From That Moment….

This piece was influenced by a scene in Good Fellas

From the very first moment I heard her shaky voice down the phone line I knew something was wrong. The words would barely leave her mouth, but I could hear her breathing uneasy; when she finally told me she had been attacked, I didn’t even think twice about asking for details. I knew I had to get to her. I just needed to get to her. She told me where she was I reluctantly hung up and rushed into my car.

I don’t remember how fast I was driving; I don’t remember what I was even thinking about; hell – I wouldn’t even be able to tell you if I knocked someone over on my way there, all that was going through my mind was the kind of danger she might have been in. The cigarette between my lips was doing nothing to calm my nerves, no matter how much of it I puffed while I sped through the streets and raced closer to her. The world around me blurred into a haze and a million thoughts battled to be heard in my mind but I gave none of them any attention. I kept repeating the location she recited to me in my head, again and again and never let it slip from my mind, not even for a single second.

When I finally spotted her by the phone booth, my heart dropped. I jerked my car to a stop in an instant and threw my cigarette on the floor; I opened my car door, got out and closed it again in one swift movement. Two steps and I already had my arms around her, her soft sobbing echoing the quiet streets.

“What happened? What happened? You alright?” I asked as I gently guided her towards my car, feeling a sudden rush of panic and concern. I opened the car door before she had even reached it – I just needed her to be inside it; to be safe. I also jumped over the back seat door and sat in beside her, not bothering to even go around.

“It was this guy who lives across to me,” she cried out. That was when I finally noticed what a mess she was… her beautiful black hair was ruffled and tangled like a nest, her pretty clothes were torn and covered in dirt and her gorgeous makeup was smeared across her face. A sick feeling churned in my stomach as I reached out and touched her ripped dress. “Wh-wha- what did he…” I stuttered unable to even think clearly, an image flashed into my mind but I blinked it away, not even wanting to imagine what had happened. Her face changed from upset to frustrated and angry as she began to explain what had happened. But before she could even finish or I could allow myself to listen I found my feet slamming at the pedals and car’s tyres screaming across the ground like I never did.

I didn’t hear what she said to me. I couldn’t hear it. Not over the hum of the engine, or the roaring of the wind that swept past us, the world suddenly seemed to be so damn loud and everything just drowned out her voice. When I reached her road, I slowed to a calm halt. I turned to her, her eyes hidden behind a pair of shades and her body limp and tired. It hurt me to see her like that; in a soft voice I told her to go inside. I watched as she walked in front of the car and disappeared into her house… in the mirror I noticed him standing there with a smug look on his face. An inferno was ignited within me. One hand pushed open the car door as the other gripped my gun. As I strode over to him I felt anger run through my veins and tense every inch of my body until it reached my mind where it erupted with rage. He grinned and began walking up to me, his mouth moving but all I could hear was my girlfriend’s broken cries. I grabbed him and suddenly… I saw him looking at her, I saw him touching her, I saw him forcing himself on her…

I blink again, and he’s on the floor, face covered in blood, wailing out in agony. I abruptly feel the weight of the guns in my hands and the sticky crimson blood that stains the bottom of it. I grit my teeth and hit him once more, relishing the sound of the cold metal colliding with his skull and – hopefully – breaking it. I warn him to stay away in an aggressive roar and stagger backwards and point the gun at his friends too before I regain my balance. The terrified expressions on their faces cue me to leave and I walk towards her house, I hold my breath until the sight of her calms me and cools me down. Her deep blue eyes wash over me and I once again hear my unfamiliar calm soft voice asking her to hide the gun and then repeatedly asking if she is okay…

A Small Act of Kindness On The Bus

Hello strangers,

The other day I was on the bus, on my way to college when something comforting happened which I feel I must write a short post about…

I was on my way to college, seated quietly by the window. I watched as every building, face and car blurred to the back of my mind and became another meaningless moment in my life which I’d likely never recall again. People constantly got on to and got off the bus as my headphones continued to trap music into my mind and pass the time a little faster. However my attention was diverted from my music and the world beyond the window when these two guys walked on; my eyes drawn to the lanyards that hung around their necks which hinted that they attended the same college as me. My college was full of delinquents and many of whom couldn’t be bothered; these two guys fit the scene perfectly. As I drew my eyes away from their lanyards one of them noticed me….

For some unexplainable reason I feel that time slowed suddenly, as he looked back at me and our eyes met for a brief second before I turned back to the window and time resumed again. His eyes were soft and green.

Things went on like normal. People got on. People got off. The bus drove on and the world continued to blur onwards. A woman with three children walked on at one point and she placed her buggy on the bus, her older son stood by her and talked to her; the one in buggy just sat quietly in his seat and the last child (who was the middle child) stood right in the centre of the bus. The guy from my college and his friend were talking as the bus driver let the last of the passengers at the stop on. The doors closed and I noticed the guy from my college suddenly acknowledge the boy stood there, he looked to the front of the bus and then back at boy. It was then I noticed that the boy wasn’t holding on to anything and in a single quick moment all the following happened at once:

The guy from my college held his hand out – the bus driver put his foot on the pedal – the bus jolted forward – the little boy violently jerked backwards and almost fell… only to be saved by the guy who kindly supported him with his arm…

The boy stood there leaning on the guy’s arm for several minutes before he looked back and realised it wasn’t his mother who had helped him. The boy looked startled at first but then just started laughing as if to say ‘who are you?’ the guy simply started smiling back at the little kid, in a friendly awkward kind of way. The boy then ran back to his mother and from behind his body he would look at the guy and smile and receive a smile back. I sat there myself smiling stupidly at this little scene that had unfolded before me and was unnoticed by everyone else… except me…

I kept seeing that guy around my college with his one friend that was with him on the bus. I kept seeing him and seeing that one kind gesture on the bus replay in my mind. I wanted so much to walk up to him and tell him I saw it, and tell him that what he did was a small but significant act of kindness that goes too often unappreciated. But I appreciated it, deeply. It made my day and gave me a little spark of hope that still remains with me even now. I wanted to say all that but my shyness and newbie-status at my college made me refrain…

Perhaps this why I’m writing about it, so that someday when you see someone do something kind, you’ll have the courage I didn’t to tell the person they did good and we need more people like them in this sometimes cold world. Sometimes it’s just nice to know that someone noticed and appreciates it…

For Better Or For Worse…

It’s there. It’s always there, that constant urge to just grab everything and run. But the black veil that hides my face and the extravagant white dress that hugs my body tightly tells me it’s too late… or is it? I may have already signed the papers but I never signed my soul away. I may be bound by love, but I have yet to confess. I can still run, I can still run out the door, find my freedom, find my rights. By walking through that door, I’d have already claimed my first right. They couldn’t force me to come back.


But why am I running away from them?


They who have supported me since my first breath? – They who loved and cherished me when I was young. What reason do I have to cut the strings that they have woven for me so carefully? Oh but I see now. I understand how when they cried “But it’s your choice!” they lied. For they had already confined me in a box; with walls built up of expectations – the expectations to just do the right thing. They told me what I could do – what I have to do. What I should believe – What I have to believe. They never let me explore the possibilities. They never let me find my own calling. And I…

Well, I never defied them. And perhaps that was my error. Perhaps this broken, withdrawn, pathetic face that stares back at me is merely the result of my error. My one error that will damn me to hell…


There is time yet.


I can escape.


I can find myself.


Await my calling.


I can make my own choices.


I pull my veil off, I tear the bottom of my white dress, I tear my necklace off; drop my bouquet; and I run through the door to my freedom! – Suddenly. Wedding bells ricochet through my halls; a hand grabs my arm violently! I find myself being dragged away from the light of the door, further and further away from my own revelation of happiness…


My hands are cuffed and restrained to a single solid pillar.

The stain glass window lets little light in.

My white dress has become black for I cry. I sob. But it won’t end. The wedding bells, the music, the chatter. All within in this empty holy building.

And my wedding ring… are the very handcuffs that tie me forever to this place of other people’s prayers…

The Cure…

“First one to look away loses!”

“I’m not playing,” I mumbled, but I could already feel him staring intently at me.


I could feel my cheeks burn ablaze; set alight by the pyromaniac that was sitting across to me, waiting for me to embrace the flare as he had once embraced the cool water within my calm ocean. I diverted my eyes, trying to find something to distract me, something to distract him. Yet I knew that would be impossible with his burning, new-found determination to ‘cure my fear’.

As every second passed, the temptation began to overwhelm me, enticing my gaze to slowly drift up, towards his; to meet the glassy world that was reflected behind the deep hazel swirls of mischief. The world from his eyes seemed so much brighter, more beautiful and far more profound than anything I had ever seen myself. But when he blinked, all that I could see in his dilated pupils was me… his lips curved upwards as we both smiled at the explosive silence; so much unsaid, yet, the tiny microcosm between us revealed it all.

Our gazes; still locked; never drifted nor faltered unlike my heart which was dropping and rising like the chaotic notes in dubstep, making the butterflies in my stomach evolve into violent moths excited and enticed by a single dim flame…

And then I realised; amid the galaxy that we had morphed in empty space between us and the veil of our shy and secretive smiles: I had found the light that I had been searching for; the light that would banish all the darkness in my world; my own perpetual flame.

He was the cure.


Dear Stalkers,

2015 is already here!? I know, I know, I’m late!

I found myself reading plenty of blogs on the night 31st of December, all talking about the new year to come; reminiscing the year that had just passed. And me? I sat there thinking I should be writing something about 2014 too….hahahaha. nope. 

Yeaaahh…I couldn’t hold the thought! Maybe because I put the ‘pro’ in procrastinating… or maybe because  2014 was for the most part, one of the worst years I have experienced so I couldn’t help but thinking 2015 would only be the same. My damned pessimistic personality was probably wining the war that was taking place in my head that night. But here I am, feeling somewhat more optimistic again, trying to find a more positive outlook.

I won’t even try to deceive myself into believing that 2014 did have good moments that could push out the bad. 2014 was undoubtedly a crap year for me, however 2015 doesn’t have to be the same.

2015 could be the year of solution, the year of ‘New equilibrium’. The year of dealing with my problems and finding peace – if only for a limited amount of time. Last year, I kept going through a cycle of disequilibrium and recognition yet very little was done to repair the disruption! This year, I will find a solution to my problems! And more than that, I will try to find my confidence! I know that life will constantly throw obstacles at me, but unlike last year, I won’t be sobbing on the floor shoving pizza and ice cream down my throat every time things get difficult. Instead this year I’ll face these obstacles head on and find a solution!…. and then shove pizza and ice cream down my throat – you’know, as a reward!


So this year my resolution is:

To deal with my problems as best possible!
And here’s to the new year; may 2015 be the year of New equilibrium for us all!

(P.S what’s your new years resolution?)

– Love Aery

Craving the stars

Dear Stalkers,

Life has been kind of difficult as of recently. I know, I know, ‘You’re only 16, what could you possibly have to deal with that is so difficult!?’ but us teens struggle with life too; and I have a tenancy to relapse all the time. My fear of death and my optimistic and often happy persona are the only things keeping me going. That and the fact that I have endeavored into the wonderful world of reading once again and fallen in love with the fantastical, magical novel: “The night circus” once again. This book truly makes it’s reader feel as though dreams are palpable things.

Most people when at this stage of emotional turmoil – like myself – would often go on a holiday or comfort themselves by binging or running away from their problems. I, on the other hand just find myself with my head in the clouds; thinking about things that I cannot have but imagine them so deeply and vividly that I trick myself into believing it, even if only for a few moments. And I feel as though the book has made these illusions even more immersive and possible.

However my own dreamscapes aren’t as intricate and non-nonsensical as the ‘Crque De Reves‘. Usually, my own illusions consist only of the simplest of pleasures:

I long to feel the soft breeze play with my hair and caress my cheeks whilst the grass mimics the comfort of a bed from beneath me as I lay outside vulnerable yet feeling safer and more fulfilled than I have for the last three years.Silhouettes of trees frame my unfathomably dazzling view of the moon that hangs high above the world on a single flawless summer night. And the stars! The stars that compliment the moon look beautiful beyond belief! Each, individual tine speck of wishing wonder like glitter or fairy dust that has been split across the vibrant hues of the night sky.

As I inhale the woody incense of the outdoors, the moss hidden between the trees and thick sent of pine cones and musty leaves, the sound of crickets and whistling of the wind running through the labyrinth of thick grass would act as a sweet lullaby. Or I could have the song ‘Handsome ghosts by Blood Stutter’ playing quietly in the background, layering over mother nature’s own melody. 


That’s all I desire. To sleep among the stars just for one night, carefree and infinite. That’s all I can think about as of lately.

Diagnosis – Love Sickness

“Your Creative-Writing assignment is to write a short passionate piece on the most romantic experience you have had – No fifty shades of grey please!” My teacher announces with tone of sarcasm in his voice as he gives a quick look to Jake who frowns. But I’m distracted, barely even looking at them.

Why do I take so much notice of her?

What was she diagnosed with? It can’t be that bad right? Because I watch her in class; we only share two classes together but either way, she always has that look in her eyes every time I see her. That passionate look, like she’s seeing the whole galaxy shine before her on a single faultless summer night. It made me wonder what else she was passionate about, it made me think about how often her face lights up with excitement. I felt like I knew her, yet here I was still not knowing her entirely. I wanted to know her from her breadth and height. I wanted to explore the depths of her darkness and investigate the light that vanquishes the abyss that she conceals with her smile. Is it normal to be so obsessed? Ah! – I need to stop.

I blink away my wonderment reluctantly and stare out the window instead, but I find myself gawking at her again. Her lips move but no words come out, the teacher announces something, and she smirks. There she goes again; she always knows the answers, whispers it to herself but never announces her intelligence to others. That really bugs me; if I were that smart, I’d make sure others knew! But not her. And I kind of like that. She’s humble. It’s annoying, but I find myself liking that about her. Weird.

I like her hair too, sometimes she has it in twin tails, like she’s still in never land; other times – like today – it’s just down naturally, messy yet so attractive. I’ve never really taken much notice of a girl’s hair but hers is just…It’s like velvet trails from her head and frames her face perfectly and hangs from her shoulders in the most elegant way. And her face, man – her face is gorgeous. All her features are so soft yet sweet. Her face is round, and her chubby blushing cheeks are constant victims of pinches delivered by her friends. I kind of wish I could pull her cheeks too… that sounds kind of weird. Perhaps, I should have kept that one to myself. The point is…

She’s perfect.

Everything about her is perfect. Even the way she falls asleep and drools during class presentation days. And the times where she has random angry outburst or goes on a rant to her friends – I find it amusing. Oh, and her awkwardness! That, along with her innocent voice, shyness and bushing are the definition cute. She’s probably not that humble either – as much as I try to make myself believe that. In truth she’s simply she  a wallflower. Sure, she comes in everyday like as if she’s someone new; different moods mean a different look, but I think that’s interesting. And so what if she carries around a box of happy pills, and has scars cascading down her arms? She tells everyone that they’re battle scars… but that doesn’t make sense to me, since all she ever emits is peace, wisdom, and a tad bit of clumsy dorky-geeky-ness .

How can anyone hate her? How can she hate herself like that?

Regardless, she’s perfect, and all I want, to is to know her better, know why she’s so cute, why she’s so shy when she’s a bloody philosopher-author-photographer-in-the-making; I want to know what kind of guy she likes and what goes through her mind every second of every day. I long to know what it’s like to have her stare back at me with those big brown eyes, filled with love and lust and affection. I want to know what it’s like to love her. I just want to know her –

“Three words, go!” – My teacher suddenly interrupts my thoughts bringing me back to reality. I realise he’s talking to her. I swallow and sit up, quickly finding myself immersed in the lesson… or just infatuated with her all the same.

“Uhmm… Non-existent, Imaginary… um… hopeful?” She smiles bashfully; the teacher shares the same surprised look as me but then returns the smile and spares her any further embarrassment. Yes!! I grin to myself – I have chance, however slim – I have a chance!

“You boy, three words to describe your experiences of love!”

“M-M-Me? ” I stutter. My teacher nods and urges me to go on and share on my gory details. “Well…” I stall as everyone waits patiently for me to answer. My eyes look desperately to the door and then the clock – there’s no escape this time. I sigh, all my experiences have been pretty bad but I suppose I have no choice but to share that with the class. I sigh and search for the right words. Let’s see… well I’m traumatized for starters and:

“Scarred and…” my eyes drift towards her… “Shy, and … so… and so unfathomably beautiful…”

The words leave my mind and escape via my mouth before I can even comprehend what’s happened. Suddenly conscious, I realise I am amongst a silent class who have turned back to stare in confusion. I steer clear of the possible awkward eye contact and doge my vision up at Sir. He grins at me fully aware of the inducement behind my words.

“That wasn’t three words, but I’ll let you off since you’re such a hopeless romantic!” the class all laugh under their breath not fully knowing the intent behind his words. Then, as if nothing has happened he resumes with the lesson. Asshole – he knew! He picked me on purpose!

I slowly drown in my seat and hide behind my book; embarrassed… One last look, I promise myself. I turn cautiously. My chest tightens as I realise she’s already staring at me; our eyes meet, she stares at me in puzzlement, her face is flushed bright pink. – She knows too!? She quickly hides her face behind her fringe and avoids me…she hates me. She hates me! She definitely must hate me!

However, from behind my book I see her glancing at me.

Though as much as she tries to hide it, she’s smiling now and I find myself smiling too.

She’s contagious. And my diagnosis?

… love sickness…