Vampire Love

You make it so easy
To fall in love with you
Make it so natural
To give you all of me
Make it feel so right
To stay in this moment

So why can't this be right?
Why can't we just be?
How long should we hide?
How long should we pretend?
I'm tired of waiting
For you to tell the world

Like creatures hiding
Away from the sun
You force our love to hide
Yet come to me in darkness
If this love is so doomed
Then why are we still here?

Why let this love grow
In the pit of darkness
When all it need is light?
This vampire love of yours
Drains me of all my blood
So here I am dying
In your arms

I beg you to release me
Of this slow death
Yet you compelled me
And I can't even move
But if you love me
Bring me to the sun
Tell the world
Of my existence
Or let me go....

Look at the Trees

I've read once about a tribe in Africa who has an unique practice. Whenever someone in their tribe commits a crime, the entire tribe will come together, surround the man and one by one, come and tell the man what he's done good in his life, how he has changed life for the better for someone. Each person, from the oldest to the youngest will continue telling him of the positive he has brought to his tribe. They do this so that the man REMEMBERS who he is, that he is more than his one, single wrong mistake, that he is capable of so much more good in his life, that his mistake doesn't define him but that he has and can do so much better.

I can never forget this story for it really resonates with me. Many say that we humans are essentially evil. But we are essentially good too. Its when we forget who we are, what we really are that we lose ourselves to doubts, self-criticism, fear.

So remember.

If you can't remember, then open your eyes. Look. See.

See what is right there in front of you. What has been there all along. Look at the trees.

Look how different each tree is from the other. Yet, you will find that each one of them is beautiful, unique and strong in its own way. And as you look at it closely, you will see how trees teach us about real strength, endurance, patience.

Trees aren’t strong just because of their ability to stand against strong winds. No. Even the strongest tree will be uprooted, broken by harsher winds, storms. They are strong because of their ability to come back even against the harshest environment. It is the very essence of nature to never accept defeat, never give up. It is the very essence of nature to rise. Every. Single.Time.

A tree may lose all its leaves, become bare in the winter, shrivelled to such an extent that anyone won’t find it surprising if it dies. It may turn to nothing more than a mere log, with nothing to look at, nothing of usefulness. But that is not the end of a tree.

Winter may laugh and believe that it has defeated the ever green, strong tree in that moment. It may cover its branches with the coldest snow, bury half of its height, ridiculing the once powerful tree. Throughout that period, nobody will help the shrivelled, silent suffering tree. And if it had died, the world would just shrug its shoulders and continue on its way. But then again, that is not the end of a tree.

You see, a tree is better than that. For she has been raised in the lap of her mother, Nature itself. And, she is her mother’s daughter. The very essence of Mother Nature runs through all her roots, trunk and branches. Even when the harsh winter nights embrace her. Hurt her. Push her to the limit. Even when she is reduced to nothing but an ugly, barren log looking tree. Even when the world has forgotten about her.

Because she is made of tougher substances. When the earth finally tilts and the sun grows in strength again, the haughty winter will find itself slowly stripped off its power. For winter’s biggest ally – darkness is now slowly replaced by day.

Slowly but surely, she will build herself up again. Leaf by Leaf. Bark by Bark. Until she turns herself once more from a bare trunk that nobody cared about to that of a tree that is filled with the birds, animals and people. She will bear flowers and fruits. Her shade will be what every creature sought when summer comes again.

She will become so full of life that everyone won't even comprehend that she is once a bare, looking trunk. She will rebuild herself until all traces of her tormenters is gone. She will become her own epitome of victory, the very image of success.

Now, look at yourself. If a tree could go through all those tough times and make it, why can't you? You've ran too fast, too hard, too much that you've forgotten why you're running in the first place. Where you're running to. You've focused so much on speed, agility that you've forgotten the most important thing that matters to you --remember, what is that single most important factor to you?
What is that thing that makes you smile, makes your heart warm in your chest? What is that thing that you want most in the world?

Running is the process, the method to get you there. But where is that? What is there? Who is waiting for you there? Why are you running?

Pause. Breathe.

Why are you running? Stop. Just for a few minutes, stop. Go and look at the trees.

Remember. Who. You. Are.




  

Let Go

Do you know that an eagle lives up to around 80 years, pretty much the same age as human beings? But there is something really fascinating about them. You see, a young eagle will grow up, hunt and be the king of birds for many years. But, as it approaches its 40th year - it will do something unprecedented in its life.

It will go to the highest mountain it can find, and there it will pluck out all its feathers. Then will gnaw at the harsh rocks until all its claws fell off and beat its beak against the rock until it breaks. It will put itself through this harsh pain, make itself vulnerable and stay in that harsh, cold environment with cold winds/snow for months.

Has that eagle suddenly lose its mind to let itself be that way when everything seems to be going perfectly well in its life?

No.

To the outside world, the eagle is agile, strong and swift. But the eagle knows that its claws aren't as strong as they used to be, its beak isn't as sharp it as it used to be and its wings have grown heavier, duller over the years. It has grown comfortable, it has grown old. It can continue to hunt and live that way, but it will never be the same as it once used to be. So, it has 2 choices - to accept as things are or to change things. Even if it hurts. Even if it bleeds. Even if it starve. Cold. Vulnerable. On the brink of death.

For months, it puts itself through the harshest conditions - bleeding, hungry, vulnerable, afraid, in constant pain. But it doesn't give up. It waits. Waits to be healed, renewed, reborn.

Slowly but surely, the eagle starts growing its feathers again, its claws come back, its beak healing and regrowing - fragile, weak, timid at first. Still so very vulnerable, still so very raw but getting there.

Then one day, the day finally arrives! The eagle's transformation is complete. Up stand an ever stronger eagle, with brand new magnificent wings - oh so lighter, faster, bigger, stronger. And its claws!! Look at its claws --longer, sharper, so ready for actions! And its beak - so strong now that it can easily break hard shells of any kind. One look and its preys run for cover, other birds give way to the return of the king. Its enemies hide and run. For this one has been to hell, go straight through it and come back reborn.

With its life experience and newer artilleries, the eagle then go forward to defeat once and for all and rule until the end of its life.

Strength is not the ability to resist any and all kinds of resistances. But to allow resistances to pull you down at times, hit you hard, make you fall. But to use that very energies to your advantage, to learn to control and make you stronger.

Its okay to get hurt. Cry.

Its okay to be angry. Be vulnerable. Be weak. Hit the bottom. Ignored. Humiliated. Broken. Alone.

A diamond is once just a normal rock. But under pressure, it turns into a diamond.

Not all pains are out to kill you. Not all terrible, hurtful things are meant to really hurt you.

Sometimes, they are there to remind you of who you really are, what you are made of. Sometimes they are there to replace your blunt weapon with a sharper, newer version. Upgrade you by removing your old, no longer useful tool off you.

Like stale tea in a teacup. You gotta throw out the old tea first before you can pour in the new, fresh one. Sometimes you gotta let go. So, let go of that part of you.

Even if it hurts. Remember why you're here. Remember the lesson. Let go.

My Unconventional Friend

I was a real Daddy's Girl. I thought the world of him. I loved his blond curly hairs and how his blue eyes gleamed when he looked at me. He was perfect in every way. I adored him. I was his little tail, followed him everywhere. In fact, he could never take a single photo because I always wanted to be in the same frame with him. Even if my face didn't show, one could still always see my foot or hand in the background. I had to be there - I had to be a part of him. I was the princess and he helped me make my own armies of all the boys in my areas. 

And then, just like that, I lost him. No warnings. No preparation. In the morning, he kissed me goodbye on my forehead as he dropped me to school. By evening, he was gone. Forever. 

My 6 years old heart couldn't understand or process the pain. Suddenly, everyone was sad, everyone was crying. And everyone suddenly kept patting my head. Or kept taking me away to different rooms and outside. 

Have you ever lost someone who meant the world to you? Watched as their body went down the ground, listened to that first splash of mud fell on your heart until they completely buried your whole soul? Ever walked back feeling like a zombie - your body continued to function, everything continued mechanically but you were no longer there - you were buried deep into the ground, your soul rotting where the world had forgotten. 

In one day, I changed overnight. I suddenly grew up. I had to be the strong one. 

My grades excelled. I won all awards. I was the perfect student. The perfect daughter. I was the model student. I became the pride of mom. 

But through it all - nobody saw me. 

Nobody knew what I hid in plain sight. 

I was a gravestone coated in fresh paint. I developed my lifelong obsession with cleanliness. 

But then she saw me - in the most unlikely places. 

She was caught yet again for prostitution and was behind bar. I was a kid visiting my mom at work. I strayed and walked to where they held her. I stood there watching her in her seat. She looked up from her seat and stared at me. I stared back. 

We just watched each other in silence for a long time. Then, without a word, I went closer and held out my hand to her. She didn't move immediately. And then, she gave me her hand and we shook/held(?) hands. 

She was everything the world warned me about. She was an alcoholic and had too many men abusing her for their pleasure. She was in too deep, she could never get out. Every time she tried to get out, she failed. Over and over. Again and Again. 

She got herself beaten so many times she lost her teeth, her nose broken so many times, she had problem breathing. She was so desperate for drinks that she couldn't even be discreet in her trade. She got herself arrested so many times, I lost count. Had her head shaved, shamed, ridiculed. She got men used her in all sorts of ways. 

She always chose the wrong men for her, always going for the bad boys. It was like she had a magnet to pick up the shittiest douchebags in the room who would treat her worse than her last lovers. It was like she was addicted to getting her heart broken. It was like she enjoyed starving herself, changing herself to please the men who never treasured nor respected her. 

And through these all - I was there. I was her witness. As she was mine. 

Through it all, she would tell me the same thing over and over again, "I make these mistakes for the both of us. Watch me carefully. I am never going to get out. I am going to die in here. But you are never to going to get in here. You are going to succeed for the both of us. I am the black. You are the white. I am the failure. You are the success. Go and fulfil your destiny."

In the end, she drank herself to death. She was hospitalised and the doctor warned her that if she had even a drop of alcohol, she would die. She headed straight for the liquor store after the hospital and drank alcohol until she coughed up blood, fell unconscious and died few days later. 

I couldn't save her and it wasn't because of my lack of trying. In the end, she only wanted me to watch her. To witness her life. So, I learn the cause, action and result. 

She was hellbent on killing herself and making sure I never follow suit. She did all the bad things and let me sit on the passenger seat as she drove herself to death. 

Now that I am adult, why did she pick me? Why did I pick her? Why did I gave her my hand, stretch it out to her as she sat in the prison cell? Why did I have to touch her? And why did she have to touch me?