The Universe & I

I scream at the sky. I know my voice merely tickles the universe. It has no strength to create ripples, like the ones you’d see in a little garden pond.

Unlike me and my puny little scream, the stars show off their existence through their burning souls. They merge with the beauty of the darkness, their home. They create the coldest warmth that I long for. Or is it the warmest cold?

The Sun is a volcanic dragon, spitting her embers and secrets away. Secrets that cannot reach me. Secrets that can’t be kept. Sun can’t hold her tears in any longer and my voice cannot reach her and reassure her. Sun, I want you to stay.

I sense laughter from a distant galaxy. Beautiful radiation, please stain me. If a supernova gets too close, I will let it tattoo my skin with impossible colours, that are too real to be on Earth.   

I want the stars and universe to scar me with their secrets and their lies. I wonder if they can see me: my wide, curious eyes gazing from a little window at night.

Moon looks like a pearl – raw and iridescent. I don’t think I’ll catch a supernova tonight, so Mr Moon I bid you goodnight.

Kale’s Cookie Jar

It was around noon when Kale realised there was something missing from his cookie jar. His cookie jar was in fact a real life replica of Pooh Bear’s honey pot; Grandmama had gifted it to him after she had gone to Disneyland and had forgotten to take him along. So there it was, Kale’s Pooh Bear honey pot, now cookie jar, in his arms, who had fallen victim to a heinous crime.

In his mind, Kale couldn’t comprehend who in their right mind would do such a thing. Kale replayed the possible scenario in his head: hushed footsteps; a head carefully tilting, checking the surroundings; a grubby hand reaches for the honey pot-cookie jar’s head; the other takes the goods from within; the head is replaced. Yes, a meticulously thought out plan was needed for such a task, Kale thought. But in the next moments Kale smiled to himself and announced, “What a grand plan, indeed!”

The minutes and hours seemed to disintegrate as he stood there, stock-still.

A thunderous thud sounded above his head. Strike back operation had commenced. And Kale seemed to finish an invisible conversation out loud, “Of course, the last one left is a bad cookie.”

Kale held onto his cookie jar, like a hand grenade, just as he did before. Five minutes had passed since he had found out about the great crime. Those five minutes had given him all he had wanted to know. 


Hi everyone!

I hope you can appreciate that this piece of prose isn’t in its final form yet – it is currently a first draft for my prose submission for later on. So there may be parts where you don’t fully understand what’s going on (especially towards the end). 

Just a quick update as well: I finally handed in my long Odyssey essay yesterday! I feel very relieved that now I don’t need to look at it anymore. I think I deserve a day of rest before proceeding with more work/reading. Also, it was my birthday on the 25th, so I’m 19 now. It feels strange to know that next year I’ll hit the big 20 and will have no choice but to be an adult.

Anyways – all the same, hope you enjoyed reading this post!

See you soon! x

Tokyo Ghoul – Unravel (piano by Animenz)

Hi everyone!

If you read my anime/manga post a while ago, then you’d know that I love Tokyo Ghoul. It’s so awesome! What makes things even better is that finally, the perfect piano version of the opening song for season one has been put up.

The youtube channel is called Animenz Piano Sheets, and it is my favourite channel for piano transcriptions (hope that’s the right word) of anime songs. I’ll share other youtube videos that I like with you on my blog as well, because it’s just nice to be able to share them with you. 

I really enjoy listening to this so I hope you do too!

See you soon! x

Evening Rose

Your tears spell out the shape of rose petals, in the dusk. They dissolve into the crowd of other droplets inhabiting your pillow. Each one settles down quickly, as if they’ve found a home within the cotton patchwork. The drying stains of the droplets create intricate patterns in a muted language. Tears don’t need to speak much.

Your face is taut, silent, strong. But it is within the confinement of this room, you keep such composure. Because you know, outside the window, behind the door, hidden behind the walls, is the place where danger is imminent. So you hold onto yourself, the only thing you can hold and protect, as you are the protagonist of your story. You picture your perfect ending…

One day, you hope to be swallowed by the day’s beautiful death – the rays of tropical twilight touching, embracing, your soul with the taste of the sun. After this you will be unsure what follows, but if and when that day comes, you will surely not feel so secluded and alone.  

The streaks across your face, drying, fade away from the world. And you’re left with the emptiness that is only yourself.

A Star

The closest ones are the furthest.

Yes, I talk about stars –

though I know nothing of astronomy 

or space science. 

Though I may not know it,

I may be the furthest away

from this Earth right now. 

Or I wish to be the furthest star from here,

because Earth is too lonely a place

and I’d much rather find real solitude,  

 

and seclude, myself.