Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Destroyer

From a distance, the bridge spanning an endless distance seemed ornate and ideal to stop and rest. Those idle fantasies came to naught from the very first step I took. I made the mistake of pausing a second too long and I felt the ground beneath me give way as I scrambled on.

Barely making the next few steps, I sneaked a peak behind, only to find that the path behind me has disappeared. If you're lucky, you can see some tiles bounce off the sides of the abyss, but the rest just crumbles without a sound.

What sucks is that.. I have to keep walking, even when I'm so tired, on the verge of collapse; even when I hate the long walk ahead, even when the heat of the sun bears me down. Yet there're times when I wished I could stand still and let the bottomless pit claim me, but the thought of a mangled body scared me on anyway. The one saving grace was the dry land that awaited me, but even its existence was questionable; what if this bridge was connected to another. Spirits dampened, I walked anyway.

If there was one thing I learnt crossing to the other side; keep walking, you don't have a choice anyway. Never stop to turn to your back, for there would be nothing to see anyway. That step you once took has vanished from the face of the Earth.

There was simply,
no turning back.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Black Snow

It was a sentence of caution retold by countless people; one that brought slight gasps to the attentive children listening to it.

"Drugs, they're bad for you. So never ever take a whiff, let alone a taste," said a primary school teacher to her class. Some took heed, while others succumbed. Time changes people, and unfortunately, it also dulls their memories; it was like they never chorused, "Yes teacher!" upon hearing her last word slip out of her tongue.

Perhaps he'd let his sense of adventure get the better of him a couple of years ago, and he had his first taste anyway. Whilst he let the initial high lift him up, he wondered how something so wrong can feel so right, like fluffy pillows laced with poison caressing his skin; he'd die happy in his sleep just to feel like that forever. The night was young as he danced his way to the heaven those shiny white gates promised him.

All good things had to end, and as the incredible sensation ebbed away from his soul, he desperately clawed at it, begging for its very essence once more. Reality was just too unreal to live in any longer, for heaven was just a pill away. As he stumbled into the alleyway in the dead of night, he trudged on, convinced that the angel he was meeting would lead him back into paradise, away from the hell he was suffering in.

Weekly stumbles for the light turned into weakened but desperate crawls; he needed it and it needed him. Far too often would he wake up screaming as paradise faded and hell awaited him; but something strange happened as the days passed; heaven became greyer. Those magical white clouds slowly but surely began to lose the glow that had once kept him enthralled. It was like a carousel that had broken down, and as its joyous music faded into the distance, he got up and attempted to regain what was left of his sanity.

Heaven was empty, so empty. The angels that brought him there were nowhere to be seen. Wind blew from all directions, caressing his skin once more, but the eerie chill only brought shivers down his spine. He ran round the premise looking for an exit, but all he saw were the same shiny white gates encircling what was then revealed as a prison for the damned; there was never meant to be an exit. He rattled the gates in frustration and agony, but they never budged. A brief reflection on the main gate gave his face away. Haggard, pale and sickly, he didn't look like a person basking in the radiant rays of heaven, but an enslaved prisoner of the fiery depths of hell.

Sensing defeat, the man laid down and waited for darkness to overcome him.

He took one last painful look at his surroundings, only to find that the once cotton-like clouds and glittery white gates..

were all painted black.

Monday, March 12, 2012

How Rude

So if you had a maid, and you wanted her to do something for you, what would you say?
Far too often, I hear, "Maria, get me this!" followed by the condescending aura of a snobbish boss. Worst bit is that most people think it's normal.

They say stuff like, "Well she's a maid and I'm her boss; there's no need for any courtesy whatsoever."

Well fuck you too asshole :D
See, I like to bold the smiley face to properly portray my reaction towards these retards.

Of course, some people might argue that since they're already paying her to do stuff, there isn't a necessity to be polite, but think about it: If you want your maid to do her chores properly, she needs to be happy. Granted, she has to do a good job whether she likes it or not, but wouldn't it be nicer to have a more cheery environment in your own home? Would you like your maid to bitch about you behind your back on Sunday mornings when she meets up with her friends at Lucky Plaza? But back to my point, it's so much better if your maid does a good job not out of obligation but from the bottom of her heart.

The same problem goes with cleaners and other menial workers. Many people tend to think that they're higher than them in the social hierarchy, but how many of them bother to wonder, what hawker centers and restaurants look like without them? What would roads look like without them? What would shopping malls look like without them? If they're not around to do the dirty work, are YOU going to step up? Are YOU willing to get dirty to ensure that the tables we eat on are clean, and the urinals we take a piss on aren't filled with stains from drunk people the night before?

So the next time you want to ask any of those people for something, it doesn't kill to add in your pleases and thank yous. And if you still think they're worthless people, you can get yourself a nice, firm rope, make that into a noose and fucking hang yourself.

heehee