Goodbye Etiquette

art by Amy Syiek

People don’t forget storms, but prefer thinking about a quiet cold breeze, more often.

Don’t hammer in goodbyes. if you are to leave, leave gently. Don’t slam the door, don’t say the things which make it an episode and try and hold your tears back. Leave the door ajar- and let some light come in, the way you would have while you were around. Say things you always did, without mentioning you’re saying them for the last time. Smile, hug, do everything you would have on a casual Saturday date, because when you leave people well, you stay longer inside their hearts.

Source Instagram

Flow

art by Matt Hardy

It’s like the sea.

On some days, it will come and hit you like a

wave, and on some days – you’ll sit with your

toes dipped right it.

On some days, you’ll go for a quiet swim when

no one’s around, and on some days, you’ll feel

like it’s trying to carry you away.

It’s like love.

On some days, it comes and hits you like a

storm – leaving you overwhelmed,

and on some days, it does small things

like changing the pillowcase.

On some days,

It gives you quiet moments,

With shared little secrets,

And on some days, it tries to swallow you

whole.

Quiet, fierce, with open arms

love looks much like the Sea.

It sits right there on the darkest nights,

and lets you sink, swim and be.

PS: It’s been a while.

Announcement

soda becomes vodka. bikes become cars. kisses turn into sex. remember when getting high meant swinging on the playground? when protection meant wearing a helmet?  dad’s shoulders were the highest place on earth and mum was your hero? your worst enemies were your siblings. race issues were about who ran the slowest. war was only a card game. and the only drug you knew was cough medicine. the most pain you felt was when you skinned your knees, and goodbyes only meant until tomorrow? and we couldn’t wait to grow up.
but here’s the truth. WE GREW UP. And you don’t have to feel afraid or alone in this world. we are all going through something. just talk to me, I’m here 🙂

A new beginning

I’m afraid of writing these days, it’s always been a way of echoing what my heart says. So what does my heart say? That there are times when I feel that you are waiting for me to exit the picture. That I’m holding you from something much greater, I wish I could give you what you want, that includes my departure as well. However, I want to tell you that I’ve tried. I’ve left way too many times, for both of our good, with a heavy feeling in my chest. I had to come back upon realising that l was missing something; my heart. It’s funny, I suppose. I feel it, like an extension when it’s with you. I feel it despite it not belonging or being with me. The sensation of feeling something I can’t see but can undoubtedly understand, as if I was born to feel this way. I find it funny, I had predicted this while hoping it wouldn’t be so, all this while now. Even as I write this, I fail to understand, if I’m still writing about my heart or if I’m writing about you.

Miss you

I haven’t written to you in a while,

But I just wanted to say

That’s it’s started to rain here

And you crossed my mind.

I wonder how much it took of me

To truly forget you

It takes now

A season to change

For me to to finally remember you

Or does it ?

Your Wedding

On your wedding day, the chandelier in the room throws ninety nine reflections of you smiling when I glance at it. I’ll always remember this. You do not look exhausted when you smile; so you chose the right man indeed. I like him, he has a kind face. When our eyes meet, I ask you everything about the day from across the room. Are you tired? That outfit is beautiful, but aren’t you feeling hot in it? Were you really expecting me to bring someone as my date? Have you eaten anything? Why is your father so quiet? Words, when they aren’t spoken, travel faster l‘ve realised. There’s a sense of pride blossoming in my ribcage; it’s for all the places you’ve come from without burning them down. You once told me that being dramatic isn’t something I should be famous for, and I understand it now.
My friend, you who knows me better than my silence does- I’m sorry for the distance I put between us without telling you how to measure it on the map. You still found your way through even though I had promised that you’d find a stranger in me. A person who has a history of ruining good things single handedly. Now, as I sit alone in this room with hardly anyone else recognising me, I realise that it doesn’t matter. This happiness is alien, unexpected, and I want nothing more than to make you realise that it’s all for you.

Purpose

People are trying, they really are. They open their eyes in the morning and close them at night. Some of them don’t open them again the next morning. They are all living their stories and they all want a happy ending and sometimes, their stories find each other and a new story is born. Some, hold hands and cry. Some, cry because they can’t hold hands. They try to understand why they breathe. They fall in love with art. They fall in love, and it becomes art. They tell stories, they make music, theyjust want to be remembered. Most of them love without boundaries, but some of them hate because they need a reason to understand why they are hurting so much. Some, come out on the streets and shout their love to the sky. These people, they are all different. They have different skin color and different names and different religions, but they are all trying. There are 7.6 billion of them and they have just the same amount of reasons to not try anymore. But they don’t stop. Like a choreographed song, they all move together but they don’t know it most of the times. When someone near the ocean hurts, someone in the mountains feels the pain. They don’t like to admit this, because they don’t know why it happens, but they‘re accepting it. And I need you to know that these people, they’re just people and they can’t ever be anything more, but they’re trying. This is their story.

Crave

But you see, the movies and books don’t explain the story of staying in love. Of the several attempts people make to hold on to each other. It’s always the falling in love part which sounds more romantic, more relatable. But when the shared glances fade, the late night texting vanishes and music tastes begin to drift apart, that’s when the actual story starts. As humans, we adjust as quickly to other humans as we get tired of them. It’s our nature. There are rare occasions though when people wake up next to each other and make the choice of 1 more day, 24 more hours, 1,440 more minutes, 86,400 more seconds they’d like to spend together. It’s all numbers. And this is where life, love, and time all collide, this is the part of the story which fascinates me the most. Of people making some choices repeatedly, of the sand in their hourglasses slipping scarily fast, but how they turn it around repeatedly. There used to be a time when people promised ‘forever’ to each other because they thought it belonged to them. But it’s not ours, it never was. We only have a today, and we‘ll only ever have a tomorrow and it’s good enough. So this, l believe, is the absolute poetic truth of humanity that we’re all dying everyday, except for the rare occasions when we choose someone else to die with. That is when we’re truly alive, without feeling the need to tell the rest of the world.

PS: HBD AS

Unknown

I’m afraid of writing these days, it’s always been a way of echoing what my heart says. So what does my heart say? That there are times when I feel that you are waiting for me to exit the picture. That i’m holding you from something much greater, I wish I could give you what you want, that includes my departure as well. However, I want to tell you that I’ve tried. I’ve left way too many times,for both of our good, with a heavy feeling in my chest. I had to come back upon realising that l was missing something; my heart. It’s funny, I suppose. I feel it, like an extension when it’s with you. I feel it despite it not belonging or being with me. The sensation of feeling something I can’t see but can undoubtedly understand, as if I was born to feel this way. I find it funny,l had predicted this while hoping it wouldn’t be so, all this while now. Even as I write this, I fail to understand, if I’m still writing about my heart or if I’m writing about you.

Confessions

I’m afraid of writing these days, it’s always been a way of echoing what my heart says. So what does my heart say? That there are times when i feel that you are waiting for me to exit the picture. That I’m holding you from something much greater, | wish I could give you what you want, that includes my departure as well. However, I want to tell you that I’ve tried. I’ve left way too many times, for both of our good, with a heavy feeling in my chest. I had to come back upon realising that I was missing something; my heart. It’s funny, I suppose. I feel it, like an extension when it’s with you. I feel it despite it not belonging or being with me. The sensation of feeling something I can’t see but can undoubtedly understand, as if I was born to feel this way. l find it funny, I had predicted this while hoping it wouldn’t be so, all this while now. Even as I write this, I fail to understand, if I’m still writing about my heart or if I’m writing about you.