Silence is gold.

You stand alone. It's her words against yours and you feel humiliated for not being able to defend yourself or justify the outcomes of the mess to a third person. A mess so deep that has been building up for days and eventually left you holding the bag.

Silence is gold for the quiet one. They observe,keep things to themselves and crouch beneathe the surface without gathering any attention. Loud people are said to be the ones who carry, based on their self confidence and boldness but the quiet one takes advantage of the loud ones' sincere stupidity and hit them hard when they're down.

The loud and the pompous may not be the ideal person, but in a true world, they are the ones most reliable and trustworthy.


E.Y

Strength, Courage and Stupidity?

Bar to bar, pub to pub. Call it whatever you want, this "marathon" you partake on a Friday evening after work, when the tiredness of the whole week sinks in and gunk from the morning make-up starts to gather in the corner of your eye.

But we're single and we're free. Opinions are divided on what we should do to change our single status; Some say "You'll never meet anyone by sitting at home " while others refer to going out as a waste of time.

Bar to bar is an efficient way of scouting locations and often not reaching the point where you take of your coat. We might be single and free, but time is not on our side.
There is an appetite, in the beginning for observing and socializing. Strangers come and go and like skimming through clothes on a hanger, you eliminate them one by one. Conversations become shorter and since no one has the energy to talk, understanding a word repeated even five times become hard.

Gradually, as drunken strangers use your shoulder to lean on or your cell phone becomes sticky from someone else's spilt beer, it makes you wonder if there was a good movie on TV that night.

By all means, kudos to the ones for trying and better luck next time...because you know you will.

E.Y.

Superhuman

Superheroes spend their entire lives hiding their identities. Humans, spend their entire lives searching for their abilities.

It is only natural for every individual to believe that we have skills in a specific area. The truth is that some people are talented and some are not. Milestones can be achieved by practice, but even inborn talents need to be cultivated and nurtured.

The untalented creates a balance between the extremities of the talented and sadly, no matter how hard the untalented continues to search for the answer to "What am I good at?", the only comfort is that they will die trying.

E.Y.

Rush Hour

Rush hours were a funny time of the day, when a mass of random people filled a bus within seconds whilst the daily fatigueness reflected in slow movements and eyes gazed at a certain point.
This overwhelming tiredness had created a cosmic atmosphere just as her ipod shuffled to a song by Florence and the Machine.

She always enjoyed this everyday ritual of observing people who got on and off the bus. Where did they live? Where did they work? What were they having for dinner?

From the corner of her eye, she could feel a mans roving eyes. His awareness of her, got her curious about him. Their eyes met very shortly, but the search for a wedding ring was instinctive and also crucial, being a single woman's cryptonite.

Once again, the stars weren't aligned in her favor. The gold ring on his finger, was if nothing; a symbol of a man married to his habits.

After all, isn't that what most men were...married to their habits?

E.Y.

Time

Time, it was all I had and I didn't know what to do with it.

You see I spent most of my life comparing myself to others, deciding on what I could and what I couldn't do as the sand ran through my fist like an hour glass.

E.Y

Who were you?

Right there, across the street from where I'm standing now is where you were patiently waiting for me 3 months ago.

Your cheekbones highlighted by the streetlight, my attention was drawn to your wavy hair, flying in every direction. Your Sebago shoes, Chino pants and your grandpas old blazer made you smell like an old man, giving you that extra maturity every now and then.

You balanced me gently between my tantrums and my thrills. Always resting your cheek on your hand when I wandered off topics during feverish conversations, needing to be reminded of what we really were talking about.

The cold December wind slaps me in the face as I awake from these thoughts and remember the site of you.

You...Was there really a you?

E.Y