Fury

Blood boiling. Making the tip of the ears grow warm.

I feel a lump on my throat. The same lump I always get when I'm about to cry.

The corner of the eyes starts to whelm up with liquid.

I seem to have a knack to faithfully transform my anger into tears. I do it all the time.

My moist fingers feels like cool marble. It dances wildly across the keyboard. Words and phases string in my mind faster then my fingers can deliver. No wonder my fingers are so frantic.

If my heartbeats are like fire, then fury is now my coal. It beats vividly. Angrily. Underneath those earphones, I can hear it's trashing.



I'm pouring out all that's been locked up. All I ever wanted to say, or more, before but didn't have the chance.

Lashing out. It feels good.
Make him pay. Make him feel guilty.
Oh, the raging voices in my head.

While my whole body is hot and flustered, shivering with frustration... I caught something.

A small still voice.
It's a cooling voice. Very unlike the ones from my head.
It doesn't come from my head. I feel it come lower... it seem to come from my heart... or even deeper... my gut... or womb.
It's like a fresh tiny blue Tic-Tac. Little but undoubtedly there.

I can feel the difference between those voices. The ones in my head, they seem to be a lot of them. The small fresh voice, seems like there's only one.
I give them colours now.
The angry loud controlling voices, I give them red. The small still voice, I give it blue.

Blue voice, like a fresh mist, whispers, Why, child? Is this right?

Even though I did not reply the blue voice, I have the answer.
I know I'll go too far if I don't stop now.

I quit feeding red voices.

They were mad. They yelled back at blue voice. They were here first, they seem to shout.

But what happened next surprise me, I learn that I seem to be in charge.
As long as I stop feeding red voices, their furious yells have no power.
They were living on my rage. Like parasites. They live on anger.

I stop shoving coals of fury to my heart. Their red shots fades away.

My fingers started slowing down. Beats from my heart follows. Warmth flows back to my fingertips.

All the rage died down.
Like a scene you see in movies after a house burns down? That's how the fury in me feels now.
Weak. Dying. Black soot all over the place.

Ahh... but the damage is done. That's what fury always do. Leave an ugly mark.

But nevermind that for now.

I try to look for the blue voice. But I can't seem to trace it back. Like I state before, it's like a mist. It disappear just as fast as it appears.

I want to tell blue voice, thank you, for reminding me.

Dark room

I woke up to a dark room.

Let me bring you on a tour around my neighbourhood:



Sounds of collected rain drops dripping on neighbour's aluminium roof. It must've rained while I was asleep.

I hear people locking and unlocking their metal gate. People coming back from work, I guess.

A car thunders by and it's headlights reflected on my dark room's wall. Reminds me of those sleepless nights in Klebang, where I would count the cars that pass by, by looking on their headlights reflected on the walls.

Downstairs, I can hear my housemate's spatula clinking on her wok. Dinner time.

The opposite street lights gives out a orangy light that hits on my bedroom window. A nostalgic reminder of nightfall.

Further away, I hear people cheering and laughing. Must be from the mamak stall one block away.

Honks and motor engine travel to my eardrums. They sound like from a distance. Must be from the main road opposite Jaya One.


So many happenings, but sometimes, everything goes quiet.
No cars passing by. No people cheering or laughing. No housemate cooking.

Just the humming of my bedroom fan. I feel it's cool breeze. I close my eyes and buried my face in my pillow and breathe in my shirt's scent. My fingers went in my hair. It's cool after being blown by the fan. Soft, silky, light. I just washed them before my nap. They smell of my shampoo. I am happy.
It's not that I'm lazy to get up, on the lights and proceed to do things normal people will do, it's just that I want to cherish this moment.

This moment of being alone and quiet. I'm in my own world.


I enjoy all these little things. It makes me feel alive. Why? Because I know that I have to be alive to feel these things. Things we take for granted in our daily life. What are those you ask? The ability to hear. The ability to feel. The ability to take in all these sounds and connect them with your past memories.

As I'm typing all these, I'm doing them in the dark. My room lights are working, I just don't want to turn them on. Because somehow when I do turn the lights on, it's like this quiet and magical world of mine will disappear along with the darkness.

It's weird but true. Turning on the florescent lights makes me shut down my observation towards things happening around my neighbourhood. My brain will choose to ignore all the little sounds and I'll only focus on whatever I'm doing, which is fine, but... boring.

Maybe it's in the dark that our senses are enhanced. Since our vision is down, our ears work extra. Just our bodies adapting to surroundings.


But whatever it is, I like this.

I like to be alone and quiet in my dark room, listening to things around me, knowing that I'm actually living in a busy world.

Thank you Dad, for letting me live this moment in my dark room.