So Much Depends Upon The Beauty

I gaze in awe at the beauty that surrounds me
An emerald sea, so gently
Caressing the soft white sands,
washing naked toes
of lovers holding hands.

Flowers starts to full blooms
Awaiting for buzzing lovers to come
To fulfill their purpose
for their sweet perfume to be awaken. 

So much depends upon the beauty,
The home where i belong
Is where true beauty lies.

Short Story

Short story provides us of our  own imaginations. But for me, making short stories is a way of letting my feelings and emotions show.

Garden

 “They told us we needed therapy, as if medication and tainted words could fix broken toys.”  I laughed at Kathryn. She just shrugged and picked up a tiny flower in her hand, began to twirling it.

“Look at nature. Look at flowers. We never walk into our grader and say ‘oh! Wouldn’t that flower be so much prettier if it’s taller? Or red instead of pink?’ No, we don’t, because nature was created prefect just as it is. And so are we. We are part of nature; we are how we’re meant to be. We are perfect as we are.”

I was quiet for a while; her thoughts began to unravel inside my mind as if she was a kitted sweater with torn sleeves. I knotted my fingers underneath my head as I watched the stars shimmer in front of my eyes. I heard her sigh as she sat down next to me, patting away the wrinkles from her pants. “Do you always come out here? Even when it’s cold?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied as I wrinkled my nose as the stench of intoxicating flowers swam towards me, dragging their petals behind.

Kathryn and I were not really friends yet we had the same situation here in the hospital. Was being locked up from the world that was supposed to be ours.  

“You like to be around here too?” I asked. She nodded as she trickled the tiny seeds in a pot, letting them get the taste of the fowl planet that they were forced to be born in. Her eyes skimmed my fingertips as I reached for a rose, only to be pricked by the thorns swirling down its stem.

“Plant your own garden, and decorate your own souls instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers,” she whispered as she took away the rose from my hands. She curled my fingers around a tiny seed and gave a small smile.

June 1, 2014
20:38 pm

Stranger 

As i was standing beneath an illuminate lamp post, I could not help but to think anything else except myself. Wondering what should I do here at this midnight. It was fairly quiet at this part of the city which this was the reason I choose to come here. It was all spontaneous on my part and I loved every second. It was not cold nor was not hot enough to leave the house without a jacket.  Soon as my eyes landed on the ground, I saw a rock beneath my expensive loafers. I had a moment where I was having a stare off with a rock.

“Shall I kick you?” I asked, my eyes scrunching up in the corners as I waited for the none exist reply. Then I threw my head back, laughing in my idiotic moment.

A few minute before midnight I was meant to be in bed at home and not outside far away from home. My father would kill…

But did I care?

No.

I smiled and started dancing on my feet, the rebellious feeling fill me up with blazing energy. But I could not ignore my heart that was hammering loudly behind my ribs, waiting for the moment I would get caught. What should I do if I get caught? I had to get back soon. While I was debating myself whether to come home or not, I started hear the sound of someone approaching until it tapped me on my shoulder.

"AHH!" I let out a small scream, jumping back while throwing my hands out in every direction.

"Hey, calm down," the voice grumbled, not sounding impressed at all. I stopped screaming and throwing my hand in every direction possible and looked at my newcomer. It was a boy, probably a year or two older than me. He was wearing a low cute vest and I could see all the tattoos swirling around his front neck. My gaze dropped to his fingers and I saw another set of tattoos. It was like my eyes were attracted to every tattoo because everywhere they landed there was a set of tattoos coating the skin. Until my eyes traveled back to his face, he had dark hair falling in his bright blue eyes and he was scowling at me. Bad. Very bad.

"Ummm. Er.." I said but nothing came after that. I cross my hands across my chest, cocooning myself in a protective stance. He looked intimidating and very scary when he was scowling at me. I frowned at him wondering what his problem was. But I did not dare to ask.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?" He sneered and I nearly feel backwards.

"Umm..."

"Can’t speak?" he asked sarcasm. He was looking at me like I was the real bother in his life.

"Right, I’m a girl that can’t speak and stares at a rock and then randomly starts laughing. Great, a lunatic person," He said.

I wanted him run his hands through his hair roughly. It was messy but I could not help appreciate how naturally flawless it looked. When he had his arms on his head the sleeve of his jacket rode up and the rest of his tattoos caught my attention immediately.

"Don’t swear," I surprised us both by sounding like a freaking kid with squeaky voice and for actually speaking. The boy looked at me with amused eyes before scoffing.

"It’s my language sweetheart, it’s my nature," he replied.

I kept looking at him, a boy who was very rude to me and called me a lunatic. I was not a lunatic. I was just having fun by myself.

"You can leave now, " the boy urged on impatiently. My mouth dropped open at the way he spoke. I knew I had to go. Staying and standing here was not a good idea. I could see that he was waiting for me to leave. Without uttering a word, I turned on my heel and walk away from him.

Rude boy, absolutely rude! All sorts of things swam on my head, cursing that rude boy. I was merely minding my own business he suddenly came out of nowhere. It was a street for goodness sake! How could he order me to leave a street, really? I was annoyed to find restriction even beyond the wall of my house. My family could control me and tell me what to do. Needless to say, having complete stranger with inked neck and fingers and arms had no right to call me out on my behavior. It was morally wrong!

Still fuming with rage, I rounded the corner of the dark empty streets. The lamp post was still proving a clear light so it was not like I was looking straight in a great abyss. I spotted a vacant bench right beneath another lamppost and I started to make my own way to it.  As soon as I landed by but cheeks firmly not the bench, I suddenly heard a familiar voice came from right above me. My heart jumped six feet in the air and dropped back on the floor.

"That’s my bench. Go find your own bench you greedy bitch." I threw my head up and my jaw closed from hitting the floor. No way, he just called greedy followed with bitch.

 "You are such a rude maniac person!" I blurted out, standing up soon as the boy sat down. He let out an empty laugh not bothered at all by his offensive words.

"Nothing new there sweetheart."

"Do not call me that!" I fired back away from him for my own safety. For the first time in my life, I felt this sudden urge to inflict harm on this person. Bit I had the odd sense that he wanted to do something equally bad to me as well.

Its one minute past midnight sweetheart, a girl like you should be at home and not playing around on an empty street like easy bait.

My eyes widened as I saw him getting comfortable, crossing one leg over his knee. He draped on arm around the back of the bench and he casually threw his head back exposing all the tattoos following his throat. The light directly shown in his face and I made note of the paleness of his skin. Then, I notice he was considerably slim for a guy that surely looked like he could scare a whole police squad with just one look.

"Well, this shit my night already," I heard him mutter before he let out deep annoyed sight. "Well, I suppose you can sit down. I can’t be bothered walking you home right now."

I wanted to tell him that I did nothing to ruin his night. I wanted to tell him he did not even know me for calling me easy bait. I could be hiding some moves under my jacket for all he knew; I wanted to tell him I was not his sweetheart. I wanted to tell him I did not expect him to take me home and I was not going to let him. I wanted to tell him I was not going to sit down at all. But a few minutes later, I found myself one minute midnight sitting down on the bench, ten inches between myself and a very rude person coated with tattoos.

"Do you want to tell me why you are out so late, Emilie?"

Now how did he know my name?

May 28, 2014
15:45 pm

Memoir

For me,  memoir is an opportunity to reflect to look inside of myself and to say what I feel. This genre made me realized that memoir is not all about what happened but it's all about what changed me and why am I the person I am today. 

Magic Is Within Me

 When I was a child, I was the type of kid who believed in magic. I would often make my own fantasies in my room or go outside and play with my pink magic wand, a blue robe from my little brother and an old book that was given to me by my grandfather. With these combined with my eager imagination, I could explore deeply  in the depths of the Wizard's World exploring the mysterious castle, fighting against Ogres, trolls and wicked witches.

Even though it was sad as it may seem, I really did believe in magic. I was not ashamed for I was confident that I would receive my envelope admitting me into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as long as I believed in magic. People might think magic was not real but as a kid like me, nothing was impossible.

My grandfather once told me, “Magic is real as long as you believe.” Then I asked, “But why can't I see it?” He laughed at me as if I was begging him for a lollipop. “Once you find the meaning of magic you can easily see it.”

As a kid, I did not really understand what my grandfather said which made me upset and kept bugging him to tell me that truth. He repeated what he just said over and over again. I had no choice but to wait. I waited with the possibility that an owl would swoop in to my window with a letter of parchment paper tied to its leg.

I waited and waited as I was planning what would I do with my life once I become a wizard in the future. But years passed by and I still do not have a letter. The disappearance of that letter made the disappearance of all my hope. And soon, the dream was forgotten. However, as I grew up with no spells, wand or flying broomstick I realized something: magic did exist. Maybe it did not appear in the form that I had only pictured because I was eager to have the same story as Harry Potter. 

When I came to my grandfather’s place it surprised me when I looked outside my old bedroom window and saw the great moon and beautiful glittering stars. It almost said hello as I witnessed the moment of kindness and affection in my eyes. Also, it made me feel welcome and comfortable to stare just like a form of being friends or caring family who always there for me.  In that moment I finally found out what magic was.

Magic was love. Magic was joy.  Magic was music. Magic was hope. Magic was God. Magic was everything in your life that could make you feel magical yet mysterious.

True, I did not live as I had imagined since I was so very young. But I had found the world as it truly is, and found it to be a hundred times more satisfying and fulfilling. For magic is real, and magic is here within me.

June 30, 2014

20:20 pm

Used To Love

We played like we were only jamming at our house. Everyone was clapping their hands up high as we played. TJ played the beatbox. He was on the left side of the stage beside me. Jano, our leader, played the bass and he was on the right side with Leanne who played the rhythm guitar. Harlie played the piano and also sang alto. Uno sang the melody. And I played the lead guitar. We were all standing there with the spotlight not feeling any nervousness. We did this plenty of times already for four years. 

            The stage wasn’t that big. It was filled with balloons in different colors. There was red, pink, blue, yellow, and purple. The prints on the balloons said: “HAPPY 15TH BIRTHDAY NICA!” We were all wearing skinny jeans, black converse shoes, and black top. We bought those together in Urban Planet at Promenade Mall. The crowd was cheering for us: “WE LOVE YOU LIGHTSRINGS! MOREEEE!” We all loved being cheered. We all loved delivering happiness through music. As I looked on the faces of my band mates, they all looked radiant. I saw big smiles on their faces.

We wanted to play one more song but we only prepared one song, which was originally by Rocksteady. It was called “Smile At Me”. As we walked toward the backstage, Jano said excitedly: Where do you guys want to go”?

The rest of us shouted:”LET’S EAT!” We put all our instruments at the back of Jano’s green, Honda van and got in. We went to Markham for some good, real food. It was a long drive and I can’t recall the name of the restaurant but it was a fancy one. We all ordered Korean barbeque, rice, taro bubble tea, and chicken soup.

While we ate, TJ spoke: “We can do it you know? We will travel all over the world to play our music.” Our faces looked hopeful.

I then replied: “Of course we can! I’ve been dedicating most of my time in writing songs”. These people were like family to me. We planned on travelling together. We already started saving years ago. Ten dollars a month didn’t hurt. We thought of changing the world through music. We imagined bringing peace through our lyrics. It sounded impossible but we all believed we could. It was a very promising moment.

           My phone vibrated energetically. It seemed like it wanted me to read the message right away. I was at our church located at Finch and Bathurst. Harlie, TJ and I were in the music room waiting for our two other band mates to come while we took photos since we were all wearing black attires. It was a room as big as the CIC in my school painted in white. The room was filled with almost nothing. This was why we chose this as our official practice room. We could easily fit in all our instruments inside. I finally decided to read the message, which was sent by our leader, Jano, while Harlie and TJ play the grand piano. Both my hands were holding my phone with a purple case worried that it might fall. I was sitting down comfortably in a long, wooden chair just beside the grand piano.

My faced dropped as my eyes widened while I read the message. I could not believe what I was finding out. There was definitely a mistake. I read it again. I tried to think. I could not think. I was sweating. I hated it. I slowly walked towards Harlie and TJ then showed the message. I watched their face changed from cheerful to puzzled and disturbed and damaged.  “Tell me this isn’t happening! He’s just joking right”? Harlie said while tears ran down through her face. I could not open my mouth. I was in a deep shock and my mind was filled with confusion.

TJ stood up. He rapidly grabbed his iPhone from the wooden chair and promptly walked back to us. His eyes were watery. He looked like he was about to cry. He was obviously trying to hide his pain and agony. With a shaking voice I finally spoke: “Why? Why is this happening? Is he being for real? He didn’t even tell us why he was disbanding our group? I don’t understand! He said it through text? Is he nuts?”

 TJ called him but he was not picking up. He tried to contact him again and again and again. His grip on his phone was becoming tighter. He sat quietly. His face was haunted. Harlie on the other hand sent him a couple of messages but he did not bother to respond. She looked worried.

The room seemed smaller than usual. It looked like we were locked in a tiny box with no exit doors. There was no air in the room. I felt suffocated. It was winter but the room was boiling. It made me sweat so badly. I just stared on the paintings on the wall. I didn’t know what to do. I had never been so blank my entire life. I wished I could think of solutions but my eyes gazed to one of the paintings. Not that I would get any answers from there but still. There was a broken piano drawn in it. Dried roses were on top of it and it was missing plenty of white and black keys. It looked like it represented torment, broken dreams, and destruction. I did not see hope at all. It affected me so badly I burst into tears. I hated it. TJ and Harlie came close to me. TJ was also tearing up. He painfully said: “What about our plans?” I didn’t want to remember our plans but it was better to let it out anyway. Seeing him cry for the first made me realize that he actually cared for our band, for us. It hurt me even more. I hated it.

Harlie was crying the hardest. She covered her eyes with her hands but her sniffs were too loud for us to not know that she was still crying. TJ and I managed to stop our tears but our eyes were flaming. We looked like we were drunk. Our eyes were so red and it felt like it was burning. TJ tried to comfort her. She finally stood up still covering her face and went to the washroom to wash her face. TJ finally decided to go to Jano’s house and left the room quickly and mentioned: “If this didn’t work today, I hope you guys won’t give up. We’ve worked so hard to reach this stage. I’ll never let go.” He slammed the door with a wolfish face. That was the last time seeing TJ’s face that week.

           I just sit there motionless. On my soft, bed while I hug my green pillow. I grabbed my phone from my white study table with my right hand. It had been a week. I read the message once more. It said: “I think this is the end of the road for us. I am officially disbanding our group. Thank you guys!” TJ didn’t find him that day. My mind was still drowned with questions. I value our band more than anything else. Music was the closest thing to me. And I didn’t realize that until a week ago. I put my phone back down. I put myself in bed sideways. I closed my teary eyes. I wanted to forget everything for a while. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to escape the memory. It was hard to move on. I still thought about writing songs. I used to love it. But now, I hated it.

May 19, 2014

22:37 pm

Poetry

        Poetry is a unique genre of writing. It's always enlightened and inspires everyone one of us. Every line has powerful meaning yet we often missed or ignored it. Poetry is not all about word but also it describes who we are and what we are now. Therefore, I believe poetry is in all of us. But it just depends on us how we will use it. This poetry that I made comes from my childhood experienced. I've been through lot of things, I went to different places but I cannot find my true self. People might think that I am just an ordinary kid who just wants to travel and have some fun. You have all the things you have family, good friends and good health and yet there still apart of you is missing. I tried myself to ignore it, maybe it's just my imagination but as the challenges, struggles in life start to appear to me I became different. I always depending on my parents but one day I became independent. I learned that in life you have to be on your own and not let others step or trespass your boundary. The day when my mother left us I was devastated the fact that you have someone to call a mother but no longer near or there for you. Despite of losing love one and became different person I did not expected to be different again. My families; in the community, church, school and also my own family made me a better person. Therefore, I dedicated this poetry to them. 

 So much depends upon…

All my life

I have wandered through,

Searching and looking from place to place.

My heart was broken,

Shattered from pieces to pieces,

Knowing that my paths have taken away

Were leading me nowhere.

I knew that loves lost would cost.

But like an empire to dust

I just ignored my life.

Eventually, I sat and stay

Deciding that grey should be the day

In which I lived.

Suddenly, you came,

Reaching me out

From the world I did not belong

Taking all the negativity

And turning it to positivity, 

Teaching me that love was not

A foolish game

I listened quietly.

So let me tell you this

With every kisses

I adore you.

  

7:13 pm
May 10, 2014

I Was Afraid

I never wanted to be brave

I was afraid to be brave.

I was afraid and sad.

Being brave might sounds good

But being brave also sounds like being a liar,

Pretending that everything was okay.

But nothing was okay.  

Because I was afraid.

10:38pm

May 14, 2014