Miss An Thrope

The truth was most people tired her. The rhythms of getting acquainted felt like being in a Street Fighter match where her fingers were dipped in butter and couldn’t hit the right buttons to unleash a single chain attack.

“Good morning” marked Round 1. By the end of the day, she felt like she’d been KO’d a hundred lifetimes that none of the phoenix downs available to mankind (or elf-kind) would revive her negative-digit HP.


Laughter and/or pretensions of looking into space, watching Dust Mites conjure colonies, seemed to be a temporary solution.

Speaking of strange things also do well at wearing out the other people’s interest.


“That doesn’t make sense. You’re loud and brimming with color. How can you possibly not like people?” Said friend N.


Her Experience Points gained placed her in the quadrant where Disappointment and Honesty intersected. It wasn’t a convenient place to be in. But she was used to inconvenient situations. Anyway, she had high points for Evasion and Strength. Defenses were weak, but that was another thing she was used to already.


In this version of the universe, there is no Game Over, there is no reset button. The level never ends, regardless of the side quests completed, the treasure chests opened – hordes of secret weapons piled in a corner, gleaming with disuse.

& if you close your eyes, it’s like nothing’s changed at all

Tomorrow, two of some of the good friends I’ve made in Med School fly back to their homeland a good continent away. We’ve said our non-goodbyes (because they said “It’s always ‘See you later’”) and I don’t feel Very, Very Sad about it. I promised to write a postcard (which I intend to, once I get their address).

I figure these things always happen. I didn’t have many close friends from High School so I never really felt it back then. College, though, was another thing. Some people just naturally drifted away, to the point that it would seem unnatural to initiate contact exceeding the obligatory or random Facebook like. It only half bothers me. Yes, there were those I wish I had been better friends with or still wish to see today. The types I’d think of when I see some film or artist or whatever they might fancy. Some days I imagine what’d it be like to see them on a daily basis again.

I mean, I did try. But my definition of try is mostly a few messages here and there. If they stop replying or things get awkward, I simply stop. Best to move along.

Continue reading

Do I dare?

I can’t say the words, so I wrote you into my verse. – Poet; Bastille


There was a point I foolishly picked you to partake in a wondrous thing now past, passed over so easily. Like plates, piled in the sink after all the guests have left, leaving us with nothing but the air to fill the spaces we emptied out for each other: blind but blinking; massive crates and caves even light refuses to enter.


Congratulations, you’re the first one in a long time to leave me with the words still floating in my mouth.

All hail St. Anger

Again and again the world has a funny, hurtful way of reminding me whom to trust and distrust. And again: How alone I really am.

It’s like the older I get, the less open I become to the idea of letting other people in. And then one day everything will just spontaneously combust.

I can’t remember where I read this, but I fervently believe: One cannot be honest and kind at the same time.

The longer your lies, the less alone you’ll be.

It’s sad that I’m just counting down the days left until I no longer have to see your faces as I pass the hallway.

You bring out the worst in me.