Author Archives: theshadowsofthenight
Walking away (I’m the one who left, not you)
I had a friend that I first met when I was 16 in pre uni. We briefly clicked and hung out a lot. She was really good at finding good things in me, and that perhaps fed my insecure need … Continue reading
“I am a SAHM. Please leave me alone.”
I think you’d know a dead relationship when you saw one. When I look back at how things slowly became toxic for me with some people amongst my extended in laws I’d say at the heart of it was these … Continue reading
Motorcycle passenger-hood
I keep looking at this scribble drawing and feeling it just isn’t it, those lovely soaring too tall trees that stand on the road in and out of Main Gate, at night, recoloured by the night and the street lamps. … Continue reading
The things they say
Sometimes the things I hear about other people’s lives make me think about how nice and undramatic my growing up was. No aunties in our noses telling us we’re doomed, no uncles tattling about seeing us in the park too … Continue reading
KL life
When I was a seven year old in SLC, Utah, a girl in the same grade came back after a year on an archaeological trip with her parents in Egypt. The family shared stuff about it all with the school, … Continue reading
The best tastes
There’s this thing we used to do as kids, semi-fight over who gets to wipe the chicken/fish/vegetable pot clean with rice. It tasted better than the same food ladled out normally. There was this covert thing about staying up late, … Continue reading
The Arch
Until the emptiness becomes so huge that one has to search for the truth again.
Time and that one platform game
A few years ago we stumbled across Aladdin, Nasira’s revenge, again, the PC platform game that gripped us as young teens. Unsurprisingly it was a bit like, what? Why did I like this so much? Its shoddy. And why is … Continue reading
Riverside picnic in the tropics
I’d be sitting on a checkered wool blanket I’d borrowed from my mom, with bought food, the kind that felt mall-ish yet poetic to me then-vanilla ice cream with some modernized exaggerated topping, hot coffee and a cinnamon bun, perhaps … Continue reading
Fifteen minutes before lunch
What really did go on, they wondered, in those four walls, of the house, and also, of her mind, in those hurried furtive moments just before lunch had to be started? Was it emptiness, or was it scandal, or was … Continue reading
shadowsofthestars 