Envy

Handsome, stylish and suave.

Intelligent, witty and funny.

His charm, his charisma, his personality.

Exuberant.

I'm just like him, except that I'm not just not like him.

He's just better than me in everything.

He sings better, he dances better, he excels in everything; I'm just a fading shadow feebly trying to emulate him.

I've known him all my life, and he's been closer than a brother. But as we grew up, I watched him outdo me. Watched him become a better man, a better person than who I could ever become.

Envy, jealousy. A rare emotion for me. Even for a pessimistic, perfectionist idealist like me, I know the meaning of "contentment" or "satisfaction", not because I read the dictionary more often - I am content.

But by saying that, I just contradicted myself, didn't I?

Envy - "discontentment or resentful longing aroused by another's possession or qualities".

AHA! DIS-contentment! How can I say I'm content now?


Envy, a rare emotion for me, because I live in a society where everyone's stuck with situations they had not wished for. I'm the only guy around who gets what I want. Yet, I'm jealous of this friend of mine.


The pressures of the world where everyone's chasing after material and superlatives. I'm a sucker, an "individual" with herd mentality.


"Life is a contradiction," I said.
"And you're a walking irony," a friend replied.
"Perhaps," I thought as I looked into the mirror.
"Cool T-shirt," I thought again, but the T-shirt says "NERD".

I thought I lived a happy life, until I decided to look at my "idol", my friend who outshines me. Oh, the bitter pain of jealousy, the greenery which ain't any crunchy fresh vegetable.


The "great irony" occurred when we talked last night.


"Wow man, I look at you with your girlfriend! You two are like so STEADY! Damn... Envy!" he told me.


I envy everything he has. And vice versa.


So now, I've stopped feeling jealous. I smile; gratefulness fills my heart. Now I wonder how I'm going to get along with the rest of the complaining world.

Cryptic Writings at 2:00 A.M

I once had a dream that did not make sense. Of course, most dreams do not make sense. They tend to defy time and space (once, I was in a dream where I was in an open field and also in a vaguely familiar living room, at the same time), or sometimes anachronistic (two friends were talking to one another in a dream. I know them both, though they don't know each other. They were talking about an event both of them knew nothing about).

At any rate, I once had a dream that did not make sense. I do not remember the details, but in it there was a pale little girl in a white dress. The kind little girls tend to wear, no doubt forced upon by parents, but that is beside the point. She had black-hollow eyes, her hair long and fluid, and a mouthful of fangs, blood dripping onto her white dress.

She was trying to tell me something, in that dream, though I do not remember what. No one takes very seriously what a little girl in a bloodied dress would say anyway. She guided me, in that dream, to a place I have forgotten. It was distinctly unpleasant.

The distressing part was not the dream itself, but that fracture of a second upon waking from that dream, where I discover that it is still night, and in the darkness of my room a little girl stood silently. White dress. Bloodstained. Fangs. It was only a small moment, but I knew she was there. In the darkness. Staring at me.


I should be careful which dreams I choose to manifest into reality.


Thank you.


****

Note:
This story was written by a person named Shahriman Latif. He's from Subang Jaya, or at least according to his blog Demented Reality.

Do drop by Shahriman's blog for more interesting stuff!

P/S Don't do anything to the title, because that's what it looks like in Demented Reality. And, sorry I'm too lazy to think of any stories - I mean, come on, my holidays just started, I wanna chill a little bit.

Missing You Again

The quietness here reminded me,
for who you are,
and for what you did for me,
as you kept appearing in front of me,
it's as if you're not gone ever yet,
it is also hard for me,
to understand what your stunning,
innocent look got to tell,
but each time you're there,
I don't know what to do but to smile,
in a way as to hope you still remember me.

-another poem by Mellissa Lee-

taken from: My teen Life

*again reposted without permission*

(I'll let her know about it soon.)

No Return

No Return..

For once I find goodness in you,
For once I find kindness in you,
For once I find gratitude in you,
And for once I find a smile in you.

But it's all of no use,
For its all too late to refuse,
Once done is forever undone,
Nothing can change the fact,
that you fake it,
right in front of me,
And that I'm silly,
to be blinded by you,
for donkey years,
Indeed I'm stupid,
to serve you as friend,
yet you still backstabbed me.

-Mellissa Lee-

taken from: My teen Life

Mellissa's current blog: Rainbow gives hopes

*reposted without permission*

The Invasion

I closed my eyes.

Summoned to a duty of higher importance, my remaining senses instantly sharpened. Every stimulus in the room became magnified to my receptors. The jumbled voices were also beginning to separate; Distinctions between tones could now be identified.

I listened harder. The muffled words finally took on a definite sentence structure of their own, forming a clear picture of what was going through their minds.

She had two jobs and five kids. He had just celebrated his daughter's first birthday. She was in love with the little black dress on sale. He was struggling to save his marriage. She had suicidal tendencies. He was looking forward to the 8 o'clock news.

With every thought I deciphered, the emotions linked to them coursed through my body like jolts of electricity. Enough, enough! I screamed silently, unable to bear the sudden onslaught of sensations, switching to and fro in the blink of an eye. In a desperate attempt to silence the voices, my eyes flew open, but to no avail. They reverberated around me, filling up every last unoccupied space in the room. Stop, stop..no...

I slumped to the floor in defeat, the voices still clawing at me, refusing to let go.

She was right.

Insecurity

She curled up on the couch, restlessless and apathy only thinly veiling the distress eating into her.

She thought of her. Casey, who was superior in every way - her sense of style, her blemish-free complexion, her magnetism. The way her eyes sparkled, the way she flipped her luxurious long hair, the way she looked at people that made them believe they were the most important people in the world to her. Boys flirted with her, even if she didn't always flirt back. She had a steady flow of admirers whom she never gave any false hope to, yet ardently pursued her as if they were oblivious to the futility of their chase.

She sat in the cafe, waiting for Matt. It was nine already. Nine, and he said he'd be there by eight fifty. It was uncharacteristic of him to be late, even by a few minutes. Not that she was worried - 10 minutes was not that big a deal. Then she heard them coming up to her. What was Casey doing here?

"Hey hun, sorry I'm late. I met Casey on the way here and stopped for a chat. Guess I lost track of time."

Casey. Why did Casey have to look so pretty? If that wasn't bad enough, Matt was one of Casey's closest friends. She obviously paled in comparison to the vivacious, popular girl. Painfully obviously.

***

He looked at her questioningly. She hadn't been herself for the past few days, and every time he asked what was wrong, she just brushed off the question. Not that she was fooling him, he knew her too well for that. He had to find out what was going on. Was it something he said? Something he did? Why wouldn't she just tell him then? Why did girls have to be so secretive and complex? He heaved a perplexed, inaudible sigh.

Walking over to the couch, he snuggled up against her. She moved over to make room for him, but he stopped her by pulling her waist closer. She smiled, and let him have his way. Then he tilted her chin up and looked her in the eye.

"Georgie, are you okay?" The tenderness in his voice was heartfelt. It was times like these that he wished he could read her thoughts instead of being left out in the dark.

"I don't know."

"Talk to me. You know I care."

I know you do. But she's so pretty. She's perfect. I'm inferior to her. I wish I were prettier and more perfect. Then maybe I wouldn't feel this way about her.

"How's Casey?"

"What does she have to do with this?" He was puzzled, "Look, don't try to change the topic, okay? I wanna know what's wrong. I really do."

"Tell me why you love me."

"Uh, okay. You're beautiful, you're funny, you're intelligent, you're lovable and I love you because you're you. Don't you know that already? Not that I mind reminding you, of course. " He smiled, still unsure of what she was getting at.

"I'm not as pretty as Casey is," she murmured softly.

He suddenly understood.

"Georgie, you're the one I love. She's just a friend. You don't doubt me, do you?"

"No." Then she fell silent again. He knew he had to do better than that. Casey was just a friend, nothing more. But maybe, just maybe, he'd been spending a little too much time with her lately.

"Georgie, Georgie. Look at me."

She met his gaze.

"I love you. I don't know what's bothering you exactly, but I love you. When I say you're beautiful, I mean it. Casey is pretty, but that doesn't mean you can't measure up to her. I don't like Casey in any other way. She's just a friend. You're the one I can't go a day without thinking about."

"Why?"

"You see through me like no one else does. You make my heart feel like it's about to burst with love for you. You make me laugh and brighten up my day whenever I need to be cheered up. I...I'm not an eloquent person and I don't always know the right things to say, like right now. But one thing I know, I love you like I've never loved anyone before, and you're definitely not getting any competition from Casey."

He stroked her cheek gently, earnestly looking into her eyes.

"I love you too."

And her heart felt so much lighter, unexpectedly.

[Author's note : Not one of my best pieces, but I guess it'll have to do. Note to self : Don't write stories at 12 midnight with a half-fried brain from the saturation of all sorts of subjects. Hehe.]

A Dirge To What I Used To Be

The dreary weather mimics
how I feel inside
Winter is the epic
manifestation of my mind

Dichotomies are blurred
right and wrong, ambiguous
All thanks to your words
so careless and superflous

If you just let me be
unhindered and uncriticized
I would have understood felicity
my potential, realized

But alas this is what I've become
struggling desperately to feel normal
Trying to feel past being numb
finding meaning in the pain that seems eternal


[Written by my muy talented friend Maria. xD It's really a shame she doesn't update her blog often enough. =( Posted here with prior consent, of course. xP]