119: last re-sort

i never got into the world of witchcraft and wizardry.
i always have been, however,
indescribably and irresistibly interested in adaptations
of low fantasy based on real-life situations, and
real live actors utilising ideas from fiction.
to be somewhat more specific,
i was amused to find
that i was red and gold the other year
then black and yellow the other day.
it's hard to take in
when and why and how
i changed
from preppy-and-proud teacher’s pet,
to last-choice cherub in gym class;
from king of the pridelands
to a downgraded bear.
but when i tried
to dig up dirt
on the band of badgers,
i unearthed nothing.
that’s when i realised
that being fair
is better than being right,
that being tiny
does not mean we are powerless,
that being unpopular
never did make us insignificant,
and,
perhaps most importantly,
that this may be a sign
that i spend way too much time
on these damn personality tests.
~ 2016-04-05 4.45pm

117: cur(se)few

TW

i wouldn't be stupid enough to be out past midnight by myself
-- why ask for trouble?
but when i have to,
every gaze from a passerby
every puff of smoke from somewhere close by
every catcall
every chuckle
every shadow
every footstep
every flickering light
every creaking sound
every freaking thing
is amplified like i'm walking through a dark, icy cave.

the temperature doesn't drop,
but i subconsciously wrap myself
with my arms and with my prayers
as i try to make sure i haven't lost my voice
-- in case i had to scream
and i glance down to see that no shoelace is untied
-- in case i had to run
and with a cellphone in one hand
and whatever i could get in the other,
i pick up pace at every corner
i lock the door as soon as i'm inside,
and with blood raging through my veins in anger
and my heart pounding so hard out of fear
it pains me to realise
why i don't go out past midnight,
and why
for those who don't have a choice but to endure this
every. single. damn. day,
they're told
that they're asking for it.

2017

---


i wouldn't be stupid enough to be out past midnight by myself
-- why ask for trouble?
but when i have to,
every gaze from a passerby
every puff of smoke from somewhere close by
every catcall
every chuckle
every shadow
every footstep
every flickering light
every creaking sound
every freaking thing
is amplified like i'm walking through a dark, icy cave.

the temperature doesn't drop,
but i subconsciously wrap myself
with my arms and with my prayers
as i try to make sure i haven't lost my voice
-- in case i had to scream
and i glance down to see no shoelace is untied
-- in case i had to run
and with a cellphone in one hand
and something lethal in the other,
i pick up pace at every corner
i lock the door as soon as i'm inside,
and with blood raging through my veins out of anger
and my heart pounding so hard out of fear
it pains me to realise
why i don't go out past midnight,
and why
for those who don't have a choice but to endure this
every. single. damn. day,
society tells them
that they're asking for it.

---

- Izzaty | #YesAllWomen | 29/5/2014 | 11.30am