Those lazy hazy days

“Would you like some mosquito repellant cream?”

I hadn’t realised there was someone in the balcony right next to mine until the voice startled me out of my thoughts and absentmindedly swatting at mosquitoes.

“Uh, no thank you. It’s not so bad.”

He was quiet for a few minutes. I swatted at a couple of more mosquitoes.

Something hit my balcony with a thud.

“We’ve not sat next to each other in the dark, for long but I would miss you if you were to die of dengue.”

“That’s cheerful.”

But I felt around in the dark until I found the cream and rubbed it on my exposed arms.

We sat in what some might refer to as companiable silence. I contemplated the overcast sky and decided these summer hours were worst hours of my life. I could give birth and spend 48 hours in labor and still count these mosquito filled, humid hours as the worst. It wasn’t even a competition – at the end of one, you had a squirmy, wrinkly and adorable baby. With the other, you had bites everywhere and not even the fun kind.


Oh, I was so not in the mood.

“This is strange. This is weird. This is awful. My phone has died and I am bored out of my mind. Talk to me.”

“I have better things to do than entertain you.”

“Like what?”

“Well, my phone isn’t dead and the Internet is a vast and wonderful space with loads of cat pictures. I’ll find something.”

“You’re a cat person? I’m more of a dog person, myself.”

“Why are you still talking?”

My phone didn’t have as much battery as I claimed but I still checked it, in defiance. Everyone I knew personally was ranting on Twitter about the power cuts and everyone I didn’t know was off enjoying their weekend.

I swatted at another mosquito. I would move. Yes, I would move. I would much rather spend hours negotiating first with a broker, then with countless landlords, than continue living here in this-

That’s when he started singing.

“Siiinngginnng in the raaaiinnnn. I’m siiinngggiiinngg in the raaaiiinn. What a gloooorious feeling-“

“Do you mind?”

“Hey, you won’t talk to me. I have to keep myself entertained somehow. Plus, I’ve been told my singing’s not half bad.”

“They told you wrong.”

“I’m sorry, have we met before? I usually have a chance to piss off people before they talk to me like that.”

“You have pissed me off. We’re sitting on a balcony in the middle of a god-knows-how-many-hours power cut with mosquitoes trying to make sure I’m basically mummified by sunrise and you insist on talking to me when it’s clear I want no-“

“Based on the last couple of days, we’ll get power any time now.”


“The last couple of days, the power cuts have been pretty consistent so we should have power back any time now.”

“I..thank you-“

“And the generator should be fixed in another couple of days too. Plus, this power shortage won’t last forever.”

“Well, aren’t you glass half full?”

“I find that it tends to make life a little easier to cope with. You know, mummification doesn’t involve just draining blood. They used to remove vital organs as well, some in ways that you would definitely not want mosquitoes involved-“

Thankfully, the tube light in my dining room flickered on. I shot out of my chair and into my apartment like my life depended on it. It wasn’t later until I was taking count of my mosquito bites in the shower that I realised I’d never said goodbye. Or even thank you.

When I finally could get myself to move out of range of my air conditioning, I found that his balcony was empty. It was just me and his mosquito repellant cream.


The next night also found me out on the balcony, flopping around on my deck chair, uncomfortable despite my light tee shirt and shorts.  It was so muggy and humid that I wanted to climb out of my skin. Thankfully, I’d put on the mosquito repellant cream much earlier than yesterday so the the devil’s left hand men left me alone.

However, not everyone in my building had taken the same precaution. After the fifth swear word, I blindly aimed and threw the tube in the general direction of the balcony. I couldn’t hear it land but he must have because I heard a scrambling noise.

“Hello there! I hadn’t realised we were keeping company again.”

“I couldn’t stand by and listen to you get dengue.”

“Somehow, I knew you cared for me. Deep deep down.”

“Desperately. But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?”

The bark of laughter surprised me. I didn’t expect it to be so…loud or so close. He must be leaning against the wall parallel to the one I was closest to.

“A Shakespeare fan! I didn’t expect.” There was a scuffle. “Give me a second.”

“What are you doing?”

“Looking up something. Hang on, got it. ‘Ay me!’ Wait that’s it? I thought Juliet had more lines-“ I couldn’t help giggling at that. “Hang on, hang on. Oy, Romeo! It’s your turn. You skimped out on your speech but no one else is wooing me on my balcony so I’ll let you google this one.”

“She speaks! O speak again, bright angel!”

“Wow, you’re really good at this. Did you do some theatre in high school?”

“No. I just really liked that movie where the setting is modern day with cellphones and guns.”

“I know that one. It’s the one with Leonardo di Caprio, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”


“I’m so bored.”

“Read something.”

“My phone’s dead again. Read me something from yours.”

“I’m reading a romance novel.” I waited for the scoff. The laugh.

“Excellent. Read it out loud to me.”

“You read romance?”

“Why not? It’s just a genre.”

“…not a lot of people feel that way.”

“I’m not a lot of people. Come on. I’m dying here.”

I switched on my Kindle and prepared to read out loud.

“-he liked me wearing glasses. He said it reminded him of…”


The next three nights, I spent those dark hours on the balcony, reading my book out loud. To his credit, he scoffed only at moments I would have to, if I’d been reading just to myself. To mine, I plowed through even the hot moments as though I wasn’t a young, single woman reading an erotically charged book to another possibly young and single man in the dark.

When the power came back on, each night, I stopped reading, closed my Kindle, gathered up my stuff and went in for a shower. I never looked over to my neighbour to put a face to a voice. I never checked to see if he did, either. There was something in the air during those evenings and I just didn’t want to…ruin it. Not after my previous shambles of a relationship.

Every time I left the apartment, which wasn’t often, I tried to not look at the door closest to mine. I kept my head down when I was on premises.

The fourth night, we came to ‘The End’ before the lights came back on.

“What do we do now?” He asked as our discussion about the novel wound down. We’d agreed on pretty much every point the other had raised so there was not much even to begin.

“It’s your turn. Entertain me.”

“I don’t have a Kindle and even if I did, I’d never read you something from it.”

“Why not? Do you think I’m incapable of following along if it doesn’t involve a bodice ripping and someone-“

“What? No! Geez. Will you calm down? I’d never read you something from what I’m reading because I’m reading the Illiad.”

“The what?”

“The Homer epic about the Trojan war?”

“Oh. I’ve thought about reading but have often been put off by the um prose.”

“Tell me about it. Even the best translation has some clunky prose. But the book has some highs – there’s brooding heroes and fainting heroines, even a love story for those of who are inclined-“

“I’ve seen the movie with Brad Pitt.”

“Well, the movie’s not too far off but the love story isn’t just between Achilles and Briseis. There’s a theory that Achilles, that’s Brad Pitt’s cousin, was bisexual and-“

“So, you like Greek myth.”

“Sorry, I do tend to run on when talking about it. Yes, I do. I’ve liked them ever since I first read Enid Blyton’s Greek mythology book when I was a child. Some of the elements freaked me out but-“

“Freaked you out?”

“Well, brothers sleep with sisters and one of the gods turned into a bull-“

“Say no more.”

“See? It was practically traumatising for a child. I’m lucky I turned out to be as charming and well-rounded as I am, today.”

“Are you?” I thought I was murmuring just to myself but he must have heard it. “Of course, I am. And now you can testify to it too, seeing as how we know each other so well now.”

“We barely know each other!”

“We’ve spent the last week in each other’s company! We’re practically best friends.”

The tube light flickered on, just then.

“Wait!” He called out as I stood up. “I…I won’t be here, tomorrow. I have some overtime-“

“Okay, okay. I’ll see you then.”

I didn’t wait for another word.


He didn’t show the next night, as expected. The night after that, I was reading when he suddenly piped up.

“Did you miss me?”

“Not even a little.”

“You don’t have to lie. I can hear the truth in your voice.”

“Believe whatever you want to believe as long as you can resist the urge to stalk me.”

“I’ll try my hardest.”

My phone beeped. Someone had retweeted one of my retweets. I heard him sniff and blow his nose.

“That does not sound good.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve been miserable all day, with this stupid cold that will hopefully not descend into a fever.”

“Soup and tea will help.”

“And rest. Thankfully, it’s a Sunday. Have you heard of Cupid and Psyche?”


“Once upon a time, a king had three daughters. The third was considered to be so beautiful there were no words to express it. Fame of her beauty eventually got around as these things do and reached Aphrodite. Aphrodite was not impressed so she sent her son to do some ‘mischief’ – I did air quotes by the way. Make her fall in love with some random thing like a donkey ala A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In fact, that’s probably where Shakespeare got-“

“What did Cupid do?”

“Sorry, got carried away. Cupid, the doofus, accidentally poked himself with one of his arrows and fell madly in love with her. So, instead of pranking her, he spirited her away to a deserted island with a palace and some invisible servants to wait on her hand and foot. The catch is that Cupid would come to her only by night.”


“But he was so tender and just all around amazing that they’re happy together. This odd, misfit couple.”

“Go on.” I whispered.

“But eventually, she missed her family so Cupid brought her sisters to visit. They were happy to see her but, unsurprisingly, the fact that she only sees her husband at night didn’t sit well with them.”

“As it wouldn’t with most people.”

“‘What if he’s an ogre? What if he’s monstrously ugly?’ The questions confused Psyche so to sort her out, they left her with a candle. And that night when Cupid comes to visit, she waited until he fell asleep to light the candle and look at him.”

“And? They lived happily ever after?”

“Well, Cupid wasn’t an ogre. Or monstrously ugly. In fact, he was quite good looking. She’d known it in the dark but to have it so confirmed…well, Psyche was entranced. So entranced that she didn’t realise that an itty, bitty drop of wax was winding its way down to fall onto his arm and wake him.”

I knew what he wanted me to ask but I couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth.

“Why he hid himself, I don’t get. I mean, it’s Cupid; it’s impossible to not love him. But he woke up pissed off and the rage just gets worse. They had a fight and he left in a huff. Psyche fell down and cried for a bit. She waited for him but he didn’t come back.

So, she wandered, looking for him. Eventually, she realized Aphrodite might know his whereabouts and prayed to her. Aphrodite was still not very impressed, especially more so now that she knew that Cupid basically lied to her about Psyche. She sets her some trials which Psyche managed to finish, with some help, before Cupid recovered from his wax drop related illness to swoop in and save her, during her third task. He plead to Zeus, got her some ambrosia and they lived happily ever after, immortally.”

My heart was pounding in my ears.

“Cupid…” he whispered. “Why are you doing this? For art thou so beautiful and I am unworthy.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve spent many an hour, imagining your exact features, your coloring.”


“I realised I don’t care. Cupid. Don’t make me go out and buy a candle. I don’t even know where they sell those anymore.”


“Okay. Alright. I can wait. I’ll go look for those candles.”

Let there be light. I gathered up my stuff and stood up.

“Good night, Cupid.”


The next night, he didn’t show. I reread the myth of Cupid and Psyche all night, waiting for him.

The night after that, he staggered in towards the end of the night.

“I hear the generator’s going to be fixed tomorrow.” He rasped as he dropped to the floor.

“You sound like shit.”

“This sore throat is oppressing me. But I can’t stay in bed any longer else I’ll go crazy. Hello, Cupid. Sorry, I couldn’t make it last night. The cough syrup knocked me out.”

“I hope you’re drinking lots of soup.”

He suddenly laughed.

“Unfortunately, Psyche doesn’t fall sick in the original plot. Technically, you should be the sick one.”

“What are you doing?”

“Being really really stupid. I found a candle.”


“What happens tomorrow?”

“We go back to our lives.”

“And this, whatever this is – this friendship, this mockery of a flirtation, ends here?”

I can’t, I wanted to tell him. I can’t see where this goes because it’d be a brilliant memory if I let it die here and a disappointment if I let it go on. This ending would be a warm glow in my heart for as long as I lived. And I’d had lots of the bitter disappointment. I just didn’t want more of that.


“And that’s what you want?”




The lights flickered on.

“I guess this is goodbye.”

“I guess it is.”

I didn’t move. I could still hear his low, raspy inhales.

Then he stood up.



There was a power cut the next night but the lights flickered back on instantly. The generator had been fixed.

I read determinedly through it, trying not to jump at every sound I heard. Every noise was a laugh or his low voice.

I’d never before been more aware of the emptiness of my apartment. Sure, my phone buzzed with texts and notifications and it was nice to have air conditioning and lights but those stifling hours filled with conversation and mosquitoes had been a highlight of the last few weeks, months…

If it were one of my favourite novels, the heroine’s best friend would have egged the heroine on to take a step just now. The hero’s mother. A sarcastic co-passenger. A sign as to what I was supposed to do. Validation.

The minutes ticked by and there was no sign.

Oh, wouldn’t it be easy if you just knew sometimes? If a giant hand just descended from the heavens and pointed at someone and boomed, this one. This is the one. Take a chance on this one.

I made some soup. Okay, it was Knorr and all I really did was stir to make sure there were no lumps but it counts. Then I knocked on the door, next to mine.

A scruffy-looking guy opened the door. He didn’t look ill enough, to warrant soup, so I assumed it wasn’t him.

“Is..Is your roommate in?”

“My roommate? He’s here, yeah.”

He turned before I could tell him to keep it down. “Rohan! Someone’s here to see you.”

Rohan. I had a name. I walked to the door Scruffy pointed to.

It swung open before I could get to it. I panicked and whipped around to face Scruffy. He looked startled. One of my hands automatically reached up to smooth my bangs so my hair hid most of my face.

“Cupid? You’re here. I knew I could recognise the back of your head anywhere. Didn’t I tell you-“


“Was that a container I saw in your hands just now? You brought me food? Oh, you didn’t have to-”

He sounded positively delighted. I cut in, determined to have my say, before he blathered on for the whole evening.

“I..” I took a deep breath. “My last relationship was terrible. He was emotionally abusive – he made me feel like I was supremely unattractive, like I was lucky he’d condescended to like ugly me. So, yes, you were right. Like Cupid, I didn’t want you to see me but unlike Cupid, I’m not-“

Scruffy was still staring at me, his eyes round. I looked at the floor.

“Cupid, stop right there. Do you have all your features? Eyeballs, nose, mouth? Laksh, nod if she has a face. Actually, it doesn’t matter.”


“What I’m trying to say is, even if your face were melted right off, you’d be beautiful to me.”

That made me smile.

“Even if I looked like TwoFace?”

“You’re beating me off only with a stick.”

It was like my feet were rooted to the ground. I heard him step closer.

“Cupid. Turn around and give me the food.”

“Vrinda. My name is Vrinda.”

“That’s a beautiful name. Isn’t it, Laksh?”

In my peripheral vision, I saw Scruffy start. I inhaled and slowly began to turn, but not before I made sure my bangs were still doing a good job of making sure you couldn’t tell what I really looked like. My hands were trembling.



“I forgot to tell you. I know I should have mentioned it previously but there was just never any time to bring it up and now, it’s just going to be awkward when you find out in the future-“

My heart was pounding. He had a girlfriend, I was certain. A boyfriend, if the Fates felt like being particularly cruel.

“What will be awkward?”

“I don’t actually have two sisters. Or two brothers, if you want to be more apt. How does it work for me, by the way? Are my brothers jealous I’m with someone as amazing as you? Or are my sisters? Well, whatever works for you but the important thing is, I have no siblings-“

“Rohan!” I couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped me when I turned around but he was laughing too. I watched him scan me – hair, face, neck, shoulders, torso, thighs, knees, calves and feet. When he looked at the pink nail polish on my toes, he smiled.

“Exactly as I expected.” He murmured.

So, he was. Down to the kindness in his eyes.

He held his hand out to me. “Shall we?”

I’d never felt so sure.

Thank you for reading. Here’s a cookie.

One day, I promise, it’ll be a romance novel with actual conflicts. One day.


What it’s like to lose weight but feel fat

I was 11 when it first started weighing down on me.

We were being organised for a class picture and the photographer yelled at my class teacher to put that “fat girl with short hair” in the first row and not the second row.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that I was the only one with short hair, I’d have looked around. Instead, I allowed myself to be shepherded to the first row.

It’s 14 years or so later. I’m still fat.

Not the same proportions; I have no idea how much I weighed then. But over the years, I’ve never not been conscious of the fat lining my body.

There hasn’t been a day I’ve looked at myself in the mirror and missed it. It’s been with me, through thick and- thicker.

It doesn’t matter if I have a nice face, dark eyes or wavy hair. None of that matters. The fat cancels out everything else. The fat rules.

But recently, just like with a lot of my friends, I’ve had to say goodbye.

The fat, my one constant companion through the years, has begun to disappear. It’s burning itself up in a desperate attempt to fuel the activity I insist on putting my body through.

I took up yoga. I joined a gym. I signed up for Zumba. I started to swim.

It was a conscious effort. I wanted to change. I wanted it gone.

For 14 years, I’ve been the fat girl.

I’ve been the girl who hates pictures because she’s always surprised by how big she really is. I’ve been the girl who’s been reduced to tears in the dressing room. I’ve been the girl who’s been told the store doesn’t carry her size. I’ve been the girl who gives herself the moniker so that it doesn’t sting when someone else brings it up.

I’ve been the girl who wished she had an excuse.

And I hated every second of it. I hated- hate looking at myself in the mirror. I do everything I can to not see my body. This is where I clarify that I mean my body. The part below my neck, the part my head sits on. That’s the part I don’t like a bit of; not a part I would retain.

It isn’t fair of me to make sweeping statements. Admittedly, there are days where it doesn’t sting as much, when I feel comfortable wearing something that is not baggy and two sizes bigger than me. But that number is eclipsed by the number of days where it’s a misery.

I look only to criticize. Such fat arms. Such broad shoulders. Must this thigh be so squishy. If I could choose a new body anew, I would ignore all the good things about it – I can walk, swim, run, type – and I’d pick something, anything, someone, anyone else.

This story, however, has a happy ending. I stopped the excuses. I broke the inertia. My fucked up relationship with food – I crave it only to loathe myself later when the scale swings the other way for eating it – hasn’t changed but most days, I can stop myself.

But because this is a real story, the happily ever after takes quite a while to arrive.

As I lose weight and find muscles, as more and more activity become a part of my schedule, a part of my identity has begun to disintegrate.

For so long, through integral, formative years, I’ve been Aishwarya, the fat girl.

Do you know that in most books, the fat girl loses weight, has a makeover and finds out the people who liked her even when she was fat are the ones who really care about her? Her life finally gets on track and she gets her HEA.

Where does that put me?

I’m losing the pounds but still carrying the weight. It doesn’t matter if I have a nice face, dark eyes or wavy hair. I feel the same – fat, unattractive and worthless.

It’s been so long that I don’t know how to feel any other way. Who am I, if not the fat girl?

I look at other people who are not skinny, industry standard Taylor Swift skinny, and I wonder how they get by. I wonder how they go at it, every day.

It still surprises me, to some extent, that people can worry about being too skinny. They want to look solid, real, healthy. Any empathy I can dredge up is usually drowned out by my self-loathing. I would trade in a heartbeat.

I expected the makeover to stick, the new clothes to transform me. I expected to look in the mirror and not have days where I just want to go back to bed. I expected to feel different.

I expected the world to finally slot back into the axis it’s meant to be in and for the HEA to just begin already.

I’ve blamed the kilos for so long for everything that’s not right that I don’t know how to live now that I have to start looking elsewhere.

I still have that picture. The sun’s glinting off my glasses. I’m eleven. And I’m smiling.

D16: Brevity

It was my shift at the cafe when it happened.

A girl took one look at the beverages menu and burst into tears.

Normally, we’d ignore the girl if she was crying to herself – quiet, fat tears that just rolled down her face with little sniffs – but this girl was sobbing. Loud enough to disturb other shoppers (who were already turning to find out which child to focus their hate on).

If we didn’t do anything, we’d be screwed because this was usually when the manager showed up. If we did do something, we’d end up having to take care of a crying girl.

A coin toss later, I was the unlucky one who had to politely hover near the crying girl and ask her what the matter was.

“It’s these coffees!” She wailed. “W-we n-never c-could p-pick just one.”

More shoppers were edging closer, looking curious.

I put my hand on her shoulder and tried to keep the irritation out of my face.

“How about we go around the back? You can wash your face and we’ll help you pick out the coffee. Compliments of the house.”

She snorted amidst the tears that were now pouring down her face.

“I don’t want c-coffee. I just want him.”

“In my day, girls never had breakdowns like in this public. Imagine what her parents-”


“Ma’am, please don’t yell at the other customers.”

I turned to the other tables.

“Sorry about this, folks. Nothing to see here.”

Some of the customers turned away. The others continued staring avidly.

Nothing to be done there so, I turned to the girl.

“Ma’am.” I whispered to the girl. “Would you like me to call someone to come pick you up?”

“There’s no one.”

“How about a cab? Shall I call a cab?”

“Only if you’ll ask him to run me over after he drops me off.”

Ookay then.

“Ma’am, surely, it can’t be as bad as this.”


Her eyes were unfocused but she did understand me.

“Not if you’re me. Then, the worst thing has already happened to you and nothing that happens after can ever compare.”

“The worst thing?”

“Nothing can be worse than your best friend of two years and your boyfriend of a month telling you he never wants to speak to you.”

Oh, for crying out loud. “I’m sure he’ll come around, ma’am.”

“No, he won’t. He’s so serious about it that he blocked me on Instagram. It’s been a week and he blocked me on Instagram.”


“Facebook, maybe he saw one of my updates while he was browsing and decided to block me. But I hardly post on Instagram. He knows I only use it to follow foodies and actresses. Yet, he still blocked me.”

I signalled to my coworker to bring over a big cup of green tea. He, thankfully, started making the tea instead of flipping me off. Phew. I guess he really didn’t want to handle crying girl.

“Ma’am, have you tried talking to him?”

“I’ve sent him so many Whatsapps! I’ve pinged him on Facebook. I DM’ed him through Twitter. I even downloaded Hike again to send him a message because I know he has it on his phone (he loves the stickers). Not a response!”

“Have you tried, I dunno, calling him?”

She gave me a flinty stare. “What? No. What am I? Twelve?”

Alright then. “How about in person?”

Her stare became a glare. My coworker, thankfully, showed up with the tea. I’d never been so grateful to see him.

“How about you drink this tea and work up an action plan? I’m sure there are some ways of getting through to him that you haven’t tried yet.”

“I suppose skywriting is still a possibility…”

I decided to leave while I could.

The girl drank the tea, looking rather dejected. Everyone was still sneaking stares at her when the door to the cafe banged open and someone rushed in.

A tall, pale hobo of a person. I wouldn’t have paid any attention if the girl hadn’t screeched then.


“And so are you.” He smiled.

They stared at each other. No one was even pretending to not listen.

“I’m sorry!” They both blurted out.

“I’msorryIlethertextyoufrommyphoneI-I was just so anxious about my feelings for you that when she threatened to do it, I chickened out and took the easy way out.”

Meanwhile… “I’msorryIdidn’tlistentoyou.IshouldnthaveleftIshouldhavestayedputand we could have talked it out except I had to leave and go home and buy groceries just to eat dinner which was really really hard because I’ve never cooked before but I couldn’t order Chinese but then I did because I burnt toast and it was our favorite restaurant and I’m so sorry!”

She took a step forward and put her hands on his arms.

“I forgive you.”

He beamed and pulled her into his arms. Everyone turned away from them, disgusted with the brevity of their interaction.

I walked over, with the intention of telling them to take their PDA elsewhere.

“I’m sorry for blocking you on Instagram. I know you have it only to stalk Jamie Oliver and Kim but C said it was a part of a complete purge and I just stupidly listened to her. It doesn’t matter if you let your roommate sext me from your phone and invite me over for our first hookup together. I missed your cat updates so much! Like you wouldn’t believe it.”

“It’s okay.” She said tenderly. “Let’s go change our relationship status back to ‘It’s complicated’.”

And with that, they exited my life.


Thanks, Sam. Sorry y’all.

D14: Unoriginal

“Thank you for coming to get me.”

“You know I would. What happened?”

“He uh made a pass at me even after I indicated I wasn’t comfortable with it.”

“…made a pass?”

“Put his hand up my skirt. I threw my wine in his face and tailed it out of there.”

“I’m so sorry you had to put up with that.”

I’m sorry I had to put up with that. Why do I do this? Why do I do this even if sometimes I don’t want to?”

“You don’t want to be alone.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad. You’re alone. You’re never in scrapes like this.”

“…not by choice.”

“What? You’ve never mentioned anything about a crush.”

“A crush. Phooey. Sounds so high school-ish. I am infatuated. Dizzy with affection. Crossed in love.”

“Tell me about this girl. Boy. Tell me.

“Well, it’s a she. I’m not bi, as I’ve mentioned before even though you chose to ignore that declaration.”

“I just think you and that boy who lives across you would be so cute together-”

“Anyway. She is…smart but ditzy. She’s beautiful but she has no clue. God, I sound like a cliche.”

*laughs* “You goof, you sound like one of those protagonists written by female authors who have no idea what a male voice sounds like.”

“Does this mean I should stop practicing my Edward Cullen speech?”

*lowers voice* “I don’t have the strength to stay away from you anymore.

*laughs* “You dork. Yes, you should stop taking cues from a hundred year old vampire who creeps on unaware teenage girls.”

“But she’s just the person who’d love something of that sort. So cheesy it’d induce a heart attack. Should I polish my Humphrey Bogart then? Here’s looking at you, kid.”

“Better. How about you try something more direct?”

I have crossed oceans of time to find you.

“Maybe you should stop searching vampire fiction for inspiration.”

You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.

“…yes. That should work.”

I come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is and always will be yours.

“…you can never go wrong with an Austen.”

You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope…I have loved none but you.

“Come to think of it, that wouldn’t so work well if you haven’t previously dated-”

“You dork.”

He took a couple of steps closer. And even though they were in a park where anyone walking by could see them, he kissed her.

“Your smart ditzy girl won’t like this.” She breathed when they broke apart.

Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever.

“I wanted it to be me, I wanted it to be me so badly.”

“Who’s the dork now?”

“Still you. Who does something as unoriginal as use other people’s words to declare yourself?”

He smiled. “As you wish.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“Neither do you. I still love you.”

“…ugh. Fine. Get over here.”

“I knew that Buzzfeed list would come into handy.”

“Just shut up.”



Sorry for that. I don’t know why I’m in such a cheesy mood.




D12: The Ugly

Some days are just good.

Others are not.

They start wrong. As though your brain just decided as your eyes opened that it shall be a bad day.

And so, you climb out of the wrong side of the bed.

You sulk in the shower. You sulk on your way to work. You sulk at work. You snap at people.

And, slowly, as the day goes by, your mood just worsens.

Your brain just stops. You try to work out except your brain. just. doesn’t. want. to.

You stop, midway during your Zumba class, look around and a pure wave of loathing comes over you.

You suddenly hate everyone and everything. People deliberately trip back into you. People deliberately belittle you by asking you whether you can back that heavy vehicle out.

The world is against you.

And all you really want to do is curl up into a corner. And lie there. And die there.

She is the sun; she

is the storm. She is. And she

wishes she wasn’t.


D10: The Haiku Experimentation

jagged pain rips, through

the night;  through her, like blinding

electric lightning.


bright mornings weep as

pretty girls discard love for

clouds; boys fail always.


hush, baby, sleep; dusk

shall come and bring you your mum

and all shall be right.


I’ll add to this as I write more haiku. Found this amazing site.

D9: Super powers

“So, what’s your superpower?”

“I can walk through walls.”

“So cool!”

“All walls? Or just wooden walls? Can you walk through concrete walls? Can you pass through any surface? Have you ever tried to get out of a bunker? How about mud-”

“Hold your horses, pal. Let the guy breath a bit…but really. Have you ever tried to get out of a bunker?”

“…no. We didn’t have a lot of those back where I’m from.”


“But then where did you play apocalypse? Cos you need a bunker to really get into it and Frost boy over here has some serious-”

“Dude, I don’t think he has.”



“But how did you not-”

“Who. Is. That.”

No one had to turn around to figure out who the newbie was looking at.

“Dude. Don’t.”


“Take it from us.”


“Wipe that look off your face. You should really listen to us on this one.”

“Uh-okay. Sure. Listen to you. Got it. I’m just gonna-”

He stood up and walked towards the lunch line where the most beautiful girl in the school had queued up as well. Funnily enough, everyone else who’d been in line had scattered.

“We warned him.”

“We did.”

“But they never listen.”

“Even Magpie didn’t.”

“She’s a force of nature, man. Every boy got to learn for himself.”

~Meanwhile at the lunch line~


“Hey.” She smiled at him. Her smile was like warm apple pie with a giant dollop of ice cream on it.

“What’s your name?”

“They call me, Candy. What’s yours?”

“Hey, Candy. My name is Josh.”

“You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“First day. And I just couldn’t resist saying ‘hi’ to the most beautiful girl in the school.”

She smiled as she accepted tater tots from the lunch lady.

“Does that work for you an awful lot?”

“The line? Some.”

“Hey Candy!”

“Hey Sam! Listen, you should probably get-”

A meaty handed on Josh’s shoulder.

“Hey, dude. You talkin’ to Candy here?”



“Well, mind reconsiderin’ it?”

“What’s it to you?”


Sam caught a hold of Josh’s shirt. “Keep in mind who you’re talking to, punk. I can pound you into the ground.”

“Guys, really! Sam! Josh!”

Josh shoved Sam back. Sam shoved Josh away.

Candy rolled her eyes and walked away to an empty table. The people at the next table, cast her a frightened look and stood up to leave. This didn’t seem to bother Candy. She just whipped out a bodice ripper and began reading it over her lunch.

As soon as Candy walked away, Sam ducked away from Josh.

“Sorry about that, man. I don’t know why I lost my temper like that. It’s just I see someone talking to Candy and I-”

“I’m sorry too. I should have respected your-”


They shook hands. A mystified Josh wandered back to his group’s table.

“What happened there? I was suddenly into the fight and then, I wasn’t. And so was Sam-”

Cue heavy sigh. “We told you.”

“But you just didn’t listen.”

“They never do.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Didn’t you read the pamphlet, Josh? Everyone at this school has some super power or the other.”

“And you know the people who were waiting in line. They were in our last class. Really nice chaps.”

“Now, think about the kind of super power that would make a contortionist and a pyrokinetic slink away from the lunch line when she joined?”

You could see almost see the light bulb go off in Josh’s head.

“You mean to say…” and he lowered his voice. “She’s a drama queen?”

“And they’re always surprised.”


My dialogues always get away from me. Something silly.