An odd time to confess

We were arguing about something, which, for the life of me, neither she nor I can remember now. But the atmosphere was somewhat, undeniably tense. She was staring at her computer screen, uncomfortably seated on her sturdy office chair, possibly anticipating our juvenile argument’s end.  Her large round eyes glued to the screen. Her light, soft brows tensely pushing the skin between each other wrinkling her smooth, pale skin. I found myself standing just a foot or two beside her, facing her with the same tense in my brows, but much thicker and larger in volume, staring with an equally uncomfortable glare on my smartphone.


Despite the tense atmosphere, I found my heart relaxing and growing soft as I took notice of her ever so subtle yet enticing fragrance. Followed by my detection of her little, innocent figure, crunched up uncomfortably on her usually comfortable chair.


I could feel little pockets of guilt emerging through my heart, slowly it was flowing through my veins provided with little chills through my body, urging me to comfort this beautiful creature who I have brought sadness upon. “Love” was the first word that finally formed in my mind. I don’t know how, I don’t know why but listening to her breath had an immense effect on me. Her quiet, soft and slightly fast-paced breath protesting against my lack of outward sympathy with each exhale insisting on an unfeigned apology.


To which my instincts decided to grab her notepad on her desk and reach down for my pen from my bag. My consciousness wasn’t doing the work anymore. This was something I have been wanting to confess. Something that I had hinted but my attempts had reached to no avail. This time, I was going to make sure she got the message. With the notepad on my right hand, I clicked my black, ball-point pen and without hesitation wrote down my feelings. It was to be short and direct and so it was. “I love you.” I wrote first. Then after a pause for a second, I wrote another sentence. “我愛你”. Thank god I had still remembered to write “I love you” in Chinese from my high school days.


With some hesitation and uneasiness of having almost revealed my inner most feelings to her, I tore the paper out of her notepad and flipped the paper around. I didn’t want her to read it before I left her room to the library. So I wrote, “P.T.O” praying to god she knew what it meant. Once I was content with what I wrote in the paper, I realized she had been speaking. I didn’t know what but it was something I didn’t want to hear, and it was about me. I interrupted her, “Do you know what PTO means?” to which I received a blank stare. “It means please turn over.. the paper” I added still unsure whether she understood what I meant.


There’s no way she won’t see the message now, I thought. With that, I placed the paper close beside her right hand with the letters “P.T.O” written on it. Ignoring her questions, I rushed out her room, then from her flat, then from the building with my heart thumping on my chest. It felt like my heart was beating against my ribs, wanting to escape so my brain would cease to function and so I would lose my consciousness and avoid to ever having to hear, see or read her reaction.


That was when I realized, I had given in. I had given in to this girl who I’ve just been dating for a shy of three months. She was mine, since she had declared her love for me earlier. But now, I was hers …


I’m doing alright.

There comes that period after every dark one where broken parts of yourself starts rebuilding. Trust that was once obliterated seems to rebuild itself gradually like a healing wound. People aren’t so bad now, your life isn’t so bad now and frankly, you aren’t so bad now either.

But fear reminds you. It reminds you of the potential and the risk of letting yourself out again. Fear speaks, “Willing to let yourself be vulnerable just to feel something again little boy? Do you realize you could go back to the dark hole you just came out of ?”

Fear, a special dish made up of distressing events from your unfortunate past, never really gets digested. If only we can all be so lucky to avoid this revolting dish shoved down our throats by reality.

But then, perhaps, the right amount of fear can keep a man sane.

As well as logical and in line.

Fear keeps a man vigilant.

Even motivated.

Perhaps we should embrace it.

You soon realize.. fear will never leave you. The indigestion starts acting up whenever you can find an ounce of happiness. That is when you tell yourself, it might be better to ignore its existence at times. The existence of fear. After all, being happy is dangerous but short and it should be.

So I shall keep this ounce of happiness that I’ve found. For now.. I’m doing alright.

Met someone new.

There are many things I am attracted  to in a woman but more often than not
I describe them as cute or my reason to why I find them attractive is
"because they are cute". I thought I'd try to describe someone I'm dating in
words more than just "cute"



A fascinating woman.

A fair maiden. Her alluring giggles,

Her mesmerizing gaze and her classy

Cut. Combines to stimulate all senses

And the deepest emotions of a man.

The radiance of her face enthralling.

Only comparable to the statues

Built by the great minds. Crafted to perfection,

Found only once in a lifetime. Somebody

So graceful perhaps should yearn for an equal.

Petite body, hypnotic moves, yet the

Only word emitted from my mouth to

Describe that woman.… “cute”

My nights are cold, my days are colder


Context : The narrator has gone through a break up in a long distance relationship. He talks about how he feels about the breakup and how it has impacted him and his life.


My nights are cold, my days are colder

by Prasant Gurung


We parted, this time emotionally.
I, naive, adapted it part of my wisdom.
We both lost, we both failed, and we were both wrong.
She: It wasn’t up to fate. Me: It wasn’t up to me.

Our mistakes were normal, so were our passion and love.
Our choices were different but our failures the same as others’
A beauty she is, so compact, so powerful.
Power the supreme poets can only dream of elucidating. So who am I to even try?

Part of my world has collapsed.
Part of my dreams, vanished.
Her voice no longer in my head, abandoned from her warmth.
Thus, ‘tis not the season that keeps me cold.

Layers of quilt impact only my skin while my heart remains unaffected.
Waking up, a nightmare as my days are hellish and worse.
I’ve lost part of my own warmth, seems they have chosen your side.
Perhaps my own guilt deems me unmeriting of that.

I am not sad nor happy that we parted.
However, we wouldn’t have grown if we hadn’t finished what we started.

Sonnet #1 – Desperate Remedy

Context: The narrator is on a difficult phase of the relationship with his girlfriend. The strength of the long distance relationship has weakened and as a Desperate Remedy , he writes his lover a sonnet and sends a timeless rose as a gift and a symbol to show his love for her from halfway across the world.


Desperate Remedy by Prasant Gurung

How does two shine with a hope so glimmer?
Perhaps the distance weakens the glow.
I dread for that day when our love gets dimmer.
It isn’t bright, but enough to show.

Without you laid next to me, I look at these sad skies.
Staring at constellations (with no one to interpret) as tears brim in my eyes.
Closing them, sadly cannot rid my thoughts of you.
You are in my waking moments and all of my dreams too.

What we have isn’t common, I admit that’s true.
What we have is special, that only we can construe.
Please don’t expect people to understand why we long for each other.
I believe we are meant to be, so do not find another.

So I send you a rose, from half the world’s distance.
Treasure it, for we shall make it with our insistence.

The victim-comforter conflict

It’s a tough situation for both the victim and the one giving comfort. The victim is feeling isolated, like no one understands them and have trouble putting their intense emotions into words. The comforter on the other hand have little to no idea what’s going on in the victim’s mind or how they are really feeling. They are afraid of upsetting the victim even more. So they must choose their words carefully.

Both have trouble saying what they really mean. And in a vulnerable moment it’s easy to misunderstand each other.

The comforter must listen more and talk less because more so than often the victim just needs to let their negative emotions out. When the victim specifically asks for something like advice , the comforter should give their thoughts, offer comfort but without hurting the victim’s feelings. It’s a difficult task for most.

What’s worse , not everyone is a comforter, especially men, let alone a good one. Most of us are victims and many of us learn to suppress our depression and keep it to ourselves. Some may even believe others should do the same.

In the end , what we as a victim should understand is that the comforter is putting an effort to listen and be there for us. We should avoid directing our negative emotions towards them. They are just trying to help.

And what we as a comforter should realize is that more so than often the victim just wants to be heard. Instead of offering advice and suggestions on how you would deal with it yourself, (and worse, CRITICIZING the victim) let them tell you how they feel and reply with something positive. A warm hug can bring more comfort than words sometimes. Literally a shoulder to cry on can relieve so much pain than words.

PS: Suicide is never the answer. When a person feels completely isolated and depressed. That’s when suicide seems like a reasonable choice. They should find help and people should offer them help.

When your issues aren’t experienced by many people, it’s helpful to find someone who’s been through it before , someone who’s been in your shoes. They are the ones that can truly understand what you are going through.

The inevitable fission.

What do you do when she comes running back to you? You ended it for a reason you wish didn’t existed. It wasn’t either of your fault. The 6000 miles between you ended up tearing you two apart. “It’s possible” you use to tell her until the day of your flight. “We can survive this long distance”. What an idiot. You were leaving for good yet you didn’t want to let her go. She was your first real love.

However she was the one who really didn’t want to let go no matter how much you feared otherwise. She was the one who brought up the plan to make this work somehow. You didn’t really believe her and didn’t really believe you could make it work. But the amount of commitment she was ready to give you changed your beliefs. “Maybe we really can do this.”

Now you just broke up for the second time and it’s been a couple days since. You think you’re already making some progress but you two still miss each other and send a couple texts. The conversations not the same anymore, almost a bit dead but you just want to let her know you miss her and think about her while she does the same.

You don’t want to get back with her any time soon but you want her to miss you. You want her to come crawling back to you. Tell you that you were right and she was wrong. That her emotions got the best of her and she’s sorry for everything and willing to make changes. Then on the third day she does call. She sounds upset. Ready to cry. She tells you she misses you. You like the sound of that but you seem more worried than glad. She tells you she went drinking with her friend she never liked. But nothing happened and when other guys approached her she missed you even more.

You quickly forgive her in your head and try to make her feel better saying, “I miss you too”. It wasn’t a lie. You really did miss her. You’ve been missing her since you left 6 months ago. You weren’t missing her any less after the break up. In fact, more. She wants to get back together. For a second your mind goes blank. You’d love to get back with her but it would just be the same old arguments and same old blaming game. She was just too emotional for you.

You don’t think you can accept her going to that place to drink just 3 days after the breakup. You start questioning her. “What happened? What did you do there? What did you talk about with your friend? Can you promise me nothing happened?” Then you felt it. One of the complaints she had. You hadn’t changed. How could you have changed? You just broke up 3 days ago. But you remembered how your questioning always got her upset and once she was upset , things always got worse. It was pretty much impossible to cheer her up. Then you realized. You never really trusted her.

When you thought about it, you realized you really tried to be with her. The distance didn’t stop you from loving her any less. It was she who claimed to have difficulties. After all, she was working 3 different jobs to meet you while also preparing for her Uni exams. You loved her strengths. You found her flaws cute. Her more serious flaws were annoying but you dealt with it because you felt you understood her.

She said she loved you but sometimes you weren’t sure if she did. Maybe because she confessed her love for you on your first date, the second meeting between you two. What an interesting girl.

Despite everything you wish the best for her. You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen or for her to end up with the wrong person. You definitely didn’t want her to drink when she was upset. But she did and asked you to get back together. During the call you found it difficult to forgive her enough to get back together. You wanted her but you also felt the progress made in the past 3 days was more valuable than going back to the 10 months relationship.

As you write down your feelings you wonder what your life would be like right then had your choices been different in the past. “No point dwelling there”, you think after. Perhaps it really was time to move on. Perhaps you shouldn’t expect her to come back to you anymore. She just asked you. It must’ve been hard for her to say that. You rejected her. Although you did as gently as you could, you couldn’t help but feel like you’ve embarrassed her.

You’ve loved her enough. It’s time to deal with the other mountain of problems now. She will always be in your heart. She will always be your first. You’ll be thinking about her when you talk about your thoughts on girls for a long time. She’s had an impact on you. As you are finishing your writing you think that maybe she’s been wrong the whole time. That you really were right and she was the problem. You quickly feel ashamed of that thought as you’re no better. Your short bursts of anger. Your annoying questions..

It was a nice relationship. It was a good one. But you blame the distance. Perhaps it really was just that. She thought so and you think she might be right. You believe things do work out for someone as long as they continue fighting for what they want. You are in a physically and emotionally weak situation but that one belief keeps you from giving up on life. And you sincerely hope she keeps going on too. No longer do you want to make this work. She’s just too emotional… but now so are you.

When thoughts take over

The loneliness is haunting. The isolation dreadful. You’re no longer with friends and that drives you crazy. Thoughts race through your mind faster than ever before. There’s no excitement. You’ve lost your purpose. What happened to the motivation? The drive? What ever happened to your identity? You’ve lost it.

Each day you watch yourself rot. You don’t need a mirror to see how hideous you look. You can feel it. You can feel the skin around your face being pulled by gravity. Eye lids covering more of your eyes now. No sign of tension in the face. Cats would eat you if you didn’t move. God you look awful..

You know it’s not helping but you do nothing but try to distract your mind. Worse when you have nothing to do. You can’t think as well as you used to. It’s harder to concentrate. Things don’t mean as much anymore. Especially life. You’d end it if only you had the guts. “It could be worse” you want to tell yourself but typing it was much easier. That didn’t help.

The sun comes out but you’d rather rot in your room than go out with the family. All you can do is stretch your body and give a soft, “It’s okay I’ll just stay home”. Your addiction to social media actually helps you forget only when you’re online. Ironically you’re anything but social. Depression is getting worse and nothing seems to work. So you pity yourself. “What a sad soul”, you think. “What a waste of space”.

The sadness is real although the depression might be an illusion. There’s always something to be sad about. However, there are those times you think maybe you can bounce back. You’re hopeful but that ends painfully quick. Each time that moment more rare.

Your family wonder why you always head straight to your room after dinner. They don’t see your face as often. You wish they knew but you know they wouldn’t understand. You wish they’d care enough to ask but when they do you beg for them to leave you alone. And you’re back in your shell.

People like sunny days but when it’s dark and rainy you feel comfortable. Almost a little glad that it rained that day. The sky fits your mood. You feel cozy and smile to the thought that people might be feeling a fraction of what you go through everyday. Things don’t get better because you have lost hope to do anything about it. At least it rained today.

When things get worse you just stare, take a breath and feel an ache in your chest. Your emotions are physically hurting you now. But you’re not surprised. You think everyone else is fine but you. You think maybe it’s supposed to be that way. If only someone could understand. If only someone could heal you. But that’s too much to ask apparently. No one has the time or patience. Not someone you know at least.

Those that aren’t depressed have either too much to do or too little to think. We can all be so lucky.