A grit of sand

entering a shell

makes a nice start

for something really swell.

A little tug, a little push,

a little hand for comfort,

helps the sand to grow bigger

and rise its head above it.

As seconds pass by and minutes tick fast

an hour turns to days and months and thus seems to last.

And finally when the big moment emerges

and the curtain is set for a splendulous show,

out comes a mother-of-pearl

glowing and ready to go.

I used to make up things like that during the stress days. Back in the time when we pretended to mugg over fries and colas and ice-creams, I'd take little much-needed breaks due to my short attention span which, by the way, still reigns to this day. And with my trusted pencil and rough papers leftover from calculus and statistics, I'd write a sketchy thing or two and on a few occasions, managed to liven up the wet and dreary atmosphere. I always tell myself, that's an accomplishment.

I'm not a born poet. I don't think I am. I much prefer to write prose and keep it for my own reference. I don't have high ambitions, lest, not the kinds that soar through space. I'm very much happy in my own little world with close friends and people who are close enough whom I call family. But sometimes my contented existence gets threatened. And I don't like it when that happens. Who does? There are things that add fuel to fire or people who enjoy making a huge nuisance out of themselves and such things, I consider them to be the little irritants in life that He has placed as our tests.

A friend once commented that the further we are from those we love, the more complicated the relationship becomes. In a sense this is true. With some people, when we hardly see them, we lose the wavelength that we had travelled on together. We drift apart in a Dead Sea that is full of the salt of conflicts. We get more irritatated with each other and continue to taunt and challenge the other's sanity. Sadistic me actually enjoy doing that to certain people whom I've not met up with for some time. There's this sense of power involved within and I get to twist them until they're torn to pieces.

I'm sadistic. So send me to court. So charge me. So call me names. So whatevers. I like being sadistic. Maybe to some if not most, it's a mindset gone wrong or I've actually gone bonkers but honestly, sadism to me fulfills a part of me that I know I can never achieve. Power. I can never have power. I am not a born leader. I don't have the skills to mingle with the right crowd. And true, it's not something that I yearn to do, mingling with them. I'd rather not. I'd much rather bend their necks and see them drop dead but of course, that'd get me in trouble with the law and being the cowardly custard that I am, I'd much rather be a sneaky little woman and twist their minds. Twist them until they're shredded to bits.

Call it manipulation. I don't manipulate them for my own gains mind you. It's just a little exercise that works the mind and refreshes the memory. Something to jolt them and myself out of the conflicts and put us back on the track that we've shared. I think it's highly beneficial to both parties. But because it's manipulation and I get to exercise some power, I find it highly satisfying. Being sadistic does wonders.

Now you know what goes on in my mind. I think I'm pretty capable of murder if I'd wanted to. I don't know, it's just a thought.

Did I scare you?