Facsimile

Disappearing doesn't sound like a bad idea at the moment. Leaving mystery and intrigue surrounding my disappearance. It doesn't sound bad at all. No one would notice, well not the first few days. I used to be original, unique and useful. Now I'm just a burden, a mere facsimile. An ersatz, even. They already found a replacement, everything identical down to the very core. Except for my ideal difference, my substitute isn't emotionally unstable. I suppose you can say he's more refine. Simple minded. I challenged the world around, he accepts it. They couldn't take it anymore, so here I am. Invisible. The strings still pull at my false smile, and raise my arms. They still control my movement and the tips of my finger. But they have failed at making them love me. Need me. Want me. After all I'm a disposable facsimile.

"I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here." -Sylvia Plath

Shades of Grey

I loved you so very much. I cherished every moment we spent together. The time you feel asleep on my chest, the heave of each breath intake, like a slow lullaby drifting you away, away, away from me. Into a world inside your beautiful mind, that I could only partially understand. The strong scent of my eggs in the morning filling our small apartment, tangled in the kitchen while trying our best to cook. Your goofy smile I woke up to every morning accompanied by the delightfully tousled brown hair. The way you told me you enjoyed my sickly sweet scent, and how I remember your strong cologne lingering as if it had no where else to go but to bury itself on our couch and rooms. We were too much for the world to handle, and soon they grew envious pulling you away, away, away from me. We tried our best to maintain, we tried so hard. When you left, I began to drift back into the shades of grey. The abyss. Our apartment was a ghostly reminder of what we once had. I can still smell your cologne, but it's faint. However, I never got along to making eggs in the morning, always too busy. And sometimes when I'm alone, I shut my eyes and for a brief moment I am able to relive what we had.

Humpty Dumpty

How much effort would it take to put Humpty Dumpty back together again? A good few hours, days, weeks? Perhaps super glue and duct tape will work. But there is something that all the glue in the world could not piece back together again. His soul. His essence. His chi. His life force. His motivation. Or however you prefer to call the invisible clockwork inside everybody. The invisible force that propels us. Once that's broken, there's no returning back to the good ol' days. When this happens, something changes inside you. Something powerful in you starts to decline, your sense of superiority dwindles to an immeasurable amount. It's all of the world's horrible events wrapped into one convenient punch. The Holocaust, The Opium War along with The Arrow War, The Great Depression, WWI and WWII. All at once without a warning, without delay. My body has struggled to contain the endless pain, but it's slowly leaking through the cracks in my shell. How much effort would it take to put me back together again?

"The Fall"

"The Fall" are one of those films that never quite make it to the surface. A hidden gem. If you're going to watch the trailer stop watching around the one minute and thirty seconds mark. I feel it gives too much away at that point. "The Fall" wonderfully infuses love and betrayal with visually stunning scenes. But most importantly it portrays the significance of friendship and true love. I don't know how to really put it into words without spoiling it, so I highly suggest watching it.

Lottery Tickets

I used to hate the idea of my parents burning their money on lottery tickets. It was horrible! Dollar after dollar going toward a chance at making it big. But everyone knows it would never happen. Looking back and still watching my mother buy lottery tickets every now and then has shown me that it isn't the money that motivates us, instead it's the hope, the possibility that motivates us. The lottery gives people something to believe in. An escape from hard times, a possibility that one day we will get ourselves out of this mess. So I stopped trying to end my mother's love for lottery tickets. In a way it's a form of happiness to her, somewhere deep inside, she knows that we will never win the lotto, but it's the hope that we might win that keeps her going.