Last year, I knew 6 different Emmas. 

This year, they all left me. 

Emma #1: Sunflower hair with a smile that felt like a hug. 

Emma #2: The rebel, always ready to tackle a generation gap problem. 

Emma #3: A violinist with her Rapunzel-like hair always in a floppy bun.

Emma #4: Probably the most gorgeous ballerina for her age and always ready to confide the truth with me. 

Emma #5: Left because of the bullying, never forget how much...

i. i will not make you into a god, or into my best friend, before weve had the chance to talk, more than
a handful of times
ii. i will let you leave, if you have found things outside this
bubble i created in my mind
iii. i will let myself change my mind if i find
you are not the same as the figment in my mind
iv. i will allow myself to love you even if 
my perceptions...

It’s good to love someone as much as they love you,
It’s better to love them less than they do you,
But never is it acceptable to love them more, 
Servitude is born out of that unequal passion and devotion. 
Love someone enough and they will hurt you,
Love someone enough and they will make you lesser,
Love someone enough and they will kill you.
And you will do nothing
But sit there wagging your tongue
Like a lousy tamed...

    “The glass ceiling isn’t an impediment.”
    “Men should be resilient no matter what.”

    Have you ever heard anything akin to the statements above? All of them can aggrieve us in any kind of way. Gender equality isn’t something that a single individual can initiate. It’s something that many of us have to value. Yet, even a small opinion counts in this vast world. A small act inflates into a bigger act so everyone needs to...

Do you ever revisit something only to realize how much you missed it or how much you adored it?

The last time I listened to something as deep as Into The Woods, I was maybe 11. 
Now, I'm the old age of 15, and...wow. 

If you learn anything today, it should be this: Revisit old memories before it's too late.

It's good to venture into the unknown, but sometimes we need the comfort of our past before moving to the...

we have been thrown together by chance
random selection
names that match numbers on doors
my heart is full of yearning
and the shock of joy
that we can sit on each others floors
or go on mutual walks
i know your faces in the crowd
i search for them and characterise my days
by our encounters -
is that a bit too much?
i am scared, friends, i hope i can call you that
flatmates/aquintances/peers/friends
i am scared
that...

I am the watcher
I am the keeper of the gates
These gates are filled with water
But ours are by dates

I am a daughter 
Of the earth, wind, and sky 
But I witness my mother’s slaughter 
As my kin ignore the obvious and sigh 

But I hope our opportunities will not be bare 
On the day we are sat
And realize that we care 
so we will dictate that 

We are the watchers
We are the keepers of...

A story without dialogue that revolves around a conversation (immigrant).
TW: Mention of suicide.
The shed smelled musty, and visible dust motes floated around, stirring as I stepped in. I twisted my head around the boxes that covered the back of the shed, side-stepping. 
The cup in my hand dropped, the liquid staining my shoes and spilling out on the floor. 
At the back was a corkboard leaning on a wall, with dozens of black and white pictures,...

once upon a time,
i was six years old.
and lived on an island
somewhere near the equator
where
the sand was warm,
and the sea was warm,
and the sky was warm.

i was playing on the beach, 
sitting at the shore 
with the waves splashing 
over my legs. 
a strand drifted on the water,
made of blue.
and brushed against 
my right calf.
it left a blue mark,
glowing. 
i later found 
it was the venom. 

i stared...

i. i will not make you into a god, or into my best friend, before weve had the chance to talk, more than
a handful of times
ii. i will let you leave, if you have found things outside this
bubble i created in my mind
iii. i will let myself change my mind if i find
you are not the same as the figment in my mind
iv. i will allow myself to love you even if 
my perceptions...

It’s good to love someone as much as they love you,
It’s better to love them less than they do you,
But never is it acceptable to love them more, 
Servitude is born out of that unequal passion and devotion. 
Love someone enough and they will hurt you,
Love someone enough and they will make you lesser,
Love someone enough and they will kill you.
And you will do nothing
But sit there wagging your tongue
Like a lousy tamed...

    “The glass ceiling isn’t an impediment.”
    “Men should be resilient no matter what.”

    Have you ever heard anything akin to the statements above? All of them can aggrieve us in any kind of way. Gender equality isn’t something that a single individual can initiate. It’s something that many of us have to value. Yet, even a small opinion counts in this vast world. A small act inflates into a bigger act so everyone needs to...

we have been thrown together by chance
random selection
names that match numbers on doors
my heart is full of yearning
and the shock of joy
that we can sit on each others floors
or go on mutual walks
i know your faces in the crowd
i search for them and characterise my days
by our encounters -
is that a bit too much?
i am scared, friends, i hope i can call you that
flatmates/aquintances/peers/friends
i am scared
that...

A story without dialogue that revolves around a conversation (immigrant).
TW: Mention of suicide.
The shed smelled musty, and visible dust motes floated around, stirring as I stepped in. I twisted my head around the boxes that covered the back of the shed, side-stepping. 
The cup in my hand dropped, the liquid staining my shoes and spilling out on the floor. 
At the back was a corkboard leaning on a wall, with dozens of black and white pictures,...

once upon a time,
i was six years old.
and lived on an island
somewhere near the equator
where
the sand was warm,
and the sea was warm,
and the sky was warm.

i was playing on the beach, 
sitting at the shore 
with the waves splashing 
over my legs. 
a strand drifted on the water,
made of blue.
and brushed against 
my right calf.
it left a blue mark,
glowing. 
i later found 
it was the venom. 

i stared...

where they to take a cross section of our minds
universes and galaxies would pool in puddles on
the cold steel table top

stars and comets would coat their latex embalmed fingertips
and they'd find the place beyond the black hole
where those teasing ideas go to hide

they'd place our planets in formaldehyde
and place a label on the jar- mindicus absurdus
and it would molder on the shelves, lost to time

puzzled expressions would flit to and fro...

I pause on the bridge above
the glistening pale river reflecting 
swaying leaves above it

On this small bridge
hidden by the bushes and trees
I can breath
breath and breath

Through the crevices of intertwined leaves
when the sun sidles through
the soft sand floats up and drifts away
caught in the swirl

Glance to the distant
tumbling pearls fall from the rocks
ripples all across
the silent slow surface

The river is hushed
unlike the hollering of man ...

I'm waiting for the weekend
and waiting for a text
waiting for the shorter nights
and waiting for what's next
we're waiting for the album
and waiting for our scores
waiting for the mail to come
and waiting for what's more
We're waiting for a miracle
waiting to have some fun
waiting for our graduation
we wait instead of run

but what do we do when the wait is over?