Island Stories: Part 2

The moon and all its shine glared down upon the beach,

The one night he decided to step by himself into the waters,

In the high tide,

All that was to be seen only hours before only  a vision one can assume,

And the rocks that loomed large above his head only a grey spot in the distance.

For a young pup in comparison to the world before him, 

The troubles he seems to endure leave nothing to behold before the large continent that looms endlessly in the horizon,

And as he claws his way through this limitless continent, 

All of this dissipates and the simplicity of walking is all he thinks about, 

Allowing himself air to breathe for the first time in a while. 

And then he looks forth into the water,

This time much darker, the mysteries that it hides beneath the surface,

The countless machines, the countless lives,

And the trees that edge the perimeter of the water only remind him of the Bengal tiger,

The monster who ditched its only friend in the world, to survive a shipwreck unfathomable by the normal human. 

Every tale has been told, and behind every cover another told story awaiting to be read, the punchline never always the same, but there.

This beautiful continent, the second least travelled by the human race,

Probably the most dangerous of them all. 

Capable of engulfing the mightiest of creatures, both natural and man-made,

It is on the brink of our society,

At any second, a tsunami, a flood, a hurricane, and all the more,

They are only minutes away from combining forces, destroying humanity and all that it has brought to this planet, in such short a time. 

But there it stands, 

As solemn as ever,

Water lapping on the shores, 

The sound of nature a magnificent feat by itself,

As you close your eyes, 

All you sense, is the salty air grasping onto your skin,

The sound of the waves,

And the feeling of infinity,

In its own way gratifying and mesmerising.

The feeling of infinity,

You want it to last,

But alas he returns,

To the sights and sounds of the world,

But he holds on to the feeling,

In hope it returns,

In the bustle of the city life in which he loves.

Island Stories

And as a paw gently touches the moist sand, 

A crab scutters across before him, its colour matching the sand beneath it,

The light permeable dashes across the skyline above,

As they gently curve away from the setting sun,

The sun in all its beauty creating a nova of colours in the horizon, 

Ending in an array of rocks and a bundle of trees to add a finishing touch to the beauty,

He is engulfed by the vastness of the outstretching water. 

He steps into the lapping waves that leave a trail of seashells in its wake,

The waves, which takes all of his concentration to stumble through,

As he places paw before paw into the collapsing sand below, 

The line on which the waves pull themselves back from onlooking spectators, 

When the peak of the waves are visible approaching the sand,

But at the very last moment,

The wave implodes on itself into the collapsing sand, 

Impeding its progress.

The sea water, the floating sand, and everything else that it carries,

Tickles the legs of its guests, mocking them,

As deeper in it beholds far greater mysteries 

And treasures. 

As he turns around,

He sees people, of a different species, but similar altogether,

And the one thing that plights his thoughts at every given moment,

The crests of the murky water containing problems left unsolved,
Tension left contained.

He wants to make a decision,
 to jump into the oncoming waves,
Or to step back onto land.

And it all leads to a point where he either
Sinks, or swims.

Inexplicably Catastrophic

Time goes on,

And comes times like these, you feel you only can explain yourself through imagery,

the direness of your situation is unable to fathom by those unable to see.

From the eagle-point,

You're within a warehouse, shattered glass windows surround You as You attempt to take a glimpse from the slits that is left to see through.

Tied to a chair, rope entangled hopelessly as if earphones left in your pocket, let live through a excruciating experience that is the washing machine.

You are left, alone, in this devastatingly monumental structure.

The noise of a single rodent scurrying in the corner, looking for a hole, for escape.

As dawn breaks, and the slivers of sunlight leak through the windows,

You wince.

The sense of hope that you may escape from this place drowns you, and by doing so, the warehouse grows ever larger.

There is no more corner in sight, leaving only the sound of the rodent guiding the distance to the edge.

The hunger You feel is incapacitating your soul, burning you, from within.

The air grows slowly thinner, as You struggle to breathe. 

You want to be released from this torturous Hell,

And You are left with attempting to struggle through the ropes, or letting Yourself be swallowed whole by this imagination of Yours,

but in the end of the day,

the choice is not left to You if You are to be saved or not.

It is the rodent's.




I wish I had the opportunity to have that spare briefcase of weed to let me start afresh, leave my badge behind to the world, but all I want to do, is burn the Playbook, and stop all the bullshit that I've been through. I wish I could open a cupcake store in Candyland, and make the jolly citizens of that world happy, 

and smile as I see them frolick home, with peace in mind.

I wish I could actually be a hermit, and hide in my shell when the danger approaches.

But life is no fairytale, it is no drama series, it is no comedy.

Life, is but a brief candle, that struts and frets its hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more, it is a tale,

Told by an Idiot,

Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. 

Good night.

Dear Friend

Hello World,
Actually quite nice to be back in happier times compared to the past few months of general.. diaspora.

But then again I'm here to be sentimental, and of course in it, life changes, distance with friends, all that jazz.

When this holiday started, I thought I had things sorted, my life turning to a path of simply bliss.

But of course that's not allowed to last very long in this world, I've found a few things about myself and decided not to be happy with basically what I can get, rather than what I want.

Having to be able to choose is so much like the freedom of speech which every American loves bragging about, but really, who doesn't fall victim to conformity and all sorts of bullshit that change the way you talk and the way you think, brainwashing.

It's a pity that the New Year has brought good news and very likely, a lot of bad news that affect my personal life more than my career.

Dad's a lot happier these days, I think he's glad that at least one kid's back and learning the trade, happy that he doesn't have to give up his life's work to (no offense) less competent people, more narrow minded and sorts, being Malaysian educated. He's probably realized that I don't want to grow up to be exactly like him, I have my life plans and dreams that I can still hold on to for now - I'll look back in approximately 10 years from now on my 31st birthday and consider what I said I would achieve at this age. 

Checkpoints, but no re-spawning. 

1. Be in a stable relationship that I'm happy with, rather than tolerant with (Thanks Dad for that point).

2. Continue to be interesting in life, bring happiness and colour to the people around you. 

3. Take over Dad's company, and continue building from there, he would be proud of you.

4. By 34, start my development plans - No its name shall not be Casa de Phil-T. 

5. Most importantly to me at this age, keep my closest friends, they've proven to always be there for you.

Talking about friends,

bad news just continues to fly all around. 

It's not often that you hear that 3 of your close friends will not be returning "home" with you (Melbourne), including one that to this point, shows their utmost trust. Trust has been a problem for me all my life with my friends, and I love sharing what I know with people I care about, which is A LOT, because despite hiding all these goddamn feelings like I've trained myself to for much of my life, talking equates to caring about you - depending on the state of my speech.

I'd love if you guys could be able to read this, but so far, its just a diary for my personal thoughts that I share with people in times of need - depression, loneliness, negative emotions really.

This whole diary thing caught me hard, especially because I've been reading Perks of being a Wallflower. Hell of a depressing book, but it shines light on so many issues that I've had growing up. Especially with him growing up funny, but I'm glad to say that I can't blame myself for anyone dying, not that I haven't thought about it.

But God it's depressing to hear that your time with your friends becomes so limited after a single event change of your life. I've told my parents about these 3 people, and although them being good-hearted people who want to help and sort out these problems for them, I'm not meant to know these things about them, except for one. I wish I truly could though, it'd be the world to me if I could keep going with no change to current times, 2012 was an amazing year with you guys, and you should hear this from at least someone.

I will miss the times.

I came to writing all this because my holidays ending in a few weeks, and ever since news has been broken to me, I haven't exactly looked at time as being insufficient.

There are so many plans here that I want to go through with but I'm afraid. 

Afraid that I may create problems with my friends whom I care so much about, but many who do not trust me because I love talking - I've never been able to talk much as kid, and every opportunity I have could be my last. That's as much as you should know.

One person has made to change my thinking drastically over this holidays, but I gather that she has not a single clue that this is occurring. I might talk to her tomorrow about it, I might not, I'm not entirely courageous about talking about my feelings, vulnerability is my weakness.
You know those moments where you wake up and that person's image is the first thing to pop into your head in the mornings? Its one of those.

Love-hate relationship? I think its more of I hate that I love so much - Catholicism you've built your stronghold in me, even if I have sinned.

And I wish I think of a solution that could not possibly compromise what I have going. 

And time is running out.
Damned time.

But as far as I know,

#Apollo
We are the lucky ones.
We truly are.

We've got it easy.

And to one specific person back "home"

I apologise for what I have to do in the future,

There is no means of continuing what we are doing.

And I don't know how to do it without hurting you.

But you are a friend - and I shall love you as one.

Shout-out to you, "her" - whom I shall not name for I fear the worst.

May my opportunity come at a beautiful time,
So I may tell you, 

For what we can build is great,
Or disastrous.

With regards,

Him.