Blurring reality

I’m starting to blur my realities and my dreams, it was either because my dreams were so real, or maybe just because my fears were very very real. I couldn’t help wonder for the entire morning whether my imaginings actually happened. Did he really say that– do that? Did I really say what I dared not to in real life? My heart trembles at the thought of it being real. 
I knew about it, I knew that he told me little lies to make me feel better, but they were lies. And in the dreams all these lies would unravel and I would see the truth, and it scared me: what did I see?
I saw demons and angels, wrapped in each others arms and burning each other with their destructive passion; I saw wolves chasing a deer, an innocent doe, into the dark woods and they all disappeared to never appear again. How is it that the hunter becomes the prey? How come the prayer leads the hunting and the preyed? I prayed, was preyed on and then I was swallowed whole by the darkness of the forest. 


My panting breath as I woke and opened my crusty eyes told me I was dreaming, and the nightmare was over. But how come I could still smell the fear in my own perspiration? I know it’s a dream. 

It is.

It must be. 


Say “I love you”

When I ask you”Do you love me?”

 I do not mean to

pester you with my

inadequacy and

insecurities that overflow.
When a woman asks you whether you love her, the answer is what she wants. Not a “why do you always asks these questions” or “don’t I do enough to prove that I do”s, what she wants to hear is “yes”.

Despite her insecurities she managed to squeeze out a question that might squeeze the life out of her: what if you say no?
Is it a test? Perhaps, a test of courage, to see if you dare to tread into the deeper waters and admit that you do; or see how well you can lie through your words when your body says other wise.
Is it a form of security? Perhaps, it is the reassurance, the attitude which you say “yes” or how you value her feelings before putting her down (doesn’t she do that enough herself?) and, when you think what you do is enough, why not just do one more thing: say “yes”?
Actions speak louder than words, but that does not render words powerless. Speech may be petty in comparison to doing chores, or taking care of her when mother nature punches her once every month, but wouldn’t it be nice too to have someone say “I love you?”

Confrontation of myself

“He never apologised, you know,” she said. “For what happened, and what he did to me and so many others.”

I watched as she sighed into her glass of wine, and sipped from it again. So what does it mean to be feeling unsatisfied?

“He had– in fact still has– so many chances to do so. Aren’t we friends now?” She asked, with a bitter smile hanging around the corner of her lips.

I cleared my throat, hoping my emotions wouldn’t show. “He might not know he is wrong right? He might just think you have forgiven him already.”

“Forgiven? Forget? No, I can’t do it.” she started sobbed as she touched my face, her eyes bloodshot and teary.

I looked into the mirror and couldn’t hold back my forage of tears, letting them overflow into the sink. My glass of wine set down right next to the toothbrush and its cup, I couldn’t help but wonder why I’m drinking here, all alone.

He had his chances to apologise, but for something he never knew he did wrong. I felt the warm tears roll down my cheeks as I reached for the scissors in the cupboard.