307: She’s Busy, Until the 16th

307: She’s Busy, Until the 16th

This girl has finals/yearlies/preliminaries. Putting the blog on hold until I come back. My first possible hiatus?


~ Serendipitous


306: Letters to No One (5)

306: Letters to No One (5) 

Somehow I have a better idea of who you are, who we might be, who we could be together. I still have so many things to find out about you, though.

For some reason, I feel better telling you this here even though I could easily just message you a long 1000 word not-essay like I did for you last time. It’s so weird. I feel like I could say this, and forget about it, wait for you to read it and then tell me all about it. I don’t mind. You’re busy at the moment, actually, so I don’t want to bother you. We also have exams coming up soon, but me being the memory person I am, I don’t want to forget about this so early.

I’m sorry. Move slowly. Make haste slowly. What am I doing? I don’t know. To be honest, I’m very scared. I don’t think either of us expected this. We already talked about it, but I’m even more scared of this than just a spider. I have given you the power to destroy me. I have given you the power to do anything for me or against me, and honestly that is scary. I am more afraid of being hurt by you than I am by tripping over my feet. I don’t know why. There’s just this inky black fear gripping my heart and squeezing ever so slightly. I haven’t been this terrified since last year, whatever happened last year. I don’t remember. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way about anyone, really.

You could be it for me. That scares me, too. Wouldn’t you want to see someone else as well? I don’t know. I’m insecure. I have to fix that, sorry. I don’t know. It’s hard when fantasy has literally become a reality, but I’m still unsure of what I’m doing. I’m afraid of everything. I’m not such a big risk taker, but this is the riskiest thing I’ve done with you. I’m trying to be brave. Every song you recommend to me just makes me listen to it more because it reminds me of you, and I love thinking about you. I can’t stop. They weren’t kidding when they said it’s like a drug. But GRRM wasn’t kidding when he said love is our greatest glory and tragedy at the same time.


~ Serendipitous

304: Girl in Love (Drabble)

304: Girl in Love (Drabble) 

It hurts. Honestly, it does. It’s like someone stabbed you in the heart, twisted it, and waited for all the tingles to strangle your ribcage, your stomach, your thighs, calves and finally your feet before they take the knife out of you. Except for me, the knife stays where it is for a long time.

It hurts, watching your best friend fall in love when you thought you could keep her forever. She tells me about him, the new soulmate, the future they’ll share with each other. This was us once upon a time, but only as best friends, and nothing more. Everyday, I go home and punch the pillows on my bed. How did I get myself into this emotional mess? I didn’t ask to fall in love with her. She’s my best friend, but I want more than that. Sometimes I wonder if she can see the desire in my eyes for her, wishing that her beautiful smile was for me and not for him. Although she still smiles at me, I recognise it as the smile she gives all her friends, not just me.

Perhaps the first time I realised I needed to let go was when she called me late at night, asking me to visit her. My parents were asleep and I had no business to be still up, but I left the house quietly to see her, my subdued passion undulating in time with my excited heart. Her parents were not at home, but she invited me in quickly.

“Sit down, I’ve got something to tell you,” she told me, excitement twinkling in her eyes.

For the briefest of seconds, I dared to hope that she would make a confession of love to me.

“What is it?” I asked her.

“I think he’s the one-”

At this point, I tuned out. I assumed my best listening pose, my listening expression, half-smirked, everything, but inside I could feel everything harden. My cold feet became slabs of marble, my muscles frozen in place of time, my heart turning into stone. I could feel the voices in my head chanting the vows I had never wished to think about.

“I don’t believe in love anymore. Love’s stupid. Who needs love? I’ll be fine on my own. I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone. I am my own team. I loved her once, but not anymore. This is for me…”

The voices kept speaking over each other. At some point I realised I fell asleep, because she was looking at me with a genuinely concerned expression. I could almost feel myself slipping into that abyss again, but I drew back.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

She leaned over me to hear me better, but I turned my head away.

“I won’t love again until I find another who loves me too.”


~ Serendipitous

Same, except I empathise with the boy a lot more than the girl. Mostly.

301: Love Story (Drabble)

301: Love Story (Drabble) 

Last week, one of my close friends came up to me at lunchtime. She looked panicked, as if something was clutching at her, clinging to her. I took her aside and asked her what was wrong. As soon as she saw the concern in my eyes, she burst into tears. She was shaking, almost as if she had Parkinson’s. She was a mess, hot and heavy tears coming out her eyes. She was struggling to hold back the mucus flowing out of her nose. For a few minutes, I sat by her side, watching her cry, offering her tissues, wondering all this time what she could possibly be upset about.

A slow quiet crept up upon her. Wet tissues lay crumpled at her feet next to her scuffed school shoes. I waited for her to say something, anything. I wrung my hands together, wondering what she would say.

“I fell in love,” she said.

It was almost anticlimactic, as if I was expecting something grander. But that wasn’t true. I had known about her little affair outside school hours, but I had never paid it any more attention than I had needed to. Perhaps it wasn’t a little affair like I had perceived it.

“What happened?” I asked.

She gave me a dirty look, but began her grandiose tale, starting from the moment they met, spinning the golden cloth of the tale which had staled with the passage of time. I watched as she stitched white silk with the words of her story in gold thread, heard the orchestra in the background crescendo as she reached climaxes in her story. And finally, I saw the white silk yellow with mould and the gold became ink black. The orchestra packed up and left an empty stage still full of plastic black chairs and music stands, a ghost of the lively stage it had been.

“I’m so sorry.”

But nothing I say would ever rescue her from the burden she suffers, the burden of an unsuccessful, broken relationship. She suffers, and I can only watch on in silence.


~ Serendipitous