Thai Milk Tea
Ice cubes and milk twirl along with my spoon, painting white spirals in the pool of terra cotta orange at the top of my glass. The escaping aroma is like that of a flower, which smells sweet enough to eat, minus the nasty prickle of pollen. Served either hot or cold, its flavor is always warm and rich, the type that sinks into your chest as you take a sip. Thai tea feels like staying inside on a rainy day. And whenever I need a boost, Thai tea is like a gentle nudge on my shoulder on a lazy summer afternoon.
I’ve found the perfect drink for me - Thai tea becomes exactly what I need it to be when I need it. Pity I don’t get to have it that often.
rubik’s cube
After a night out, we were allowed to muck around at a friend’s house. It was my older brother, his two friends and I. Nice guys. Hours passed us by. Full of food and tongue-tied, we sat in a bedroom in each our own corners, thoroughly occupied. All lazy-eyed and sleep-deprived - best described as braindead. Back of my neck on the foot of the bed, solving a Rubik’s with tar in my head. We jump at the buzz from receiving a text, then I slump back down into my spot on the carpet. My brother gets up for the toilet.
Boy 1 on the bed lets out a smug chuckle. Boy 2 spins his gaming chair to ask him, what’ll we say? Just wait, Boy 1 says. All the while, they’re both on their phones, tapping away. They’re messing around on a group chat, I guess, but I want to find out what the jokes are about. I ask Boy 1. He grins, turning his phone around.
There’s a group chat with other boys from their grade and a picture of me where I sit, cupping my face. The cube hides behind a convenient bed frame. If my eyesight is right, Boy 1 has claimed that I am -what I can only describe as- erm... servicing them both for the night.
Boys can be stupid, right?
Well, I’m pleased to say that the only “service” Boy 1 got that day was a nice taste of Rubik’s cube straight to the face. After that, it was all fun and games; both boys said sorry and I had my way.
Some protests can be held without wasting air - with words, I wouldn't know where I'd begin. It was cool after that, though. Nobody cared. We were all back to normal when my brother came in.
worth it
The soles of her feet were raw and muddy. For what felt like hours now, she had been stumbling through the twilight haze, treading upon sharp gravel that bit at her toes. Her legs were half-eaten by mosquitoes. The shadowy blanket in front of her nose was suddenly pierced by a needle of light, which she knew marked the bottom of the spiral staircase. At once, she clambered up - time was running out. With each step came a brush of a shoulder or an elbow against the wild winding stalks that chased the upwards path. Leaves prickled and thorns drew blood as she broke into a sprint. Her sight was growing clearer, which meant that time was nearly up. She threw herself forwards, a smug spike drawing a final gash into her cheek, just below the eye. The roof, on which she had landed, was brutally rough; now her chin was cut too. Brushing herself off with a blink, she took a seat. She stared off into the end of the land, radiating delight from head to toe.
Lying back, she sighed through smiling lips for she had made it just in time to watch the sun climb into the sky.
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
I think about you when it rains.
Everytime I hear the soft, almost tuneful plop plop of raindrops on my foggy window, I remember the little girl in wellington boots who loved splashing about in puddles, spinning her umbrella around in the sky.
I think of her bedraggled hair and her grin and her cheeks wet with rain. I think about her mists of breath fogging up the glass panes of the car windows as she watches the bushes and trees speed by.
I remember her sweet voice, humming (slightly out of tune) "My Favourite Things" from the sound of music and her struggles to remember all the lyrics. I remember her tinkling laughter, like the sound of bells, when she tries running from the murky stormclouds in the sky, but ends up failing miserably.
When I look in the mirror, I can see her looking right back at me. I can see her in my eyes. I know she's still there inside me, no matter what.
✬
libbythepencil
I have a Heart of Glass
You wouldn't want to break a heart made of glass because they break easily. That's the first thing anyone would think when I tell them this. They would always be oh-so solicitous, not to break my heart because they are so afraid of hurting me. Guilt will hit them so hard they crumble. That's what most people thought, at least. Because in reality, they should be doing it for themselves.
What people don't realise is that when glass shatters on the ground, the pieces that are left are dangerous as a poisoned knife. Pain like no other will be inflicted upon those who are careless. Whatever that happens to me when my heart shatters doesn't matter any more than their pain and absolute betrayal in their eyes. But they're the ones that got careless.
What happens next is simple. They will, somehow or another, get those sharp, fine grains of glass in their foot as a reminder for their carelessness. Little shiny glass shards that go deeper the more they try to get back on their feet and walk away from me. As if I ever wanted to be associated with such vile creatures.
After they manage to crawl away from me, usually from desperation and fear, I start to pick fragments of my heart once again. Nothing changes as blood trickles from my fingers and the palms of my hand. I will endeavor to fix it and eventually, it will look the same as it always does: perfect and delicate. Then the process will start all over again: I would warn them of my heart of glass and they would be oh-so cautious not to break it...
But what people don't realise is that my broken heart causes as much damage to them as it does to me.
violence is the answer
“You’re a good one. Ruling us with a fair hand. Even those pigs who stuff themselves with heroin down south like you. I will never understand why you let them roam free like that. Maybe you’re just too kind to notice that they would never straighten up and get any help. You always see the good in everyone, don’t you? Of course you do, you were the best person to be around growing up. No wonder everyone favoured you over me. Please don’t misunderstand though, I hold no resentment to that whatsoever. You deserve it all, for being so amazing at everything. This nation loves you because you’re soft and caring, and you love it too, despite all the filth and grime that contaminates it. That is fine to you, isn’t it? You would rather have a unified utopia where everyone is happy, rather than focusing on becoming the best. Look at it now, it’s almost run by foul criminals that you, for some reason, acknowledge as citizens.”
“But I guess...” I continue, inching closer and closer to his face, “you were never really fit to rule were you, big brother? You spineless bastard.” I lean back.
He is still silent and staring while I start pacing around the marble floors. “History is a funny thing. It can uncover a lost time, but it can also cover up 8 years because everyone is too bothered to look through the insignificant parts. Wait, that’s how long you’ve been in charge for, right?” The clicking of my heels come to a stop as I turn to gaze at him. He continues to stare.
“Don’t look at me like that, I wouldn’t call your rule insignificant if that’s not exactly what it was!” I’m getting angry now. “Look at what you’ve done to this country! Look at it! Everyday, these dirty creatures roam around with no purpose to serve, causing some sort of inane mishap, and ruining our reputation as a country!” My neck is flexing from the volume my throat is expelling. The screams bounce off the marble pillars and echo for a second. I inhale deeply to collect myself befor speaking again.
“It’s okay though. I’m here now. I’ll make sure every single one of those wrong-doers are wiped clean off these lands, and we can have ourselves a new beginning. Does not sound nice? A new beginning? Sometimes, a million dead people is all you need to restart your life. I want to shoot every single one of them myself, and leave only the purest. They would like the violence, I think. Being treated the same way they have been treating the reputation of my land.” My scarlet lips stretch thinly, and my cheeks are starting to hurt from how wide I’m grinning. He continues to stare at me, like I’m some sort of lunatic.
A scowl is gracing my face now, surely. My eyebrows are knitted tightly, and the tension in my forehead seems to be increasing. “Stop mocking me, I am not crazy. I just want what’s best for this country. For our family. For the world.”
“Why am I explaining myself to you? You’re lying down on the floor, you don’t deserve my respect. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that in a few years, no one is going to remember the mess you made from going soft in the head. No one is going to remember what a mess we became because of your irresponsibility. No one is going to remember who you are. Your story has ended, so I will rewrite it. All they will see is me: the wonderful leader who regulates the nation with an iron fist.” I giggle a bit, fawning over the idea for a second. After contemplating it a bit more, I gasp, “I hope they turn me into a superhero. Oh wait, why am I hoping? I’ll make sure all the kids look up to me.”
I take cautious steps towards him, avoiding the mess on the floor. Crouching down to be at his level, I grasp his face with one hand, letting my manicured nails dig angry crescents into his skin. The gaping wound at the center of his forehead starts leaking again because of the force, and some of the blood trickles down my hand.
“Stop looking so forlorn, big brother. I’ll take care of it well, okay?” I smile softly. Rubbing my hands on his crisp white shirt, I stand up to look at his limp body. He’s still staring at me. I want to dig my high-heels through his eyes.
“Clean up the body,” I command the guard outside as I exit the room. He nods immediately before turning to push through the mahogany doors.
A new beginning.