suddenly i saw the full moon and i thought of you again
remembered how you told me you couldn’t sleep when it shone bright
so when it’s 3am at night and i still haven’t slept
i’ll still be up thinking of you… but will you be thinking of me too?


(adj.) wandering alone

2am in the morning
all i can think of is you
hands wrapped around mine
cheeks parallel
2am in the morning
but you’re no where to be found


(n.) a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire but which neither wants to begin

At least that’s what I liked to have thought we had tonight.
I actually don’t really know because I’m still left wondering if you only approached me and even made contact with me out of sheer obligation. We haven’t talked much, I feel like I’m annoying you when we do, and whatever spark we had… I’m not feeling it. Throughout all this I actually get the feeling that you don’t care that much, but was that my fault since I told you not to?
If you don’t put effort in, I don’t.
I honestly was starting to like you more and more these past few weeks, but if you compare us to how we first talked to now… your effort levels have declined so much.

Where did it all go so wrong?


(n.) a situation where every possible move or decision is a bad one, or one that will result in damage or loss

If I went back to you, and I ended up not liking you – that would waste your time, his time, and my time.

If I don’t go to you – I’d be forever wondering and you’d find someone else.

How shitty you must’ve felt for a whole fucking year and here I am complaining after a few days.
You won’t ever know, but fuck I miss you.


(n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence

12:42am as I’m typing this and I’m probably here just because there’s no where else to really go. I guess I’m also typing here so that my claim can be ‘solidified’, with this post holding witness. Truthfully I’d love if you could read this but I know you never will, and if you ever do I hope it’s at a time where you won’t care about me enough to feel anything.

When they mentioned you’d be coming, I guess I did do the ‘just play it cool’, it’ll be fine. And it was fine. Sorta. Kinda. Not really. You stepped into the room and suddenly with you came some unseen force that automatically made me feel a number of different things. I felt lonely, miserable, guilty, unsure, but most of all I felt really fucking shit. Really fucking shit because that force was all centred on one thing, one thought, one emotion. And that was that I really missed you.

You on the other hand looked so… reticent. And that made me feel an infinite times crappier. ‘Was he okay?’ I silently asked myself as I looked over at you. I tried engaging you in conversation, you were distant. Smart boy. Eyes to the phone, a few glances around, then back to the phone. So I waited, and maybe you waited too. And maybe I was the only one in the room that wanted at that moment to grab your wrist and go outside to ask you if you were okay. Because I wasn’t okay, and I wasn’t sure if that itself was okay either.

I mean I should’ve been okay. I was cold to you, I had to be, and my life proceeded like normal. The Earth kept spinning, I kept moving, and somewhere out there in this past few weeks – so did you. So time ticked and tocked, and we arrive at today. I wasn’t prepared to say the least. I kept shuffling nervously, I tried giving off an air of sprezzatura, but from the bottom of my toes to the roots of my hair I noticed every single fucking move of yours. Every action, every gesture, every where you looked – I saw probably 80% of it.

And so mahjong was finished, and we stood and we walked towards where food laid in anticipation. All I could think about was walking in a close proximity with you so it’d seem like you weren’t totally gone from my life. And every time we did, the distance felt (in my head) a little less, and I a little less lonelier than before. This was all in my head of course but that’s where most things happened anyway.

We’re eating takoyaki now (or at least I am) and I tried to make you eat some. You wouldn’t. Honestly thought you’d give in after the 9th indication that you should really eat some. Are you ever hungry? I don’t know why I kept offering you takoyaki in unnaturally long gestures. All I knew was that I really wanted you to eat some fucking takoyaki. I’m eyeing you constantly now, not even bothering to hide it. Legitimately soaking up everything about you from the slight flick of your hair to the navy Superdry shirt to your jeans to the Nikes on your feet. I soaked in your eyes the most though. They looked a little lost, a little distant, a little hesistant. Were you lost? How were you feeling? You’re holding up right? I wanted to scream all three at you.

But by the end of the night what I wanted more was for you to take back your North Face jacket. I don’t want you catching a cold. I know it’s raining, I know it’s cold. But stupidity on my behalf to bring a jacket due to weather underestimation should not be a potential cause of you catching the flu. And as you wave me goodbye and I’m sitting on the train with the infinitely long 40 min train ride home, I start to think. I wonder if this is how it’s like when you die. People say it is at least. That you get the massive whirlwind of memories and you flashback to all those moments in your life. I had that. Except it lasted through the whole 40 mins instead of a few seconds like they portray it to be in movies. And unlike the movies I didn’t end up dead but was drowning in self grieving. I forced my mind back into memory lane of how we first met, when we Skyped, watched stupid youtube videos about addiction to weird stuff, built lego, saw each other at uni breaks, played connect 4 a lot, texted each other, all those times I went out with you, movies, more movies, that movie when we couldn’t stop commenting about how creepy the guy looked, going to weird stuff together, texting a lot, going out with friends together, telling you about all my worries and finding out about your past – all that and more, I recapped it all.

So I did what I thought I wouldn’t ever do because of you. I cried. I didn’t by any means hard sob, but my eyes started to get watery, and 20 minutes into the train ride my cheeks were like the car windows, and my tears like the rain.

But that’s just the story, and now I need to self document. I can’t start talking to you again that nicely, I can’t run up to you and hug you and ask if you’re okay. I will stop being in your life because I know you’re starting to improve, and I’m genuinely happy for you. I won’t be in your life again till it won’t affect you. I have no right to do any of that. But as of now, all I can feel is thankful that you gave me your jacket. Now I have a proper excuse to see you on Monday at your office. With lunch. Like I was supposed to when I was still your friend.

‘You don’t know what you have till it’s gone’ …how very true that was.

The quiet thinkers

So it went like this.

*insert specific skills/qualifications*
*insert specific skills/qualifications*
*insert specific skills/qualifications*
A fun outgoing attitude
*insert specific skills/qualifications*
Ability to get along well with team members
Leadership abilities

And all I could think about was…. why? Why is it that so many jobs require people to have extroverted qualities?
What about the introverts? The more quiet thinkers? Where did they go then? What is it with this favouritism?

When people usually ask me “are you extroverted or introverted?”, well my reply tends to be ‘introverted’. And then the whole “wait what?” accompanied by raised eyebrows and a slight open mouth greets me a split second later. “But you’re like a … social butterfly” they state. The amount of times I’ve been in this scenario (with variations of course) is limitless.

It wasn’t till a few months ago that the phrase ‘Extroverted Introvert’ was stumbled upon by me, and that’s when I knew it – I was exactly that. The outgoing-but-yet-really-actually-wants-to-be-home type. I have no fear of talking to people. I am not socially inept. The type where there’s a preference to be quiet and observant of my surroundings, but yet gets turned to in the group when the teacher asks us to contribute our findings to the class. But that’s just me, and this is just a sidetrack.

I return to the real issue here – the constant demand for extraverted personalities to be produced like boxes in a factory line. You see it in school as well, where the prevailing environment of the classroom is largely established by extraverts. You see it stereotyped in media, where the distinction of the ‘louder, outgoing’ character and the ‘quieter, shy’ guy is made all too prevalent. Extraverts are portrayed as the ones who control, introverts as the ones who follow.

And the good qualities that introverts are known to be? Observant, keeping to themselves, self-reflective, independent, deeper 1v1 connections, focused, listens, thinks before they speak, don’t they matter for anything? In no way am I saying these characteristics are only capable of being possessed by introverts, but generally speaking these are the strengths of introverts that are spotlight-ed on. So why this bias? Why does the distant one get noticed for what they lack, whilst the other get noticed for what they have?

Sure they may not talk as much, but that doesn’t mean their minds aren’t full of thoughts and ideas. They get the work done, they’re capable of doing what they have to do. So is it because involvement with other lets us draw upon each others’ ideas, or that it’d make the work place more relaxed and energetic? Haven’t they heard of annoyingly loud people too? That they can be too controlling, too dominant, too everywhere? Whilst we’re on this topic, need I mention how uncomfortable or not-them it would be for an introvert to have to act (if they even can) all chummy, open, and leader-like in interviews? Yet for most I’m assuming that’s what they have to do to get through it.

So to that 1-out-of-943 job advertisement titled ‘Are you an introvert?’ that proceeded to list out all introverted qualities with the mindset of ‘We need you!’, good on you. Probably won’t be till another 8 years till I see another one of them again though.


(n.) two dozen sheets of paper

To the person who’ll never receive this letter,

I was asked this question in an interview today “what would you do if you could go back in time and change the one thing you regret?”. Whilst the list ranges from things like ‘not eat as much junk food in kindergarten’, ‘play more sports in primary school’, I guess it was appropriate that right now, in this very moment, I would’ve went back to the moment I met you… and erase it.
That day I met you at the BBQ? I’d erase it.
That day I decided it’d be a good idea to watch movies with you through Skype due to sheer holiday HSC boredom? I’d erase it.
That day where I thought it’d be nice to have you as a best friend? I’d erase it.

I’d erase it for my sake, but more so I’d erase it for yours.

Truthfully, and I know I’d never be honest to you about it, I sometimes wonder if we were actually as close as I painted the picture out to be. It’s occurred to me several times that you’ve brought on a series of kalopsia upon yourself. Whilst you were one of the people that knew me more than others, I only dished you out half the pie. There was so much more you didn’t know about me, so many things I knew I couldn’t discuss with you. It all boiled down to the fact that I knew you liked me. And that, that well… places things on a very fine tip already. The arduous situation was that when one party reveals their feelings for another, interpretations of words and the meaning behind these words become obscured.

The sentence of “I met a cute guy today at work, and he asked for my number” could cater responses ranging from:
‘Are they saying that just to have a jab at me because they know I like them?’
‘Is she just saying that because she wants me to know that I could be easily replaced?’
‘She just wants to brag to me to let me know that guys go for her’

When in reality, I meant what I said. I was just recounting a scenario that happened, there was nothing more to it. Extract the context about one party liking the other out, and response A and response B would already be eradicated. And in all honesty, I’d deem you socially incapable if you received response C. This indicates that you’re not proficient in directing communication towards those that actually want to receive it.

If I’m not wrong as well, you wouldn’t care so much about my lack of responses if you didn’t like me. Not a single one of my close friends in the past (here we’re including both genders of which I would readily name to be the top 10 closest people to me) cared so much when I didn’t respond, and vice versa. Yes, they might keep talking to me, they know I’d read the messages, but they’d place no expectations for me to reply to them. Why? Because it’s only when you insert the fact that you have feelings for someone do you always crave a reply. This singular fact already excludes you from being a ‘best friend’. I never had to keep in constant contact with someone close to me that was just a ‘friend’. I always operated on the basis that in a way it was a ‘no-strings-attached’ relationship, both for our mutual benefit. I’d expect nothing from you except that at the end of the day, we’d still be as good friends as we are. These are the types of friends that I give the ‘enter’ sign to. There’s no over thinking in this, it’s simply as it is; as long as you keep liking me, as long as the quality of your mood depends on me, I can never, ever, be best friends with you, let alone mildly close friends with you.

This is where I apologise though, for thinking that I could. This by far isn’t an act of self redemption but I’ve never been in this situation. All the guys that liked me whilst trying to be my friend, either I would cut them off and gradually stop talking to them, or vice versa when they realised I had no intentions of liking them back. I keep a close ring around the people I want in my life. I don’t like inconveniences, I don’t like staying up 3 am in the morning with excessive shitty thoughts about the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybes’. When you reach a point where I’ve had to stop/delay my schedule to deal with your situation too many times, or unwillingly allocate my time for your one sided happiness, that’s when I cut you off.

You, more than most should know how I do things. It’s not the first time I’ve told you about how unattached to things I am. I wouldn’t cry if you died. I wouldn’t cry if most people in my life died apart from maybe a few family members, and my best friend. You may find it ironic then, that I even feel guilty, or sorry, or anything right now towards you. The simple answer is that whilst I can constantly feel, it’s only up to a certain limit, for a certain people. How many times have I warned you, told you, that I don’t like you?

Was it really wise for you then, whilst knowing this, to let me be a nepenthe in your life?


(n.) the state of being worried or annoyed

It’s 2am in the morning and there’s nothing on my mind but the thoughts of you and I. Not in that way though. It just suddenly occurred to me after that night just how comforting physical intimacy could be. How much I missed it, and how at 2am in the morning, if given the option I would rather be actually sleeping with someone beside me.

Of course I stopped myself though. How often do I willingly take blind steps into precarious waters before making a judgment, an assessment and then finally proceeding with caution? Not very.

I miss the entwining of our fingers, our palms lightly brushing each other’s. I miss your arms around me, my head as I laid on your shoulders whilst in physical irritation you would push back my hair so it didn’t roam in your face. I miss the cat-and-mouse chase your body had with mine, that every time I came back you’d be so confident, so comfortable with pulling me back towards you.

But afraid. Ah, ever so afraid of breaking these delicate moments.
After all, you hardly knew me. We’d been talking for sparsely a week. You didn’t even know what degree I studied in university. You didn’t know about the little ups and downs that come with being in my company. You didn’t know about my history, my past, which already had my best friend nonchalantly questioning my decisions. No, you didn’t know anything. Neither did I about you.

“Too fast, too fast” my mind would scream.
But then I wondered “What then, is deemed an appropriate pace?”


(n.) a sudden or unexpected reversal of circumstances; the point of no return

Tick tock, time it wouldn’t slow,
Again I can picture it so clearly.
The end is near, you’ll soon be far from here,
Your orb like a scintilla, merely.

It’s a normal day and I arrive back home,
I’ll change into looser attire.
When suddenly I hear the ring ring ring,
Annoyed, I’ll connect the wire.

It’s that dreaded call I wasn’t hoping for,
The announcement of your near death.
And suddenly I’m at loss for words,
No stability in my breath.

I’m rushing to the building now,
The place where you lay static.
I’m wheezing, puffing as I sprint the stairs,
The scenario too cinematic.

Composing myself before I enter,
I hesitantly turn the knob.
There you’re resting, the same old you
I choke back waves of sobs.

Library of memories flicker by,
And now I understand.
That for the past 18 years I let the moments slip,
Like sand grains through my hand.

The stone in my throat starts forming,
Now I feel the terror burn.
As the dawn of realisation settles in,
The point of no return.

What does a child do when faced with this?
What is there possibly to say?
Can any actions amend my wrongdoings,
Or is this a price to pay?

Moments pass I’m still standing there,
Yet I’m begging for more time.
Your dreary eyes gaze expectantly,
The clock then starts to chime.

‘Dad I should’ve treated you bet-‘
They’d be the first words that I blurt.
My sentence would then be cut midway,
As I suffocate in hurt.

I shouldn’t have left you alone like that,
No wife no children no company,
The mundane things in life you continued to do,
I know you did so unhappily.

I shouldn’t have disregarded your pleads so coldly
When you told me to stay a little more.
I shouldn’t have ignored your worried phone calls,
As I self reflect with abhor.

When you were good to me I didn’t see it sooner,
When you were bad to me it was all for my sake.
When you sacrificed your time and effort,
i just channelled it back through hate.

My train of thoughts stop sharp,
2AM and I lie there in cold sweat.
The thought of your death haunts me,
Drilling guilt inside my head.

The cycle rotates, I’m now back on phase 1.
I try to atone with new actions.
But its not long before phase 2 arrives,
Stemmed from our further interactions.

This phase consists of morosis,
I see largely on your behalf.
Your inability to admit your wrongs,
That you dispose of with a laugh,

But then phase 3 begins, told by this very poem
And I’ve felt it many times before.
Where suddenly I’m aware that time is ticking…
And I’ll regret, I know, I’m sure.