Inspiration / writing
Dear 小胖 *,
It's been 15 years. I still have the privilege of calling you my friend. That's right, the privilege. You were my first love, the person I fell in love with when I thought I didn't know what love is. Now, after 15 years of attempting to make sense of love with my mind just like everyone else, I surrender fully to my heart once again, a beginning that never ended. I believe once again in the core of my soul in the possibilities of love, a love so pure and true. I stop questioning it and started living loved.
It sure has been a hell of a ride, one full of nice people who didn't move me, good people trying their best, broken people trying to make sense of the world and a singular psychopath that let me understand that self-denial was my shield, my ability to see the best in people has been at the expense of myself. I wanted to believe so badly in the goodness of people, I got lost in the reality of them as well. Yes, I am an idealist and I don't know any other way. I am still one, just a wiser one who knows how to protect my heart more so I can grow fully into my calling. I know now that not everyone is mine to save, I can however empower someone to save themselves. I do what I can and the rest is up to God.
Yesterday, when you delivered a home cooked meal, I realised you are the very few who I allow to help me. I often wonder what drew me to you then, I didn't know anything about you yet I knew everything. I realise now that I saw God in you. The greatest compliment I can offer anyone. Throughout the years, I am to see God in you repeatedly. The light that emits from true hearts and courageous souls that live right and do right. Oh, how beautiful are you. You don't even know it. Which of course makes it all the more glorious.
Your temper still sucks, it sucked then and it sucks now. I was too immature and I didn't know how to handle it then, it was difficult and I wanted so badly for you to be happy. I made it my fault that you aren't happy and shiny when you are just being human. A role you do real well. Better than many others.
You are married now and happily so. I remember looking at your partner and knowing that she could accept something I can't, you are in good hands. That part, the most important part, she does better than me than I ever did. I still love you so, how can I not? I love you deeply as a friend, a privilege I intend to keep. So thank you, thank you, thank you for being you. My candle in the darkness of life, one that keeps on burning.
To the greatest love of all,
*The literal translation of 小胖 would be Little Fat. Hhahhahaha. A pet name I had for her. I love the irony of it because she isn't fat and she has always been beautiful to me.
Little Mama Goes To School is by Hsiao Ron Cheng.
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Oil on water is about a girl who speaks to me at 2 am and we never met up. I had to honour my relationship then and told my partner about her. That was then, now she is with a wonderful partner, I hope she is genuinely happy. Best wishes, oily girl. Submerge and if you can still breathe, that is the one for you.
Find Alyssa Monks's work here.
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Freedom of the spirit
To connect each other
As one people
Desperate to proof their worth
a golden ticket of approval
Kept hidden under criticism
Squeezed into tight cages
Lambs led to slaughter
bleating for mercy
Butchered in the heads of others
killed before its time
Inspired by all writers or poets who doubt themselves, you are listening too hard to others. I have moments of self-doubt too. I don't fit into the traditional Singaporean mentality of who or what a writer or poet should be. Precisely. I am exactly where I want to be. I choose to sit in my own space and risk being understood, pushing boundaries and connecting. Some will get me, some won't. I am perfectly OK. So to any of you aspiring writers and poets like me, keep on writing!
You can find Piece of Me by Sonya Fu here.
A discussion whether you can fall in love with someone you have never met lead to this. A husband who talks about his wife with such revered beauty, it touched my heart. He was the one that stood out to me. He is lucky, there is no doubt or maybe he just tuned in more to his heart and didn't stop looking.
Find the image here.
En grade is about someone guarding her heart fiercely, a necessary stage when someone is becoming. She's not really herself now, I sense it fully. A caterpillar becoming a butterfly, oh how beautiful is she.
For more poetry, find me @ https://instagram.com/blackilo
Bloodshed on Tiggy-Winkle street is by Xue Wang