Proud

In response of this prompt.

‘Aren’t you proud of what you’ve done?’

I looked down to the iced Americano on the table, not being able to answer. From my point of view nothing seemed to go well by that time. Chaos, mess, and disorder – much like the traffic outside the coffeeshop we were in – he had done an excellent job pointing them out in every single thing I have conducted so far. No reason to say yes here.

He waited.
I swallowed.

An honest reply almost rolled out of my tongue when he continued. ‘For me, I’m proud of you.’

I looked up instantly.
‘Really,’ he quickly added.

…well that’s a first.


True story.

A rather surprising moment if I thought about it, but it wasn’t really something you hear often from anyone (excluding family members who will probably say that even when you pour H2SO4 over their flowerbed in the name of science).

Have you had it?
The time when someone set aside your flaws for a second, recap all the efforts and changes you have made throughout the times, and take a moment to say it out loud?

For me, luckily enough, I have.
He was my mentor, so I’ve been telling myself it’s probably just for the sake of keeping me from quitting.

Never had the guts to ask whether he meant what he said.
Nope. Not ready for it.
Later, maybe, if I reached a day when I don’t have to see him regularly anymore. Or if I got drunk enough. But not now. Definitely not now.

For now, I’m just going to bask in this assumption and do what I can do with what I have.

PS. if you had said that to someone else before, bless you
PPS. if by any chance you’re my mentor who stumbled upon this page and somehow found out this is me, let’s pretend this post doesn’t exist

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Silver Linings

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt.
A rather snippet-ish sequel to this just because.
May the 4th be with you!
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.
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In many cases, this shouldn’t be fine.

The car reeked of cigarette smoke mixed with the sickening sweetness of perfume and bitter ether. I wasn’t sure what the worst part in this scene is – that, or the fact that I’ve gotten used to it (no idea about the drunkard who joined me in the back seat this time though).

I sighed, leaning on the pile of things that was my bag and a bunch of papers from work in the middle of the backseat. Those, and a laptop. Not really comfortable. Nevertheless it’s the second most huggable thing in the vehicle after the fluffy neck pillow was snatched by that person leaning on the opposite door. Glancing aside, there’s no telling if he really passed out or just too nauseous to even budge. Not my business – I decided so as I tried to ignore the road bumps testing my skill in holding back those bottles of 19%.

Wasn’t sure why I agreed on another night of senseless drinking either.

The first time gave me a hard time in the morning. The second and third, then fourth and fifth were total damage to what’s left of my dignity. I lost count – and memories – after the sixth but so far I hadn’t found another half-filled Jägermeister in my bag. Which is… good. I think. But let’s forget about the fact that I still couldn’t hold my liquor that well because it started to feel so… good. Good. Good. Good. There’s no other word for it.

Funny thoughts led me to a slumber – and they became good friends until the traffic noise roared all of sudden.
Somebody opened the window.
I might be hearing wrong but it might’ve been a retch following after.
What do you know? For once I wasn’t the only one with a weak stomach.

Slightly awake but not enough to sit up straight, an amused grin crept across my face as I shifted – my head bumping against… something. I peeked and looked up just to find his drowsy face looking straight ahead, his sleeve messing with my hair as the car hit another bump and shook its passengers. Rather rudely. Setting it aside, I closed my eyes and snuggled, for the umpteenth time feeling the week’s lasting doubts, fears, and haunting thoughts flew out the open window along with my consciousness.

In many cases, this shouldn’t be fine.
But for now… it is.

Photo Challenge: Afloat

In response to The Daily Post’s photo challenge: “Afloat.”
Here’s a doodle to keep the memories of people I cared about. Stay afloat.

In memoriam ©mk17design

In memoriam ©mk17design

You remain: my power, my pleasure, my pain

Title taken from Seal’s “Kiss from A Rose”.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Never Gonna Give You Up” and “No Apologies”.


‘Do you need to throw up?’

She shook her head and clenched her eyes shut – not that she needed to. Occasional streetlights penetrated through the tinted window, shooting at her eyelids as if trying to prevent her from dozing off with the help of the sound of racing motorcycles along the road.

‘Are you sure?’

This time she nodded. Through the curtain of messy locks covering her face, her drinking companion’s stare bore a hole at the side of her head. Curled up in the backseat, the road bumps made it difficult to hold it in. It was embarrassing to have mere two bottles of 19% knocking her out to such a stupor. She should’ve stopped at the beginning of the second one but she really hated to be that lame kid who couldn’t handle her liquor…

‘Tell me if you need to.’

Another feeble nod. Shifting sound. Him looking away, probably. Good thing. The last thing she wanted was to look pathetic in front of him. Although it was more of a high hope at this point. What exactly got her there in the first place again? It was some kind of frustration from work… something. She had never been that mad before. What made it different from the previous ones? Nah. It was a somebody. She was close to mentally slaughter somebody really maddening but who was it really… Ah. She shouldn’t be wasting her consciousness on trivial things… could consciousness be wasted? What is consciousness? Something overrated, apparently. Ha! She giggled. She could hear a laugh and low voices from the front seats following, another sign that she was the only one not sober in the car. Well, at least she knew she would get home in one piece. What a relieve. She needed to thank him for taking care of her later. Later. After she got home. Home…

The next morning, she woke up with a half-filled bottle in her bag and a sudden flash of memories.
The reason why she drank…
It was the same reason how she got home safe and sound.

Daily Prompt: Pleased to Meet You

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt:
“Pleased to Meet You.”
Avec le capitaine et moi.


Tick.
Tick. Tack.
Tick. Tack. Clack.

Fingers dancing on the keyboard.
Q, W, E, R, ,T, Y, U, I, O, P.
A, S, D, F, G, H, J, K, L.
Z, X, C, V, B, N, M.

He sighed.
One.
She sighed.
Two.

‘I need nicotine.’
‘I need caffeine.’

‘Starbucks?’
‘Let’s go.’

Photo challenge: Serenity

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Serenity.”

Tea time ©mk17design

Tea time ©mk17design

Writing Challenge: Sky Full of Stars

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly writing challenge: “Ice, Water, Steam.” Wrote in my phone and edited it on the computer. Wasn’t as short as I thought.

Inspired by a real conversation.
And yes I stole the title from Coldplay. Shush.


‘It’s hard to see stars in here.’

Although it is a common complaint in the North part of the city, I looked up anyway. I wonder how he came up with such notion that second of all times – there were quite some numbers twinkling in the pitch black background tonight. The cold breeze told me it won’t be for long, though. I stopped for a second just to avoid falling on my face along the unevenly-paved parking lot and glanced aside to my drinking partner of the night. He kept walking with his eyes fixed on the sky. Sighing, I followed suit.

Finding any idea to counter the tactless remark against my hometown was not supposed to be a hard thing to do. But that time, it was. So I gave up and replied, ‘It’s because of the pollution. You should go the beach.’

He snickered, the Southern accent popping up in his words like every time he drops his guard. ‘You mean like that place I went to last week?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘That place is crap. Or maybe The Pass? The sky is clearer there.’

‘Are there a lot of pretty girls in bikini there?’
‘…it’s in the mountains.’

‘Ah. No then.’
Effing foreigners. Is that the only thing you look for in my precious city?

I found myself ransacking my memories for any place to simply observe stars but nothing came up. The lights in the lamp-posts flickered as if trying to slam my thoughts down to the ground. I stopped at my track, realising that I have never waste precious seconds to look up and appreciate mother nature – too busy, as the last hundred excuses said. Then I just stared at his back for a while, thinking about this small self-discovery.

Maybe it’s the booze. Maybe it’s me being enlightened. Maybe it’s that son of a gun who enjoys torturing my mental health, simultaneously being someone-whom-I-want-to-drink-with and someone-who-makes-me-want-to-drink. Maybe it’s because I just got myself a simple goal for this new year: to look for stars. For whichever reason it was, a grin crept across my face as I continued walking along the lines of cars. In the middle of the night. Under the rarely-seen stars. Excited.

No matter how much I hate to admit it, I have to give some credits to this frustrating being who keeps accidentally changing me into a different person.
Bit by bit.
Slowly.
But sure.