Soul mate

“You’re my soulmate” she whispers quietly into his ear. 

The blush creeping from her neck, to her cheeks, to her ears and the back of her head. She knew if she looked at the mirror, it would look exactly like a tomato but she didn’t care. It took her 2 years and many questions in between to get her to this place, to know that this man she has been seeing, this man she has fallen head over heels for, this man she cannot imagine life without is her soul mate.

She went from this shy, timid girl who had a very dysfunctional family where love never made any sense to this girl who believes with all her heart, believes with a fiery passion that love exists, love is fragile and she would give up her life to protect it.

She looked into his eyes and saw their history. She saw him jumping through the fires to rescue her, she saw him giving his last cent to provide for her, she saw him in his weakness and loved him even more, she saw him in his strength shielding her from pain, she saw them coming together and making the most amazing plans, she saw him hugging her, supporting her when she was at her weakness, how he saw her at her ugliest and instead of feeling repulsed, he called her the most beautiful woman on earth, how they went through rejections together, how they went through hardships together- and the most beautiful of them all, even with all the drama, the hardships, the pain, instead of tearing them apart, their love for each other only grew stronger. 

Never once did they complain about the situation, never once did they feel that life would be easier without the other, never once did they whine about how tough it is. For them, it was all in, no one gets left behind. And today, she looks into his eyes, and as tears wells in hers, she knows with all her heart, he is her soul mate.

Today, she believes that there is no one else in the world that can replace him, no one else that will understand her the way he does, no one else is good enough or can even compare to him. He is the only one, and she would die over and over and over again, if she ever lost him.

She laughed at how she believed he was the one when they got together, but now, now she is sure they were meant to be together. 

“You are my soul mate” she smiles. 



Something a little bit more personal 🙂 And based very much on this quote:

What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined for life? … to strengthen each other…to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.
~George Eliot

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Posted by on May 26, 2012 in Uncategorized



They say people grieve in different ways, for me, I move forward. I push forward, because I can’t ever stay in a sad moment without feeling drowned, without feeling burdened, without feeling. If I stay in that moment, I feel, and I hate feeling. I hate feeling with all my guts, because feelings drive you crazy. Feelings makes you do irrational things, feelings aren’t something you can control. And I hate not being in control. 

I’ve never actually grieved. I remember watching them lead me to you, I remember following them, I remember seeing you lying there, I remember them putting you in the ground, I remember crying my eyes out, but I know I’ve never actually had a proper grieving process. I remember going back, and the first thing I wanted to do was jump straight into doing stuff. People said I was strong, what they don’t know is that I was escaping. 

See, I was sad. You left me at a point when life was just starting. You left me when it was getting good, you left before you could leave me with some advice, some sort of message, some sort of something to get me through. All I have now, is memories, but nothing concrete for the future. You left me without saying goodbye, without notice, without anything.

Then I was angry. At God, at you, at me. God for taking you away when He clearly knew I needed you most, God for knowing how important you were in my life, how everything I did, I did with you in mind and how in only you had confidence in me, how only you would comfort me, accept me and yet He took that away from me. The one thing in life that made me truly happy. At you, for not leaving me anything, advice, letters, notes- nothing. I was angry at me because I didn’t do much when you were sick, I was too busy focusing on me to realise what was actually happening, I was angry. 

And on top of that, I was being put on a guilt trip every time he talks about you. Basically telling I’ve failed,blaming me for not calling- and that sucked. So the next best thing for me, was to move on. Because if I hung on and think about this, and all the what-ifs and could have been-s, I’d end up crying my eyes out, I’d end up feeling and I really don’t want to feel anymore.

I’m sorry if it felt like I’ve moved on really quickly. I just want you to know, that I’ve never once forgotten you. I’ve never once forgotten how you look like, how you smile like, how you sound like. I will always remember how you called my your favourite when I was feeling neglected, how you always encouraged me to be the best I can be, how you knew I was a leader way before I knew and how you pushed me along that road, and how you never once called me a failure. 

No matter where you are, your love is everywhere with me I go. I love you

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Posted by on May 22, 2012 in Uncategorized


Broken Arrow

The screaming, it begins again. It has been this way ever since she can remember, always about the same things, always over the same mistakes, always the same words thrown back and forth. She wonders why she even bothers sticking around, why she stands there taking it all in, why she lets him push her around, why she lets him bring her down, why she allows him to kick her when she’s already on the floor.

“It’s obvious he doesn’t care” her mind screams at her, just leave already and yet she stays reasoning that he’ll understand one day. When people tell her she’s lucky to have him, how they envy her, how they wish they had someone like him, instead of feeling proud, she feels sick in her stomach because it shows how hypocritical he is. How it’s one way on the outside, and behind closed doors it’s another. She laughs but in her head she sneers, if only you knew. 

Today was no different. The same insults, the same criticisms. “If only you’d listen” she whispers below her voice. “If only you’d stop smothering me with your dreams and ambitions, if only you’d stop and see who I really am and stop assuming things I’m not” she screams. Today, she decided enough is enough. There’s no one holding her back any longer, no one for her to protect, no one for her to cling on to. Today, she was going to walk away. 

After everything, after all the pain, after all the scars, she’s had enough of just taking it in. She’s had enough of pretending that it doesn’t affect her. Today, she’s cracked. She’s broken. If children are arrows of their parents, then she’s one broken arrow. 

Today, she left. She walked out, out to the unknown, the one place where she has nothing. And yet, to her, having nothing is better than having it all but not being happy. Today, for the first time she feels free. For the first time, even with nothing, she believes it will only ever get better. Maybe then the healing can begin. For the first time, the air feels different.

written by: aLLy

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Posted by on May 22, 2012 in Uncategorized



Sandra and Sally are friends. Sandra and Sally has little tea parties, pink teapot, little teacups, a teacup for Sunny the yellow bear, Ann the yellow hair doll, Maddie the horsie and Indra the pink elephant. They sit around the yellow table, sharing their plastic biscuits, their small hands with their pinkies extended, and laughing at each other. 

Sandra and Sally are friends. Sandra and Sally loves play school. They love sitting next to each other, learning about ABCs and 123s, and they love story-time. Sandra and Sally are inseparable. 

Then one day, Sandra’s dad was caught for committing a crime, a crime Sally does not understand. Sandra’s dad was taken away in the blue and white yellow car. Sandra’s dad was guilty and sent to prison.

Sally loved Sandra, and wanted to say hi in play school. But everytime Sally got near Sandra, Sally’s mum pulled her away. One day Sally’s mum told Sally to play with other people besides Sandra. “Why mommy? I like Sandra, I like teatime, I like school.” Mummy told her “Sandra’s not a good person. Don’t play with Sandra anymore.” 

That was when Sally learnt that a person is bad is their parents are bad. 


Authors Note:

We blame society for the way we become, for the way our children become but the truth is, Society isn’t responsible for teaching you. Society isn’t responsible in telling you to differentiate wrong from right, Society isn’t responsible for teaching you about racism, sexism, stereotyping. Parents are responsible. And if you as a parent have your values messed up, then its no wonder your children become that too. Children replicate their parents. It’s YOUR responsibility. 


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Posted by on April 1, 2012 in Uncategorized


You’re Not Broken.

“You’re not broken” he whispers into her sleeping ears, kisses the top of her head and watches her sleep.

I always imagined God to be like that. Only because I don’t see God physically at all. It’s like a father who has been out doing work all day, coming home late at night and tip toeing into his daughters room to kiss her goodnight.

Growing up, I’ve faced people telling me I need to change only because I’m so different from many people out there. There isn’t many people who understand me, and the ones that really do are only a handful. Only because I’m strong, independent and ambitious even at a very young age, when children are learning what they should become- I’ve had an idea of what I want. But being young, your voice don’t matter. The adults laughed and say I’ll outgrow it, they say I’ll learn from life. When what I believe clashes with theirs they try to break my spirit- through force or the usual punishment. It was difficult, trying to live in my own skin. I had issues with myself, believing I was broken only because society couldn’t accept me for me. I was young, I wanted to be heard, and yet, I was being asked to keep quiet. When I did try to be what they wanted, I hated myself. Only because I know it’s not who I am.

22 today, and things haven’t changed much. I’m still independent, the things I like back then, I still love right now. I’m still individualistic- and I do believe you don’t have to fit in to society to survive. If there’s one thing I’m very proud of- is that I haven’t changed who I am to become what society wanted me to be. That I managed to be who God made me to be- different. The only different is that I’m older now- and the things I would have said when I was 7 suddenly becomes “wise”. And no, I don’t regret not conforming, I don’t regret fighting the believes of society, I don’t regret holding my believes and character- and I’ve never been more comfortable.

I like to believe that I am who I am today, comfortable with myself, loving this person I’ve become- different and all, only because God chose to tell me “You’re not broken” over and over and over when I was asleep. I know I’m not here by my own strength. I know that at 13, when I had my first identity crisis, I knew God helped me through. When I was crying everyday trying to understand where I belonged, when I couldn’t find the right people to help me develop myself because no one understood where I was coming from, no one got me- I was always wrong somewhere and the “right” was didn’t feel all that right, God took charge.

I wasn’t all right, He had to change many things, He had to break many things, He had me face many troubles, many fears, many problems- but He never let go of my hand. My fondest memory- was realising that I wasn’t broken. That I am who I am, as God made me to be. I wasn’t a broken doll- and this was before any personality tests were created. My fondest memory of my journey has got to be the day I realised who I am, the things that made me, me. The different things. I can’t tell you how special I felt for being “eccentric” because I feel like God made me extra special.

A few days ago, I did a personality test- and just like the many I’ve done before, it tells me the same things. I’m special- there is only 5% to 10% of the population who has my personality. You have no idea how special I feel, out of 6 billion over people and I’m part of that small percentage. I’m not broken, I’ve never been broken. I was just made differently. And sure it was hard last time- because I wanted to just fit in. But overtime I realised, I’d rather be me, special, than be like the world’s “right” standard.

And also only because I knew God knew what He was doing, and that I choose to believe He kept on whispering “You’re not broken” to me, and I subconsciously heard him.


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Posted by on July 25, 2011 in aLLy in Real Life!, Happy


When Evening Falls.

And you are there
In my heart, at the start
of my my every morning
and i can’t deny, by the end of the day
that I’m runnin’ on empty
But you make it full, Steal my breath
You’re so unpredictable,
That’s what I’m comin home to

– Andrew Allen, Loving You Tonight


This coming from a girl who has been in your head all morning. How do I know, because you tell me everyday. The first text, the first song, the first thing in the morning- I’m there running through your head. And I love, that we wake up every morning thinking about each other, not what we have to do, not what our job is going to demand from us, not our responsibilities- but just the thought of how much we mean to each other and just how lucky we are.

Coming from the girl who has been running in your head all morning, I’d have to say it’s sweet. But I really really want to know what happens when evening falls. When all our emotional banks have run dry from all that giving and taking that goes on during the day, I wonder what happens when your boss gives you fire for something you didn’t do or a mate messes around with your things and breaks something, or a hot girl makes a pass at you- I wonder what happens then?

Will I still be in your mind when everything bad that can happens happen? Will I still be running around in circles, will you still love me as much as you do in the morning when nothing has happened yet? Will I still be special enough for you to come home to even when you’re tired and frustrated. Am I still there when all you want to do is curse the ground you’re walking on. Will I still be there when you need a refill?

Or am I gone by then? Do I only mean as much when your tank is full and when your life is happy? Do I mean as much when nothing bad is happening, when its all roses, sunshine and rainbows? Do I only come alive when you have it going good and you want someone to share that good news with?

Because baby, if you are, I’m way better than that. Because I deserve to be there good, bad, sad or happy. It always easy to be loved up when it’s all going good, but what happens when evening falls and you’re on empty? Then what?

Author: Allyk.

Author note:

Inspired by that song above. Youtube it if you haven’t heard it yet. I am a strong believer that love is hardwork, that it doesn’t have a time or a season. You can’t “maybe” like someone- it’s you are or NOT. And I believe that if you say you are- you better be prepared to work for it. Even if it means going out of your way, it means full attention even if you’re having a sucky day or a frustrating day. Because there is no “RIGHT” time to show love. Love is action, but it is also and will always be words. And if one part is missing, love is not at its fullest. Someone special should and always have to be given the best. If not, it’s not worth it at all.

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Posted by on July 21, 2011 in aLLy's Stories., Love


Bitter Almonds.

“Cyanide” he tells me out of the blue. “It smells like almonds. They use it in gas chambers.” he continues.

“Is it painful? Is it a slow death?” I asked intrigued.

“not if you’re asleep…. or old. But otherwise, I hear that it’s pretty pain, it’s a struggle, you feel it.” he explains.


What you didn’t tell me is that you didn’t need cyanide to feel it. When you left, when you decided to call it quits, every waking moment from that very day you walked out- it felt like I was inhaling cyanide. I felt my insides churn, struggling to live, slowing failing me- it felt like I was dying a slow painful death.

The times that I felt the most pain was when I was awake, doing life in general. The only reason for that is because you were there with me every single time- picking up my laundry, buying groceries and even just posting a letter. Your shadow haunted me- it followed me everywhere, when I ran it ran too. If it was your way of torturing me it sure worked. The only time when it didn’t hurt as much was when I fell asleep, when my mind was free to run it’s own race, to dream of fairies and fairytales.

Since that day you left, all I can think about is Cyanide. Not because I want to kill myself, but because that’s what it feels like. Slow and painful when I’m awake. How we became cyanide together. How we each smelled so good- the fragrance of you carries on even when you’re not around. How that sweet smell is slowly shutting me down.

I don’t remember how long it took for me to completely get over you, I don’t know if I’ll ever find someone like you, I don’t know if you can ever erase that smell. But know this- when you left, something inside me died along with you.

And every now and then, I remember how you were my Cyanide. And yet, your smell keeps me wanting more and I die a death all over again.


author’s note:

We were watching CSI and He told me what Cyanide was. And soon after, this story was bubbling inside my head. That and the fact that I had a nightmare today gave me a story to write.

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Posted by on May 9, 2011 in aLLy's Stories., Emo


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