suitcase skeletons

tomorrow is the day of my sister's lunch/reception gig at her husbands' parents' house. It's taking a while to get used to calling Nazri that, her husband.

Humming to myself in the backseat of Nazri's sister's Myvi, I noticed the little signs of affection between my sister and him. I was taken aback, and to my surprise had negligible jealousy. The way he looked at her, the way their hands found each other so naturally. I cant bring myself to soak in this whole 'quickie meeting and now married' situation yet little bubbles of happiness surfaced. She found someone I'm confident I never will.

Its inevitable that humans just crave acceptance, affection and ick, love. Down to the very antigens in our bone marrow we outsource it. We risk everything for it, throw ourselves into dark pits of sorrow, tangle ourselves in infinite dilemmas and scar willingly.


I am only 19 yet, I fear this disguised affinity. I've seen how people treat one another disgracefully. How people shun others out, use and abuse, take advantage of, charm the legs off you and discharge you like an object drained of its novelty. I guess I'm just too jaded for this love thing. Maybe its the fact that I'm a romantic idealist. One who wants the joys and the little bubbles of happiness but a coward when it comes to facing the music. Facing the downside of love and its perimeters. I want the honeymoon phases to last, I want to plunge into it and not worry about being hurt. I want to Rollerblade down that steep hill without any knee pads and elbow pads ,unscathed. Foolish, and unrealistic.

I remember when my best friend fell in love with the guy I was in love with ( who was my best friend too ) and got together with him. Jaysus the feeling of your insides crushing inwards leaving you emotionally crippled. When I had to fake being okay all the time when I was with them. When both of them slowly and steadily began to hang out with me less and less spending more and more time with each other. When we did hang out as a trio ,I had to pretend I was okay with their PDA moments. It sickened me how I let myself fall into such messy circumstances.


Sure I have fabricated a person who would probably accept my crazy bracelets,average height, frizzy hair, my weird wit, unlithesome and ungraceful body, my queer antics. At the end of the day that's what it remains. A figment of my imagination, morphing into unattainable volitions. I dont steal the show on the dancefloor, I probably cant WOW you with my cooking. Bitten fingernails, stubby fingers. I cant write poetry, I cant sing. My hands remain in my pockets, my gaze lowered. But I have a little chard of amber that continues to burn, glow ,and remain lit.


I can rock your world, but I'm the truth from which you run and Love is the truth from which I run.