Marriage, Joke of the Century

Not very long ago I was in love with an exceptionally beautiful woman. Deeply in love apparently. The trouble is, I didn’t know it, and I didn’t expect to be, until the day she left for good. I could still find her if I want to. And I don’t mean those serendipity crap. I meant I actually know where to find her. Only that a pathetic jerk like me can never find the guts to actually go for it. Well, it wasn’t meant to be anyways. She was married and still is I should think. After all, being in Malaysia, apart from the dramatic political scene with dumb fucks dragging a cow’s head along the roads of a developed city, and some civil servants just conveniently forget they tossed someone out a 14th floor window, or a sweet girl getting caned for drinking a mug of rotten barley juice in public, nothing dramatic really happens. So no, I don’t think anything happened to her marriage in the past several months. But I might be wrong. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please, bear with me for a moment.

First of all, what is marriage? Marriage is a social union or a legal contract between individuals that creates kinship, depending on culture or demographic. Now let’s translate that into Malaysian context. There are a few definitions I can derive from the definition above, taking into account the customs of Malaysian society.

• It’s something people do so the parents will shut up about it already;
• It’s a legal contract Malaysians need to stay faithful to each other;
• It’s what Malaysian (mostly the female species) do to brag to the unmarried; and
• It’s a license to have sex without the “authorities” breathing on your neck (unless you’re sleeping with the authorities… whatever turns you on)

So my question is, why bother? Firstly, we never listen to our parents anymore anyways. Secondly, it’s not about being faithful, it’s about who can remain faithful the longest (that would be the real loser). Thirdly, brag all you want, nobody gives a flying fuck…really. And last but not least, everyone’s sleeping with everyone. If you aren’t a public figure who happens to have broken your promise to some contractors years ago, no one will tip off the authorities about that rendezvous of yours and your secretary because you don’t worth nothing. Now let me ask you again… why bother?

People tend to live this utopian dream wherein once you’re married, you live happily ever after. Unfortunately, the dream lasts until after the wedding day. It’s downhill from then on. For the past few years, many of the people I know (or once knew) had gotten married and to my naïve self’s surprise, they don’t stay married very long. Some spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on a wedding that lasted not longer than my libido after a year without any sexual healing. I also know couples who had been together / married for as long as 25-30 years but broke up because the men had caught the ham-sap disease, a.k.a. penyakit-memantat-bukan-bini, or the deadlier variant of the disease, penyakit-memantat-bini-orang.

What I’m trying to say is, the institution of marriage is now a joke. It is just another multi million dollar almost-organized industry. Many think they do it for love, but how can you call it love when it takes longer to plan the wedding that the marriage does to fail? So people, if you are in love and want to share it with each other, get a dog... or a cat… or a plant. Unless you are committed to that person that he/she appears hotter than Megan Fox (or her male equivalent), don’t bother. Don’t waste your time, your partner’s emotions, and your parent’s money.

All been said, no marriage is strong enough to last anymore. All you can do is to enjoy it while it last, because it will imminently pass…

… and if that woman’s happy marriage does eventually pass, I will be there. Or should I just play with the troubled water and go for it now? Hmm… I don’t know, it’s a pickle.

Maybe I should get something to eat. I’m thinking of spaghetti. Carbonara perhaps. And I know just the place to go. What do you think?

I Need A Nissan Grand Livina

There’s a point in a young man’s life where he needs to make a choice. A cross road where he would either stop and think deeply on which turn to make and considers all the possible outcomes, or simply choose one instead of another, not knowing let alone caring on the challenges await. Would he go right where most men do; a turn so safe that nothing can possibly be wrong? Or would he turn left where the road ahead is narrow, dark and empty? Or would he deflect and make a U-turn instead and watch the others move on?

It’s a pickle.

Light turns red. The young man stops. Heart is pounding. He breathes faster and starts to pant. Face; pale. Light still red. As he waits his short life passes before him. He remembers the day he got his first bicycle, rode it to school, took it to the piers with fellow friends, and the day school bullies snatched it off him. And the day he stepped into that pretentious boarding school, where he met his first crush, had his first kiss and heart broken, all within a year. Then there was the day he gets into college. The excitement, the anxiety… it was overwhelming. And later, the senior ball, as he walked in through the grand entrance with his ‘true love’; all eyes were on her, mesmerized.

Then came the day the young man had to go out to the real world. He landed a mediocre job like everyone else, lived in a mediocre apartment like everyone else and led a mediocre life just like everyone else. It was then that he met the ‘real-true-love’ of his life and now… here he was, waiting for the light to turn green, deciding which way to turn.

Light turns green, he indicates, he turns right as he looked into the eyes of his ‘real-true-love’. Slowly, nervously, but surely.

As I was driving my carriage of being on a long straight motorway, I saw the sign “Gas - Last chance for god knows how many miles”. I drove past and there it was. The crossroad. Light turns red and I came to a halt. “So this is when I started thinking”, I thought. And think I did. If I turn right the road will be comfortable, well lit, safe, smooth and straight, but, most definitely, boring. It is just a straight dual-carriageway with one exit in the end with no rest stops.

So do I turn left instead? It’s a long winding and endless road, with exceptional view and ever challenging chicanes and sharp turns. The definition of heaven for the young and adventurous. It however lies on the edge of a mountain, and ravines so deep that you could fall asleep before hitting the ground. Vultures fly low, waiting for the next unfortunate weak hearted victims.

Perplexed, I looked ahead and saw a gigantic sign saying “NO ENTRY – FOR AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY”. The road was blocked by military personnel, tanks and barbed wire. It seemed to be a busy road indeed with more and more traffic signs I can’t possibly read from this side of the road. From afar I could see well maintained lawns, almost-uniformed buildings with porches, driveways, and garages with hoops above the door. Everything was in order. Everything was certain and most importantly everything was perfect. It is a one-way road. The sign also says “Exit Only”. As I sat and observed there was a few broken cars drove out of it. Some turned into to the motorway and others, hastily drifted towards the winding vulturous road. “Why would anyone……?” and my thoughts stopped there.

I sighed long, and I sighed hard. For the choices I have made, I brought to myself this predicament. I looked ahead and there he was. The guy who turned right. As he drove up his driveway I saw the look in his face. He seemed rather exhausted. Rear doors open and a counple of tiny little ‘hims’ ran out of the car towards a lovely lady on the porch who had been standing there, waiting. I looked back at the guy, and he was no more exhausted. He seemed relaxed. He seemed content. He was no more a nervous hesitant guy. He seemed… happy.

Now I know where the highway leads to. I want to get there. But I want to go straight. The right turn is way too long and way too boring. It requires patience. It tests your endurance. But the end of the road is so… dreamy. Is it worth it though? Why can’t I just go straight and get there right away? What is the big deal? Those guys left. There should be vacant spots for other people. People like me. “BUT WHY CAN’T I?!?!?!?!?! I don’t care. I want to go straight. I want to ditch this person in my passenger seat and just go straight!” I screamed. The-guy-who-turned-right turned to me, shook his head, pointed me towards the highway and gave a hand gesture saying, ‘it’s all going to be ok’.

Maybe I should turn right. Not that I don’t have anyone sitting on the passenger seat. She’s been there throughout these years, in good times and bad. She’s the one, who stayed in the car while I went for a ride in another; the one who held the umbrella as I changed the tire in the rain. But the excitement is gone. The spark had turned into a dying flame fighting the imminent wind. We can’t possible survive the journey. Either I ditch my passenger, turn left for the uncertainties, and never look back, or ditch my passenger, and stomp on the accelerator risk my life to break the barrier ahead, or, keep my passenger turn right and endure the ride, which means I’ll be stuck with her forever.

I looked ahead at the guy-who-turned-right again and this time, him, the little hims and lovely lady, cheerfully pointed the highway and then I know, things are going to be ok.

Perhaps right I shall turn. But turning right means an uninteresting yet enduring ride. Bring it on!! But there’s one more thing I’m going to need. A bigger ride for me, my passenger, and the tiny little me-s that will come along the way. I can’t think of anything more appropriate than, a Nissan Grand Livina.

Light turns green…

MILF Hunter

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I Love Quotes and Don't Mess With My Mother

I love quotes. Don’t you? It doesn’t really matter where they come from. They could come from the speeches of famous influential people, movies, or even Homer Simpson. More often than not, they all make sense. There are a few that have stuck in my head and time to time I would revise the application and how much they make sense.

I once had a rather uncomfortable conversation with a friend’s father. He said, “Taufiq, when there are problems, issues, and conflicts, arise in a family or any intimate relationships, the man is always to blame. Never put the blame on the women, and never put it on the kids”. How we ended up talking about it, only god knows. However I cannot agree more with that old man. He had the hands on experience. In the beginning he did not anticipate the degree of destruction his misdemeanor would cause and eventually things blew out of proportion as it should. It has gotten better for him since but left an ugly in his marriage. While he was lost in the world of infidelity he always had in mind, ways to justify his deceitful behavior. There was always someone to blame and point fingers at. However once the gravity of the situation was unearthed, it was all pointing back at him. It was he who distanced himself, and it was he who brought himself to believe that what he was doing wasn’t wrong. Perhaps it wasn’t. But deception makes facts irrelevant. In the end, family was severely affected. Fortunately he repented, and saved his family and more importantly, marriage. It was however like driving a car that’s been fixed from a nasty crash. Not as good and far from being better. Never the same.

Alfred Lord Tennyson once said, “It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all”. I must say, I couldn’t disagree more. You don’t want to be driving your ultimate dream car knowing it will be taken away from you. Don’t believe me? Ask Jeremy Clarkson how hard it was returning the Bugatti Veyron after having driven it across Europe. Your also wouldn’t want to go back to drinking wine from the box once you can afford those properly bottled ones (with real cork, not those fancy modern ‘neo corks’). And you definitely would not want to go back to cheap escort service once you are welcomed into that executive sex group you had been longing to enroll into. What I’m trying to say is that if you knew something good just couldn’t and wouldn’t last there’s no point having it at all. Having things you like, enjoy, and love, taken away from you really sucks. You’ll end up dreaming of cruising in a Veyron at record breaking speed while really you were struggling to engage second gear in your 1992 Vauxhall. Or sipping wine that has come out of a tap attached to a carton box, from a crystal glass. Instead of getting that subtle scent of oakwood, all you get is the smell of a paper factory. Worst, is having sex with a teethless 50 year-old hooker, while trying so hard to picture her as a tight 30 year-old workoholic executive, breaking away from work to fulfill her natural desire, screaming your name out loud, but the truth, you know for a fact, in a weeks time itchy spots will appear on your shaft, you’d rather die than face the embarrassment of telling you physician’s reception what your visit was regarding. So, no, having love and lost is far from better, instead it’s the opposite of better, than never have loved at all. Sorry Alfred, you should’ve gone out more.

One fine summer evening during the last days of my student life I was hanging out with my two best friends, in the back yard of our rented home in Filton - effortlessly chugging a crate of Stella Artois (each) - one of them said something quite wise. It was more of an open ended question. He said, “If there was someone who has all these while, provided you with everything you’d ever need that you feel forever indebted, and one day that very same person kills your mother, would you still respect that person?” I sat there and thought, ‘wow, I’ve never actually thought of that’. I meant I’ve never really put it that way and I realized there’s no better way to put it. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out the logic of course. Naturally the answer would definitely be a big ‘NO’. That is one line that nobody, under any circumstances, should ever cross. No external factor, apart from divine intervention, can ever disrupt that sacred bond between a son and his mother. God made it that way and that’s just the way it is. And when I said nobody, I literally meant nobody without exceptions. Those who hurt my mother, in any possible way for any possible reason, deliberate or not, do not and will not ever deserve my respect even if it worth nothing regardless all the good things they have provided me with. Give me all the money in the world and beg for forgiveness, a piece of shit will always be a piece of shit.

-Tau

p/s: don't mess with my mother

Confused? Solution is Simple

I haven’t written on this issue for quite awhile now. Had been talking and preaching and writing about it too much that I have gotten to a point, that thinking of it is rather futile and childish even. So what I did was totally ignore it and avoid being involved in any discussion and conversation leading to it. That though, does not mean I have mellowed down or stopped caring let alone being indifferent about it.

Too many people are trying their very best not to accept the way they were born. They have this strong self-created urge to defy the truth, to exile from their own self. ‘This isn’t me’, ‘I’m not it’, ‘oh, I’m different’, and all other cliché they can come up with.

They just have to get away from their race, religion, and the culture that comes with the former the day they were born. It is an unsurprising but disturbing the fact that they wish they were born and brought up differently. Wanting to be someone else and something else. They find it hard to embrace the language they were born into, opting for a ‘cooler’ one, of which they are not familiar with let alone be proficient using is. Many are, too embarrassed to embrace their rather non-MTV cultural practices, from the way they speak to the kinds of things they like. Some even stopped using their unique given names to blend in with their aspired social groups. Worse of all, many try so hard not too look and appear they way their physical appearance do.

It is really simple, whether you are or you just aren’t. It seems too ‘uncool’ to just admit to their own ethnics. Here are some instances.

There was a campaign in the college I attended promoting the use of spoken English while on campus grounds. There was an exhibitor who loved to talk and give unquestioned answers. We asked for her name, and naturally she did with an extensive elaboration. “Oh but people, even my family call me Ally, and although I was born into a Malay family, English is my first language”. “Okay…” I thought, “Thanks, good for you”. Somehow it seemed to her as if I was going to punish her for not being born an uptight-anglo-saxon-snob. I get it you’re not English, and have a name that couldn’t define your background more, that it’s almost impossible to pronounce, but chill woman, it’s ok to be Malay.

Sometime the same year, we were hanging out at a café that we hang out in more than anyone else - even the waitresses – I over herd a young lady, complaining about the way people talk to her. These are not her exact words but it sounded something like this, “I doesn’t understood why these pupil speaking Malay to me. I cannot see what they talking”. It hurt trying not to laugh. The situation was funny the way it is, but the fact behind it still bothers me today.

There is a young man I know quite well. He has the same problem. He knew who and what he was, but keep on derailing himself from the real him. When asked on his ethnicity he would tend to make it seems complicated. “My great grandfather married a Chinese and my mother is from Kelantan and has a distant relative from Burma, so I don’t really know what I am”. Well, dude, you are a pure blood and live with it. It’s not that bad being the same as everyone else. We still love you anyhow.

There was a little man. Really he’s in fact vertically challenged. I know a four years old taller than him. But his inability to go for the Space Adventure ride in Disneyland isn’t the question here. He is rather good in the Queen’s language, I give him that. But he also has the idea that everyone has to be at least half as good. He insists that even khutbah during Friday prayer in Malaysian masjids should be delivered in English. I find it amusing the way he fakes his inability to comprehend Malay language.

Now let us look at more obvious instances, of people who just refuse to embrace their own self. I’m sure many of us have heard of the name Hishamuddin Rais, a well known self-exiled ex-ISA fugitive, and currently a freelance bon-vivant. He is not quite a typical I-hate-my-background case. In contrary he has a better idea of preserving traditional Malaysian culture. But the trouble with him is that he is worried that by embracing his own culture he will be no different from others. So what he did? He writes about culinary cultures of the world as he trots the globe. Well what’s wrong with that? Here is what. It is safe to assume all Malays are Muslims. Whether or not he is, is a totally different story. But as far as Malaysians are concerned, he is. When he writes he would emphasize on how much he loves the food he was writing on and what alcoholic beverage suits the dish best. He once wrote on his experience having Satay at a typical Satay stall, and how much he loved the dish with red wine that he brought his own bottle and plastic cup. Ooh, a Malay who drinks in public. Big deal dude. Go to Hartamas Square you’ll find a handful of Malay guys, just like you but younger, enjoying a plate of Nasi Lemak with a bottle of beer. It’s really up to you how you enjoy your Satay, there’s no need to brag about your obsession for hydro-carbonated drinks.

Not many have read about this other Malaysian Malay exile. Salleh ben Joned. He impregnated an Australian girl and married her many years ago. A responsible lad. He has almost full understanding of his inborn religion, Islam, but proclaims himself as an apostate struggling go get out of apostasy. My personal opinion, he’s not struggling. He just doesn’t want to get out of it because once he does, there’s nothing more to complain about, and that’s what his life has been all about. Finding flaws in things and write about it. He is a double trouble. He also hate – although hate is a strong word but the way he writes, he really does – Malay language. According to him it is an adopted language that the Malays made their own. Words from other languages are adopted into the language altogether. I agree that some foreign word adoptions that we practice are rather absurd but take the holistic approach in examining the issue. The fundamental of the idea of the country, down to the formation of our constitution and legal systems are copycats. Our national anthem happens to be the modified version of an Indonesian song Terang Bulan which happens to be the intro of a Hawaiian song Mamula Moon. Our flag resembles the American flag. To think of it, Malaysia is in fact the new America, found by an explorer, adopted the explorer’s mother tongue and cultures and made it their own, only younger by merely 200 years. Back to Mr Ben Joned, he demonstrates prominent effort in distinguishing himself from others through his poetic writing. Hes writes his English poems so deep and complicated, full of his wide range of vocabulary that I bet even Shakespeare would have had a hard time comprehending. Well, I think he does it so well, that he is different to the extent that he’s almost weird.

Enough instances. These people are too scared of embracing themselves as it would make them normal and unnoticed. Maybe they have no faith in their own cultural and religious backgrounds to guide them through this modern world. Or perhaps there’s a huge lack of understanding and knowledge or too much of it. Perhaps, these people just love this self inflicted confusion as being settled means they then have to move on and actually live and life could be confusing and depressing.

But my hones opinion says, these people have extremely low level of self-esteem, and very insecure of themselves that being normal doesn’t help. If that is the case and I really hope it is, they should stop running away from their own shadows and just get a cock-pump or a boob-job. I bet with my life they would feel better.

All this running away from own self is really disheartening. I can do it too if I wanted to. When asked about my racial backgrounds I can just say, my great grandfather emigrated from Indonesia and my mother was a Singaporean before she obtained her probational Malaysian citizenship. It doesn’t answer the question but it sure does make me feel different.

~Tau Kamal~

Might As Well Do It Right

Everybody’s Doing It

Might as well do it right.

- TauKamal

From the smallest state in the country in the north, down to the southern tip of the peninsular. From the peaceful country side to the hustle and bustle in our ever growing metropolitan cities. In universities, colleges, high schools, middle schools and in a number of isolated cases, primary schools. Those in their middle age do not want to be left behind too. There is no written civil law let alone the constitution that states the citizen of this independent country is prohibited from doing it. It is natural and fun and satisfying if you know how to make it fun and satisfying, and to do so, well, you will certainly need a fair level of experience. Of course there is this grey area in the norm of any society that the practice might be tabooed. Well, since it is indeed grey, who gives a flying fuck.

Oops, there it is. I said it. In a more civilized manner, sex. Or if that word turns you red, intercourse, or the practice of demonstrating physical attraction. When I said everybody, I really meant everybody. So many of us have done it that the ratio of the number of people who have done it matches the local – Malaysian ratio in London city. They are everywhere. Do not be deceived by their looks, or their age, or religion, or their family backgrounds. They could be the piano girl on Sunday Service. They could be the one lighting up joss sticks for their families. They may even pray five times a day, but what difference do they make? They are still doing it every night and every day, every morning after pray. Young adults who never miss school and obedient to their parents and respectful towards others are doing it. Priests, imams, rabbis, monks, ministers, kings, teachers, doctors, janitors – they all are doing it. The question on when, where, how much and with whom they are doing it is entirely their business. As long as their practices do not severely affect their loved ones emotionally and physically, it is totally fine. But is it?

No, it is not fine. Not the underlying culture of a social group nor it is the restrictions by certain religions that make the subject of sex (or even mentioning the word) a taboo or even illegal. That entirely depends of individuals. What not fine is the ignorance on negative physical impact it brings if it is not done properly. All of us have been taught the basics of sex, protection and family planning back in school. But the trouble is, the subject seemed to be way too embarrassing for the teacher to elaborate and far too awkward for the kids to really pay attention to what the teacher had to say, that it is only taught in one chapter, in one secondary school module for less than half an hour throughout 11 years of compulsory education. And it never came up in any examinations. The results, nobody gives a flying fuck about it, nobody remembers it and the subject was never to be discussed ever again.

The lack of information gets the kids curious. So they start to find external resources, not to learn how to do it – as we humans, at certain age just miraculously happen to know what to do with our penises and vaginas especially when they meet – but to learn to improvise. The visuals are normally so realistic and natural, and exiting and intriguing. It can be done in so many ways at so many places and with so many people!!! Then one thing they would certainly notice. There is no ‘rubber’ present. But the kids do have a vague memory in the darkest corners of their brains that their science teacher one said that to do it right you would need rubber. But those guys on TV never used them. Now the question arises. What are they for? But there is no one there to ask, and if they did ask someone, chances are that someone would not want to talk about it because it’s ‘not nice to talk about it’ or ‘you’re too young to know’. In the end the kids would come up with their own logics. “Hmm, use rubber to play safe. But those actors never use them, and their partners seem to be fine with it… YES!!! Now I get it!!! They fire their blow all over their partners’ bodies instead of inside them so they will not get pregnant. And the reason anyone would use rubber it that, so they will not stain and mess up the velvet couch, now the couch is safe!!! Now that makes perfect sense, use rubber to play safe!!!”

Now is the time to experiment everything they have picked up so far. They would do it the first time and get over the awkward moment, and off they go. Without realizing they have graduated from Karma Sutra University, all these are done unprotected. The results? Teen pregnancy, nasty and deadly Sexually Transmitted Diseases, and the worse of all, illegal abortion of those innocent babies-to-be. These cases can be found daily, and in abundance in any local public hospitals.

Well, our natural knee-jerk reaction would be to start pointing fingers. Parents start to blame their kids, and vise versa, and the government… well, they just don’t give a flying fuck. Or do they? Even if they do, some shallow cum narrow minded ‘concerned’ citizen – parents, NGOs, teachers, politicians included – will go on and on about how we practice eastern culture and it is not in our culture to talk about it. It’s a taboo. Even to talk about it. They make it seem like it was a sin to even mention the word ‘sex’, while other words with similar meaning say… ‘fuck’ are being used the way our ever popular ‘lah’ are used all day everyday. These people will freak out if someone suggested sexual education to be incorporated in school curriculum, believing sex belongs only to those who are married. Well, there is a little truth in that. But that attitude towards sex, gives the idea to the kids that marriage is merely a license to be having sex. Well, it kind of true, that traditionally, in our culture we can only have sex with our legitimate partners. Guess what people, that culture is long gone. All this while you have been busting your bums off to protect something that’s not even there anymore.

Of course introducing sexual education in schools will not be an easy task. But we managed to change the language used in our education system, slowly but surely. In a way, this should be easier as sex, regardless what language it is in, is the same. Same technique and same results. There is only one way to put on a condom. For practical training, we always have abundant supply bananas to learn to put them on. Availability of free condoms birth control pills needs to be made public. Literature on dangers of unprotected sex should be made available for everyone especially teenagers. Well, these resources ARE available and they ARE FREE!!! All we have to do is approach any nearest government health care centre and ask for them. But many, even those who know, could come up with a million excuses not to get them. Some are shy; some don’t know they are free. Even they need to be purchased, a pack of three condoms cost not more than RM10. That is way cheaper that any clinics that offer illegal abortion, cheaper than STD treatments and definitely cheaper than raising a child.

At the same time you will be surprised to find that many matured adults have still no clue on benefits and advantages of having protected sex and family planning. They are 40 year old mothers who get pregnant every single year since they were married. Being pregnant at that age not only dangers the baby, it can even kill the mother. When asked on why they do not use contraceptives, the answers are always painful to hear. “We can’t afford them”, or “They are not comfortable” and the worst yet, “My husband does not believe in using condoms and he wouldn’t let me take pills either.” SERIOUSLY???!!!

The lack of sexual education has led to many severe consequences. Our ignorance has killed many ever year and will continue so long as we don’t open our minds. Unmarried young people will keep on having raunchy sex without any kind of protection because they see porn stars are doing alright without them. Matured adults still commit adultery thinking their legitimate partner will never suffer, both mentally and physically, and we who somehow, so far, managed to luckily get away with it free from any deadly diseases and mental distress just DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK.

Skeleton in my Closet

I've too many skeletons in my closet and some of them wear dress.
Say you have them too. Years past and next thing you know you'd have a collection of facts, those of which, in your opinion, may better be hidden, or concealed from, people in general, a specific group of people, or even a particular person for various reasons such as, to protect them from maybe pain - be it physical or psychological - or maybe, selfishly yourself. The metaphor 'skeleton' is used to reflect the nature of the fact it carries. Dark, dirty, deceitful they maybe but not necessarily. Some things are just not meant to be known, some must wait for the 'right time' to be let out, and some are just plain insignificant. But, either way they must come out. Sooner or later, they must and they will.

The trouble with these skeletons are, keeping it in too long might, or rather will, cause serious consequences. Unlike real bones, they will start to rot. They will start to stink and once they do, others will notice. Imagine you have a beautifully decorated bedroom, clean and tidy but there's a sharp nose piercing odor coming out of the closet and others walked into the room. You figure it out.

Think of it metaphorically. And, think of it from other peoples' point of view. What would they think? What would they feel? Something must be wrong, that's what. And at that point, whether or not they saw your skeletons, and whether or not those skeletons of yours has a dark side, or whether or not they knew the purpose of them being kept for so long, don't matter much more. Your intention of letting them out one day is now left in vain. The facts of which you had been concealing, be it bright or dark, now symbolize dishonesty, and intention to deceit. Whatever plans you have post skeletal disposal is now pointless. Premature discovery of them, turns honest mistakes and dark pasts that were, into lies. Try to deny it, try to save yourself, the ball is just not in your court no more.

You are now seen as a lying bastard, or cheating son of a bitch. The trust is now gone. You are back to square one. "GO TO JAIL!! DO NOT PASS GO. DO NOT COLLECT 200". All you have now are regrets, disappointment, hatred towards yourself, and not a single trace of self esteem. You get depressed, and try to share with those who think they know you well but you know better. With that many skeletons, no one really knows you that well, and as much consolation as they could possibly give, it just won't make you feel any better. You'd just want to bang your head really hard on the wall that you brain would explode. A knife in the heart, sounds very inviting. You just want to tie yourself on the railroad so it all will soon be over. This is when sanity comes into play. Facing it with sanity is like having an open heart surgery performed on you while you're wide awake, without any kind of anesthetics and it's not even an option. It hurts like a bitch, you can see and feel everything that's being done on you and there's nothing you can do about it but try hard to stay still. It will feel like forever. You feel like you're going to die which is ironic because it is exactly the one thing that will keep you alive.

There are only two possible outcomes. One, you'll die. The other, you'll make it through. One thing for sure though, if you did make it through, it will leave an ugly scar so obvious that you will never ever be able to forget and really get over it.

It stays with you forever. You will ever be haunted. Just like me.

-taukamal