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After about four months of exhausting over commas, pulling hairs over sentence structure, and deleting until satisfaction, it is finally over. All of it. I can go to sleep. I can rest. This – this – is the end. So I write, “the end.” Delete. I write again, “The end.” Delete. “The…” Delete. “End.” Delete. … Continue reading
If I am ever doomed to a catatonic state – not that there is anything wrong with being consciously or unconsciously frozen, it’s just I like wiggling my toes once and a while – then this is a letter to myself. It is also a prayer of sorts. It is also a will of other … Continue reading
I was only five when my father told me he was going to die. He looked me in the eyes – without a tear, without a smile, without anything – and said in an English accent pregnant with sternness beyond its years and a hint of pending sadness, “What’s done is done.” He had been … Continue reading
As age trembles over me like a sandstorm, I feel as if I just woke up to find out that I am fifty-eight years old. Just yesterday I was twenty-two, the day before that, I was four. Not quite sure how it all happened, but it did, and there’s no point mulling over spoiled milk. … Continue reading
My father spoke the only truth that I have ever heard in my life. It was a rainy day. My mother was crying. I asked her why. She said because the weather was making her cry. I asked my dad why was the weather making her cry. He said we were all born liars. That … Continue reading
Dear Reader, We have gotten old. Together we have trekked past the hurly-burly of bad writing, climbed the mountain of wasted words, and succumbed to the exhaustion of painfully grimacing at written pieces until our teeth become a mushy pulp. This has been the story for months, and sadly, it will continue to be the … Continue reading
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