind's eye at that fleeting moment our eyes met.

We had a blast that three days in Kuala Lumpur. We learnt we could speak just with our eyes and that we get along really well. So when he went back and disappeared from Skype for a day I was devastated. But the moment he came back on and said he felt strongly for me and ask if I felt the same. That was on 15 February 2010 and I can say with confidence that I still feel as strongly maybe more as I told him I felt that day.

Then years start to pass, he met my family, I met his. We planned to get married but problems kept creeping out. I patiently waited because I didn't want to push him too hard, he said I didn't push hard enough. There even came a day when he wanted for us to part for my benefit he says. I fought back hard, and I made him realize I am in this for life.

Last February was the closest we came to actually getting married but yet again something was in the way. He missed his flight and got hit by exhaustion and depression and couldn't come. It was the worst heartbreaking moment of my life. I am still recovering, but I still have faith in us. I love him still, forever and always.

Happy Sixth Anniversary

Six years ago after disappearing for a few days after you got back from visiting me in Kuala Lumpur, you came on Skype and asked if I felt as strongly as you. I said I did and today it is actually stronger than it was then. I love you, with all of my heart and my world revolves around you.

Today we were supposed to finally make what we feel official. Become one in the eyes of the people. But it was not meant to be. I supposed fate has a better thing in store for us. I prayed for it and the answer is still not yet.

I won't lie, I am very disappointed, hurt and angry. Not at you but at fate. It never seems to let me have it easy. All my life, it has been one big fight. But every time the reward is really worth the fight.

In my heart you are already my other half, happy sixth anniversary hun. Please remember I love you and I will stand by you no matter what.

Another Bump in the Road

This year for your thirty nine birthday I did not prepare anything, I was expecting to have you here and I was going to give you a photobook of our memories in Malta. It has been a stressful few months since I left your side. Not knowing whether you will come and make me your wife finally was really hard. And I know you have had a rough time as well what with work being really hard on you. The constant silence because you had to sleep all the time because of exhaustion was really hard on me, not hearing from you for a day you know is torture for me, total silence for a week was painful. But the day you broke the silence and forward me your flight details and told me you love me so much and you could not let me down, made me the happiest girl in the world. It is finally going to happen. The one thing I have been praying for almost six years is going to come true. I am going to be your wife.

You don't know how happy I was anticipating your arrival, I have all of it planned, what I was going to wear, how my hair would be, what I am going to say. I was smilingly sleeping knowing you are coming. And then the text that brought back tears back tenfold, 'Hun I fell asleep and missed the flight'.

I know how hard you have been working and I know you have pushed yourself beyond your body's endurance. But I counted on your will to come to me so I believe so hard that it will happened. I bothered God every day asking for it. When that text came, my heart shattered, my world ended!

I know it is just another bump in the road. But right now my heart hurts so bad I can't see pass the pain.

Happy birthday hun, how I wish I could say it to you personally instead of another blog post. But hey who says life is fair hmm.

On Dichotomy

Dichotomy as defined is a division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different. When I first learned of this concept in one of Dr. Quayyum’s literature class it striked a chord in me. I have always felt that two extreme contrasting emotion battling inside me. I can be extremely happy and extremely sad at the same time. Even Dr. Quayyum once noted to me, that I confused him sometimes because my assignments could be extremely brilliant in one and extremely dull and idiotic in another (this wasn’t his words; this was my interpretation on his very diplomatic comments).

A week ago after resolving a long confusing issue with a happy outcome, not yet a conclusion but a resolution and clear plan that a satisfactory outcome would be the end goal, I was really happy, on cloud nine really, but the next day as I drive to work I was feeling really sad and in the car park I broke down and cried. I was confuse, because deep down I know I was really happy and these weren’t happy tears, It was what Mom would have called “crying like your mom died” tears, and then it dawn on me as I cried out that one phrase that I couldn’t stop, “I want my Mummy!” At my happiest moment I am still really sad because I don’t have my mom to share it with. I miss you Mummy.

Well I guess that is the beauty of how human emotion works, allowing two extremes to exist in balance if not in harmony. 

As I MissYou

I miss you

With every heart beat

With every breath

It aches

It hurts

An emptiness that can’t be filled

A longing that is never ending

A sweet sorrow and a prayer whispered fervently

With everything I do.

rya

11/05/15

7.28 p.m.

Weeping Heart

I had decided long ago
I would be okay with it
I would understand
But the mind and the heart
Is ever always at odds
Today as my mind
Tells me it is needed, justified, and fair
My heart kept on weeping!

rya
9.21 a.m.
2/5/15

Tears

The tears fell for the thousandth times 

to that silenced scream

A pain that can’t be shared 

because even if it could be understood

To justify causing new pain 

to share an old one 

and not even lessen it 

is insane

So again there she lies 

on that cold lonely floor 

crying to her old best friend …

rya

13.3.15

1.53 p.m.

That Voice

Why is it that voice seems
to be the loudest?
That voice that tells me
I am not good enough.
That voice that tells me
I will fail or am failing.
That voice that tells me
all the negative opinions
I think others have of me
is true.
That voice that seem to drown out
every positive of my life.
That voice that make me
wants to fall and never get up,
That voice that bursts my bubbles of ashes
every time!
No matter how I try to deafen my mind,
or give a counter argument,
it is just that voice that won't shut up,
that voice that won't back down.
Lord, I need help to be louder than that voice!

rya
19/8/2014
6.51 pm

Crazy

I don’t think what I am going to talk today is known to many of my friends. I keep it really close to heart from experience of people not understanding or lack of life experience to be able to grasp the full nuance of what it actually means. But I have been dealing with a lot of emotional upheaval these past few years, and I find that I need to write about it so I can deal with it. But me being me, I can’t write for my own view, it has to have a ‘perceived’ audience.

Not everyone knows of this, I have never kept it a secret, but I don’t tell people when I said hello either. My mom was diagnosed of having schizophrenia when she was 18, so when she had me at 26, she was already a veteran of 8 years of living with a mental disorder. My whole life that was the reality I live in, it was my normal. When I had my first breakdown when I was 15, it was scary, I understood for the first time how it was like for mom, not to be able to be in control of your own mind, and my respect and my love for her tripled, she was a terrific mom even when she was sick, the amount of strength and love she must have had in her to still remember that she is a mom first and foremost.

I was the eldest, ever since I can remember, I was charged with the responsibility of the family after dad. When I had my breakdown, a few months before SRP (Sijil Rendah Pelajaran), dad decided to handle it himself, he knew if I went the medical route, I would have to be dependent on meds forever and sooner or later be dependent on others to live and would be very difficult for me to be able to look after my mom and sister as well as myself. Some people would say it is not fair, but life is not about fairness, life is dealing with the cards you are dealt with, and we were dealt with such a card, and whatever is needed to be done to be able to go on is what we did. 

So dad with his years of experience of dealing with mom and his own peculiarities became my psychologist. It was really rough, but we learnt, my habit of liking to read became my salvation, reading replaced anti-depressants, and dad taught me to stabilize my emotion and I learned through trial and error on how to keep myself in check, the lows (depression) was not so hard for me, it is very rare that I would come to a point of wanting to kill myself, but the highs (psychosis) was very hard at first, luckily I got away with just appearing slightly odd or unique to my friends.

So with very strong family support and understanding I managed to somewhat become a responsible ‘normal’ adult. When my sister had her breakdown when she was 20, I was experienced enough to recognize that she needed more help than I did; dad hoped I know that what worked with me would work with her. But yeah, it is not the same for everyone, and I am not saying I was stronger and sis was weaker, it is just is. 

The reason I am writing this today, is not to bring this out in the open, I am just trying to remind myself the journey. I have been depressed for the past few years, it is nothing new. But these past few months it has been extraordinarily difficult, there has not been a day that I did not think about ending my life. As I said before, I was never suicidal, it is very rare. So I was racking my brain of why it is happening now.  A month ago, I was hospitalized to go through a prolong fasting test, part of the procedure of being admitted was talking to the pharmacist about my medications. When I mentioned that I was taking Amitriptyline for my migraine, the pharmacist interjected, saying "that wasn't what it was for." So that made me wanted to go to my best friend Mr. Google and find out, but of course I didn't have net connection in the hospital and it slipped my mind. But something made me Google it a few weeks ago and this is what I found out.

Taken from Wikipedia:

Amitriptyline /ˌæmɪˈtrɪptɪliːn/[5] (Elavil, Endep, Levate and many others) is a tricyclic antidepressant (TCA). It is the most widely used TCA.

It is used to treat a number of mental disorders including: major depressive disorder, anxiety, and less commonly psychosis, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, and bipolar disorder. Other uses include: prevention of migraines and post herpetic neuralgia and less commonly insomnia.[6]

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Wikipedia       

    

I was like what, all the things I had to do to avoid anti-depressant and I was slyly given it for something else.

That brought me to other links and most of it has this to say:

You may have thoughts about suicide when you first start taking an antidepressant such as amitriptyline, especially if you are younger than 24 years old. Your doctor will need to check you at regular visits for at least the first 12 weeks of treatment.

Report any new or worsening symptoms to your doctor, such as: mood or behavior changes, anxiety, panic attacks, trouble sleeping, or if you feel impulsive, irritable, agitated, hostile, aggressive, restless, hyperactive (mentally or physically), more depressed, or have thoughts about suicide or hurting yourself.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Drugs.com

I know I am not younger than 24 years old, but the worsening symptoms described me these past few months. I have been trying to still take the meds at least until I see the neurologist this coming January, but after spending the whole of last weekend crying for no reason,  I finally decided to stop taking the meds for a week at least and see if things would improve. I am hoping it is the meds, because if it is not, then it means I have to find new ways to deal with my worsening depression.  Lord, help!

Letters to Mummy 11

Dear Mummy,

The last I wrote you was in January 2013. It has been really long, hasn’t it? I have tried not to write or even bother you in your eternal rest with my fervent longing and need for you. But I woke up today longing to join you. It has not been the greatest of months since I last wrote you. It was a constant crisis one after another. I tried really hard mom to hold on, to fight, to get up after each fall, but it is like me being a house built on the shore of a rough ocean and bit by bit the water is taking back what is theirs.

 I am tired mom, physically, emotionally, and even my soul is exhausted. I have always bolstered my strength with the hope of what tomorrow brings and the thought what my absence would mean to those who loves me. But it has come to a point where even the thought of tomorrow’s rainbow and the emptiness I would leave behind, does not bolster me enough so that I do not long for that eternal darkness.

I miss you, Mummy, help!

Love,

Along

On The Verge of Insanity

Sometimes I wonder if the world is going crazy
or it is me that is going insane?
Nothing makes sense anymore!
What I think wrong is proclaimed as right,
what I think right is declared as wrong.
The more I read the more confuse I get.
Losing sleep and getting dizzy,
my world is spinning out of control,
going to hell in a handbasket,
so fast,
I need to find my center back,
to get my balance
in this ever growing chaotic dichotomy.

rya
20.7.2014
2015 hrs

Reminiscing My Life in Fragments

I was just messing around looking at the documents I have in my files, then I came across and old poem of mine and decided to put up a post on it since I haven't written for so long due to time constraint and my old friend Ms Depress visiting.

When I was studying Critical Appreciation for my MA English Literature with Dr. Noritah Omar, she made us read and analyse T. S Elliot The Wasteland. One of the assignments was to either write a paper on it or write a 5 cantos poem of our own. I chose to write the poem of course, in a way I cheated, because I just wrote the first and second cantos and then cobbled together the rest of the cantos from my previously written poems and added here and there for sake of continuity. Because it was for an assignment, it wasn't dated, and looking at my transcript I can say it was written between May to August of 2000. It was titled Life in Fragments.

Life in Fragments

        

          I

An Introduction

It was a fairy tale beginning,

a nightmare of an ending.

An open and shut case

in life’s highest court,

(or so I think)

but the jury is still out,

undecided!

My life now has been bared down

to mere facts.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury

let us start over.

And this time, I will colour the fact

with my emotional reality so you could say

unanimously

that a life with promise has been

wasted

on trifles of indignities.

That I am guilty

of buckling down when the pressure is greatest,

and I am guilty

of not learning life’s lesson.

So let us examine my

life in fragments.

  

     II

Innocence

Beloved child of two loving parents

given everything I would ever need

given love and support by two adoring siblings.

And I grew with glowing hope

that life would be as rosy a bed

which I have lain all my life.

The values I have learned,

the encouragements I have received,

was my anchor for life.

And I gaily laughed and set sail

into the unknown,

with mistaken belief

that the sea won’t be rough,

and the storm won’t torment me.

Will my anchor hold?

       III

Masquerade

Life is a play put on

for the world to see.

It is ironic that I should

find that out

while putting on a play literally.

Rehearsals after rehearsals,

I find out that we really are

actors and actresses

never revealing our true selves,

I found out who my friends are and

who are acting as my friends.

I found out that as in a play

we each has a part,

and we play it to perfection.

I found out that it all has

been a masquerade life is

putting on for me.

Then,

       the show must go on.

And the trust I held inside

began to wilt

like a rose in a vase without water.

       IV

The waiting

Dreams that formed

in the illusion of the night

turns into shattered nightmares

in the clarity of the day.

In the interlude of reality and fantasy.

Dreams.

Nightmares.

Are just another play of an entrapment of a soul.

It feels like an eternal slumber

the stillness of silence

and in the silence

everything seems frozen

in time and space.

From the moment the knife drops

I’ve been bleeding slowly inside

waiting for death!

But death is a tardy friend

And pain is a constant companion.

If only I could wake from this painful

dream

or is it

nightmare?

Or if only everything would end

suddenly

swiftly

until I could finally be laid to rest!

Sleep come quickly now

take me to that place where

nothing is better than death.

       V

Conclusion

There, my life

coloured to the best of my skill.

But still I see the blank faces of the jury.

The jury is still out.

Undecided.

But I do not need their verdict any more.

Because now I know

my life is made from the

reconstructed ashes of my dreams.

Dreams that have been

burned by the fire of defeat.

Each time I with my bubbles                                   

of hope gather the scattered ashes                       

and the  remains form     

new dreams                 

not stronger                         

renewed!                                

rya

May-August 2000