Broken Pieces

I know SPM is just a few dying days away.

I know I should be studying full time.

But sometimes, I take a break, and stop, and stare into space.

Into nothingness.

I take a moment to look into the past.

I take a moment to look at the broken pieces.

I then remember what made them broken in the first place.

Foolishness.

Good luck for SPM, all.

Smile and Die

I rarely find anything worth blogging about, don't I? Ashes to Flames is basically about feelings, girls, mindless rambling, feelings, girls... and feelings. I mentioned feelings, didn't I? Yes, feelings.

2010 has been different to me. Well, every year is, but then... 2010 felt significantly different. I learned about how complex feelings can be, the depth of feelings, their ever-changing chemistry between people and just how very tiring they can be to normal teenagers like you and me. Sometimes borderline suffering.

I've discovered of how to actually like a person.

Discovered rejection (indirectly, mind you.), and how bloody hell painful it was.

That spike, blasted spike from the pits of the underworld, a piece of Hades' own black soul, just puncturing your heart like a buttering knife slicing a bun...

You get over it.

Weak. Hurt. Bloody. Teared up. You get over it. (yeah, you do.)

I'm alive, aren't I?

So like the opening scenes from Halo: Reach, you pick up your assault rifle after a long day and just walk up that hill to get a face full of sunshine... the new horizon!

And you just see another bloody day coming your way. Horizon's there, but it's dark red and screaming at you. Sure, birds fly and the sun shines, but the heat gets to you, and that deja vu from the previous battle stirs up your insides.

You get ready your gun, but you know, once it's over, it's gonna start all over again. The same hill, the same anticipation for a happy ending... but a different horizon with a new kind of horror. Sometimes you wish you were just dead, and heck with all this.

It's just not worth it.

Or maybe you're detached from all of it? Hide in the shadows, and strike from within the shadows. Like the lone hero from Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood, you have nothing to lose and you just work it all until the end. No one's waiting for you once you're done, so just end it all with a jab of that hidden blade.

No one knows, no one cares.

I can't say much. What I have locked in my mind can compromise everything I care for. But I do wish someone can unlock them. Anybody willing to do an extraction from my dreams like Dominic Cobb from Inception?

Then you'll get to see my dreams. Dark, blank, empty and meaningless. Yet under that seemingly plain blanket a sea of storms pulses, sucking in everything that gives me peace and serenity.

I try to make people happy. I try, I really do. And in the end, I get shot in the heart. But I don't care. As long as that person is happy... what can I do?

Smile and die.

xD

*This post has nothing whatsoever to do with anyone real, fiction, or even dead. Not related to anyone. No. Not really.*

*Maybe one.*

Guys in Suits and Girls in Dresses

You know, funny things happen when you wake up from bed one day, crave for a sandwich, look around the kitchen and realise there's no bread, then remember you're supposed to feed the cats because it's half past noon, do a head count for your cats and make sure they don't run off to some neighbour's lawn and get hit by a 4WD--

I'm getting ahead of myself here.

Anyway, back to the bread. After all the chores (that I remembered by far) were done, I went to the 7-11 to get some bread.

For my sandwich.

And because I was to stock up on bread that week. Actually, last week.

So. I entered 7-11, gave the store cashier a hearty wink, and strode around doing business (collect the bread). After carefully reviewing the contents of a chocolate bar and a fizzy drink, with the loaf of bread in my hand, I walked to the counter...

...when this happened.



Yes. Yes. It was like that and more!


And more! (I couldn't remember the third one's face)


Why are all these smokin' hot, ''gun'' (note the inverted commas)-wielding, sexy scorchers inside a small little 7-11in a suburban neighbourhood and I'm just standing there with a ''I'm a Virgin'' t-shirt and banana shorts??

Even the dumb cashier dropped his jaw (I bet his pants too, but I couldn't see because he was behind the counter) and stopped playing his PSP.

I did not know what was happening. Probably a teen gang heading for a friends' wedding? Lost and stopped for a can of soda? I looked outside, expecting to see a Lexus Rexton with a sandy-haired guy and a roguish grin behind the wheel, calling out, ''Come on, girls, we're gonna be late for the wedding!''

Instead I saw a roughly-eight-year-old boy, in the passenger seat, poking his head out the window and half-shouting, ''Kakak, hurry up! Aunty Cei Cei's (I think it was Cei Cei) birthday laaaa!''

And it was a Toyota Wish.

Girl Number Two, which I'd like to nickname the Black Mamba of the East was at the magazine rack. What a fine rack it was. I always picked up my issue of Gempak! there, so I proceeded as so.

She was reading a magazine with a close up of a man in a suit on the cover. My thoughts went to the legendary Barney Stinson of How I Met Your Mother.


I sniggered unconsciously. And the Black Mamba of the East caught me!

''What's so funny?'' she asked, her voice striking the still air and interrupting the God of War sound effects in the cashier's PSP (obviously three un-Earthly beauties did not seem to bother him for long as Kratos's, the front man of God of War, bare chest and abs splattered in monster blood were far more interesting for him).

She talked. To me! I choked. Regained myself. And spoke with careful care.

''Eh... guy in a suit. Funny.''

*loud groan from audience*

What did you expect me to do?

''Hey, dollface, my house just a couple blocks away. What say you and your friends?''

The Black Mamba of the East laughed, and put the magazine away.

''I like guys in suits.'' and she winked. She winked. The Black Mamba of the East winked at me.

And she left. With Girl Number One aka Vienna Jackpot and Girl Number Three aka Faceless Rack and that lucky, lucky, lucky eight-year-old boy, off to Aunt Cei Cei's birthday party, in that white Toyota Wish.

I think she gave a glance at my banana shorts.

I paid for my stuff and left.

Black Mamba of the East... I will find you. One day.

And wink back at you!

Thanks, folks.

This is not a dream sequence. Some elements were obviously exaggerated ( Girl in a bikini walk in a suburban 7-11) but the core of the story is true. There were three hot girls. One of them said ''I like men in suits'' to me. And the wink. And the glance. Well, maybe not the glance. Do not judge me.