Walking in Shadow

I am drawn to the darkness of life. Fascinated, by the more sinister aspects of human nature, of what lies underneath the façade of superficial smiles and appearance, unheeding of the goodness of nature, but drawn towards the twisted parts of humanity. Seduced by the flaws of humanity.

I seek the darkness. I seek the embrace of all that is unsavoury so their taint will linger on me, and I can taste the salty sting of fear as I bite my lip hard enough for blood to flow. And I welcome the taste on my tongue.

I find peace walking down the dark alleys of Melbourne on my own. Wrapped in night's cloak, I walk the shadowy paths, silent save for the thoughts in my mind, all senses on hyperdrive. Sensitive to the tread of footsteps behind me, letting the adrenaline pump through my veins should the occasion rise that I must take flight.

Yet, a part of me welcomes the intrusion of my thoughts, almost defiant, almost daring the other party to attempt ill-will. A reckless confidence, coupled with a streak of bloodthirsty violence.

I watch the faces of the night. The eyes glazed over by the alcohol heating their blood, the flushed faces high on life, the narrowed gaze of the unsavoury characters lurking down these lanes, and I smile to myself sardonically, feeling the heat emanating from their gaze.

The gaze of the suspicious, and the unholy, and the degenerate, and I meet their gaze, my expression carefully blank, my eyes shuttered, and in their gaze they recognize one of their kind, and pass on back into the shadows of the night.

And night after night, I continue my travels into the darkness, in search of something of which I cannot quite be sure of. Perhaps I seek to face the darkness in order to conquer what resides inside of me. Perhaps I live off the thrill of walking down the sharp blade of danger. Perhaps I seek peace of mind.

I cannot tell my fascination with the shadows.

Tell Me I Didn't Imagine It

Tell me I didn't imagine it. Tell me it's not a fragment of my imagination.

Tell me I didn't imagine the intimacy we once shared, the playfulness and light and wonder when we would walk next to each other, that happy time we were the best and closest of friends, and I would catch the look in your eyes and feel the warmth inside spread all over me because I knew you cared.

Tell me that I'm not dreaming. That once, you did care for me and you were there when I needed you, and even after we parted ways, you were still there to hold my hand in those times of need. That once, you were there to catch me when I fell, and I was never afraid to fall because of that.

Tell me it's all in my mind, that I'm imagining this barrier between us, that I'm fabricating this fear that we're drifting apart and things are no longer the same between us as they once were. That conversation between us has become superficial, threads of surface thought and nothing more of substance.

Tell me it's not a fragment of my imagination that you once loved me, that I didn't imagine those promises you and I made to maintain our friendship and that we would remain there for each other. Or perhaps it was just me who hoped that you would remain there for me.

Tell me what I need to hear, because I'm splintering apart at the most unexpected of moments, and I don't think I can take any more pain.

I've already lost my love. Please tell me I haven't lost my friend.

In the Arms of A Stranger

One finds comfort in the strangest of places at times.

I barely knew him. We had met, but hadn't had the opportunity to get to know each other really well. We smiled at each other in the hallway and were friendly when we met, but I still barely knew him.

Yet, he happened to cross my path at the time. I meant to comfort him and offer words of advice for the hard time he was going through. I never meant to open up about my own sadness but he was unwittingly warm, and sensitive, and oh so gentle and I found myself pouring my heart out to him.

And he listened to me, and sympathized with my tears, and offered his shoulder for me to cry on, despite my adamant protests and embarassment for breaking down in front of him. The night was cold and silent, and in the silence, I only heard his words.

"Don't forget, I'm only a floor away."

That night I found solace with someone I barely knew. We knew each other, only on the surface, but that night, we opened up and things changed forever.

Here's to Those Times

Friends forever, we once said.

Promises we once held to our hearts, convinced of the purity and strength of those bonds of friendship. Friendships taken for granted because of the close proximity we shared, but at the time, convinced that time would not erode those bonds. Certain that we would never lose the laughter, the playful banter, the spirit of the moment.

Then we moved apart, and our lives became filled with the hustle and bustle of work and university and social activities, and the phone calls and e-mails became less frequent, and days turned into weeks, and weeks into months before we cross each other's minds again, and we realise how far apart we've grown. The physical distance becoming a distance of hearts.

And despite wanting to make that extra effort to say hello, wanting to know how each other has been, uncertainty becomes a barrier, and the flames of friendship become dying embers of a time that once was. And our next meeting is one of strangers, with the polite reservedness of those who are uncertain of the other.

This is a tribute to those friends.

To those times we had those random Freecell competitions and those walks to Atria, to the random craving for ABC and the drive down to Uptown regardless of the pouring rain. Before we went different places and became different people.

To those times in Victoria Hall where we would hang out during dinner, or just whenever we were bored, or that impromptu decision to drive four hours to Great Ocean Road in the middle of the night. Before we all moved and grew busy.

To those times we would go bowling and shopping at Pyramid, and those times at Coffee Bean where I would convince you to buy me a vanilla Ice Blended. Before we grew up and got different sets of friends.

To just hanging out at night at each other's houses until the early hours of the morning, talking about who we were and the people we've become. Our futures, and vowing we would be there for each other regardless of what happened. Thank you for that.

To those talks during supper, and the random chats whenever the urge struck, dropping by each other's rooms to talk, or had whole get togethers to play board games. We had such fun. Before our schedules became busy.

To just watching movies, curled up under the sheets, or playing Heroes of Might and Magic till the early hours of the morning, just making fun of each other and talking and laughing the night away. Before things changed and we changed.

To the times I would knock on your balcony door and you would let me in, and we would sit and have tea and talk. Just spending time talking, about nothing and everything in particular. Before distance made a difference.

Here's to those memories I cherish, and carry in my heart, for the smiles I spent and the laughter we shared. Some friends I have grown apart from, and some I have grown closer to, but I miss each and every one.

Friends forever, we once said. And in my heart, we are.