Wednesday, 27 March 2013


We dream of life togethermore
We dream of souls within our core
I dream of solitude and joy
She dreams of happiness and coy

Time and patience gives a flower its strength
To rise above its span and length
And perhaps one day the bloom might be
much more special than this that we have now

High Street Kensington

Days are short when it is spent on earning my livelihood. There aren't that plenty things to do otherwise. I spent my time fooling around with my bird and then myself, and afterwards I go deep into a trance realising that life is not at all that complicated.

It's a cosmic carousel of chaos.

I am about to embark on a new journey, and this time the situation is different as it was the last time. I do have the luxury of reason to want to get away. This time, there is that different stroke of emotional strength and willpower to accommodate my every step. This time, I am simply just a different person. My lover will leave the country by then, no rules or events can stop me from pursuing my very desire to search for answers hidden dwelling inside the belly of the beastly world we are in. The fundamental longing for the soul, in hopes to realise that this is what I need, what I want to accomplish, and that I wasn't merely a pitstop for my lover's merry adventures.

Still I wait endlessly for a visa that never seem to come. How much longer would I have to wait? How much longer should I endure the loss of the thread that connects me and my Mioseon? When will we find ourselves wrapped around each other's arms once again? Would we ever cross our paths again? Would I be able to eliminate my scepticism, my jealousy, and my distrust? Only time will tell, and time should fucking follow. I require nothing else except this one simple request. In doing so I have achieve acceptance and transcendence.

I have achieved life as I have achieved love. I have achieved love as I have achieved happiness. I have achieved as happiness as I have achieved self. I have achieved self as I have achieved life.

Tuesday, 26 March 2013

You think that's where it's at but it's not where it's supposed to be

Another day rounded off the calendar inching closer to our goodbyes, we muster. My erection turned sour during the sweet morning sex when our bodies just collapse into neverending terms, unendearing and, like a slap to the face, just disheartening. She rolls over to one side, sobbing in tears as she takes my mobile phone, while I crawl to her dark, juicy female bits.

I can't have it, I thought. This is just so wrong.

I stopped smiling when she stopped caring. Her tears were reptilian and traitorous. Never trust tears from a crocodile despite its best efforts to value your love.

''Open your legs,' I started to beg. 'Please.' The desperation inside me was pathetic, my pride dwindling as my cock is shrinking.

She offers no response. Her legs tight shut like a dried ceramic. Her naked form though never fails to impress.

We spent our afterbed in petty and frivolous arguments. This relationship is going down fast, I recall myself say.

She looked down to the ground and pouted, never saying a word. Her eternal weakness is her lack of internal defensive mechanism. She's either built for a saintly hombre with a penchant for romance or to be manhandled by a freak with no remorse to her but his own responsibility.

And I always believed she was the one.

We both stopped argument after she held my hands and bossed me to shut up, as if she had the commanding voice of reason. But she kissed me, and, by all accounts, that constitutes a kneejerking freefall for myself, forgetting every single thing that happened beforehand, despite me crushing her heart with the discovery of my conversation with an old flame. Then there's also that bruise in her left leg that turned out to be of my own negligence.

Fuck it all.

She kissed me and whispered, 'I want to make love with you again tonight.'

My lips were kept sealed, and I offered her food. Hypocrite.

'Let's go out,' I said, despite telling her ten minutes ago that I did not want to because of her theatrics.


And we danced around the cold moonlight as if nothing ever happened, breezed through the crowd and into the warmth of the nearby edifices.

This was the first day that she became my fiance.

We never made love.

Monday, 25 March 2013

Tide is high but I'm holding on

I'm finding out tonight that letting go of work, be it rubbish or not, is not an easy task once you've grabbed ahold of one. There is nothing in my life I despise more now than my job. All the while I've never considered it horrible in every definition of the word but it is degrading and utterly annoying, beyond cheap and burdensome for its salary. I had to endure because of my plans to enjoy the last remaining days of me and my lover. We had settled the score of last night's jealousy. It wouldn't harm me to keep being sceptical, after all, she had a history of juggling two at once, she once opened up. Can't help but feel judgmental and distrustful. She doesn't deserve this kind of treatment from me. I don't deserve any either. Our bond is at its infancy and fragile, not to mention we've already been on a lot worse before this. Pray that the heavy discomfort weighing in my heart would pass, and that it is all a figment of my own imagination, and that our collective love is stronger than what we actually feel.

The rubbishness of my job continues but at least I finally have half of the salary for a week's worth. Going home disheveled and hungry wouldn't help me and her both. I need to widen my pride and stamp it with joy. A tofu kind of joy. I'd rather that than nothing, and it's better to keep hoping every time with a smile on my face.

Sunday, 24 March 2013

A paper flower called Waitrose

Tired and paranoid. In a couple of days or weeks, Mioseon will be leaving me. She will be going back home to her country, sipping some nice homebrew beside a familiar table inhaling some familiar cold breeze. Spring has come to her at long last. The long and cold winter of London dragged us both to the point of exhaustion. Despite all, I work my ass off to pay her one lasting memory for the time we met and the circumstances that found us both in each other's arms.

My head feels like it's about to explode, barely slept, restless, and feeling jaded. While working at the Chinese noodle bar (more on that soon), she messaged me via Facebook how she had gone home late and that I need not bother to worry, how it was a 'long story' and how 'there is nothing I should fear because she's okay' and reassures me subtly hints of her strong feeling of fidelity towards me. I had always felt unease every time we part ways, mostly during Fridays. Today, a Saturday, was an exception, as the person she was working for had allegedly asked her yesterday to return the next day.

I cannot help but feel suspicion despite whatever reason she may have had told me besides everything else. I have no reason to. Mioseon has never shown the inclination to betray my trust, although her ways of showing it are rather hazy at best. I take her word for it the same way I preach to her the value of trust, as when she herself takes it upon her own to question me about my relationship with a certain friend that I had met during my long trip to Scotland. Her name was Valentina, and it is with this non-committal that I find my own feet treading boiling water ever since I've arrived here with her. We have had arguments and serious falling-outs over the fact that Mioseon believes that there is, inside me, a hidden agenda, of daisical emotion, towards Valentina. Which is absurd now, for the record. My relationship with Mioseon had tremendously changed since the time I spent wandering about in another foreign land outside of London they call Scotland. My entire being is now strongly devoted to this commitment with Mioseon, and it is when she shoves me back out of spite in an attempt to divert my mind into something else that makes me twirl in that carousel of hopelessness and helplessness that I've always prayed to avoid.

So still, working at that restaurant in Richmond to make her ends and my ends meet gives me not a single second of pleasure. It only bolsters what I have feared all along; that my neophytic form when it comes to love needs more exposure and that, basically, I suck at this ballgame and I'm jealous, maybe for all the wrong reasons -- but I'm jealous nonetheless -- because anything is possible and I believe that there are more things in life that meets the eye. Hence I fight now for the truth, and she thinks that I am using this to threaten her whole life ahead of her without including me in that grand scheme.

Three full hours seemed like forever as I dragged myself to work and traveled back to catch her catching winks. She was tired, as I had anticipated. Her restlessness these past couple of nights are getting stronger. I spoke no word and left her to her slumber while I labour myself in aromatic dinner in less-appetising conditions. My feelings when seeing her make my eyes see red. This unfounded rage demands answers and still is patient enough to sit and wait, let her alibis simmer in the thickness of her skin, while I stalk like a silent shadow honing my senses tenfold, going in for the kill.

I'm scared now, because I feel another heat rising inside me telling me how I wouldn't like the outcome of this.

Monday, 18 March 2013

Le Contrebandier

There is an elephant in the room. I repeat, there is an elephant in the room. As we speak.

The silence itself is deafening, the awkwardness maddening. I want to engage the situation at hand headfirst, but I've been doing that since forever, making any effort now seems fruitless and forced. So should I suffer? Beat myself harder? Push myself into another trap?

She walks here and there, carelessly and callously. She seems to pay me no mind, as if nothing ever happened. Her mind is completely one-dimensional, and I knock my head to the wall for falling for this trickery. I deserve this because I entered this in the first place, never minding the consequences because I always believed I can just get over it all. I've made this wall myself. I thought there was nothing else to lose and now I'm losing what I never thought I could lose.

I've lost everything this time, and now I'll play the blame game.


Mioseon is on our bed sleeping, comfortably, I hope, and clueless of my current location. 

She has a couple more days or weeks left and the clock is ticking away, shaking the very foundation of my entire being with this one simple decision. She's leaving me for what she calls home for the past twenty years or so. She's leaving me because of the restrictions of her visa. Staying in a country as a tourist has its price, falling deep in love as a tourist even more so.

Being granted six months to stay here in the United Kingdom has been both a blessing and a curse for us, but I'm grateful no matter what. These past six months have been the most fruitful of my life as a person. We end another chapter of our lives with so much at stake. I cannot follow her home just yet. My own personal battles have yet concluded and it is only a shame that we met under difficult circumstances.

The girl of my dreams bears the child of my dreams for approximately two months now. She has come to a decision that she does not want this and chooses to forego an abortion against my wishes. Her reasoning are vague at best and I suspect it has something to do with South Korea, her home -- perhaps the opinion of her peers and the harsh criticisms she will have to endure from her parents. I would choose to be there when that happens, but her hellbent mind to finalise her decisions are too heartbreaking for me to stomach. I assured her that no matter what her decisions would be, I will be there to support her pre and post, but never inter. She tells me she understands, but I have the gut feeling that she still doesn't.

Our conflicts have passed them all; spite, regret, anger, frustrations, bargaining, denial, indifference, whatever other funny emotions that pass when a man is trapped within a Catch-22. I have been in prison for a day without conviction after a night of maddening conversation. It is in her habit to run away from a serious kerfuffle such as this and misconstrue every single word I have spat. For every hundred words I throw at her, she gives me back one, and that one word completely shatters every shard of sanity and wit left in me. I went to prison for throwing a gutless blow to her face and pushing her down in bed, smashing her again helplessly after she told me that she never wanted the child because the child was mine.

I've never done anything to deserve this, only that I've loved her so. Although my current standing in society leaves no room to be desired, I have given much and more than what I can offer. It has never been enough. Nothing had been ever since.

My only trump card to this is the power of truth. It is this same truth that she fears, that she feels I am threatening her with. It is only with this that I hold her still within my arms, because of her fears that I might unleash something not to her liking. But this is no longer the love that I envisioned. I did not love to make a prisoner out of her. She has all the freedom in the world, all I ask is that chance, respect, and understanding. She is in a completely different world of my own, completely hedonistic and devoid of any effect from my sacrifices.

This next couple of weeks will be entertaining, no doubt. But not to my heart. Certainly not for my soul.

I am now an unfather, and this feeling had been the most devastating feeling I've ever felt in my life, full of helplessness and hopelessness and regret.

Search and destroy