Skip to main content

Before the fading

There was a fickle sense of authority looming in during that night he took the evening underground tube. Something was amiss, a sinister being of gloom lurking beneath the shadows in the tunnels. The reptilian mechanism zoomed in for the kill as he stood patiently on the side of the tracks where a yellow line in his feet signals him not to cross boundaries or suffer major consequences in the long run. When it came to a halt, he greeted the hostile air with mildly confident trepidation, walked in hoping to sit down only to be pushed back and forth by unruly stench of showerless blokes. He snarled to himself while he grabs hold of the bar. There was no way he could bow down to obscurity in such tainted fashion. This night will not bring him down. Only thing worth dragging down is a Northern bitch of snow and slaughter, the blissful tearing of disappointment, the suspect of heartache, who went down crawling from the tundras to greet the unwilling with despair and depression. He wouldn't take no for an answer. Not if you stepped in his shoes, you'd wager.

It took him quite awhile to get to the intended destination. The place was a lively, but seemingly haunting, place for his in memory, for it was a place held with very low regard in terms of stupor and drunkenness. Sobriety is never an option where he's going.

He crawled out of the underground and climbed up to civilization only to be greeted with ignorance. On the contrary, his bewilderment heightened his senses even more so than he ever imagined. He spoke not a single word with his mouth but the soliloquy never rested. To others, it would have had severe complications to their sanity. To him, it was a lifesaver.

He sent messages beforehand to people he barely even liked or admired. That was before he jumped into the transport. After awhile, he began receiving unflattering replies from those same people, the kind of which people would pull their hairs off their head for. It pissed him off to receive not a single respect from the people he tried so much to beg geniality from. These were the same people that demanded so little from him even though he could provide them with so much. Some people are just a tad bit hard to please, and fuck them for all their worth (or worthlessness, for that matter).

So he met the girl from before. Not a single spark. Bad idea, he thought. They kiss hello and off they go, walking towards the night sky where dreams are usually made of.

Popular posts from this blog

Unprayer

Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.

Me: Things that have happened to other people are happening in mine, the worst truly has come and not a moment too soon

My important wishes always happen to fall on deaf ears, and now something really, really bad (that has already happened before) is happening to me again. Beneath all the charade of misleading coulrotic bliss is a sad sap of a man merely wanting a bit of trust from everyone around him. Yesterday's news was Mioseon all over again, and it has drained me of all strength. The worst really has come, and heaven knows I'm miserable now.
So it goes without saying that the biggest tragedy I have ever undergone in my life is fighting for the life of my child whose face I will never see. The most perplexing event was having to beg over and over unknowingly oblivious to the fact that my words carry no weight at all. Mioseon had trapped me into a corner and made me complicit to a sin I tried very hard to disavow. Regardless, she had found a way, and judging from that experience, Miriam herself will submit me to the same torture all over again, guilty by association.
For some reason this wa…

Me: At ease, the worst of the worst has yet to come

The wind was cold today, a Sunday, a proper start to September. We are within these months again. The road to the end of a very short year. A year for me where very little was accomplished. At the very least, compared to the previous one, this was a surprise blessing. Not without its challenges. Not without its pains.
Miriam went to work an hour ago. We left each other at Starbucks after a mild break. I was trying to help her with the buses. She never seems to catch on with the intricacies of the public transportation. I let her know that the easiest (not necessarily the fastest) way to work is to take the 260 bus from across the street in our new place in East Acton and stop at the underground station in Shepherds Bush. From there, she can then take bus 94 going to Piccadilly Circus where she can easily walk to her workplace in Soho in about five minutes or so.
She begged me to join her. I was still groggy and asleep at two in the afternoon. That seems to be our common waking up pat…