'Beer'

Slowly, the bubbles rise all the way up to the top. Unexplainably, your shadow seems to be present behind this unlikely curtain. Standing still in front of me like a vivid reflection, there’s no way for me to grab hold of you yet there’s no way for me to shake off this want of mine to stay. There’s a sense of warmth seeing you… There’s an incomparable coldness meeting you… Everything becomes like these bubbles, unclear but with a twist of clarity.

As much confusion as they bring, the bubbles literally dissolve in the air. Their existence is so short, so are you in reality; you never stay long enough, without trying to hint me to give up on this pursuit of mine. I never know why there’s always a part of me that cares so much about you until the whole me becomes so sensitive to your actions and words. Then again I never care much about it. All I care is whether my care and attention for you are like bubbles in your eyes?

The foams are never as tasteful as the drink below. Their existence bestows the drink below with an alluring figure. At the same time, they could be a barrier to fend off poor drinker, allowing only those who are considered to be worthy. It’s invisible but a similar existence is surrounding you. It’s put up intentionally by you and it actually fits finely. However, it always makes me wonder what it is for and whether I will be considered as the worthy one?

Like beer, you could always relief my mind off all the troubles of the world but at a price. Your smile, your actions, your feeling and everything else about you could cause addiction; the happiness, the warmth, the hope, the heartbreaks, the disappointments, the jealousy and every other emotion that follows you are making me your alcoholic. It could be difficult to swallow sometimes, but I never stop taking it all in......

The aftermath of having a drink is almost the same every time. Even so, I am still unable to restrain myself from thinking about you. This feeling for you is always being rejected, redirected, splattered and ignored; they always bring upon emotional breakdowns, desperation, confusions and doubts. Yet, I am unwilling to give up like a fool. My leftover conscious after drinking this bottle of beer is always focusing of being able to get hold of your hand through the foam and bubbles, for the rest of the time.

"You may not an essential in my life but you are someone that I don't wish to left out from my life. It's true that you could be a friend of mine but so can other girl. Why you? I wish I could tell you the answer as well but sadly I don't have any idea at all. Perhaps...you are my type of beer and I am somehow addicted to you. So, may God opens your eyes and heart to see and feel what I am doing and feeling."

A Pending Performance

The prelude was of nothing catchy. The beats used were slow and the keys involved were relatively same throughout the first few weeks; she was an ordinary girl, with a pair of spectacles and long, brown hair. There wasn't any thought that included her in the picture. Her identity was clear, being Ms. T.

The music played on and things started to show some signs of life. A few question marks were switched on. A small quarter inside was being occupied and a signboard, written "Ms. T" could be found there; the silence was broken, with attempts for conversation made.

It was then when one of the pieces involved over-charged. The beats were pushed too high in too short notice. The intended became so wrong. Two-ways turned into one and the conversation was made into interrogation; unanticipated intrusion of emotions and sensitivities flushed the whole song down the drain. The gate to her went shut, with a lock put on as well.

Without the key and without replacement, the whole play ceased. Everything was boxed and shunted aside. Huge pieces of cloth were laid on top every piece of instruments; silence came in and occupied every corner of the room. Nothing could really be done, so I turned my back and decided to walk away.

Yet, something was left behind. Every step taken became heavier and more gut-wrenching in time. Finally, I stopped but all the way back was a picture of Ms. T with another guy. It's not explainable but jealousy slapped me hard; hurtful and insulting words just rammed out, followed by regrets. It further complicated things, on top of the impression that her whole attention was focused on him.

Things were hopeless. Even so, the topics just couldn't help to be circling around her. The music was rewritten, prepared for a future of slim possibilities. There weren't any sweets given around that time, only some pills that required to be kept in mouth until it all melts away......

Now, I'm still on medication; my beatings aren't really normal and my emotions aren't really recognizable. The music still wasn't played properly to its designated audience. There was no idea on when she will be free to hear it out but there was no intention of dumping anything as well. 

May the time be the witness, as well as the judge......