soulpalace

[soulpalace]

Aches and Aces

We say the heart knows what it wants, but how do we know what the heart wants, more importantly, does it align with what we want? Or wish to have?

Our heart would claim to love person A, but how do we admit that it's the love it has or we expect it to have?

You see, there's a fine line between love and attachment, both cannot hold their place in the same heart, it's an either/or situation.

But more often than not, we end up confusing one for another. Then aches become aces and aces turn into aches.

Ache, pain, hurt - my heart isn't able to decide the hierarchy of what it feels in this moment, maybe a combination of all three multiplied by a hundred.

Promises are just another word for convenience now. It's just an art to befriend the pain for the rest of our lives.

Life has always been like this, what would change? But I know one thing that would end all this pain, make it all go away.

Aah, the silence of the mind. That's the dream.

[soulpalace]

A Conspiracy Theory

It's weird how you know your heart doesn't physically break, yet you can hear the shatter, you can visualize the cracks, and feel the pain all the way through your veins.

You ask your heart, aren't you used to this by now? Doesn't this scare you?

My heart feels hollow. Empty.

Like a jar, you can pour it upside down and nothing will come falling off.

It's like a container that is used to empty itself after every chance you give a boy to walk your path with.

Aah, the path.

The late twenties is a weird age, you are the master of heartbreaks by now, and you laugh to yourself when you end things with the boy you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

The mind conspires, and the heart obeys. No questions asked.

And then when the mind fucks up, the heart smiles. I told you so, darling, it says.

Told you so.

Told you so.

Grateful to the strong, brave hearts out there, sailing in the same boat as this. This boat may feel like it's sinking, but your hollow heart helps you stay afloat.

Don't worry, my friend... your heart is only healing, give it time.

[soulpalace]

Little Doors/Bigger Beginnings

City power cut. A day when everyone lifted their eyes from the light-emitting from their screens to the darkness filled in the world outside.

She walked over to the candle she'd lit earlier and brought her face closer where the cigarette between her lips could touch it. She watched the ember emitting golden snow-like flakes in the dark as she took a long-awaited drag.

What does one do on a night of a power cut? She thought to herself. No social media, no Netflix, does this mean we got to step outside and initiate small talk with strangers?

Strangers, that could be interesting.

She had a strange stranger theory. Our hearts have a little door and a big door. The bigger door is for those who you can trust, someone you know can be safe to not invade, conquer and rule. Hence the limited access. The little door is much easier. Anyone can enter as it barely has any room for destruction. There's no direct entry to the big door, the rusted lock anyway makes it twice as hard for any man to enter.

So just like usual, she decided to step out, to let someone step in through the little door.

She walked across the street and pushed open a tiny blue door and followed the candled trail into the bar.

One Sangria please, she asked the bartender.

Swiveling her drink, she suddenly heard someone whisper in her ear "You're so tall!"

She instantly turned around and saw a man smiling at her, arms open waiting for a hug.

"Who are you?", she asked?

"I am the guy you matched with, remember?"

Wait. What? She have never seen this guy in her life but took a good look at him from head to toe. Good hair, glasses, fit and wait a minute, her eye zoomed in on the packet of smokes he was holding, fine, here's a key - she mouthed to herself.

"What?!?" he looked at her in confusion.

"So, what's your name?" she asked as the shadow of her hand motioned at the seat next to her.

"Balance, what's yours?"

"Fire"

"Interesting"

While talking, she couldn't believe how easy it was to talk while seated at the little door. This door seems harmless, safe.

She lit another cigarette and offered a drag to him.

"What does this cigarette do to you?" he asked her.

"Makes the weight of the locks lighter"

"What's the reason to hold on to locks?"

"Regulated access"

Her sentence was followed by a moment of silence. Just then, the lights came back on and he blinked to adjust his vision.

"Hey, wait a minute, you're not the one I was supposed to meet"

"Oh, really?", she played cool, knowing well she had an uninvited guest over to her house.

"But I think I like you better, would you like to dance?"

"Can holding my Sangria in one hand and cigarette in another while I put a decent effort to awkwardly move from one side to the other, considered as dance?"

"Sure"

He offered his hand to her and she took it. A slam on the door echoed in her ears. Someone was trying to break into the big door. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close, another thud at the door, this time a bit louder than earlier. Thud thud thud.

"Can I kiss you?"

Ignoring the sounds, she looked into his eyes, closed her own, and leaned in.

Sometimes, even little doors could lead to bigger beginnings. After all, only through the little door can you enter the bigger door of the ❤️

[soulpalace]

First Love and Last Love

My heart goes in circles every time I think to myself, what's more difficult, falling in love for the first time or falling in love for the last time?

There are differences, sure, but there is one massive similarity. The fear of unknown. How do we know if our first love was the stranger you exchanged a glance with in school, or the boy you shared a dance with at prom or the man who offered you sunflowers and asked you out?

Who defines love, does the intensity count to be nominated as the first? These questions remain unanswered in my head.

But you know what keeps me awake at night? The thought of Last Love

Where do I begin, or rather, where do I even end?

Do you ever ask yourself, how do I know this is the last time I fall in love with this person? You see people around date for years and end relationships, marry for a lifetime only to divorce at middle age or live with the grief of losing a partner and starting fresh.

They leave me confused, they leave me in fear - but they never leave me.

You may think, why am I so obsessed with last love. It's the first love the world talks about, the struggle to find the partner to begin your journey with. So you see, the beginning is the easy part, we're naive and heartbreaks heal over soaked blankets, burning photos and Taylor Swift songs. But the last love, that my friend is where the real struggle kicks in.

You tell yourself this is it, they are it.

Then one day, they are not. And you start the whole process all over again, all. over. again.

It's exhausting, isn't it? I could write paragraphs on it but since we're all sailing on the same boat, I guess you know exactly what I am talking about.

"The One"

One, rightly worded. Wrongly used.

We as a society put so much pressure on THE ONE who will change our lives. Make us believe in love, in ourself and rainbows, butterflies - all the happy things, the happily ever after (lol)

We grow up watching movies of people uniting, promising to be together till death do them apart. And death really does, the death of love does do them apart. Sometimes, the love dies in one of their hearts or maybe both. Uncertainty is the only thing certain.

And just like love, I am struggling to write the last paragraph of this post, because the thinking never stops.

Here's an epiphany.

Maybe your first love is your last love. Or maybe your last love is your first love. Confused? Welcome to the group heh.

What if we stopped loving unconditionally the way we did, right after our first heart break, and all this while we simply respond with conditional love because that seems safe? Our first love was our last love.

Or what if we never truly loved anyone till our last love stepped in only to make us realise what love really feels like? Our last love is our first love.

Think about it.

[soulpalace]

A Poem for the Lost Souls❤️

Inspired by Adam Groff, a boy who deserves all the hearts in the world. A poem he wrote for Eric on the show was probably the best part of the entire series. Here's a little attempt from my side, to create a little one of my own, here's to Adam, and his newly found love for himself.

Don't you wish you had love,

And then when you find that love,

You wish you never had.

Humans are wired a little differently from animals,

We say we love you, but it's not real.

I love you, but.

I love you, but I also don't.

Let me ask you, do you love yourself?

Is it easy to love yourself?

Then why is it so difficult to love me?

Do you find your way home to yourself every night,

Or are you lost in a stranger's arms looking for a home?

I am no stranger, my love.

I see your soul, and I accept you, with all my heart.

But, let me ask you one more, do you accept yourself?

The version who loves, and the other who doesn't.

Which version of you are you a stranger to?

I can't show you the way home,

I am happy in my own.

When you come knocking to mine,

I know not to let you in,

Not in my home, not in my heart.

Find yourself, before you find me.

[soulpalace]

12 AM Thoughts

Someone once said, nobody knows what love really is, nobody knows they even had a heart to love, until it breaks, and then you know.

Well, who hasn't felt that?

"You can't have this candy"

"You've failed in this test"

"Sorry, I don't feel the same way about you"

"You're fired"

"I like someone else"

"One day, I think I stopped loving you"

"You're not the one I can spend my life with"

"I feel you love me more than I love you"

"We're done"

They let you down, but you also rose. I think that's why it's called that, because it's a beautiful growing process🌹

You grew into someone who'd now chuckle watching a young teen cry over a boy who didn't text back. Oh honey, it's only the beginning.

And someday, the numbness within becomes numbness without.

You're surrounded by numbed hearts who walk around with caution tape around their heart.

How can one even begin to describe a heartbreak?

If our hearts don't technically break, then why does it feel like it's shattered into a million pieces?

Why does it seem like someone dribbled it across the hall and hooped it into a basket of eternal sadness?

You ask, why talk about this? I say, it's not been talked about enough.

Isn't it weird to think that even though the process of getting over a heartbreak kills you, yet you arrive like you've been reborn into a new life, a new you? 🦋

You know what's weirder? Knowing it kills you, yet you find yourself back on the cliff, ready to jump, unknown/known to the fact what the end would be like.

Falling in love. Aah, the pain that sets you free? or the pain that pulls you in? But we're numb to the process by now. Like the rollercoaster you've sat in far too many times. The climb up on the chain defines the depth of the dip, but there's no fear anymore. You've felt it and memorized the pain. It's too familiar to forget.

Let's stir things up a little. How about a heart-break?

What's that? Well, it's giving your little kind heart a break. A break to learn to breathe once again. To heal, to repair itself. When you choose a heart-break over a heartbreak, things begin to change. The numbness goes away bit by bit. If sitting on the same rollercoaster pains you, then change the ride. Remember, we choose what ride we sit on.

Standing on a cliff, you gotta jump. But if you jump behind to walk away, that saves you. So don't say life never gives you a choice. You always have a choice.

A choice between a heart-break and a heartbreak, what would you choose?

[soulpalace]

Phases nahi, Full Moon hai

The feeling I wish to convey could not have possibly been communicated in any other language but Hindi, it's something different, something raw, right from my heart to yours. Hope it serves you well.

Zindagi ek aise mukaam pe aakar ruki hai, jaha saamne ek sawal hai, kya aise he jeena hai ki kuch badalna hai? Jis cheez ka rona hai, jab vo milta hai, tab hasaata hai? Agar nahi, toh uska rona kyun?

Mere saamne do modd hai, ek raasta le jaata hai utsaah ki taraf, jaha har stop pe kuch naya hai, tumhe apni aur bulata hai, tumhara phulo se swagat karta hai aur tumhe batata hai ki bass tera he toh intezaar tha, aur tum khush ho jaati ho. But Phase hai, gulaab har din thodi na acha lagta hai, toh bore ho jaati ho.

Sun lo, ek aur raasta hai, thoda mushkil hai kyunki ispe kisine zada kaam nahi karwaya, kacha sa hai, dhool sa lag gaya hai, kyun shayad bachpan mei he chale honge iss par. Magar ye raasta dikhta bhale gulabi nahi, lekin yaha har raat Full Moon ki raat hai. Yaha Phases nahi hotei, bhala kaise?

Batati hoon. Thodi si dur, mitti se bhare pair leke chalna hoga, haan dard zaroor hoga, but seh lena. Khushi khud he dhundni hogi, dhoond lena. Koi bhi swagat yaan dhayaan dene wala nahi hoga, khud ko he gale lagakar mann mei muskuraan lena. Phir jab kuch meel aur chalogi, toh ek ayeena tumhara intezaar kar raha hoga, zara sa daag wala, koi baat nahi. Uss ayeene mei dekh lena, tumhe apna Full Moon dikh jayega.

Ruk jao, baat suno, saath chalte raho. Ye ayeena manzil nahi hai, ye saathi hai tumhara, jo saathi tum Phases mei dhund rahi ho, vo toh darasal kahin aur he tha. Toh abb batao, kis modd pe chalna pasand karogi? Soch kar batao.

Mai zara sa madad kardu? Apna Full Moon saath leke chalo, tumhara he hai, jaha marzi le jao. Phir safarnama bhool jaogi, safar se pyaar karogi.

[soulpalace]

Flowers in her Hair

Was it daisies? Or sunflowers? The scent seemed quite unfamiliar to me so I decided to go closer to find out.

She looked right at me as she heard the pitter patter of my paws getting louder. It took less than a second for her gloom to disappear and replaced with a gleam in her eyes. She called out to me with open arms and I broke into a run in her direction.

She offered her hand close to my nose to introduce herself but I chose to go for her hair instead, I loved the smell of flowers I had never experienced before.

She smiled at this response and patted my head.

"You remind me of someone I love, can I call you Jordon, do you like that name?", she said to me.

In agreement, I circled around her to find a perfect spot and sat by her. Maybe I have met her before, her energy felt different, yet so familiar.

"So, Jordon, tell me, do you like it up here? How did you get here?"

How do I reply to question with an answer I don't know myself? One day I was swimming in a lake back home, another day I landed here where there is no beginning, no end. Just infinite space.

"I understand you are confused, I am too. But when I saw you, I knew I was sent here for a reason, to listen, to you and many others like you. Tell me what are you thinking?"

"What flowers are those?" I finally asked her.

"Oh, these?" She pointed at her hair quite sheepishly. "These are some flowers I found lying around on my way here, they seemed like they were done with their time and fell down slash landed up here, whatever you can call it. Kind of like you and me"

She bowed her head and motioned me to pick one. I tap on the yellow one with my paw and it fell right on her lap. She picked it up and placed it gently on my collar.

"Here, this is a reminder that I am always here for you, to be all ears to whatever you wish to say..."

I liked the sound of that so we sat together and decided to chat till the flowers wilt, unknown to the fact that just like our love, they were eternal too.

[soulpalace]

Guitars, Oceans & Sunsets

Have you ever been to a beach with not a soul around? Well, neither had she. 

Either the entire world decided to sleep at the same time and forgot to send her the memo, or it was just the universe telling her how being alone cannot always be lonely. 

She walked alone to the shore, barefoot and let the water wash away all the pain from most days. Waving back at the ocean, she decided to step back into reality when something close caught her eye. 

An unclaimed guitar. 

She walked over and took a closer look. Maybe someone forgot to take it back with them, she thought to herself. But then again, what kind of musician leaves a guitar behind? Isn’t it supposed to be the one thing they care about the most? 

She sat close by and pulled the guitar to her lap. Even though her strumming was quite out of tune, it did feel like meditation. And also, no one’s watching, she reminded herself, it’s not a damn concert, she can play whatever the hell she’d want. 

And how wrong was she.

A few minutes later, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder “Excuse me?” 

A shadow of a man was casting on her as she instantly gathered her thoughts and looking up at him, “Who are you?” she asked him.

“The owner of that guitar you’re playing, and very well I must say...” with a hint of smirk in his voice. 

She placed the guitar right where she found it and got up to leave in embarrassment. 

“Hey, are you leaving?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, but if you have some time to spare, I could play you something”

“Hmm, depends, what’s the song about?”

“Well, it’s about my cat Little Molly, I wrote it for her birthday”

Songs for animals. Don’t know about the guitar, but this line for sure strummed her heart strings right in tune.

“Okay, but just one song”

He smiled wide at her response, sat by the shore and patted on the empty space on the sand next to him as a cue for her sit. As he tuned his guitar, she watched him murmur the lyrics to himself as he ran over the song in his head.

With the sun setting right into the infinite ocean, two strangers shared a moment of chance. She heard him play and couldn’t stop laughing at how goofy and stupid the song was. 

She couldn’t help but think to herself whether it was the guitar that made them bump into each other, or the sunset at the beach she originally came for. Or maybe, just maybe, it was all three (and a bit of the universe of course) in coherence conspiring a connection between two people who’d like the idea of being alone, together. 

[soulpalace]

The Masked Man

29th February 2019. 

It’s been four years to him leaving her side, yet this was the first anniversary she could celebrate with/without him. 

Celebrate. How does one celebrate losing the love of their life? Their soulmate? Out of answers to this question, she picked up her phone and googled it as she sat by his grave. 

1. Visit their resting place. Check.

2. Release Butterflies. Um, next.

3. Write a letter to them...

What could she possibly say to a person who chose to end their life simply because he didn’t love himself? How could she even possibly ask him if he ever loved her? 

She dropped the sunflowers close to his heart hoping they would make him smile. He always said flowers give him happiness because they are lucky to live a short life, death comes easy to those who bloom, he believed. 

Engrossed in a mental argument on how that belief was wrong on so many levels, she was disturbed by a stranger nearby. 

“Ahem, hey, am I bothering you?”

“Depends, what do you want?”

“Ah, okay. Actually I couldn’t find flowers today for someone I come visit here, I was wondering if I could borrow one of yours, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, I hope he rests in peace.”

“She actually. It’s my dog, Lily. She loved flowers, couldn’t get enough of them.”

“Oh. I am sorry to hear that, here you go.”

She picked on one of stems and wiggled it out of the bunch. As she got on to her feet to hand it over, she couldn’t help but notice this man standing in front of her. Her eyes first went to his hair, messy and curled up, his eyes glistening in the sun, and the rest remained a mystery thanks to the mask he had on. 

“Hey, do you mind if I come meet Lily? I’d like to gift her this flower.” she said.

“Of course, I’d warn you though, she would always get a little jealous when I would get pretty girls to come meet her.”

What? Is he flirting? In a god damn cemetery? Is that a thing now? Her face had a puzzled look and she looked down, shyly. Four years. It’s been four whole years since she had seen anybody. Maybe it’s okay to move on. After he died, she made a list of things she wanted in a man that she would be with next, to make sure the same mistake is never repeated. With every guy she met after him, she rejected because none of them came through to her desires and expectations. 

This man. Well, apart from being masked behind an N-95, he seems quite her type. She continued walking without an idea of where this road was leading, if this was a bad decision, she thought to herself, then at least I would know where I’ll be dug. 

They stopped at a tiny little grave with a stone that read, Lily Mathers - Heart of her family, Soul of her father. 

Okay, that’s sweet. She watched him quietly as he knelt down and pretended to pet the stone, her eyes were fixated on the love he expressed for Lily. He turned his head and looked at her with his eyes welled up. He broke the silence and said, “You know, Lily chose to leave us. She said so. She didn’t want us to see her in pain.”

This struck a chord in her heart tighter than it should have. Who knew the feeling of living with that truth more than she did. Guess she wasn’t alone. 

“I never wanted her to”, he continued. “But she wanted us to serve the space we made for her for another animal who needed this love and support more than she did. I didn’t want to let go, but sometimes, you can’t control who enters and leaves your life now, can you?”

“I am sure you did the best you could. She’d be glad watching you from up there in rainbow land as you move on. Do you think that is something you should do to make her happy?”

Difficulty in moving on? Yeah, preaching to the choir. She moved an inch closer, sat next to him and placed his palm in hers. On one hand, her mind kept narrating the long list like a song tape stuck on repeat and on the other hand, her heart felt it’s no coincidence she met this masked man right here, today. With a mask on, she may not be able to tally him with her list, but she could match one thing that balances it all out, they both lost on someone they loved, but losing them, helped them find each other. 

She turned a little and looked past her shoulder, she could see the sunflowers swinging with the wind right where she had placed them. She smiled and whispered to his grave under her breath, four years later, it’s finally time to take the leap.

[soulpalace]

Drunk Texts.

Ping. Ping.

Hey! You there??

She clicked her phone screen shut, silencing the notifications from a drunk text. 

Closing her eyes, she brought her focus back to her meditation. While she easily managed to silence the phone notifications, how could she close the unused tabs in her mind. Taking a deep breath in, she let a sigh out as her phone pinged one more time. She peeked from one eye and it was still a damn promotional message.

The texts coming in weren’t a problem, the text that never came, was. 

She got up from her mat, walked to her window and lit a cigarette. She let out a puff and got working on a new plan. 

Pulling her phone out, she swiped on, deleting chats from the past and unread messages asking for a person she used to be. 

She clicked on New Chat and typed out a name she knew by heart. Quite literally. 

She wanted to type three words to him, but she settled for three characters instead.

Hi.

Hey?

A response. She took a long drag and pondered on what to say next. 

Alexa, play Apocalypse. 

What would he be doing, she wondered. What am I doing, she asked. This time, her soul replied, being impatient.

She crushed the leftover bud and lit another cigarette. How easy would it be to meet at a bar, talk about our hopes and fears, surrounded by the sound of laughter, the jukebox jamming in the background, both waiting for a song to be their new favourite, only to be a memory to first time their eyes met. 

She could feel herself drowning in the emotions she was drunk on. There were two ways from here. Stay underwater losing balance or walk back to the shore, and enjoy a bloody good view. 

Smiling to herself, she walked back to little Isabella resting on the couch, picked up her leash and stepped out to their treasured spot. 

Her feet slid into the sand as they walked barefoot into a beach, just as the sun was about to rise. They sat close to the sea, just enough for the water to tickle her ankle, the waves seemed unpredictable, but couldn’t reach her. 

She pushed around her bag, looking for a cigarette but gave up only to be distracted by the bloody good view before her. After all, that’s what she chose for herself. 

[soulpalace]

The Seesaw

A tale as old as maybe, 2007 or 1999, a year of your choice, but characters of my choice.

---

Two young girls run over to a seesaw from opposite directions, the first one’s a little shy, a lot more awkward than any situation calls for and unsure of whether she truly wants to take that spot with just another stranger, how does one trust?

And the second one, well, she’s adventurous, bubbling with excitement and sprinting with no control of her body, all eyes on that chair.

They jump to take the positions, adjust in their seats and involuntarily look up at each other, cocking their heads in surprise...

It wasn’t rocket science to know the adventurous girl would be the one to initiate the conversation.

“Hi, who are you?”

“I choose not to answer the question”

“Well, how do we decide who gets to run the ride?”

“Duh, it’s me. I always call the shots”

“Here’s an idea, how about we both sync our steps to form a movement?”

“Here’s another, how about you leave and find someone else to sit with?”

“Okay, but what if I want to sit with you?”

“That seems odd, I am not sure what to say to that, nobody really says so”

“I do, and I choose you.”

I choose you.

Music to her ears. I choose you. She had never heard that.

“Okay, so how do we decide whose turn is it to be up?”

“We don’t, we go with the flow, sometimes, you will be higher than I would be, sometimes, I’ll be higher. But the goal here is to not be above or below, it is to maintain the balance and uplift each other when either of us feels down. How about that?”

She smiled, awaiting a response. 

“I think I’d like that, do you promise you won’t ever let me fall?”

“I can’t promise that you won’t fall, because that will be the result of your actions, but I do promise to I’ll be there to pick you up each time.”

Sitting on opposite ends, they made a promise, a promise to never let go of each other. The sound of their laughter filled the air as they began a new journey together, a journey lasting a lifetime, maybe more.

[soulpalace]

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, is it you who chooses to show us small or tall?

An object of reflection, we call you. But do we really see what you show, or what we wish to see?

A mirror never lies we say, then how could looks be deceiving, we hear?

I say, selective perception. 

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, yet we look into the mirror and see the cracks in that beautiful soul-body that stands before the glass, we circle in red the parts we would like changed, as if mentally taking notes only to remember when the next identity crisis strikes. 

Oh, Beauty, how many nights are you going to spend sleepless only to realize the art that exists within you. Your soul is painted through the ashes you rose from when your mind was lit on fire. 

My dear Beauty, there will be times when you stand tall to a mighty mirror, acclaiming your position as the fairest of them all. But when you stand within a crowd of acquaintances, you see your deep-rooted reflections staring back at you, bringing themselves to your notice, one characteristic at a time. 

Who do you believe? What you see or what they show?

You ask me, I say, ask yourself. 

How about asking your body, what it shows rather what you would like to see?

Just like the mirror, your body never lies. Beauty, you cover it up with the best of clothes, the ones that shape your curves that flaunt the message you wish to convey, you powder your cheeks in glitter and let your hair down, only to raise your guard up. This is who I am, you say to the world rather slyly. 

And then you come back home, strip naked, and an imperfect body stares back at you, an honest blunt truth only for you to see. You suck your stomach in, but it comes back. You try it again, this time holding your breath, but it comes back. 

So, you see, Beauty, the body responds with nothing but the truth. The answers may scare you, but at least you will learn its not something you can control. Oh no, don’t be disheartened, hear me out. You can’t control what it shows, but you can control what you see. 

And, Beauty, what I see is a vulnerable mind, body and soul awaiting love and acceptance. So go on, what is keeping you here? Time for you to start the conversation, and this time, with kindness and compassion. 

[soulpalace]

A girl called Yellow

Yellow; the color of sunshine, hope, and happiness, has conflicting associations. On one hand yellow stands for freshness, happiness, positivity, clarity, energy, optimism, enlightenment, remembrance, intellect, honor, loyalty, and joy, but on the other, it represents cowardice and deceit. 

It’s a Sunday afternoon and all Yellow can think about is the sky calling out to her for a good time. With her signature cuppa of soy milk cinnamon latte she sits by her window, closing her eyes to feel the smell of freshly brewed coffee fill the air. Scar, her rescue cat joins her by her feet and purrs slightly. 

Yellow, staring out, thinks of the last time she spent time just being by herself at this window. It’s been almost five years since she decided to bait her loneliness and in return, found lonely hearts to share the night with. 

At what point does one know when to stop spinning the reel? She thought to herself. Scar looks up and let’s a quiet meow, stating the obvious. Aah, the ingenious trait of a feline Buddha to always look inwards, never outwards. 

Yellow shakes her head from the infinite thoughts and wipes her latte moustache. She walks over to her shelf and picks up a tiny box locked tight. 

Around her neck there rests a necklace, near her heart it holds a key.

So many locks, not enough keys, she recites a quote to herself by her favourite author Dessen, brings the box close to her and unlocks it. 

Yellow sits down and empties its items on her unicorn carpet. It’s bunch of folded chits, sepia-ing themselves over the years. She picks one and carefully opens it, 

Work with underprivileged children 

She picks the next one, 

Travel the world by yourself

Yellow smiles to herself and recalls the days she spent writing all these to-dos down, all those years ago, imagining what the future held for her. 

Scar paces forward towards Yellow and kneads her paws on the an isolated chit. Yellow furrows her forehead in confusion and questions Scar’s choice with a raised eyebrow, she opens the chit only for it to read,

What’s coming is better than what’s gone, never stop believing...

The lack of surety seldom remains whether we rescue our animals or whether the animals rescue us. 

With immense gusto, one by one, Yellow pinned each chit to her wall board to constantly remind herself that the world is her canvas, paint it the emotion you wish to feel. 

She bends down to grab her paintbrush and walks over, syncing her steps to the high crescendo playing in her head and dips the brush in the only color she truly feels from her heart.

Yellow. 

[soulpalace]

Dream(y) Boy

It’s New Year’s Eve, night to say goodbye to a crappy 20-whatever and enter the year with hopes and dreams. Except the page flip on that calendar, what really changes?

Maybe she, the girl in this story could answer that for you. For no particular purpose, let’s call her Rebel. 

Rebel walks into a party full of strangers to end the year with, what year was it again? Gah, who cares as long as there’s some free champagne to claim. 

A drink of celebration, she reminded herself as she took the first sip. What are you celebrating, Rebel? Career fails? Boys who didn’t love you back? Holiday weight? Great, your sorrow Mimosa is ready, ma’am, care to have a glass?

She looked around for a person to clink with, honestly at this point a magical appearance of a dog couldn’t be more perfect for her, but then again, this year had to end for something good to begin. In a desperate search for a friend, Rebel’s eyes went to a boy sitting alone in the corner of the room, mouthing words to himself. 

Rebel walked over and welcomed herself to an adventure he never asked for.

“Hi, I am Rebel, what’s your name?” she asked him.

He looked up from his canned soda, adjusted his thoughts and with a confused look, replied, “Dream”

“Huh?”

“My name, it’s Dream”

“Oh”

“What’s yours?”

“Rebel, I just told you”

“Aah, okay”

Dreamy boy, all right.

Rebel connected to him as choosing a stranger to accompany you on a roller coaster. Someone who can scream with you on the scary parts, laugh with you on nervous parts and most importantly, hold you tight as you go up the rail, unknown of what’s going to come next. Dream made her feel this way and she wondered if he felt the same.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”, she asked him.

“Are you asking me out?”

“No, I am asking you in, I have a feeling my kids at home would be happy to meet you.”

“Kids? How many do you have?”

“A few...” 

“Well, can we go now? Don’t want them to be by themselves on New Year’s Eve”

“I don’t see why not, let’s go”

Rebel held Dream’s hand in one and grabbed the leftover Champagne bottle with the other, leaving the party and the year of hopelessness behind. 

She pulled out the keys of her apartment and looked at Dream from the corner of her eye before pushing it through. She caught him smiling to himself, probably in response to a story playing his head from before. 

“Ready?”

“Uh, for what?”

“For this...”

Rebel welcomed Dream into a home full of a four-legged family. There was one three-legged rescued puppy but we can get to him later. All the dogs jumped on Rebel at once, pinning her to the ground and slobbering her face with kisses. Since Jess couldn’t reach her because of his ‘wheel chair issues’ he couldn’t help but howl in delight!

Dream panicked and asked,”Do you need me to help you? Are you okay?”

“No way! This is the best part”

He smiled at her in surprise, and Rebel instantly caught it, damn, those dimples deserve a trophy for their own, she thought to herself. 

Rebel patted the floor next to her and motioned Dream to sit down, with each dog taking their turn to smell him thoroughly, as if to check if he is fit for their mama to fall for. 

A tad bit late, aren’t you, boys?

The clock struck 12 and the celebrations began outside with people yelling ‘Happy New Year’ and crackers bursting, Rebel and Dream looked at each other and wondered if they both secretly wished for dogs at a New Years Party and got really lucky. 

In the chaos outside, and calmness inside, Dream stole a kiss from Rebel and said, “Can I ask you something?”

“If I have too much fur on me? Because I already know that and it’s not something I am proud of, wait that is a lie...”

“No, silly. Well, um, actually, um, would you like to stay in with me?”

Rebel chuckled and kissed Dream in agreement. 

Starting a year with hopes and dreams? Check. 

[soulpalace]

Looking for Love.

Note: While I would seem like another hopeless romantic with all the tales I write, I am also a big believer of the universe saving you. This tale isn’t just girl-boy fiction, it’s pure girl-universe-boy.

Saturday night. No boyfriend. Expired Netflix. Books read and re-read.

Damn it.

Only thing left to do for her, stepping outside the comfort zone.

She picked out her ill-fated red dress for the ‘self-date’, challenging the conspiracy of the universe to have her back tonight. If only those unpleasing bleeding black boots had mercy on her, she would have expected the night to be satisfactory, if not good.

Seemed like a perfect plan, go out, be disappointed and then never leave ever again.

She stepped out of the house and examined the view, pan left to right. Ugh, humans, she muttered under her breath and walked towards the bar.

What if I never find love?, she asked the universe, What if he never finds me, or worse, he stops looking? How soon would it be for us to realise that it’s the one? What if I never feel it, with anyone?

STOP, the signal blinked repeatedly, loud and clear.

As she waited for it to turn green, she sighted a man looking for love.

Clad in plaid and jeans, worn out adidas and messy hair, he frantically ran around asking everyone one question.

“Excuse me? Hello! Have you seen a balloon vendor around here that sells those red, huge, heart-shaped ones? It’s kind of urgent!”

Without much of a thought, she switched directions and walked towards him. GO, read the green lit signal right then.

“Hey you, take a right from here and keep going straight, that’s where you will find him”, she tapped his shoulder and curtly informed him.

He turned to see her and smiled, “It’s for my three year old daughter, you see. She loves them, says she won’t sleep without one so I ain’t giving up, I can’t stop looking!”

“That’s all right, I had a thing for them too, long, long ago. I know a couple of places, I’ll walk you through, come…”

-

They walked together in sync with the stories they shared. It involved laughter, smiles and a feeling of empathy. She laughed at his keeping-my-daughter-happy conquests and he smiled at her constant cries for five-floored libraries, puppy cafes and Coldplay performing private gigs on demand.

Just when it felt like the stories would never end, they were full-stopped by a frail, hunched old man holding a string of two red, huge, heart-shaped balloons.

He couldn’t stop smiling, for he wondered while he was busy looking for another heart, he might have just lost his own in the process.

“Two for $3, only last two left!”, whispered the old man, draining the last of the energy left inside him.

Maybe the universe is trying to tell him something.

She looked at him in surprise when he offered one to her, she grinned and accepted. When someone offers you their heart, you take it.

[soulpalace]

Unnamed.

“Are you with someone?”, he asked.

She looked up and took a nice thirteen seconds to answer, thank god she wore her blue dress tonight, the lucky dress, apparently. Her eyes remained fixated on his honey brown eyes, they seemed so genuine, beautiful.

“Not really”, she replied sternly.

He smiled and sat down next to her, “So, what’s your story?”

She took a sip of her Mimosa and closed her eyes to let it sink in. Not again, she thought to herself.

“What makes you think I’m interested?”, she answered without even looking at him, she knows those kinds of eyes all too well, she couldn’t possibly make the same mistake of falling for them again. But those eyes. The magic it gave away.

“Well, for starters, I could see you scroll through Tinder and rejecting them all, I thought I can make this a lot easier for you, so here I am” he replied with a wink.

His action made her smile a little, “Okay, that didn’t sound creepy at all, but lucky for you, I love to try new things, your place or mine?”

He raised his eyebrows, she’s fast, he thought, “Your place”, he said in agreement. He got up, straightened his jeans and waited for her to stand.

They walked out together till they reached her house, hands touching, but not holding.

She was so sure he wouldn’t even be there the next morning, so why pretend to like him? All of them are the same, it’s only the one thing they want. So she went ahead with the drill.

The next morning he opened his eyes, turned to the bedside table to pick up his phone and squinted at his phone screen, 11:11. Make a wish, his mother always use to say... So he turned to the other side and smiled, she looked so peaceful when she sleeps, so beautiful. Maybe these are the kind of things he liked to wake up to. Maybe.

She opened his eyes to see him staring at her with his honey brown eyes.

“So, what’s your name?” she finally said.