(un)Granted

too late, you are gone
i should have never trusted a shooting star
unfulfilled wishes, empty promises
or maybe you were never mine to begin

that night, it was raining stars
we sat at the shoreline and made our wishes
i wished
for you to be always here beside me
for you to know that i loved you
for you to love me back
even just a little

but

i never said a thing
the stars were supposed to do their job
wishes were supposed to come true
you were supposed to know
because i was the one
(amongst the insignificant millions)
who made a wish
even though i never said a thing














The last thing he saw was the heavy hook of the rusty old crane, swinging irritatingly in a pendulum motion, blocking his view of the azure evening skies. Maybe it was never right to show such hostility, even towards the inanimate crane, for even a crane can be revengeful. It snapped the cable holding the hook, letting it plummet towards him. It was over in a second and it didn't even hurt at all.

Gerry thought that he was a man of no regrets, that was before he died at least. Dead, his heart was empty, just like an unoccupied apartment of a girlfriend who migrated before you ever got to apologise. Empty but filled - with regret and a million other things left undone.

Everything was so fragile. In this world, nothing was certain and nothing was permanent. Not bloodlines, not kinship, not friendship, nor love.

Bloodlines and lineages - the selfish gene was supposed to rule over that, not us. We do not change nor do we benefit from Darwinism. We die, but the genetic information lives on, creating a better being who will eventually be replaced by yet another better one. However, even this highly fundamental powerful system is limited by the physical limits of Man, for the gene is ultimately like a parasite, thriving only if the host is able to survive. *Would the gene be able to grow if every living organism is dead? Would God exist if no Man believed in Him?*

Big thoughts and no actions, that was Gerry's problem. He spent too much time indulging himself in thoughts that had no value at all. The more things he thought about, the more distant he grew from the world. Gerry liked to blame things too. Was it that the world was indeed too fragile, or did he just make no effort to reinforce the scaffolds when the time came?

There was his family which he walked out on. His father and mother loved him genuinely and had his best interest at heart. He was stubborn as a bull (though it would be unfair to the bull to say that) and never listened to their advice. For 5 years, for 5 years since he had moved out, he had never spoken a single word to them, to these two people who are probably the only ones on Earth who will sacrificingly shower him with their love.

There were his friends which he was too proud to acknowledge. There was also a girl whom he thought she will be there for him until she was gone.

There were so many people he let down and it was no surprise (and entirely his fault) that no one turned up at his funeral. Not even his parents, for they had already left the world a couple of years ago due to extreme sadness and illness, to which Gerry still did not know by his death.


Life may appear to be fragile at times. But (quoting from Neil Gaiman) the brittle egg shell that contains a chick can support the weight of many humans when placed correctly and (my favourite) the heart, which is so easily shattered and broken has enough power to push blood through our body throughout one whole lifetime.

Everything has a side that can withstand the toughest of all difficulties and there is no space for excuses.

Live everyday like you know its your last, but start everyday thinking that you still have 24 hours to do what you can.

P.S. This story is NOT (completely) about me and I am NOT suicidal or anything. But the less detailed second last paragragh was deliberate, just in case anyone makes some obscure connection to themselves =P





He was a clay gnome.

Ever since his birth, he was incarcerated in this globular glass prison where he now resided, suffering the harshest castigations, probably from a crime he never knew he committed. Petrified and encased in clay, the smile which was fixated onto his face to veil the agonies he went through merely brought about more torment to his soul.

Every once in a while, the ground he was standing on would rumble and a pair of seraphic eyes would peer through the walls, sometimes accompanied by a heavenly genuine laughter. The presence of this angelic creature with her sincerest joy would touch him, but if she only knew that everytime she shook the ground and the countless snowflakes lifted off to fill his atmosphere, they fell back as hailstones, for they were ultimately ice despite their beauty. Each cold icy shrapnel would pepper his flesh and cut his skin.

Yet, he could only stand there and smile back.


This story is titled "Snowglobe"