Bipolar

And I sit her, and I wonder why do I bother living at all. There my friend lay with her eyes closed and I feel surreal. As if at any moment she might open her eyes and roll them at me like she always does but she doesn’t. And so I walk away from the coffin. I am silent; I light a cigarette; I smoke, in memory of her. Because that’s what we were good at, besides words and alcohol.

Around me, people talk. I try to be part of the conversation but it is pointless. What I want is silence. What I want is one more day with her. What I want is to hear her voice, her breathing, her heart beating. Just one more chance to make things right, for her for me for all of us.

– An excerpt from a work in progress

Make Love, Make Art

I know that there is still a couple more months to go before the end of 2015 but this year has been a collective moments of grand spectacular and despondency.

I am thankful that I did not choose to die for the pain has brought with it a new territorial taste of ecstasy.

The revival of old friendships I thought lost and gone have reappeared in my life when I least expect it.

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There is the bittersweet wrench of how time has eluded us through the years. Yet the soaking in familiarity lifts one off the ground pulling us high up in the clouds.

Recently, I caught the movie Inside Out. It is a simple animation but the driving point of the entire movie is that all emotions are valid and necessary – even sadness that most of us have a distaste of.

I thought it was a marvellous movie. Because in truth as sentimental beings we are bound to cross paths with a varied of emotions – joy, sadness, anger, fear, and disgust.

I refuse to accept though, that one’s hardship and sadness in life is worse off than the other. I believe that we all have faced sorrows in our own ways. And the sum of it all is as equally heartbreaking.

We must not bear our chest claiming who fought far greater battles. Ultimately, the experiences and memory are ours alone.

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In Singapore, we are not blessed with 4 seasons. But following mother nature’s rules, we have entered the decay of nature – Autumn.

To some, autumn is a period of fiery colours. Glorious beauty, they often tell me.

In my eyes, I see it as the fight for survival taking flight.

The leaves realise their lack of time and scramble to make the most of it – exploding out in a passionate red of spectrum exclaiming their love for the people, for earth.

It is also this period that I have seen death the most. He sneaks in but never takes my body. He laughs as he leaves. And I wake up with one less person on earth.

I wish I could kiss the wounds of every soul in this world but alas the body has limitations.

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Sometimes the body is warm but the soul is ice cold. And death slips in, putting on quite a show as he skates round the rink. But he never takes, merely smirking as he slinks off in the other direction.

I’d like to think of death as an old friend. And when that bittersweet nostalgia comes knocking on my door, I hope we take off smiling hand in hand.

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And maybe we’ll have a beer or two…

write about the day your friend died:

there are sunken cities
off the pacific ocean.

places we never heard off,
people we will never come to know.
an entire island,

swallowed into depths of darkness;
stuck in time forever like a broken clock
with only one face for the world.

if she were an island,
she would have been atlantis.

her life a compilation of fiction and hypothesis.

archaeologist have searched,
many in vain, for civilisation,
for prevailing proof of her existence.

like any of this all would matter.

because believe me when i say
that i have spent four years
submerged in the atlantic ocean

and the only thing i found
is that there is
no greater distance than

loving figments of her
ghostly shadow.