Half-eaten Time

And it is late. Whatever that should have been done, never was. Whatever that life gave, time stole. ‘Til there is nothing but an endless whirlpool that brings me back to where I first began, only difference is every time I start again from that alpha point, the more lost I get.


A congregation of lost souls, broken souls. Brought together by a mere stroke of fate. In the darkness and blinding strobes, heart soared, only to be flung onto solid ground when the darkness dissipated and the beats died.


If I stand out in the fields, I might just be able to wave you on your way. You know what leaving does to me, don’t you?


I want to lie down on the sand and feel the waves wash over me. I want to feel the scurry of the sandy grains against my skin as the water recedes into the sea.


One step forward. I felt heavy in the light airiness as the world gave way.

I was on my hands and knees crying from the fall I took attempting to take my first step. Arms were around me, comforting me, stroking my head, lifting me up and onto the shoulders that smelled wonderfully like home. Soon, I was walking on my own, running. The noons that brought Dad home for lunch. Of Tarzan and afternoon naps.


Hello, Saturday night.

I can feel your glitzy lights and reverberating beats beckoning but what I want most now is to die. To be enveloped in silence. No laughter. No tears. Only nothingness.


There used to be a girl my age who lived across the street from me back in the house where I grew up. I called her 99. I never could make out what was on her mind even though we spent everyday together for 15 long years. We used to race each other, running bare-footed on the tar road. She would always let me win. I knew that little fact only years later as I look back to those childhood days. I never knew the reason why. Being with her was like going on a roller-coaster – scary and exciting at the same time.


Looking out down the road from our balcony, I can almost taste cigarette on my lips. It’s a wonder how death erases the mortal cravings for the fundamentals like food and nicotine, but leaves vivid memories of your life past. I wince as I turn towards the deck chair that you used to laze in on evenings like this, half expecting you to blow a long stream of smoke into my face, but there was only emptiness.

  • My name is Cindy and I live in the tropical island of Penang, Malaysia. This is my respite from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
    No drama. No politics. Just soul.
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