Unreal.

It feels a little like how it was when you left me.

The rain makes it look unreal, like I could wake up at any moment and tell you all about it soon.

Like this is all just a dream.

He loves them, he does.

He wakes up to the smell of fresh nasi lemak in the mornings.

As his wife is frying the eggs, he gently wraps his hands around her and whispers in her ear, "Sayang awak."

They giggle and she playfully pushes him away.

They spend their day at the zoo, and as their daughter munches on a pillow of cotton candy, he picks a flower and wedges it in her hair.

Dinner was assam laksa that the wife spent an hour cooking. The recipe is difficult, she says. But she's glad he's licking his fingers.

As the wife finishes reciting the ending to Puteri Gunung Ledang, the daughter's eyes gently close.

The last thing she hears is, "I love you sayang. Very much."

He pulls the trigger, and the room is bathed in crimson.

The daughter dies in her sleep, surely with a smile if she still had a face.

The gun barrel feels cold against his temple.

Babies don't sleep this well.

John Cage and Ally Mcbeal.

It's funny how these things happen.

You go on weeks, no, months feeling good, feeling great even - you find parking spots without problems, you hand in work on time, you get invited to parties...

You have fun. Sure, you don't feel on top of the world, but then again this place, where you are now, it isn't too bad. You could live with it.

And then one day, at the oddest of moments, at the most common things, it hits you.

You wake up with that song in your head. Or you remembered sitting there before. Or you just tasted that apple pie.

And you remember.

And my imagination will make that moment live...

To Miss Junkiemonkey,

I think what I really wanted to do before I left was to say goodbye to you personally. I wanted to call you and tell you I was leaving and that I'd miss you, and maybe a little part of me would like to hear you say that too.

But I didn't, because I heard that you loved the single life and I knew you were enjoying yourself and keeping yourself busy right now, so I figured I'd better let you be.

Just to be fair to me though, since I'm leaving on a jetplane, and I don't know when I'll be back, or more accurately I don't know if I'll be the same when I get back, I'd like to take this tiny piece of opportunity to say Goodbye to you, and thank you.

Thank you for making my life the past few months a little more interesting than it would be if I hadn't met you, if nothing else Ms. Starbucks.

But also thank you because:

=)

K.

If I'm going to be up ranting, I might as well.

Let's make this clear; there are very very few things that utterly annoy me in my life, and off the top of my head, there's how people seem to think that calling me a virgin is like some sort of derogatory insult that's supposed to get me. So let me get this straight; virgin = non self validation?

To these people: You're a fucking moron.

First of all, If you're running around calling me a virgin, it means I don't tell you stuff which means you're not in my personal space. I didn't think you mattered enough to tell, which also means; stop fucking assuming. You could be wrong, or you could be right; either way, I'm not telling you shit because I think you're a stupid fuck.

Now, even if I was, how, can you tell me, the act of sticking your penis into some bitches vagina (for the he) or the act of getting stuffed by a man dong (for the she) makes you a better person than I am in any way? Oh, congratulations, you have performed the act of fornification and now you're MORE REAL because it. Would you like a fucking certificate?

I would love nothing more than to point out that you have just stated that the sole purpose of your existence, the culmination of your being, would be that you have sought, for the 20+ years of your life, to look for the magical plum to stick your penis into or to get stuffed. Yes, let me point that out very clearly; you pushed yourself through your mother's vagina, went through school, somehow made it through tertiary education, all to equip yourself with the one knowledge of doing the old bump and grind.

Pathetic.

I don't even want to talk about how sad I think you are for thinking that getting fucked is the one sole achievement in your life. You're really lacking in the self esteem department aren't you? Let me ask you this; if you HADN'T fucked, would there be anything you can be proud of in your life? Would you? No?

Didn't think so.

You are sad, because, well, now your life is just that; sad. I won't even bother myself with you cause your life is pretty much fucked now. And you wanted to live off welfare, so I'm automatically better than you.

You are sad because you stated TWICE how the only thing you've wanted to do in life is fuck. I get it, you got to fuck, and now you can die happy. The crowning achievement of your life, yes, well done. Could you please sit down and shut the fuck up now?

And YOU are just sad because at one point you wanted to sit down and cut yourself to death. Or swallow some pills. Fuck, I don't remember which emo/goth way you wanted to die, personally I don't care. The point is, I'm not about to take "validation tips" from someone who didn't care enough to live. Go curl up in some corner in a foetal position and die; just make sure you do it in the garbage can so the rest of us with more important things in life are not bothered by your insignificant existence you little piece of turd.

Fuck you annoying people.

Unreal.

Today I didn't feel quite so real.

Ms. Starbucks. (part 1)

He had never really bothered wondering what ‘Love’ was. To him, it was something abstract, something individualistic and subjective, something that a hundred different people could give a hundred different answers for.

He found himself however, looking through dictionary.com searching for its meaning one Tuesday afternoon.

Love –noun
1.a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3. sexual passion or desire.
4. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
5. (used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?
6. a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.
7. sexual intercourse; copulation.
8. (initial capital letter) a personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.
9. affectionate concern for the well-being of others: the love of one's neighbor.
10. strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything: her love of books.
11. the object or thing so liked: The theater was her great love.
12. the benevolent affection of God for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.
13.Chiefly Tennis. a score of zero; nothing.
14.a word formerly used in communications to represent the letter L.

He decided that none to the 14 entries on the word 'Love' described what he felt the other day, walking past Starbucks to work and seeing Ms. Starbucks for the first time. Within the 5 seconds that he had walking the length of the coffee shop, he noticed her at the checkout counter; she was tall, had short hair, big brown pretty eyes, and a beautiful smile. Of course, he stared at her without breaking his stride, (he was sure she gets these intrusive stares on a daily basis) and thought nothing more of it the next day.

The practice actually went on for 2 weeks, him walking to work at the Cineplex nearby, noticing her almost every day (she was off on Thursdays and Sundays) in that same invariable starbucks suit; the green apron and black shirt. Sometimes she'd be at the checkout counter, and he'd enjoy that brief 5 seconds he gets to see her flash her smile to the customers, and sometimes she'd be preparing coffee at the back, and he'd only get to see the back of her head - on these days he'd slow down, only ever so slowly, to see if she'd ever turn around and he could see her.

2.a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.

...was probably closest. He was not gripped and carried about in a whirlwind of Love at first sight; it crept up on him, ambushing him when his defenses were at their most unsuspecting. He had no idea.

The first time his emotional guards suspected something was wrong was when he found himself, one Sunday morning, (he'd decided to take Sundays off, coincidentally) waking up and thinking of Ms. Starbucks.

Ms. Starbucks. He didn't even know her name.

Ever since then he grew wary. He rationalized; she's someone I see every day, she's pretty, it’s only natural for me to think of her, and decided to think nothing more than that.

The next morning, when he walked to work he decided to not look at her. If I can ignore her, I won’t think of her he rationalized. So he kept his eyes looking straight ahead as he came up against the coffee shop.

Only 5 seconds.

He marched forward, focused on looking straight ahead.

5.

He looked at his watch; 11.32 am.

4.

Cough.

3.

Clear throat.

2.

Ms. Starbucks smiling at customer while she gives them their coffee.

1.

…Shit.

He was in trouble.