there's no tender way to say it's the end
& so, win or lose,
i'm forced to choose
between a lover, & a loving friend.

let me hear you say
how you cursed the day you opened up your heart to me;
that you ever invited me in.

tell me i'm the loser, & you win.


i don't wanna see you cry,
i beg you, try
- not to let the pain i'm causing reach your eyes.
i don't wanna see you cry,
aim your words like spears

don't break me up by breaking down in tears.

hide your pain.
but when push comes to shove,
don't keep your pride locked deep inside
rage against the dying of my love
don't sigh my name,
give me all the blame.


call me heartless, call me cruel,
& accuse me of dealing in lies.
just don't let my leaving cloud your eyes.

i don't wanna see you cry,
i beg you, try
- not to let the pain i'm causing reach your eyes.
i don't wanna see you cry,
aim your words like spears

don't break me up by breaking down in tears.


*silje nergaard/i don't want to see you cry.




nothing says it better than music. on rainy days when i wonder whether i'm still alive because of the numbness of it all, it's the music that stirs something inside and makes me realise i'm still here.

somehow i think i've already shut it all off, on the surface. it's been too long.

it's lousy thinking that everything you felt before was just a dream, that nothing was real. when people and things all around you reinforce it, even when you cling on so tightly to the vestiges of what seemed so real then, you start to lose yourself in the bitter 'reality' of it all.

what is real, and what isn't?

nothing's real, when you can just lift up your hand and swipe away all the misty haze of the fairytale night. rework the fabric of the silk and turn it into cotton with a quick pick of the needle. shred the delicate muslin and leave it in ribbons, floaty ribbons that dance sadly in the wind, wishing they were still whole muslin and not pretty ribbons.

how can one compete with the grip of the past? the past grips on to you so tightly and refuses to relinquish its hold over your heart, your mind. you know it, but you don't want the past to let you go because you want to cling tightly onto the last remnants of the reality of that - which is the pain of the now.

have you ever experienced emotional inertia? i think it's what psychologists study under a different name, but being no psychologist here, i just call it as i see it. you keep insisting to yourself you're not fine, you have unfinished business to settle with someone, that you need to heal your hurts. but actually, you are okay. being a creature of habit, one just doesn't want to have to rediscover new feelings or lay old ones to rest, because it'll mean having to open up a whole new can of worms to tussle with. one likes the familiarity of the old emotions, even if they're far from pleasant.

i recognise that i could well succumb to this, and i don't want to. it's sad to hang on to my past feelings just for the sake of familiarity, because i don't want to feel something new and have to deal with them. because at least with all the bad things, at least i know what to expect each day when i climb out of bed, i know how to deal with them somewhat, i know why i feel that way. but giving it all up would mean i don't know what i'm gonna feel each morning when i get up, would mean that i have to rediscover a new equilibrium that works for me, would have to find out why i feel a certain way. the comfort of the familiar is a tempting refuge, and yet it's a trap in itself because it makes one stuck in a rut, it makes one unable to move on, it makes one more broken than one necessarily is.

i can hear the thoughts of the wind. i can hear it whispering in my ear to melt that ice away when i'm ready, i can hear the music of my heart riding in the breeze that tickles my ear.

and all in the same breath, i can hear the thoughts of my heart stirring inside me, wanting to burst out and embrace the world with passion once again. then i can hear the words of my mind cautioning be still my heart, my heart be still.

too many conversations going on simultaneously for my brain to comprehend, so oftentime i give it all up and let the heart think. and it's so tired that all it comes up with is: i don't care anymore. everyone and everything can talk around me about everything, i'm too tired to bother anymore.

scratch deeper beneath the surface and i know it's still a raging tempest, still a brightly burning flame. but it wants to hide for now, and because my brain is too tired to think, my body just complies.



God is the most innocent being. he just wants to be loved so badly. he created me to love him.

i'm not so innocent a child anymore. but still, i just want to be loved so badly. i was created to love and be loved.


some people are afraid to love. some people are afraid to be loved. i'm afraid of both of them now.
i don't want my pretty poplin to be reworked into harsh jute because someone decided the poplin wasn't real enough. i don't want the delicate glass rainbow to be smashed up into a prismistic mess of colour on the floor just because someone decides that the rainbow is too pretty to be true, because the mess is more familiar.




dancing bears, painted wings
things i almost remember
and a song someone sings
once upon a december.
someone holds me safe and warm,
horses prance through a silver storm.
figures dancing gracefully
across my memory.
far away, long ago
glowing dim as an ember
things my heart used to know
things i yearn to remember

and a song someone sings
once upon a december.