336: The 48-Hour Curfew

336: The 48-Hour Curfew

Honey, I know you still come to read my blog every single freakin’ day so I just want to say it here without breaking the curfew I set.

I just need some time alone to collect my thoughts and catch up on the work I should’ve done two weeks ago 😛 thanks for being such a helpful and kind honey and I hope you work just as hard during the weekend. I’m not that angry anymore, but when I get the chance to I will probably explain why. Don’t worry about me; I’ll go to sleep around 11 or 12 each night – you should too! And I promise to shower everyday and brush my hair everyday and whatnot 🙂 thanks for taking care of me. Take care of yourself while we both survive the 48-hour curfew.

Much love,

 

~ Serendipitous

Advertisements

335: One-Year Anniversary of serendipitouswriter

335: One-Year Anniversary of serendipitouswriter 

Well, a year and a day. 

The only time you should look back is to see how far you’ve come? 334 posts later, we are 366 days into the future. The future of the past is now. Live your best life from moment to moment. Or something. 

Shitty anniversary post. Next year’s anniversary post will either be postponed or posted with very few words. Because I’ll be in the middle of the last set of exams I’ll ever take for high school. How time has passed, ravaged me, leaving no mercy for me in its path of seemingly inevitable destruction and decay and ageing. It was like yesterday when I walked past the Year 12 Common Room saying, “This will be ours in five or six years’ time.”

Well, hello, dear year 7 me. Time flies when you’re having fun. And when you’re not. I wish you didn’t live in the past and in anticipation of the future all the time. Live moment to moment.  
~ Serendipitous 

334: Happy 35th Half-Birthday for Yesterday

334: Happy 35th Half-Birthday for Yesterday 

Exactly seventeen and a half as of yesterday. Sixteen slipped away from me long ago, and now the eighteen approaches slowly like an elongation of a shadow. I’m about to enter adulthood. But I’m still fourteen at heart. 

I’m sorry; I was incredibly busy yesterday so didn’t have the chance to post. Happy 35th half birthday to me.
~ Serendipitous

333: Broken Heart Syndrome

333: Broken Heart Syndrome 

As she lay there, feet sticking out from underneath the duvet, head stubbornly pressed into the side of the comforter, dull ache in her right knee, her eyes wet with tears, the little girl truly believed right then and there that she could die of broken heart syndrome. This song lay untouched, unheard since June, but for the purposes of overwhelming herself in nostalgic melancholia she looped it on her phone. The little girl wanted to die of broken heart syndrome. She could feel bony fingers tugging violently on her heartstrings, strangling the fibres of her heart in a deathly grip. She whimpered as the pain washed over her, but this time it did not subside. Her heart throbbed painfully, each beat reminding her of how much she wanted to die. She tried to close her eyes, but the undulating beat of the depressing mixtape forced her eyelids open. The voice of a seventeen year old Korean boy who made this rap ballad mixtape, just breaking into Korean rap. She admired him, he who was now twenty four years of age this year and the king of third generation Korean rap. She silently thanked him for the mixtape he had made as a teenager. It caused her immense grief and heartbreak, both of which she had been lacking in recently. 

In bed she turned over and wished again that she could die of broken heart syndrome. What if she erased him? He who was the love of her life, what if she deleted him, his email address, the google doc, everything that reminded her of him? Of course he’ll get angry when he sees this, but a little girl wants to die anyway. No, she would never do that, erase him, I mean. The girl is silly, granted that, but she knows she would lose a large part of her soul. She deleted other boys, but she can’t delete this one. She’ll never meet anyone like him again. Maybe if she keeps pushing his buttons he’ll leave her for good and she’ll be finally able to have a reason to die by her own hand. Well, not die. Just become an unrestorable former shell of herself. She’ll never meet anyone like him ever again. Her heart aches even more. The bony fingers tugging her heartstrings, not her own, but of her dark side’s. She’s selfish. In a epiphanous moment she resolves to learn how to properly use a pair of chopsticks. Maybe he’ll stop teasing her once she learns. Or she could kill herself, that works too. It’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Why not end all future problems simultaneously too? Maybe he’ll meet someone like her again. Violent, passionate, dark, intelligent, gregarious, sexual, but with a love of life. And not wanting to die of something like broken heart syndrome. She’s furious at herself. She cannot sleep. She remembers the first kiss and revels in the forgotten memory of it all. The tears have dried now. She has no tears. She is dead inside. She is only halfway there. 

She was overreacting, as always. 
~ Serendipitous 

Really fucking hate these mood swings. And persona switches. 

332: Only Her Lover’s Kiss

332: Only Her Lover’s Kiss  

She curled her legs around his middle as she shifted her weight to nestle comfortably in the curve of his lap. Aware of his eyes on her, she smiled briefly as she rested her arms on his shoulders and cupped his neck gently. Grinning ridiculously, the little girl looked up into her lover’s eyes, playing a game of guess-the-colour with herself again. Onyx, obsidian, mud, brown, stubborn brown? He gazed at her intently from underneath the hoods of his half-sleepy eyes and she felt her heart knock loudly against the side of her head, her breath quickening as anticipation gripped her thighs. With some calculation she allowed herself to lower her eyes to his sealed, soft lips.

Without warning, he immediately closed the distance between their lips while she was thinking about initiating the kiss. Her eyes swiftly shut to embrace the cool darkness behind her lids as she kissed him back ardently. Her fingers pulled on his neck as she felt him communicate to her how much he missed her in the week that had passed; how much he wanted her…how much he loved her. A hot flush rose in her cheeks. Rising palpitations in their respective hearts betrayed their desire for each other. She allowed her fingers to come away from his neck to run through his hair as she began to lose herself in his passion. Before she could go any further, he broke the kiss, only to look into her eyes, her soul, again. He smiled. She wondered what he had seen. His own reflection in her irises? Her love for him? Her deepest, darkest desires? She drew back from him to raise her fingers to her lips, feeling love’s burning sensation emanating from beneath her fingertips as she drew them back and forth across her lower lip, all the while maintaining eye contact with him.

Only her lover’s kiss could inspire a kind of incessant need for more helpings of his special brand of fervent love.

 

~ Serendipitous

This is for you, honey! Hehe

331: Happy Birthday Dad!

331: Happy Birthday Dad! 

Happy birthday to my father 🙂

I promise I will tell him this tonight, but:

Thank you for making me all kinds of gourmet food for dinner, helping me with life, supporting my dreams and granting me permission when mommy didn’t. Thanks for being an awesome dad. I’m sorry I don’t give you half as much affection as I do for mommy, but I’m working on it! I promise I’ll study lots tonight, just like you asked me.

Because I’m a good girl.

 

~ Serendipitous

Hehe

330: The Simplest of Heartbreak

330: The Simplest of Heartbreak

“I waited for you, but you never came back.”

This morning, I was in a lot of pain. All my nerve endings were on fire. The carpet of my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. The peanut butter toast I usually have for breakfast tasted bland and dry. Sadness washed over me, for crunchy peanut butter is supposed to be rich with the nutty flavour that wakes my brain. Our hearts were broken, but it would mend. Eventually. But that’s not what was on my mind this morning when I was taking the bus to school. What am I doing with my life? I stopped breaking hearts the moment I met him. But I suppose my dark side is always finding ways to invite trouble into my life. Even in the haze of sleep, I understood that something terrible had happened, but maybe it was because I had overdramatised it. I guess I did.

I fell asleep without saying goodnight.

 

~ Serendipitous

I’m so sorry honey. We’ll go to sleep earlier tonight, I promise.

Okay.