#FICTION

#FICTION
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in Writing
One Morning

One Morning

I wake up to the sound of the alarm. After snoozing it three times, I manage to gain back my conscience. I feel like shit. The room is dark. There’s no one sitting on the edge of the bed. There’s no more of that messy bed hair, looking up at the sky while giving me that sickening sweet greeting. “Good morning, Scott.” But the room is dead silent. Among the stink of sweat lingers a faint scent of vanilla. Hers. How I resent it. Her toothbrush still stays beside mine. I open the window and throw it as far as I can. The scent of vanilla even thicker inside the cramped bathroom. The shelf used to have many bottles of liquids I don’t even know what they’re supposed to be. Now...

in Writing

Choices.

People say, Falling in love is magical. Its as if the world stops spinning, And its  as if your love interest is your new sun. People say, love is the strongest feeling of all. They say, love makes everything feels beautiful, Even if it really isn't. But when I love you, It was my choice. I didn't fall in love. I walked right in to the trap, and I let it engulf me whole. I let myself be shrouded in love, It was my choice. In a world where eating chocolate gives you the same chemical reaction as falling in love, In a world where scientists found that the same chemical could only stay active for a year, I would still love you. It was my conscious, wholehearted choice. Even in another...

in Writing
Night Thoughts

Night Thoughts

Have you ever woken up, regretting that you ever met me? Because I never did. But I go to sleep every night with thoughts that you may have.n The other side of the bed is empty and cold. I dare not to touch it, because your scent still lingers like flower on summer day. At night I close my eyes and can feel the faint of your body heat cutting through the night air. Like an amputee feeling an itch where their limbs are missing. Phantom limbs. Where are you now? Can you still recall me from somewhere I cannot reach? Are you still waking up — if you ever sleep or even awake — calling my name from where no voice can echo? Because I can still hear your voice like a soft music...