Life :: 27

I don't care what took me here. I only care about where I'm going.

Welcoming Lee Joe, and everything that comes with her package... lol

     This might just be one of the least heart touching narrative I've ever written in 39 years of my life. I was a lonely person, one without a companion. Lonely, because I told people I was never lonely being alone. People who really don't feel lonely never say such things. That is the difference between a heartless person and a normal human. The loneliness crept inside me, like a caterpillar, but with the vibe of a python, slowly wrapping around me, suffocating me, killing me. And in my loneliness, I find a companion in my writing. In fact, I couldn't think of anything else that I have, except my writing. Without it I'll be worthless, a piece of non-existent trash (as useless as trash is, what kind of standard would it have when it is not even there?) So as to say, one day I hit a wall on a piece of writing. It was a little insignificant piece. a typical piece of man meets girl, man falls in love, and... that's when I hit a wall.

     I couldn't think anymore. I couldn't imagine anything. I was stripped off my one and only happiness. my one and only friend. my only true possession. my writing.

     That was when life truly spit on my face (Not that I care. My face has no artistic value. Arghh again, I say I don't care, which shows that I really do. Damn). I started to wonder what use I had in this world - apart from being the non-existent trash. but even a trash like me needs to eat. So I went around, asking around for money, for mercy (O God I hate myself). everyday, I would get money from people of all colours. and everyday I would see the girl in green. everyday, I would get money from people of all colours, but everyday I would not get money from the girl in green. Everyday I would get pity from all colours, but never from her. The Girl in Green. She is always there, looking at me, but she does nothing.

     Except, she would write in her little green notebook everyday in front of me. she would write, her face emotionless. And such a routine went on quite a while until one day she wasn't there anymore. I thought I was already washed off any human emotion, but with her disappearance I felt... something. And so I searched for her. I looked everywhere until I found her, on the roof of a building I had no knowing of. And she looked at me. But I was not satisfied. It wasn't her that I needed to see. It was something else. That's when I realized. Writing! I need to see her write! I want to know what she writes about. what she puts in that little green notebook of hers. I want to read everything she wrote.

     That's when she smiled, and said that she couldn't write anymore. she hit a wall, and now she doesn't know what to do. I told her that it's alright, you should try writing again. But she only shrugged, and said,

     "What about you? Why won't you write?"

    It hit me like thunder. All of a sudden, all of my feelings towards my writing, all my passion, it erupted up inside me. With this girl... With this girl... I want to write again! Afterwards we got together, and we write, and with her, all my unfinished, insignificant stories became significant, they became perfect, and for that I make it my life goal to keep her little green notebook alive.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : WELCOME LEE JOE as an author in Incerto~!!! If u guys havent known her, Lee Joe (LJ for short), is an inspiring writer with a heart. From now on she'll be writing up posts here in Incerto, and you can get to her line of work here: LJ PUNYA KERJA . Her work will also be labelled with "LJ", rather than mine, which will have a "F2F" label. Hee~ :D so that's that. Toodles guys~ n let's hope LJ will continue writing for the page, forever~ :p 

Poesia :: I am... The World. But without You I am Nothing. :P

Flowers sway with the rythm, a colourful motion

The garden of life, a great scenery

A bird came by, flapping its wings

When another came around, singing.

The voice of water, from a river nearby, flowing

Dancing in my ears, oh so beautiful

A school of salmon, swimming in harmony

Some leapt over the other, ever so pretty.

Everything was perfect, as I sat there staring

Except there was still something, something still missing

And one was still amiss, the world knows who

The one who is not here, is definitely You.

If you are still not clear, I'll tell you what,

It's just that I Love You, and you're all that I want.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  kahkahkah, I would never have remembered writing such (shake) lovey stuff. This was in Form 5, when a group of us challenged each other (who knew nothing of love) to write a love poem, one which IF, AND ONLY IF we had a girlfriend, we would give it to them. This was my product. *blush* Hee~ :D I'm not so refined in the poetic department, and thus you could definitely see a kind of 'awkward' vibe to the whole piece. But I do enjoy poetry, and writing sum more would be more than a pleasure, so expect more of 'em aite~? XD

Solitary :: Fly, Ron, Fly

Fly, Ron, fly.

            Walk three blocks down the Arkwood village entrance, and you will find yourself mesmerized by what would seem as the widest, greenest, flawless grass field, stretching for miles and miles into the horizon. However, the land itself is not what makes it interesting, yet it is the continuous flow of wind from up South. With astonishing scenery and strong breezes, ‘The Great Meadow’, as locals would call it, is the most noticeable landmark of Arkwood, and one that puts the small village on the map as a kiting heaven. Thus, one would always be able to witness a magnificent kite show here, no matter what turn of the hour.

            True, everyday groups and groups of kite fans would gather here, all with their kites flying high up in the air, colourful, graceful. Among such kite enthusiasts is a little boy, a local, Shawn. Every evening, one could expect Shawn to be at The Great Meadow, besides the large stone and under the large tree. But our story is not of this boy, oh no, but it is about his kite. Diamond-shaped, and coloured with bright yellow and chartreuse, it is a standard kite, made by Shawn’s deceased father. ‘Ron’ was its name.

            Every evening, Ron would be flying, like all kites do. It floats, still, with the occasional sway of left to right, and right to left, but it floats there, above the large stone and besides the large tree, and continues floating there, still. Every evening, Ron could see the other kites, flying, like all kites do, but higher, with more graceful sways of left to right, and right to left, and they fly further, further away from the large stone and large tree. Every evening, Ron would want to be the same, it wants to fly higher, it wants to be free.

            As such, one evening, Ron planned to escape from Shawn, from the large stone and large tree. It purposely stuck its string to the large tree, and it swayed, left to right, until the string finally snapped. Shawn looked helplessly as Ron flew higher and higher, swaying left to right, right to left, away from him, away from the large stone and large tree, and away from The Great Meadow. Finally, Ron was happy. It flew higher than the rest of the kites and much further away. It was so happy that it did not care where he wet. He was free, that was what matters.

            Days passed, and Ron finally reached another place. A place it knew nothing of. There were no trees, no grass, but there were stones. But these stones were nothing like the stones back in Arkwood. They were shaped in cubes. Large cubes of stone. High cubes of stone. And on the cubes were long metal horns. They were so long; Ron was occasionally stuck to them, restricted from flying. Then there was the rain. It rained and rained, until Ron became dull. It was not yellow anymore. Along with the rain came thunder, thunder which shook Ron with pain. It got scared. It was scared of the cubed stones, of the metal horns, of the rain, the thunder, all of which it never experienced before, when it was in Arkwood, when it flew above the large stone, and besides the large tree.

            With a sudden consciousness, Ron flew back, back to Arkwood, back to The Great Meadow, back to the large stone and large tree. It went and rested on the large stone, and waited till evening, waited till Shawn came. Then, like every evening, Shawn came to the large stone and large tree, but this time there was a difference. In his hands was a kite. Diamond-shaped, and coloured with bright red, it is a standard kite, made by Shawn himself. And as usual, Shawn flew the kite, above the large stone and besides the large tree. And he didn’t even see the beaten up kite on the large stone.

            Ron wanted to fly.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : Ahh, kites. I can still remember my knee getting torn from a fall while playing my kite, with little pebbles in my flesh, and blood gushing out. (ok, this is outta context -.-) Alhamdulillah I was able to write again, though my writing have clearly been dulled by time. This was written during 'the writing regime' I gave to my friends as an exercise. (We're having a study camp, and I am the honorary 'Satanic Teacher'. lol XD) This was written to show that I was also doing work, and I'm glad I did. From the rest, I could see some interesting (if not odd) talents from Lee, Fadh, Mike and Dini. Anyways, this piece is a little shaky and dull, so lets hope I'll write some more and get my edge back. Thanks~! :)

The Change

"Change is imminent, no?"

                  Given the circumstances, its not practical anymore to have a blog to write a single story, especially when the story is nowhere near completion. Not forgetting the other projects in my personal lobby, all of which are still waiting to be written. As such, I'm modifying the page to be something of a more casual nature, one of which I can narrate randomly, without having any consent of a serious storyline. Thus I wont screw myself of my writing edge any more than it is. (yes, my writing has become very blunt these days, and it saddens me so.) 

                  In any case, I will be putting the "Punchbag Project" on hold, until 'Time' becomes a close friend of mine, and I can leisurely write until I die. (gediknya impian~) The same goes to all my other stories, short stories, semi-poems and comics. If I had a writing alter ego, I would most prolly tug at his leg now, crying and begging for forgiveness. ("Uwaahhh! Uwahhh! I'm sorry! I'll write! I promise you I'll write seriously now! X'O") lol. 

               So, I open up (modify) this page, officially, with the name "incerto"~! A platform for 'Sensual writings with a touch of ambiguity'. Oh how I wish I will continue writing. :) 

                    -f2f-