My Unscripted Life

Inspiration comes in the form of three men, looking at me, probing the windows to my soul, searching…

They look like men, but really they are boys, rogues that escaped my dreams and thoughts, and found themselves seducing me with their gaze and sneering smiles.

My heart beats faster and slower looking back at them, wondering what they are thinking, what is behind those godly eyes. Do they know the future that is in front of them, or do they live an existence, oblivious – not caring even.

One of them stirs as the breeze catches his tresses and thrusts them into his eyes. He blinks and smooths it away from his face, but his stubborn locks simply fall back onto his forehead, framing his face. That face…how familiar it is. A far off dream reminds me of that face. Seems like I’ve seen it a million times before.

A distant howl stirs the second one, he looks up into the sky and spies the moon peeking from behind the black clouds. He looks to his left, to the third boy a frown on his face. He says something that is barely audible, but it came out sounding like a growl. The first one says it’s not time yet. Another day will pass until the moon is full.

The third boy looks at me smiles. A sincere, unpretentious smile that told me everything was going to be fine. With a wink he turns around and beckons the other two to follow him. It’s almost time he says. Another breeze passes through us, and ruffles their shirts. The first one with the wild hair nods at me, and walks away after the third one. The second one was the last to go. The jerks his head at me, and follows suit.

Inspiration comes in the form of three men, looking at me, probing the windows to my soul, searching…

They look like men, but really they are boys, rogues that escaped my dreams and thoughts, and found themselves seducing me with their gaze and sneering smiles.

My heart beats faster and slower looking back at them, wondering what they are thinking, what is behind those godly eyes. Do they know the future that is in front of them, or do they live an existence, oblivious – not caring even.

One of them stirs as the breeze catches his tresses and thrusts them into his eyes. He blinks and smooths it away from his face, but his stubborn locks simply fall back onto his forehead, framing his face. That face…how familiar it is. A far off dream reminds me of that face. Seems like I’ve seen it a million times before.

A distant howl stirs the second one, he looks up into the sky and spies the moon peeking from behind the black clouds. He looks to his left, to the third boy a frown on his face. He says something that is barely audible, but it came out sounding like a growl. The first one says it’s not time yet. Another day will pass until the moon is full.

The third boy looks at me smiles. A sincere, unpretentious smile that told me everything was going to be fine. With a wink he turns around and beckons the other two to follow him. It’s almost time he says. Another breeze passes through us, and ruffles their shirts. The first one with the wild hair nods at me, and walks away after the third one. The second one was the last to go. The jerks his head at me, and follows suit.

“Just as we are!”

Sitting in a booth, raising your glass, and uttering those words in total solidarity gives my goosebumps, and utter happiness, but in a deeper level, it reminded me about a whole lot of other things that used to happen long time ago, that probably led up to the utterance of those words, sitting with two increidble human beings which I respect and admire.

I remember how when I was 13, I was struggling to fit in. My baju kurung skirt swept the ground, and I had school shoes that resembled platforms, and the kancing of my tunic was wide open, with a hint of the camisole lace I was wearing. I didn’t wear all this out of choice. I was forced to, in order to join this clique that I wanted to be in so much.

I remember staring into the display glass the reflected my reflection in the shopping mall, hating myself for conforming to all that. Hated how dirty my skirt was getting, or how much all of us look like each other. I think it was then I started hanging out more with Smita, Sarita and Kasthuri in my class. We incidentally sat side by side, and I think it resulted in the closest bond I’ve ever had with girls my age. I think our friendship we have still endured had none of us remained so selfish. Too selfish to apologize, too selfish to ackonwledge our mistakes, too selfish to call before the other left the country. I eventually did call her….Smita. But her handphone was already disconnected then. I might have cried, I don’t remember.

So I moved on. I became even closer to Kas, and I think out friendship reached new heights. I am truly myself when I am with her. We oogled boys, we slept on each other’s laps, (most she slept on mine, she was much too skinny) and we understood each other perfectly.

I think only then could I have had the guts to raise my glass, and say “just as we are!” with all earnestness and sincerity.

“Just as we are!”

Sitting in a booth, raising your glass, and uttering those words in total solidarity gives my goosebumps, and utter happiness, but in a deeper level, it reminded me about a whole lot of other things that used to happen long time ago, that probably led up to the utterance of those words, sitting with two increidble human beings which I respect and admire.

I remember how when I was 13, I was struggling to fit in. My baju kurung skirt swept the ground, and I had school shoes that resembled platforms, and the kancing of my tunic was wide open, with a hint of the camisole lace I was wearing. I didn’t wear all this out of choice. I was forced to, in order to join this clique that I wanted to be in so much.

I remember staring into the display glass the reflected my reflection in the shopping mall, hating myself for conforming to all that. Hated how dirty my skirt was getting, or how much all of us look like each other. I think it was then I started hanging out more with Smita, Sarita and Kasthuri in my class. We incidentally sat side by side, and I think it resulted in the closest bond I’ve ever had with girls my age. I think our friendship we have still endured had none of us remained so selfish. Too selfish to apologize, too selfish to ackonwledge our mistakes, too selfish to call before the other left the country. I eventually did call her….Smita. But her handphone was already disconnected then. I might have cried, I don’t remember.

So I moved on. I became even closer to Kas, and I think out friendship reached new heights. I am truly myself when I am with her. We oogled boys, we slept on each other’s laps, (most she slept on mine, she was much too skinny) and we understood each other perfectly.

I think only then could I have had the guts to raise my glass, and say “just as we are!” with all earnestness and sincerity.