thinking since '98

she woke up, heart racing, ready to run
into the forest, hidden from the sun
there she met fairies dressed in petals and gold
and a story about a fire-breathing dragon they told
but she left them to don on astronaut attire
so she could float between the stars and the sun afire
before tumbling back to earth with its oceans and cities
to run away from spies through backstreets and alleys
she met the love of her life, with the most beautiful smile in the world
but he only had eyes for another brave girl
though she was okay with that, no really, it's true
because she had an entire universe to rescue

and then she took another book from the shelf.

this throwback is a bit more sombre. it's actually a piece i wrote for a competition a couple of years ago but you had to pay to be shortlisted and little broke kid me wasn't up for that. so here it is, enjoy:

He told me to observe, so I did. I sat on the park bench just as the sky was turning into that pink-orange haze that looks supernatural, and I watched.

On the playground next to me, kids ran gleefully repeating the same cycle over and over again. Up the ladder, through the tunnel, down the slide and repeat. It didn’t matter how many times they did it, each one was better than the last.

The road nearby was filled with people doing a different kind of pattern. Wakeup, work, sleep and repeat. They didn’t look as excited as the kids. It didn’t seem like each day was better than the last. I hoped they were happy.

Above me, birds flew in a v-formation. It looked like they were going to war. Little winged soldiers leaving their wives and babies worried in nests far away. I wondered what they would be trying to achieve through fighting. Maybe they’d battle for a piece of the sky they could much more easily share. I didn’t know.

The path was filled with couples strolling hand-in- hand basking in each other’s company and the late sun’s rays. They walked lazily, taking in their surroundings. Next to them, people ran – oblivious to the beauty that was so close – with one purpose. Eye’s on the prize.

Down at the beach, a little girl worked diligently building a castle out of the soft, silky sand. Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth, her blond curls dancing in the wind, as her little hands patted the sand into place. Just as she sat back proudly to admire her handiwork, a wave rolled in and snatched it away in seconds leaving her with mud and tears.

The wave retreated back to its home in the ocean only to be kicked back out to the shore. The ocean glimmered like broken glass, a sleeping monster for now. It stayed while everything around it constantly changed. I speculated about out how many stories it held, how many places the water had been. It could have gone everywhere but not. Nevertheless, the water continued to sway back and forth, back and forth.

And as the sun continued to fall slowly, the night owls started to awake. The alcoholics stirred, getting ready to turn their blood into liquor and wash away their past of regrets and shame for another night. I wondered what hurt them. They used alcohol like a Band-Aid to protect themselves for awhile but I guess eventually all Band-Aid’s had to get ripped off, right? I wished their pain could be healed.

I sat on that park bench for one whole minute, but eventually I had to move on. So I walked away without leaving a trace, while the world still continued to turn.

(born in 1998 and have a voice to share with the world? click here to find out how you can be heard!)

do you ever just want to restart?
hold power button to turn off, no i don't want to save.
back to when your skin had never been touched by lotion or cheap perfume.
back to when your knees had never been scarred from crawling between trees.
back to when your head had never been filled with these treacherous thoughts.
before you built the social web that now tangles you up so you can't move.
before you chose to do this or that or go right or left.
before you ended up here.
yeah, me too.

i never understood how people can be so obvious about their pain.
how they wear sadness on their face as bold as a bloodstain.
their movements lethargic and their shoulders turned down.
i never understood how they could so easily frown.
aren't you supposed to hide that all from the outside world?
keep it bottled up inside you, leave it in your stomach to swirl?
put a smile on your face and speak in uppercase,
take up only pleasantness and joy in your space
because how dare i think my feelings matter?
that i'm important enough to dull the chatter?
i'm only one among so many billions and more
why should i deem myself too cardinal to ignore?
so i lock my misery up and throw the key away
and then i wonder why no one asks me if i'm okay.

clouds are so weird. they're just these giant bundles of fluff way way up high.
i mean, obviously there's a science behind them and their existence can be explained with two dollar words like vaporisation and orographic forcing, but to me they honestly don't even look real - they look like a painting of the sky by the gods where their hands slipped and the paint spilled onto the canvas but it's okay because sometimes accidents are the best kind of art.
when the world around you is constantly moving, the clouds aren't. cars are rushing to your right, people running to your left, and you're caught up in the race. but then you look up and the clouds are just still, watching down on it all.
it isn't until you stop moving and everything around you freezes that you realise the clouds are moving too. and you realise that they have places to go and things to see. and you realise that they're not going to be there forever. and you realise what a bummer time is.

side note: i also posted this on my commaful account which you can check out here

i can cross rivers and climb mountains with energy to spare
i can explore oceans and lift boulders like they're barely even there
but give me a social excursion or a two hour dinner
and suddenly i understand how bears can sleep through winter
my cheeks hurt from smiling that superficial smile
in an attempt to make others think their gossip is worthwhile
but that doesn't compare to my thoroughly exhausted brain
who would rather drown in its own fluids than say "oh no, he didn't" again
days and days of peace and quiet
and now i'm thrust in the middle of the riot
so i run as soon as i can to the solitude of my room
hoping the serenity will once again resume
i close my eyes and am surrounded with silence

but the noise in my head doesn't stop.

the candle swayed, dancing with the sound waves produced by the other conversations the other couples were having on the other tables. valentine's day - the restaurants busiest night. as well as his.

date #3 was in the bathroom after she excused herself with a sly grin to powder her nose or whatever it was that girls did in there. he was glad for the break though; his muscles still ached from his afternoon with date #2, not to mention the tumble in the morning with date #1. but that was all just child's play. now it was crunch time. happy hour had just begun and with two more dates to go tonight, he was open for business. speaking of:

his phone buzzed. as a precautionary measure, he always placed his phone screen down while on dates, just in case the generic caller id in the form of mum, boss, doctor or bank didn't come through. the timing was pleasing - with his current date away from the table he was free to answer the call. he picked up his phone and glanced at the name before clicking answer. nephew. it was date #4.

"hey,"  he said, lowering his voice to the sultry register that made dogs stand to attention and girls melt.

"hey yourself," she replied. "really looking forward to tonight."

"mmmm, me too."

"i can barely wait and since yoga class finished early i was wondering, what are you doing now?"

for a moment he was mildly distracted by the thought of yoga and the different positions he wanted to try, but he quickly snapped back to attention. he decided to use the easiest lie in his arsenal. ladies loved a hardworking man, especially ones with a stable career, and would definitely understand if he was 'stuck in the office and the only thing getting me through is knowing that i'm going to see you soon, gorgeous'. he opened his mouth to work his magic and said, "i'm on a date."

"excuse me?" she laughed nervously, assuming he was joking around and, though he wanted to punch himself in the face for nearly ruining a perfectly planned night, he snatched at that opportunity to save himself.

"haha, haven't you heard of a joke? i'm-" he stopped when he noticed date #3 emerge from the bathroom. as she weaved between tables, eyes locked on him like an avid bird watcher to a kakapo, he tried to come up with his next cover. i'm at the office, he would say, and the boss is coming by so i gotta go. i'll pick you up at eight. yes, that would work. he mentally prepared his lines but his mouth had different plans.

"yeah, i'm on a date," he said. "with another girl and she's coming back now so i have to go. i'll pick you up at eight." he hung up the phone to date #4's spluttered cries.

though he was very much shook up from the absolute freak accident that just occurred, he slipped on his most charming smile for date #3. even olympians have off days, he reminded himself and focused on his current trophy.

"sorry, you wouldn't believe the queue," she laughed as she slid back into her chair. "so, where were we?"

as she leaned in closer to him across the table, a strand of perfectly curled blonde hair spilled out from behind her ear. he reached over to wrap it slowly around his finger, her eyes watching him like he was a hypnotist and she was completely under his spell.

"well," he crooned, "i'm picking up another girl in about thirty minutes so i was just going to take you back to my car for a quickie and then dump you by a bus stop or something to find your way home, alright?"

she shot back into her seat and her jaw hung fascinatingly close to her exposed cleavage. "also," he continued, words falling out like a fatal avalanche, "if you can pay for dinner that would be fantastic. i mean, you did eat half the menu."

he smiled at her seductively. she was not returning the expression which was unusual for him. instead, she picked up the glass full of the most expensive wine the restaurant had to offer (he momentarily recalled the internal cringe he experienced when she ordered it) and threw it straight into his face.

"ASSHOLE!" she yelled and stormed off to the shocked faces of the other diners.

his testosterone-controlled brain scrambled to comprehend what had just happened as the wine rolled down his defined cheekbones and slipped past his lips. the opulent taste pooled under his tongue and he fought to not spit it out - he'd always been a beer guy himself. he didn't need to glance down at his favourite white shirt to know that it was stained blood-red, giving him the appearance of a man who had just left a massacre. he was very confused.

the waitress came forward with a towel to clean up the mess. he recognised her. she was young, probably a student working off debts. he frequented this restaurant often with dates and she was usually here. however, this time, rather than scoffing at his lies from behind the host stand, she only looked at him with immense pity. he glared back at her until a thought softened his gaze. but it was only a myth. an old wive's tale. it couldn't be.

oh no.

he was going to die next week.

(writing prompt: in the week before their death, people cannot tell a lie or omit information)
(born in 1998 and have a voice to share with the world? click here to find out how you can be heard!)

okay so i was searching through my computer for a file i needed to work on when, oh no what a shame, i was completely distracted by other old documents i found including this masterpiece from back in year 10 literature. we were studying oedipus and were supposed to write a creative piece based on the play with complete free rein on how we went about doing it. nevertheless, i have no clue what was going on in fifteen year old dinushka's brain that made me write this. i honestly can't believe i handed this in, it's amazing. enjoy:

The night swallowed everything up in darkness to the point that you couldn’t see your hand if it was five centimetres in front of your eyes. But, MAN HAD FIRE! So the guards’ expressionless faces were lit by the flickering shadows of the burning embers.

Nothing moved in the seemingly never-ending pitch black. These guards had pulled the short straw. When you’re young and you say you ‘want to be a guard of Thebes when you grow up’, it’s not because you want leg cramps and to hear your own breathing for five hours straight. You want to catch thieves and stop murders. But who could be bothered with crime during the graveyard shift?

Finally, one of their stoic facades broke:

“Hey. Pssssst. Heeeeeeey.” One of the guards whisper-shouted to his partner.

The other guard seemed like he was embracing the belief that if you ignore something long enough, it will go away.

“Hey. HeY. HEY.”

It wasn’t working.

“Oi. I’m talking to you. Gimme attention.”

No response.

“Talk to me, I’m so bored. Oh my Apollo, are you mute?”

Eventually the other guard glared at him, irritably. “What?”

“HE SPEAKS!” After throwing his hands in the air dramatically, the first guard leant on his spear casually. “My name’s Andreas but my friends call me Dre.”

“Okay, Andreas. Shut up.”

“Sheesh, someone’s got an olive branch up their butt.” Andreas examined his nails, unfazed. “What are you even worried about? No one is going to bother doing anything here. This place is a wreck! What with the plague and the famine. I mean, if you’re going to rob somewhere at least make it worth the effort.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Also, did you hear about what’s going on inside the walls?” Andreas continued, ignoring him completely. “Talk about a freak in the bedroom, our majestic king is pretty kinky. Sleeping with his mum.” He shuddered. “How’d he even end up on the throne? He gets rid of one sphinx and his got everyone wrapped around his finger. Well, jokes on them I guess.”

Andreas chuckled before his face grew wistful. “You know what this reminds me of?”

“Nope.”

“Lions. Like in a pride. You wanna know why?”

“I really don’t care.”

“So there’s only one dude in the pride, right? The lion king. That means that when another guy lion is born, to become king he essentially has to kill his dad. And you know there’s one lioness that’s like the top dog – the king’s favourite honey. She’s got all the other lionesses gossiping about her during the daily zebra hunt because the king won’t make her get her own food. Basically, she’s the queen. So when the new dude lion kills the king, he then by default ends up ‘marrying’ the queen lioness or whatever it is lions do. Sniff each other’s butts? Nah, wait, I think that’s dogs.” Andreas’ face had become more enigmatic and the flickering fire revealed glimpses of his animated eyes glinting. “Now, if you just substitute our favourite messed-up royal family for the lions you’ve got one mighty fine metaphor. There’s Laius, the king of nothing now ‘cause he’s, you know, dead. Then dear, sweet Jocasta who busted the myth that mothers can recognise their sons anywhere unless that myth is actually true which would be wrong on so many other levels. And finally Thebes’ golden boy Oedipus. I’m not even going to go there.”

“So what do you think?” Andreas looked at the other guard with his chin resting precariously on the tip of his spear. “Am I right, or am I right?”

“Whatever you say.”

“C’mon broseidon. I worked hard on this theory – critique me, my body is ready.”

“It was great.”

“Suuuuure.” Andreas dumped his spear and walked up to his controlled partner. “I know you have thoughts.” He poked his cheek. “There’s a little opinion in there waiting to get out. Hit me with your best one, big man.”

“No thank you.”

“You’re not going to get out of this, you little Dionysus.” Andreas grabbed the other guard’s face between his hands as he smiled up at him. And, boy, did he have to smile up because the other guy was at least a head or even two taller than him. If Andreas was a stick, his colleague was a hundred-year old olive tree made up of lots and lots of sticks. He was big.

“Please tell me. Pretty please. Pretty please with a dry fig on top.”

“No.”

“I will actually pay you to give me your opinion. I don’t have a lot but I know this great robe tailor down in-”

“Oh, Apollo, fine.” The guard sighed, exasperated. “I think what happened to Oedipus’ was a great tragedy. His inability to acknowledge who he was and therefore his lack of self-knowledge was a fatal flaw to his overall character. Also, the fact that his pride and ignorance metaphorically blinded him to the truth that once revealed actually blinded him is unbelievably ironic. Tiresias may have been the actual blind one but he was also the only one that could see what was really going on, despite Oedipus’ stubbornness and refusal. What happened to Oedipus raises the question for all of us on whether we are all searching to ‘kill our fathers and marry our mothers’ in some way or form, though it doesn’t have to be as explicit as Oedipus’ example itself. Essentially though, it shows that trying to outrun or avoid fate will prove futile because everything will always play out as it was said it will.”

Andreas studied the other guard carefully before he shook his head and said, “Nah, man. I’m telling you – it’s just like lions.”

“I-”

“Whatever, I gotta go pee.” Andreas abandoned his post, leaving his perplexed and insecure associate alone to think in front of the towering walls of Thebes.

(born in 1998 and have a voice to share with the world? click here to find out how you can be heard!)