You are the product of your own thoughts, my friend.

Be safe.

Alaska Young

It's 3.56 am and I'm sitting on my couch, quite in a strange position, with my left knee up, against my chest and right leg indian style. With a rolled up cigarette clasped between my lips, I felt like I needed to write this.

Just three days ago, I started reading a book by John Green called Looking For Alaska. I find myself bringing it wherever I went ever since. Never have I felt so attached to paper and words.  I was talking to a friend the other day about the state of our lives, where we were neither at ease nor were we sad. It was flat. Exciting things happen every now and then but fuck, I just wanted to feel something. 

John Green wrote about this girl called Alaska Young from the view of a 16 year old boy. Her character hits so close to home that I get goosebumps every now and then. I was at page 165 when I put the book down. It was then when I realised what will happen next.

About a year ago, a girl I have never talked to before sent me a random message on Gifyo. A paragraph from her favourite book and told me to continue it in my words, hoping I could write another version of what I think had happened. Only now I realise it's from Looking For Alaska, the same book I am reading right now.

I know what's about to happen and I can't bear to read it.

Alaska is going to die. Alaska Young is going to die. And he let her drive that night.

Too Long, Don't Read

December, I sat in the passenger seat of my car while he drove into the city under the night sky. We were in silence but it was not awkward. It was never awkward when it comes to you. We spent the last of the minutes we had just cruising around, looking at the city lights with Alina Baraz singing Pretty Thoughts on maximum volume. Your note tucked safely in the pocket of my purse.

I would often feel bothered by how I tend to overthink situations. I used to believe that I had a problem of being too quick to fascinate over something and find myself completely dismissing it the next. It came to a point where I felt like I couldn’t commit to anything without worrying how I would feel about it in say three weeks time. Mind you, being surrounded by people constantly thinking you are going through a “phase” or hoping to bring you back to this idea of you that they have in their heads do not make it any easier for you to feel comfortable about being the way you are. However, in their defence, it is how they see things.

And we see different things.

___________

January, I was under the influence of cannabis and good instrumental music, I found myself lost in a swirl of the milky way and comfort of my good friend’s soothing voice as she read to me her favourite poem. She turned words into pictures, colours into rainbows.

I would like to think that beauty is subjective, that it exists in all kinds of form. Beauty is easily the walk I had this evening. It was raining and I had my d-i-y denim hoodie thing on. It was a long walk for someone who hasn't done much walking in a while but with the help of my rad playlist and the people that exchanged smiles and nods along the way made it all pretty worthwhile. 

___________

February, a culture shock in my life for the only thing that we have in common is the fact that we liked The Gap on Facebook and every thing else was strange to me.  It was a cold night of a day I can’t seem to remember and claiming to be “easy” is another way of saying “I do not want to make plans so you decide”. Sitting Indian style on a road in the middle of nowhere whilst you were lying down, drawing on your bare skin with a black sharpie at midnight, just trusting my artistic skills. I have never met anyone as spontaneous and easy going. It had been a pleasure to walk towards uncertainty with you. Until we meet again.

I love the individuality of human beings, the things that make you you, I love being thrown into something spontaneous and unexpected, only to find myself learning more. I will not assure you that I will be comfortable at all times for I am only human. However, I wish not to reject something I have yet given a chance to try.  After all, what is on stake is merely a broken heart that will mend and scars that will heal. It's just a matter of time, isn't it?

___________

March. The times where I silently think to myself that if I had the ability to freeze time, this would be it. Right there, right then. I would lie at this spot, this uncomfortable pool chair where I sat with my legs crossed, staring at the dead buildings from above. Buildings that are always light up with fancy neon lights, crowded with people during the day now lay still and silent. You sat next to me, just an inch away. Foreign blood, foreign mind and your foreign crazy pants. You puzzled me; you confused me yet you seem to intrigue me most. I caught myself telling you my strangest thoughts but it was simple. I liked that night. It was simple. 

I believe we grew up in an era where everything is defined for us. How we should live our lives, what happiness is, what kind of love you should have instead of seeing things as an individual with your own perspective of things.

Why should love be for your one and only. Why can’t a person just love an individual for its extraordinary traits and be fine with not being owned, with not having the need to define.

I feel strongly about you. I think you are amazing.  Simple. And I may not stick around but that’s okay because you exist as yourself. You are your own person. You do not need me to make you feel important but that does not mean you are worth any less. What matters is at that moment I meant it. It does not make you any less significant. It could be as long as two months of crazy meet ups or an hour over coffee but know that at that moment, it was just you, me and nothing else.

2014 introduced me to a whole new meaning of strange but I am grateful to have met all these people. I wrote in this little book of mine a few months back,

“Sometimes you come across the most interesting people in the most unexpected ways.

And maybe it isn’t your definition of the perfect meet up, but it does not make it any less real.”

And just because something was amazing while it lasted, it does't necessarily have to work out. Like a canvas. I am the artist of my story and as long as I am still breathing, I am still gripping tight to the brush, painting it with different colours along the way.

I do not want to convince you to understand any of my insane thoughts and I do not want you to convince me how I should live my life. If I decide living in the moment, living a short life well lived, and if my definition of well lived differs to yours then so be it.

Let me learn.

Be the friend who is there when it seems like the world has turned its back against you.
That is all you need to be.

This Is Stupid

It was strange; it feels like you’re close. You reach out, you extend your arms, hoping to feel some kind of substance, something, anything..but you fall into nothing. I’ve been feeling disconnected from a lot of things for quite some time now. I have tried writing it out but everything seems to be jumbled up. I can’t promise you that this post would be any better than my last many attempts. Waking up to a routine, working hard for something you’re not even sure of. Will this be the fate of every other being in this planet? To never be able to question more than what we were taught. Hush now child, don’t question too much. Your curiousity will be the death of you, they say.

How is it fair that the circumstances of our birth should determine the path of our future? Why should we look at different as a threat? 

Fuck this, I can't even explain what this feels like.