Sarah

☀☀☀
Sarah, 18, Singapore
(click the flower above for older entries)

Twitter: @sarahbananachan
Instagram: hisarahnademe

❀

Wednesday, October 8, 2014 || 8:10 PM

(wrote you a letter and then trashed it)

Unconditionally

Saturday, October 4, 2014 || 2:24 AM

your whole being

is untenable:

flawed and insupportable,

i try my best

to grasp on to shaky corners

and straighten my back

so you don't fall

ii.

i hear your voice tremble

over ceaseless admissions,

'who is there?'

i am here. i am

always here.

iii.

despite

your wayward tendencies

and hopeless fallacies:

i will wrap you

around my sinews and

love you whole.

(I haven't written in awhile, excuse this)

Thursday, October 2, 2014 || 10:29 AM

I knew your face before I knew your name — the crow's feet that line your eyes and the chiseled angles of your jawline before the word I repeat in hushed tones over two glasses of Vodka and three glasses of ice cold water.

I knew your name before I knew your story — each syllable carefully rolled off my tongue and slipped into the open, the taste of your nomenclature on the insides of my mouth (sweet, yet fiery like liquid nitrogen) before the tellings of what made you. How you scraped your knuckles falling off a bike when you were six, but was more concerned about the damage to your bicycle — something not as living breathing consuming as you are. It made me wonder how much you had to give.

I knew your story before I knew I loved you — the way your heart works before I was aware it was capable of capturing mine.

Lacking

Sunday, September 21, 2014 || 5:40 PM

(i like how white and vast library tables are — i'd want to counter them by spilling my notes all over the table)

Genuine, inescapable fear that I will fail again. I do not want the escalating promise building in my throat: yet I wonder why I am not trying.

(I admit I think this sometimes)

Tuesday, September 16, 2014 || 12:16 AM

I'm not drowning in anything — lacking is the relentless and unfaltering passion I've always desired. I want to be more sure of this than anything else in the world; for standstills to finally make sense (I want to know why people hunger the way they do). I want to be able to write volumes of poetry with every syllable of your name and every brush of your skin.

I feel like I cannot. This should not bother me but it does, it does.

New sort of feelings

Saturday, September 6, 2014 || 10:50 PM

You have the loveliest eyes I have ever known — I want them to read me for days. Your gaze is a prefix to the knots in my stomach; I often want to hold your hand mid-sentence. You are filled with warmth and I am trying to make my vessel fire-proof to contain it all. This may not have been the passion I've always desired (you do not beget tumultuous paroxysm ... ok sometimes) but it is the steady calm I've received: tucked so neatly in my back pocket there is nothing I can do but provide it a home.

So here I am. Open, for you.

(I miss you even through the nights, I miss you through the eight-hour separations, I miss you through the spaces between my fingers and the air between the spaces.)

Things I know to be true (ii)

Saturday, August 30, 2014 || 9:41 PM

your skin feels like a thousand fires, burning a thousand times over:

i want to get lost in the flames.

(i felt like writing tonight)

|| 1:26 AM

Stop breathing air into my lungs — it only reminds them I need you for survival. I take residence in our symbiosis; I take you in and you (hopefully) do the same. I cannot trust myself in your hands: you are faultless and I am the river skimming the rocks; I am the spillover from the dam. Not good enough to touch you: yet you weave yourself into the flecks of my skin, you flit between the spaces of my fingers — entrapping me in your recluse. Let me out/ Can I stay? I cannot decide which question to ask you.

You are constantly in the recesses of my mind; I'd forget the days of the month sooner than I could ever forget your name.

thoughts #3

Saturday, August 16, 2014 || 2:26 PM

I am so quiet you would think I'd be sedated. I'm not, I'm not.

Life updates #5

|| 11:28 AM

#1 I have a penchant; a knack for things like falling asleep anywhere and everywhere — I have learnt this from the week I just had; tired girls beget tired lives (I've said this before but I'll say it again). My eyes are constantly fluttering shut but I'm glad I have you around to wake me up.

#2 How can you be more than everything I've could have ever hoped for yet also less — you are the contradiction of contradictions disposed (no, not disposed — carefully placed) in my life. You are all ends of the spectrum; all at once. You are twenty-seven degree weather with a chance of a blizzard; you are the fire that keeps me warm if I don't accidentally catch it and get burnt to ash.

#3 The hibiscus lemon drink thing at Starbucks is pink (already winning points with it's aesthetics) and it tastes like I imagine a flower garden warmed by the Sun would. It reminds me of Asters (your favourite flower).

#4 I... need... to... stop... using.. my phone.. I feel like the radioactive waves are seeping into my skin cells and making me dumber, really. I don't like having it die on me every few hours and then scurrying desperately to find a charger. Just stop using the damn thing (my phone is at 10% and I am sans charger as I write this).

You are a shot in the dark

Monday, August 11, 2014 || 1:08 PM

(i am so scared of losing you — yet that seems to be the only possible outcome. an inevitable; like getting burnt after pressing lit matches to your skin)

You are too good to be mine — I am too fickle to be anyone's.

(Inspired by but not about)

Tuesday, August 5, 2014 || 12:38 PM

(wrote this last week so it is no longer applicable to my current life situation but i thought i'd publish it anyway)

(i'm sorry, these are very, very raw + honest thoughts and i thought i would use this opportunity to create something out of them)

the only person i don't ever want to write about: i want to bury you in the recluses of my mind and drown you in the fluid that surrounds my brain so you'll be dead and i'll never have to think about you again for as long as i live.

but

you have such a good heart and your kindness is like salt rubbed against the ulcers of my mouth — it stings with such an urgency you cannot help but wonder if it is meant to heal your pain or rip you apart. you are skin teeth lips hair human and all i am is a beating heart and an empty vessel.

(i think we should be friends)

Mismatched

Sunday, August 3, 2014 || 3:14 PM

You are so pure I feel like every time I touch you I taint you — I am afraid to speak to you because you resemble the white linen bedsheets that line my bed and I am a burning house no one resides in.

Thoughts #2

Thursday, July 31, 2014 || 11:09 PM

(inspired by my terrible headache — i yearn to sleep this off so badly)

the sadness is so acute: i never knew feelings could retaliate in the form of physical ache — the back of my throat hurts and so does my head and my heart and every part of me that you looked at and every part of me that you didn't.

ii.

i think it normal because i do not (cannot) expect anything — that is how my life works. i am not built with a heart that beats in synchrony with someone else's orchestra or built for the turpentine stench of the streetlamps that lights a path that fits two. i am beautifully crafted but my palms are flat; the lack of curvature proving that other hands are never meant to slip into my own.

iii.

this will be true in all ways, always. nothing has ever proven to me otherwise.

Thoughts

Wednesday, July 30, 2014 || 10:03 AM

(tonight i feel the weight of my 15 year old self again, wanting to not let slip about you, no one can know — let you be my secret; hidden in the residues of my brain and lodged between the spaces of my heart)

Ps. You have turned to dread.

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