The Manifesto

I don’t do mush.
I don’t do Yang or the variants – kayang, loyang, peyang, beb, bebih, bebek, bebeb surebeb, hun, bihun, hunkwe, … Matur nuhun wae yak.
I don’t do needy and whiny just for the sake of pleasing the male ego.
I don’t do textbook romance. Soul-less poetry, overplayed top 40 evergreen love songs, expensive gifts, candlelight dinners.

I do me. I do late night conversations in a language only we know. I do silent stargazes, moon watches, and shooting star searches.
I do giggles, homemade gifts, spontaneous phrases and street-side stall dates.
I coexist, not co-depend.

I’m done with cookie cutters.

I’m going on a road trip.

And the ad does not read drivers wanted. Hitchhikers are welcome. I can drop you off along the way. For those with the same destination, you’re more than welcome.

Author: and.i.try

corporate slave by day. poet by night. rock chick by default. eats cupcakes with a sip of nonsense.

One thought on “The Manifesto”

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