I can learn to sleep alone when you cannot be on the phone. 

As I rest my head onto the pillow, 

Waiting for my friend to wrap me up and portal me to the world of my subconscious,

I acknowledge the silence that strangle the walls surrounding me. 

But as I listen carefully, 

I become aware of a rhythmic sound of air;

I didn’t realise my breathing can be so loud when accompanied by silence,

Reminding me of his exhales at night.

And a thought crosses my mind;

If I am the reflection he sees in the mirror, 

Then our breathing can be the same.

If I am his, and he is mine, 

Then the air I breathe is his own. 

Which means,

I don’t need to hear him breathing in order for me to relax and sleep,

All I need


To listen to myself 



As if he was on the phone.

Son (5)

It’s been a while.

   I’m sorry. 

It hurts, you know. And I can’t do shit about it. 

To be frank, sometimes I can’t even be bothered to do shit. Because caring hurts. Caring makes me so insecure. And insecurity wounds my pride. 

I cry almost every night. And all I wish is to be sucked in a void of nothingness until his time and location are aligned perfectly with mine.

Ah, son. I’m almost tempted not to bring you to this world. I don’t feel like bringing you to this world at all. Why would I? It’ll cause you so much pain, you’d think the outcome is worth it. And guess what, it is. It’s totally worth it. But the pain, my dear boy, I no longer want you to experience it. Why make you stronger and resilient and blablablaaaaaa, when I can prevent all that and not give birth to you. 

Don’t worry, mama will help you, I’ll save you. Mama won’t let anything bad happen to you. Just stay in my heart and mind. And everything will be okay.