Getting there.

Reading that last post, it's quite amazing and in ways scary to see how fast things change. So much has, since the last post, most in the good way. I think the most important change is on the work front where J has decided to put me on freelance for a few months so that I can sort myself out, can't thank her enough for not firing me.

Work just keeps coming and opening up new windows to everywhere. Just when I thought I could sit back and chill we get a new corporate project and I'm being put in charge of it...gulp...better not fuck it up David! But it's not my fault if I do, these headaches get worse with every day that go. Doc says it's low blood pressure probably caused by those days not eating combined with the depression.

On the other hand, after reading this thing she wasn't supposed to read that I wrote while in Negombo, J is convinced that I've got what it takes to write something that will win the Booker. Either she's as crazy as I am or sees something I don't. Although, winning it would be cool.

I suppose that's one thing I like about my life. I maybe a fuck up, but a gifted fuck up at that. No day is ever boring. In time to come I guess there will be less surviving it and more living it, good things always come slow. Also reconnected with Kei-chan, feels nice talking to someone who's been through the past almost decade of your life.

I like how J offers to buy me women, lol, she's awesome. Thanks to an old friend, I suppose I don't have to be too flustered about the events of the recent past. An old friend was right. "Don't change who you've always been and are. If things don't work out the first, or the second, or even the third time, it's because at the end of that line is the perfect one. And you're lucky your line keep getting progressively better, imagine what's coming up?!"

I don't know how T makes so much sense sometimes, but she's right. I guess somewhere down the line when I'm with whoever that maybe that's supposed to come along, I'll think to myself saying 'phew, thank God I didn't get stuck with dimple butt'. Oh well whatever.

Distressing damsels

Instincts, do I listen to them or not? At times it seems an easy answer, at times it seems a difficult question. People don't change, just the way they live their lives. But that's something I've always been good at. Helping people change their lives. Most often it's just ended up biting me in the ass, but according numerology and my number 6, that's my nature and I'll always have an inclination to do things without thought or reason. Which of course means I'm fucked! Royally.

In this case though, I suppose the matter is more close to heart and I've been through it once and it didn't turn for the best. But does that mean I change who I am, by not acting? I don't know, even on the other end, I don't know what's going on, but I'd like to help and don't know why, but too scared to do so. I suppose this needs a little more thinking, actually maybe more and even some alcohol.

Finally

I finally did it. Wasn't bittersweet as I thought it would be, just bitter. I still love her, so much. I'll never understand why she did the things she did but there is no point me holding onto her at the cost of my health while she's with that sack of shit. Once you cross a boundary, you're not afraid to cross it again. Even if there was hope of something, it wouldn't the same. But anyway, I don't regret anything so far, just miss her, so much, but I'm a soldier of fortune, I move on. Into the sunset, in search of better days and a new home, to find that ordinary world that is out there.

Next week

It's weird that I can live all the days of the year without getting emotional about it, but when the week to the day approaches it all keeps coming back. Sigh. I don't think I'll go see him this time. I'm a mess thanks to all this recent shit. I was a happy kid last time Dad saw me, and I was a content man last I visited him. I'm neither now. No point tearing over that grave when I have more to tear about in the mirror.

Mother's Day

Mom,
I love you.
Funny how the simplest words
Are the hardest to say
We waste our time waiting
Holding words for another day
A day that may not come
After all, no one is here to stay
I get old
Mom gets older
Say it when you can
Or fornever hold your peace.

Some days

Some days, the sun shines brighter
The birds chirp and the air is lighter
Other days, the clouds pour anger
Mothers scream about lightning's danger

Some days, dreams colour nights
Rain happiness on ethereal sights
Other days, nightmares come to life
Bring torture and undeserved strife

Some days, the stars don't seem out of reach
There are no boundaries you can't breach
Other days, even a breath seems hard
You feel your live's a broken beaten chard

Some days, you're loved and cared for
They serve you on a silver platter and ask if you need more
Other days, you're just a quicksand Jesus answer
Called in time of need and forgotten after

Some nights, resolve meets problem
Heart meets peace, in tandem
Other nights, despair meets mind
Questions with answers you can't find

Sometimes, I think I've moved on
You were the past; dead and gone
Some time the next day, you come back
Smile, and play our favourite track

Some days, I wish things were simpler
I wish there came a day I didn't have to wish at all
That everything came to pass as deserved
Till then I hold the memories preserved
It will come I tell myself
Some day
Some day.

The call

Not often does the female human variety make sense, but when they do, oh they make a whole load of it. It was a much need slap in the face by wisdom and from a person least expected. Sadly, thanks to her there will be no novel. Don't know what I was thinking. Sigh. What a waste of writing and chapters. I don't know why I've been doing the things I have to myself these few weeks, but I suppose that's over, redemption comes quite serendipitously.

To go or not to go.

In 17 days, it will be 2191 days,
To the last day I saw you,
Seated in the back of that red Audi,
I know you did all you could do
To go on; to live; to see us again.
Your lifetimes work in vain.

A father's silence, a mother's tears
Among a thousand graves, all these years.
On that day the rain fell surprising.
We knew the heaven's wept; you were there.
Your boys then slept; never to awaken.
In the morning rose men; their innocence taken.

Days weren't the same; your ashtray empty
Mum wasn't the same; her cries plenty
Home just house with your picture in front
'Dad' just a word with no owner
I remember you say, "Don't be a mourner,
Celebrate my freedom when I'm gone"

The graveyard is a reminder that tomorrow comes
Always before you even know it.
We're on our way to the exit; inevitable.
Why it takes a death to realize, I don't know.
But lessons learned, stones turned
On that day, I will come see you.

Chapter 3

Dearest V,

I went out with someone today. She's an artist, drop dead gorgeous, has a tattoo on her arm, half French and makes good brownies. You should have seen the look on everyone's faces when they saw me with her. Fucking twats! Why does everyone make me out to be a druggie and all that. I'm just a good boy, who loves his mom and works his ass off to come up in life with the gift I have. So I don't shave sometimes and I wear linen clothes. But only because they're more comfortable. I wish people stop stereotyping so much.

It was fun to have some company. Cocktails at the Lighthouse, but all throughout, all I could do was wish you could be there. Semblances of you appear in everything, like shooting stars out of a night sky and they make you wish. Funny how I always spell 'wish' wrong the first time. I don't know what you're doing now, but I wish that there was a way to be there. I don't know where we are heading, but I know I'm lost. Everyday, the world fades, loses a little more colour. Till one day, all there is left is purple. The colour of hope. I'm too scared to think about a day like that. I miss you angel.

Yours always,
LD

Ps. I wish I could send you this letter, but they say you're happy, so I won't. I don't want to ruin anything for you. I really do hope you know what you're doing.

This is my first attempt at a novel. All writing is copyright to Lasantha David and cannot be taken or reproduced under any circumstances.