The Unwritten Novel: Pretty Please.

.
.
.
Keep me in glass jar,
Have me when you're older.
Tell me what you love me.
Kiss me when you're sober.
.
.
.
.

The Unwritten Novel: Puppy Eyes Are Too Much

I frantically ran around the place.
Ten minutes of sheer panic can feel like forever.

And then I found him in a corner, curled up in a ball.
All shy and sheepish with wide apologetic eyes.

And it's hard not to cry when you realise you don't know
whether or not you're mad or upset or relieved.

The Unwritten Novel: My Subconscious Hates Me

You know what they say about guys with big shoes right?

No. Tell me.

They have big dicks.

Actually I knew. I just wanted to hear you say it.

The Unwritten Novel: Better Salt

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.
.
.

"In my opinion, you should've closed."

.
.
.
.

meh. twas too dangerous anyway.

The Unwritten Novel: Friendship and Freudian Slips

Whenever I watch TV and the girl says "I'm pregnant!",
I never understand why the guy looks so happy.
I don't get it.
If a girl told me she was pregnant,
I'd grab a hanger and get ready to abort that shit.

It's absolutely ridiculous how you say things like that when you already have all sorts of ideas on parenthood and every little obscure mistake of mine leads to how bad a mother I'm going to be.

I say that if I ever get a son, I'll hug him till he's forty.
You tell me I'm going to turn my son gay.

I forget my medication at the clinic.
You tell me I'm going to leave my baby to drown in the tub.

So when I asked if you spoke like this to other people, I never expected you to say:

No! I don't think about having children with other people!

And I'm not quite sure if that was what I wanted to hear.

oh god please no not this again please make it stop

The Unwritten Novel: Congratulations

You have successfully caught my attention.

You are the perfect distraction.

Now I need a distraction from you.

The Unwritten Novel: SALT

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.
.
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I want you.

I want you so bad.

It's driving me mad.
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The Unwritten Novel: Now We're Polite Strangers

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Your ego doesn't match your etiquette.

..

Yet only you can make me write.

.

Tell me your story, stranger.

The Unwritten Novel: Evolver

I went to McDonald's today.
.
Sinful, I know, but I was in a desperate rush to get to work on time and I couldn't supress the hunger much longer.
.
And there she was.
The woman who once thought you were mine.
.
Of course she hadn't the foggiest idea who I was - I didn't expect her to - but for a brief moment, it felt like you were standing right next to me and we're about to make an order. Almost like deja vu, I imagine this woman saying that we make a great couple and whoever your girlfriend is has every right to be jealous.
.
For the first time in months, I thought about you.
.
You bastard.

The Unwritten Novel: Thnks fr th Mmrs

Thanks for giving the worst day in my entire life.
.
I've been planning it for weeks.
I made calls, and more calls, and drove.
I went through all that trouble.
I waited up.
I practically had to beg.
I let go of every last smidgen of pride I had left.
.
And you ditched me for a party.
Fuck you, M.

The Unwritten Novel: Pretty Please?

"You don't have to say yes," she sighed,
"just, don't say no."

.

The silence was getting unbearable.
Seconds, yes, but they were slow and painful.
.
"I'm not saying no."
.
And her moment of hope disappeared
when he continued to speak:
"Not yet."

The Unwritten Novel: I Don't Want To Beg

Stop being mad.
You don't owe me anything anymore.

.
.............................Don't come here.

I'll go there.............................

.............................Don't yell.

Just hold me.............................

.

Do whatever you want, but please, just once,
don't break my heart.

The Unwritten Novel: I Love You, Pure and Simple.

"He could love me,"

she began to philosiphize,
but before she could finish, her friend continued:

"...but he puts barriers around himself."

.
.

----------------

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It's amazingly heart-dropping, and heart-droppingly painful, and a little bit disturbing to know that you started dreaming about me when I did of you.

.

Fated, some might say.

.

It was probably a coincidence, or it could be the same thing that triggered the pull at the heartstrings years ago. I remember it all too well - the way we would argue our eyeballs out, the way we would throw insults at each other, the way you were always there - like a shadow I couldn't get rid of.

.

And I was your uninvited shadow too.

.

----------------

.
.
"Was it worth it?"
asks her friend, interrupting her thoughts.

.

Even if you think otherwise, love,
I have a collection of stories right here to prove you wrong...

The Unwritten Novel: MakeDamnSure

It was nice waking up to your voice.
.
I must say, today was definitely a first.
You're usually the nocturnal one,
rejecting my calls telling me you're still asleep.
.
And you sincerely wanted to know what I had to say.
You remembered. You actually wanted
to listen to my emofied paranoia.
.
You caught me off-guard.
The way you always do.
The way I love it.
.
.
.
.
I told a friend about your phone call.
About our date that you actually remembered.
A date where I don't find myself calling you three times
the night before just to remind you.
.
"Sounds like he's excited too."
.
<3

The Unwritten Novel: Cuddle Priviledges

"I've been nineteen for like, six days now
and you still haven't wished me..."
.
And he runs to my side and squeezes me tight.
.
"Happy Birthday," he says,
.
and I get all weak in the knees.
.

I love you.

The Unwritten Novel : Dear Somebody

There are many mornings, or rather, most mornings, when I lie in bed desperately keeping my eyes closed. It's not that I want not to bid the day. No, I have no reason to fear it. I just want to dream about you a little more - be with you a little longer.
.
As the dim hues of red seep into sight, I shy away from the thought of day and bury myself further under the sheets.
.
Curled up and safe by my pillow, I lie there alone, and yet, not. For a blissful hour, I feel your soft breath on my neck, arm over mine. You wiggle your toes in between mine to keep me warm. Your scruffy legs tickle the back of my calves.
.
Even before you touch me, I know how this will end. It's like a story played on loop. Although within moments , I will lose you to the rolling credits, as you've done before, as you will, I know that tomorrow you will once again hold me close and for a moment, however brief, I will be floating on air.
.

I love you.

.

The Unwritten Novel: This Is The End, Love.

I knew I was in love the moment you wiggled your toes in between mine to keep me warm. I didn't mind the scruff of your legs at all.

I miss they way you held me as you spoke about things I cared nothing about.

.

Politics, censorship, mass.
.
Once again you'd caught me off guard.
The way you always do.
The way I loved it.

.
It was absolutely adorable how you practically begged for me to let you finish, although deep down, you and I know I'll always let you have your way.
.
But as we lost ourselves in the false infatuation, life got in the way and we ended the evening hopelessly. As I stumbled out the door and drove away, I could feel your guilt and regret blanket the air. If only I could have held your cheek in comfort, but alas, my only intention was to escape.
.
Perhaps I have lost my only true friend. Perhaps you never cared for me as I did for you. But this is the end, love, and I wish you a fulfilling life.
.

Goodbye.

.

The Unwritten Novel: Where Is This Going?

"I know there's a possibility that
when you walk out that door
and drive off,
things will never be the same again."
.
Is what she imagined he would say - as corny and predictable as it may seem.
.
But no.
.
"I can't lose you as a friend," is what he said.

The Unwritten Novel: Distance Is Only a Figure

"That far? He's that far?

Then it's not worth it.

Why would you say it's worth it?"

.

"Because he's special. He is.

And he makes me feel special."

.

"Oh, okay. Then I guess it's worth it."

.

Blurhhhh...

Pixie Poetry: Untitled

I am falling heavily in love, you see,
With a boy I don't believe could possibly love me.
To him, I want to sing the songs I hear in my heart,
But in this play? cast I'm an extra - it's not in my part.
.

-------------

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Note : written spontaneously in like, a minute? That's why it's so crappy. I could put a little more effort in making it right and maybe even a little bit longer but I'm too darn lazy busy to do that. I am feeling quite a bit of drama in the left side of my chest tho.

The Unwritten Novel: I Think I've Been Forgotten

Which is sort of depressing when you think about it.

But then she paused to realise that her vision had merely been blurred by his awkward beginnings.

And then she felt her heart sink then burst out in front of her when she saw him smile.

Oh, fuck.

The Unwritten Novel: Strangers in Skinnies. Yum!

The kid at the music store probably thinks that he's all that.

That she couldn't possibly know anyone better.

.

After all, he's already 18.

.

He's pretty tall.

Doesn't look as cina as he should.

Can pull off a pair of skinnies.

Eventually wants to start his own clothing line.

Is about to start his diploma in illustration.

Listens to all the same things she does - he's just a tinge more mainstream but how much harm could that make?

Works in a music store.

Has three tattoos.

.

But what he doesn't know is there's another boy who's caught her eye.

Another boy who wants her too.

.

He's the boy who's not Chinese at all. (Take that!)

Looks gorgeous in a pair of skinnies.

Already has his degree in communications and psychology.

Listens everything she does and more.

Fronts a band.

Makes music that's sold in music stores.

Oh, and has a dozen tattoos.

.

But like she has said before too many a time:

It isn't supposed to be a choice.

.

The Unwritten Novel : It's Hard Not To Fall

We're a poorly kept secret.
.
Thanks to me, of course. I don't deny that.
But still, we're still a secret.
.
I know I'm probably being unrealistic...
.

The Unwritten Novel : Question

What do you call someone you like who likes you too but isn't your boyfriend and you don't officially have an unofficial thing going on?

The Unwritten Novel : It's Not Hard To Fall

I like where this surprise is going.

I like that you caught me off-guard.
I like that you act spontaneously even tho you're shy.
I like that you like everything I like too.

I like how you won't let me fall just yet.

I like you.
I really do.

The Unwritten Novel: Phailed Perfection

.
.
.

If I'm not at all your type but am still madly in love with you;

does that make me stupid, or just too honest with my heart?

.

.
.

Boy A390

People from South East Asia are usually not as friendly as you would like them to be. Sometimes a genuine smile, or a friendly greeting can be taken the wrong way. People here are generally more introvert compared to the western way of civilisation. So it's great to know, dear boy A390, that on the train when I asked,

.

"Did you win anything?"

.

after looking at your sweaty Towerthon shirt, you smiled back and said,

.

"Meh. A finisher's medal."

.

Of course, I could never have finished a towerthon myself, but at that very moment in time, it didn't occur to me to congratulate you. So, when you interrupted my thoughts by frowning slightly and asking,

.

"You know about the Towerthon too?"

.

alas, my new found stranger, it was too late. My instant reflex was to reply,

.

"I can read your shirt."

.

leaving you feeling a little embarrassed for being completely oblivious to the obvious. In fact, dear boy A390, you still had your running number pinned on.

.

So it was too late for me to congratulate you. Don't get me wrong, of course it wasn't because I thought you weren't great enough - the moment had passed and my bringing it up would have made you suspicious of me.

.

Unfortunately for you, dear boy A390, you were a lost cause. I would leave you feeling disappointed in yourself. Maybe you would have taken my lack of compliment to heart and cry yourself to sleep. Maybe it may serve as motivation for you to win the next race you take part in.

.

But then again, boy A390, fortunately for you, you bade me farewell as I got off the train, giving oppotunity to finally put praise in its place.

.

I may never see you again, but thank the gods, I will still be able to sleep at night and eventually forget about you.

.

Congratulations once again, dear boy A390, and I wish you a fulfilling life.

.

The Unwritten Novel: My Garage Band King

.
.
.

"It makes me wonder if you have a clue
How much in love I am with you."

.
.
.

And that was all the Valentine said.

.

Corny, much.

The Unwritten Novel: Lick it Like a Lollipop

.

"What's the rush?" he asked,

and then he smilled like he had a plan.

.

And with that, she felt every fibre of her being

melt into a sea of warm black velvet seats.

.

The Unwritten Novel:Of Logs and Preservatives

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"Hi there. I would like a..."

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"My! Now he's a handsome one!"

.

The old lady behind the counter grins like a little school girl.

.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked.

.

The lady's eyes flicked up leftward to her friend, still grinning.

.

Her heart took a jolt, and she turned her head. He was handsome, yes. But he wasn't hers. Within a breath she recollected her senses and spoke.

.

"Oh," she sighed, "he's not my boyfriend. We aren't together."

.

"Yeah, right," squeals the lady and begins to giggle.

.

Puzzled by her own emotions, and yet, in all seriousness, she manages to say

"It's true."

.

"Honey, there's no need for bluffing," says the lady.

.

Unsure of what to say next, her thoughts were interrupted by a

.

"No."

.

With an ironic relief, she watched him shake his head.

.

And with an embarrassed frown, the lady says "Oh. So you two really aren’t an item."

.

"No," she replied to emphasise reassurance. "He already has a girl."

.

"Awww.. I bet she's jealous!"

.

"Naw. We're just friends," she said with a mild smile.

.

"Sure? People would assume otherwise seeing the way you two walk together."

.

And with that, they left the counter with a sackful of thoughs etched into their minds.

.

----------

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Translated into English for general reading.

Lyrical Confession: Free Fallin'

Originally by Tom Petty
Cover by John Mayer
.

She's a good girl, loves her mama.

Loves Jesus and America too.

She's a good girl, crazy bout Elvis.

Loves horses and her boyfriend too.

.

It's a long day livin' in Reseda.

There's a freeway runnin' through the yard.

I'm a bad boy cause I don't even miss her.

I'm a bad boy for breaking her heart.

.

And I'm free, free fallin'.

.

All the vampires walkin' through the valley,

Move west down Ventura Boulevard.

And all the bad boys are standing in the shadows.

And the good girls are home with broken hearts.

.

And I'm free, free fallin'.

.

I wanna glide down over Mulholland.

I wanna write her name in sky.

I wanna free fall out into nothin'.

Gonna leave this world for awhile.

.

And I'm free,

I'm free fallin'.

.

You can actually read a million and one interpretions of this song here, but I'm a stubborn fool so here's what I think the song is really about:

.
Because, naturally, I get to decipher this song in accordance to however I feel at the moment, I'm going to say that the narrator is singing about two different girls in this song.

.

The first girl he sings about at the beginning is the girl he is (soon to be was) with. She's really great cause she loves her country and ponies and the King and all that kind of trash, but at the end of the "long day", life with her has become a routine and with the "freeway running through the yard", he leaves and runs away from her. And so he feels bad for breaking her heart and he feels worse because he "doesn't even miss her". He feels no remorse from leaving her for someone else (the girl in the second part of the song).

.

Now, when he talks about the "bad boys" that are "standing in the shadows", I believe he means that they're trying to hide their emotions because they think that expressing their emotions is a sign of vulnerability - and no self-proclaimed bad boy wants that, right?

.

And I suppose naturally, even self-proclaimed bad boys have broken a number of hearts in their day, and therefore, "all the good girls are home" because they're too afraid to get hurt again.

.

So now back to the bad boys. "They", meaning "he" is now in this rut because he's falling very heavily for this girl.

.

Mulholland is a place.

.

The line "I wanna write her name in the sky" could mean one of two (two of many) things. Firstly, it could mean he wants to write her name with one of those smoke jets or with clouds, but those fade away in like, a day, and therefore could mean that despite the fact he's falling, he knows that it's only a fling. But because I'm deciphering this line to put it into context with the rest of the song, I think it means he wants to write her name in the sky with the stars and the planets because if he did that, it would basically last forever and so will their love for each other (as he hopes). Another possibility is that the sky has been use as a metaphor because it is limitless (and therefore his love for her is limitless) or, for the same reasons I am in love with the sky, it is a symbol of everlasting contentment.

.

And if I were to ever say "I wanna free fall out into nothing", I think it would mean that, the feeling of falling in love is so euphoric and so orgasmicly satisfying, and that I don't want this feeling to ever end.

.

When he says he's "gonna leave this world for a while", I believe he means he's taking a moment to forget about reality; about the world. He's already falling, and he knows that, but he's not even going to try to do anything to stop or prevent it. He's going to forget the opions, feeling and judgements of others, including the girl he originally left; he's going to forget his conscience and just do as his heart says.

.

So that's just it. He's merely free falling in love.

.

----------

.

Why I love this song:

Because I can really relate to it. I mean, of course it represents a specific moment in time for me, but I actually understand the narrator's passion and justifying.

.

What I'd mean if I were to dedicate this song to someone:

It's okay to fall in love with someone, even if you didn't mean to. And if you let your guard down, I will too.

.

Note: You can watch the original live performance on YouTube here, it's just that they disabled the embedding code. Boo.

The Unwritten Novel: φίλος

.
Nothing unusual,
Nothing strange,
Close to nothing at all.
The same old scenario,
The same old rain,
And there's no explosions here.

.

So we bask in the abyss, blanketed by our comfort in the nothingness. Defences are high. The lack of sincere response and the intense sarcasm doesn't faze either of us. The intention is to find where it hurts and pierce a blade there. There is satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment, and yet, an insane string of guilt and confusion. If only the ironically harmonious and intricate canon of self delusion would reach it's final crescendo then quickly fade into silence.
.

Then,
Something unusual,
Something strange,
Comes from nothing at all.
I saw a spaceship,
Fly by your window,
Did you see it disappear?

.

Then there was a tug at the heartstrings, for him and for her. The lies had melted and drained into the sea. The overwhelming surge of revelation from waist up cause a tornado in our bellies and burst our veins. Blank, confused stares lined with confessions were eventually vomitted and those stares flew around and chased the clouds. The stench on nakedness hung in the air but was simply waved away like bouts of smoke. The humility diguised by arrogance and forced laughter yet again.
.
But the desperate cry for a hallucination, however unwilling, had already been etched to the back of our minds forever.

.
Nothing unusual,
Nothing's changed,
Just a little older, that's all.
You know when you've found it,
There's something I've learned,
Cause you feel it when they take it away.

.
Neither of us ever mention the questions swimming in our heads. Neither of us dare. We simply act as if nothing has happened at all. Infatuation builds in the absence of what should be there, but only for one. The other still unfazed possibly because of foolish wisdom, or perhaps wise foolishness. Either way, stone carved thoughts do not disappear without time nor intention. All was not loss. In fact, all had not begun.

.
Then,
Something unusual,
Something strange,
Comes from nothing at all.
But I'm not a miracle,
And you're not a saint,
Just another soldier on a road to nowhere.
.

And so we climb out of our burrows and down from our treehouse and throw sharp pillows into each others faces. Then we take a deep breath, then a step forward and break free. We drop our swords, we drop our armour, and we raise our white flags.
.

And we ride into the sunlight.
.

Come sit on my wall,
And read me the story of old.
Tell it like you still believe,
That the end of the century,
Brings a chance for you and me.
.
---------------------------------------
.

NOTE: The lyrics used are from Damien Rice's Amie (pronounced like the name Amy in the song). 'Amie' is actually the French word for 'friend' and in one of his concerts, Damien explained that this song is about a person you can let your guard down with. I would really appreciate it if you could leave your interpretations of this post into the comments box - there are no wrong answers as this isn't really a question. I just want to know what others think. Thanks.
.

Pixie Poetry: Elusive

.
Happiness is like rain in the desert.
Precious. Slow. Seldom.
And when the rain runs dry,
We sing. We dance.
And it pours over our heads in an endless shower.
.

Happiness is like an exotic weed in the forest.

Mystiful. Shroomed. Elusive.

Overlooked by the hombre.

It patiently waits for the lonely hunter to walk past,

And then tugs at his strings.

.
Happiness is like the wind,
In your hair and strokes your cheek.
Light. Contiguous. Milieu.
It blankets the cold and pushes the sails,
And gives us flight.
.

Happiness is like the sunset.

A palette of uncertainty.

Gold. Crimson. Azure.

The glimmer of hope in the sea of dusk,

And the swell of the tide that brings the deluge.

.
Happiness is like a secret garden.
Fetish. Fragile. Furtive.
There resides a little child,
Stealthily clutching its innocence.
And there the thorns are led astray.
.

Happiness is like a dandelion,

Barely grasping its feeble limbs.

Desperate. Bleak. Forlorn.

Until it discovers with great delight,

That true happiness is found when the parachutes fly.

.

The Unwritten Novel: Of Pressies and Breakfast

.

At times she really wonders how it is she's friends with a person like this.

When she asked, "Looking forward to me coming home?",

she expected a much better answer than,

.

"You buying me anything?"

.

"Still the same, huh."

.

"What? Answer!"

.

"You gonna look forward to spending time with me?"

.

"If you buy me something."

.

- - - - - - - - - -

.

"Let's do something great when I get back!"

.

"Hmmm. I know. We can go eat breakfast."

.

"Breakfast?! I don't like breakfast.

It involves waking up before noon."

.

"I only go for breakfast with good friends.

Seriously. Dinner is casual."

.

"So breakfast is supposed to be flattering?"

.

"Breakfast is when I'm vulnerable." he says.

.

The Unwritten Novel: Lemon Tree

.
.
.

I can't help but wonder,

was it me you were looking at when you turned back?

.
.
.

The Unwritten Novel: Nudge Nudge Wink Wink

.

And they sat there,

and as always happens these days,

they had run out of better things to say,

more significant things to talk about.

.

"So how are things with the new girlfriend?"

.

"Things're alright.

She's mad at me for whatever reason."

.

"At least you got what you always wanted, right?"

.

He paused.

Confused and dumbfounded.

.

"Like what?"

.

She knew she had caught him off guard.

Just as she wanted to.

Just as he did to her.

.

"A steady girlfriend."

.

"I guess so, but she's a bit difficult at times."

.

"Awww. You know what you need?

You need a girl you actually enjoy arguing with."

.

"Is that a hint?"

.

The Unwritten Novel: Dear James Morrison

.

I turn on the radio.

.

The music doens't serve as much of a motivator,

but more as a lullaby slowly tucking me in.

.

I close my eyes,

the music fills the air,

and I feel your warmth surround me.

.

The light returns.

Your face is bright

and you smile.

.

You take a bow,

and then my hand

and the slowdance begins to our favourite songs.

.

But like in all dreams,

hours seem like minutes

and reality slaps me in the face once again.

.

I open my eyes

and I see your face is bright

and you smile.

.

You take my hand

and tell me you love me.

.

You make it real for me.

.

Or at least I wish you would.

.

The Unwritten Novel: People Watching

.

The man sitting across the aisle from me suddenly breaks into a smile.

He isn't talking to anyone.

He isn't reading or doing anything.

He's merely laughing at his own sweet imagination.

.

Granted, from the moment I got onto the bus I thought he looked rather dodgy,

but now my perceptions are confirmed.

.

The smile, it is sinister.

.

Public transportation, to me, is the best place to do people watching. Unlike through restaurant windows, these strangers don't briskly walk past - you get to watch them unsuspiciuosly throughout the journey.

.

The sinister smiling man gives me the chills.

Maybe he is a lunatic.

.

Maybe it's me.

Maybe I'm just too paranoid.

.

I giggle - reassuring myself that paranoia is just messing with me.

.

Oh wait, I do it too.

.

Maybe I'm a lunatic as well.

.

The Unwritten Novel: The Riddle

.

And there he was.

Suave, charming.

.

And there he was.

Completely breath taking.

.

He charmed his way first into her pants,

then into her heart.

.

So much for "not falling for snakes like him."

So muc for asking her to take heed.

.

Why did he even say that?

.

It's because of him that's she's fallen for him.

He's everything he is and more.

It was simply inevitable - no warning would have prevented it.

.

It's all his fault.

If it weren't for him, none of this would've happened.

.

It's because she fell for him.

It's because she could not have him.

.

It was predictable - she fell for him to fill the void.

She fell for him because he was everything she wanted,

everything she could ask for.

.

He gave her a try.

He gave her a shot.

He has shoved her aside.

.

Why?

.

Because he's always been in love with her.

It's always been her.

.

Now lost and alone,

with a bag of heartstrings tangled beneath her ribs,

she stands with her head held high

.

in hopes you won't notice that tear at the edge of her eye.

.

.

The Unwritten Novel: The Pull

.
And so she sat there,
on the cold stone steps that lead to the shore,
and watched him kiss his lover goodbye.
.
She didn't move.
She didn't breathe.
.
Of course she felt a tiny tug at her heartstrings,
but she has steadily grown weary.
.
Weary of the way he rubs salt into her wounds.
Weary of his lover's illusive perfection.
Weary of his ignorance.
.
She was now no different than the housewife suffering from Stolkholm Syndrome, who patiently, bravely, and stupidly faces her husbands beatings. She was now no different than the mule that was tied to a cart who got whipped by his master as a command to start walking.
.
He wounds were fresh and bare - but she felt like a corpse where no stabbing could make her any worse than she already is.
.

The Unwritten Novel: Ex Boyfriends

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Ex boyfriends are like those toys you had when you were young,

the ones you know you're never ever going to play with again,

but yet, just in case,

because you never really know,

you keep them all in that old wooden chest,

under the television

for someone to find them after you're gone for good

or when you decide to finally throw them away

because charities wouldn't want them either.

.

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The Unwritten Novel: Heart in Head

"You're the only girl I know who decides a relationhip with logic, and not with emotions," he said.

"In a way I respect it."

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She kept silent. Her only desire was to hear him speak even more - not to listen to his voice, but to hear him drown her in compliments. Only his opinions mattered to her. They always have.

.

"But then again, that's quite scary."

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And once again, he caught her offguard, as he always did.

.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked.

.

"Because it also means there could be others out there like you."

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"Well I'm sorry if you think I'm such a coward that I overconsider everything," she snapped.

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"No no. It's a good thing. It means you can't be charmed by snakes like me."

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She sighed.

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"Means your heart is in your head," he said to break the silence.

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What he didn't know, and probably never will, that she wished she'd never gotten her heart broken. If she hadn't, she would probably be brave enough to fall in love with someone who sparked adventure, someone who was spontaneous and witty and who would sweep her off her feet. She didn't want someone who merely made her feel safe. She didn't like routines. She didn't want the shy sweet boy. She didn't want someone...predictable.

.

But most importantly, what he didn't know was that she had already been charmed by a snake.

She had fallen head over heels

.

for him.

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The Unwritten Novel: Ice Cream Weekends

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"Weekends here, are like... it's like ice cream. Not those mcD's 1 ringgit ice cream. More like Baskin Robbins, you know."

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"In what way?"she asked.

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"It's like you never get it."

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The Unwritten Novel: Toxic

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"You know what I think? I think girls are poison."

"Why? Are you still not over that cute girl, boyo?" she asked.

"No. It's not that at all. Girls are just poison, generally speaking. All of them."

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He hadn't a clue of how she felt about him, nor was she brave enough to admit it. But the thing she wanted to know the most, was if he loved her too.

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"If all girls are poison, then what am I?"

"Well, some poison is good for you."

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And once again, he was completely oblivious to how his smile could melt her heart.

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NOTE:
Soppy and corny? I know.

The Unwritten Novel: Moonshine

"Aunty, if you could turn back time, would you have changed anything?"

"Many things, dear child, many things," she said with a sigh.

"Would you have decided not to have him?"

"My son? No. Never. He is a blessing."

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And we both sat quietly there, watching the sun set through the window.

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All I can do is gaze at her. Suffering really has aged her, but somehow, she always seems to be able to smile.

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"I never told you this, I've actually never told anyone, but Tommy's father..." Her eyes and thoughts drifted away. "He had his true love."

"His true love? Surely she was... You were..."

"No, I'm afraid not. She was my sister."

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I waited for her to tell me the story behind this tragic tale, but her expression told me not to. She seemed too distracted by the pain to continue.

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"Aunty, why are you always so happy?"

"Dear child, I am the sun and you are the moon. The sun always has to be very bright in order for the moon to shine brighter!"

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The Unwritten Novel: Happiness by the Bottle

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"There's no point in doing anything if you're not happy,"she told him.

"If you aren't happy then life itself loses all meaning."

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"But are you happy? Do you know what you want in life?"

he asked, and with his brown eyes, he gazed at her adoringly.

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She stared at him blankly for a moment or two and then she hurried off without a word. She left his heart unprotected, insecure, convicing him that she was insulted by his query.

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But the truth is, she didn't know herself.

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The Unwritten Novel: The Revelation

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I actually could love you.

I could, but I don't.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

But why didn't I realize you're the mastermind to it all?

And you'll never read this.

Even if you do, you'd never expect it was you.

So thank you for the warm smiles and awkward silence.

Thank you for the late nights and the road trips.

Thank you for making my day for weeks.

And thank you for the piggy back ride.

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