Seven minutes in heaven

You kissed him, but it felt wrong. You think maybe it’s just the technique; the depth, the tongue, the position of your lips. You try to deepen the kiss, try a different approach. Pull him nearer, grab his hair, let his hands roam your body. It still feels wrong.  Instead of feeling heady, you are more aware of how slimy his saliva is and how clammy his hands are. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, burning your skin in an unpleasant way.  You feel a heavy lead settle in your stomach,  and it’s not the pleasant one that you know, the one that you feel when you explore beneath your blankets at night.

You control your breathing. Hitched breaths between slow ones. You will yourself to like it, to feel at least a smidgen of heat. You should be ecstatic, you think, you like him after all and all your friends know it. That is why you will be in this closet for the next seven minutes.

When the seven minutes are up, he lets go of you then gave you one of his lopsided smile that you love so much. You smile back politely, go out of the closet before him, still feeling nothing.


Nightmare in Paradise

Breathe. Take deep calming breaths. That’s it, a few more. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. No, no, do not go back there. Do not. Just don’t. It’s not worth it. But what if? What if, right? No, don’t even think about that.

Ignore that feeling. Yes, yes I know that you feel as if the walls are moving towards you, threathening to imprison you. Calm down, it is just an illusion. Come on child, breathe. No, there are no hands on your throat either. Yes, I know you feel suffocated. Nobody is trying to strangle you, stop panicking child!

Stop saying what if, it’s no use child. It has been done, you made your choice. It is what you wanted right? What you think is right and proper. Nobody forced you child. It was your decision.

Ropes? What are you talking about? You’re full of fancy my child. You can’t move your limbs? I assure you child, it is only panic. Yes, I am positive. Come on, breathe with me.

What is these binds that you speak of? Child, the manacles you speak of are only figments of your playful mind. You do have responsibilities though. Oh yes you do. Those decisions comes with a certain set of circumstances. You were not informed?! Oh you silly child, you make me laugh. Life does not come with an instruction manual and terms and conditions documents.

What is it you’re saying? I can scarcely hear you. Speak up dear, come on now. Breathe I tell you. What is that? You never meant to strike a deal with me? Fancy that! You were so eager last night, even ransaking the whole place just for a pen in order to sign your pretty little name on the dotted line.

You were not informed about other options? Oh, you are so adorable, so naive. You chose this my child, you did. You knew well where this leads. It was you’re doing.

Oh don’t give me that crap about happiness. You chose this right? You wanted everything to be cushy. Oh, you could have chosen not to choose this, but the other path won’t be comfortable enough to your liking, though I don’t know about happiness. It is your choice to lose your soul.

Oh child, stop crying. Tears would not do you any good. It cannot turn back time, just accept this fate. Come on, breathe with me. Calming breaths now. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

I wrote this because it is 3 am. It just occured to me, what if- what if the devil talked to you in your sleep. Taunting you with possibilities that those choices you forgone held. So let me know if this is creepy/scary enough.

California dreaming

I watched the sunlight dance on the wing of the plane, soft yellow beams moving in and out as the cloud figures flitted beside them without a care. It was fascinating, it was a welcome reprieve from the boredom induced by my 12 hour flight.

I was sleep deprived. My body ached from sitting down for hours,and I reek. I hated traveling this long.

After three movies and countless games of tetris, I was bored out of my wits, yet all I can see outside was dark sea of clouds. Endless, flat, dark things. There were no stars in that part of the sky.

Hours later, the pilot annouced our descent. I was filled with both regret and relief. Relief because I can finally take a bath. Regret because, I can never see you again (at least physically, I can still stalk you in social media, but that is beside the point).

This. This trip was the death of us. It was a finality brought about by timezones and miles of differences. I wanted to move out of my comfort zone, grow and see places, but you wanted me to stay. You wanted me to grow old with you, I know it is a romantic thing, but you wanted us to grow old in the same place, doing the same things with the same people. You wanted us to stagnate.

I would’ve loved to grow old with you, test the realness of forever with you. But I also want us to explore things, to get out of town and meet and do things with other people.

Asking you to do that for me is like asking Peter Pan to grow up. It was hopeless. So I chose to grow up, chose to leave our Neverland, and I chose to leave you.

It was warm outside the airport, yet I felt cold. It was like I never left our little town. I hated it. I had to remind myself that I was miles and miles away from you. That I chose this, and you didn’t choose me. 

LA was beautiful. It was exciting. It was nothing like our town. It was nothing like you.

I will have this new life without you here; here outside our proverbial Neverland. I would miss you, I would wish that you were here with me but I will never regret leaving you.

Someday, if ever you find the need to grow up, I will be waiting for you here.


“He didn’t deserve you, you are better off without him. Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with him, he is an idiot, his brain probably atrophied from underuse.”

She glared at him, “I was in love,ok. My judgement was clouded by his perfect face and his perfect body, apparently that was enough compensation for his less than average IQ and horrible manners.” He laughed at her.

“Stop laughing,” she said, throwing a french fry to his face, “you don’t know how I feel—felt rather.”

“Of course I don’t. God forbid that I fall for a person only for their physique, but hey, I am human and it is humanly to be symphathetic to the plight of their fellow beings.”

“You? Sympathetic? Last time I checked the tin man has more feelings than you do.”

“But the tin man doesn’t have a heart, or at least until the end.” He scowled at her.

“That is the point my dear friend. Unlike the tin man though, you probably won’t get a heart—the metaphorical one of course— at the end of your story. I would probably laugh at the day that you would, no matter how unlikely it seems. Let some divine being have mercy on the girl that you would fall in love with.”

He stared at her in disbelief. He sighed.

“I do know how to love, my only problem is that heartless woman —though she claims otherwise— can’t seem to love me back.”