Sylvia - 3

(Note: The original piece of this writing was destroyed by blogger, hence this is the second attempt, which I will try to re-write as proper as I can).



I cannot take it.

-

There is no one else like you, Sylvia.

No one else can ever be like you, or dream of replacing who you are,

I loved you like I will never love someone else again,

You and I share a magic that can never happen anywhere else.

But I am insecure-

You make me feel insecure:

I feel so unvalued, so defeated, like I've lost you; like I've lost already.

I love her now, I have no choice
this is the best way.

I wish I never lost you. All those regrets, your death, I will have to live with it

You and I are made for each other, but not meant to be.

Sylvia - 2

I gave up on you, because you gave up on me

Because you thought I gave up on you

I thought you had given up on me

Ted, I need you so much, but you hurt me so much

And without you I will die

With you, I will also die

Less so, but you have chosen another

She's yours and you are hers,

Because I cannot acknowledge the loss

I'd rather die.

Sylvia - 1

Sylvia.

I love you so much.

But there's nothing I can do. I want you to be loved, and secure in my arms, in the arms of someone who loves you.

I know that mad, wild, passion. That passion of same, the magic that is poetry, that is of meeting someone you didn't know, along the street, who was singing the same song as you were at the time.

How many times can it happen? I know,

-only once.

Bite-size morsel of business truths

There is this queer simplistic fact :

If I make 9 calls a day to my clients, every day, and so do my comrades;

We will have a 2005 FY revenue of over $300,000.

Go figure.

Chill

Indeed, Groove Salad in the background on ITunes, and a truly heavy cocktail mix of Smirnoff and apple blackcurrant. In the dark here, fresh from a shower, the light from this screen illuminating my bits, and the room in a glow.

Is there a need for alcohol for a true time of chill. Smirnoff, Carlsberg, Glenfiddich, my notorious pals, they are. I can do fine without them, but they are comforting in times of crisis.

Stimulation, they aid in my mental health. Neurotransmittors and all. The warm burn, fuzzy sensation, that makes me feel loved by myself, and that is a good feeling to have. It will make life more than what it is already.

I want to know more, about me and about my world, this burgeoning world, that I have to grow to fit, and I will.

I am just not there yet. In the meantime, this word 'sacrifice'. And I chill. I should be fine with my pals.

taking avalon apart

up until now i have never explained why this site is titled taking avalon apart.

i think you would know.

avalon, is being taken apart, torn into shreds right now.

it all adds up, to one purpose -

because pride is the perpetual sin.

you know what i mean.

here i am, torn apart. take my world apart. i am on my knees. perpetual sin, perpetual prayer, perpetual answer.

i am drowning in the sea of my own wickedness and filthy rags. my pride and all that is me, i have to lose it before i know greatness.

and become like greatness, to become like him -

avalon remains, but as dwelling for my lover and best friend.

Jesus.

Haruki Murakami

He is my current favourite. He can write such a varied collection of work, my heart is moved and inspired all at the same time. He indulges in the metaphysical, the silly sci-fi, and true to the heart love-found, love-lost reality.

Taking the bus to KL

Taking a bus away from this home country, it was all I needed.

I boarded the bus, with all my necessaries, and I took on this journey alone. This sensation, it is the me I am not used to, because I am hardly ever alone this way. It feels like I am always being prevented from being this way. I am who I am with another. I am who I am when I talk. I am who I am when I frown in a listening stance with you. Who can be really alone in these circumstances, it never happens, save for with him. My best friend, closer than a brother.

If I think about the real me, I feel I barely know her. Do I really want to be this person on this bus, on this journey alone.

But I took it on anyway, despite the fact that I abandoned my lover for the days ahead, just to get to know her better.

I waited and thought on my way to that new familiar place. I remember the times I was there with my other half, wondrous, wondrous, I loved him and he loved me, life should have remained that way. Being together in the same room, getting ready to go out together, folding our dirty laundry back into our travelling bags together, I wish, I could still do that with him.

I wish I wasn't alone now then, thinking of that.

Yet I knew, if I stayed home, I would never figure this out: When you are alone, who do you truly want to be with. I would never realise my own answer.

Not only so, I really am this girl alone on this bus. I am the one who loves to be away, and I would rather be away alone than with anyone other than my best friend. I am this person who writes and contemplates, who would very much rather indulge, read and fantasise, who wants to go to the deserts and mountains in between Russia and India and China. You cannot hinder me.

I'm almost there, time to get ready to alight.

How about sharing that platter of cheese with me, crackers and all.
I'd love the wine too, preferably chilled to 16 degrees or similar.

I'd really also love to borrow your handbag, that real cool vintage one. I know you love it, but I would love to share it with you, I'll be really nice to you before and after that.

My precious precious things. Will I ever share them?

I will, even the dirty things that hurt me to share with you. I will have to share them with you, because I love you. You must be a beautiful person, that I am hideously compelled to share it with you. I believe you are better than me, so I will share my best friend with you.

I love you, beautiful person, share it with me too.

-

This whole deal about sharing, do we all have to do this with our favourite things? 1-3-5, 2-4-6, or weekdays-weekends, or once in a couple of months etc. I will make sure I keep it clean okay, you can have it afterwards.

All those exchanges.

I lie in bed thinking about all those other people and I am sure you do too.

What the heck.

I will share my one thing that I sought to possess, that I might brand as love of the blasphemous ecstasy, that I still wish to possess and regain, that I will share it with you.

Sharing. How wondrous the virtue of this activity.

I don't want to share it with you. It's MINE. You have no say, and no claim on this. What right have you? I have tasted it first, you can try to get what lies ahead but I don't want to let you have it. Are you more qualified than I am to have this more than I do? Ha. You will never succeed. Trust me. What's mine will always be mine.

I am not being selfish, beautiful girl, I am telling you, it's MINE.

Go somewhere else to play, find someone else to play with, and stay away from my playground. It's not healthy for you to remain here, you will injure yourself.

Meanwhile,

My best friend shares me with someone else, I share him with someone else, I share another best friend with herself, and I share this one with the beautiful person.

Sharing, meaningful indeed. No way else to get around this complex world of links and exchanges, all between us.

Learn to share, life will get better! Cheers!

There is too much sadness in this world. It has become an almost-way-of-life, something that you have to carry, with or without divine help.

It will almost always happen.

i will be sad. about you.
but life will go on, and i will have to settle.

i will and i have been..
but i will have to settle too..
and move on

I have God. But you do not have me. And we will always be sad about it.

Now, love. That's another issue altogether. We shall have to discuss it separately one day.

If you had a dream

And it was taken away.

What would be left of you.

How, would you pick up from the ruins. Can you accept that there are ruins. They have been there since the Day. Do you realise they are?

How do you let go of something that grips a facet, a reflection of you. The image on a beautiful mirror. The beautiful image, illusion.

How do you let go.

And realise that that was a very bad dream, it only hurt you so good you didn't realise. And that life should be better.

Say it to yourself.

'It should be better.'

Now, do you believe it? That there are others better, situations better.

That you are selfish in wanting. Absolutely. You really only care for yourself. Eating yourself in.

I am selfish. I find it difficult to want the good and completely relinquish the bad.

I keep thinking about how it hurt me and I enjoyed the pain.

Help me.

I remember and I don't want it yet I do, like the way you want to be spanked by your lover, or the way a child wants to be tickled by his parent, or the way you may nearly die but still want to jump off a plane.

Or how you keep eating the fats though it will kill you. Or how you keep on drinking cos you like it even though its poison for your liver.

Remembering myself drowning in a sea of bad dreams and tears. Like a local short film of a depressive, we led a life like that for a while, and you know the ending of those films sometimes. No one lives well, really. He never lives happily ever after.

Help me.

How do you let go?

I love them, but I hate myself.

Selfish little me.

Help me. Make me let go. It has gone on long enough, the road has met the fork in itself, I have to go now. Really do. May I never see you again.