A story for Malisha

Rama-rama

When I'd heard that my very best friend was pregnant with her first child, I was so excited that I started to form a bond with her unborn child. I cried at the sight of her sonogram, I started talking to her belly and discuss the size of her foetus at every trimester. We'd suggest girl names to each other and I secretly wished her baby would look like me (challenge accepted!). I was the deranged self-appointed godmother.

When Malisha was born, I took the day off of work and rushed over to greet her and congratulate my friend. She was the most precious thing I'd ever seen. She wasn't particularly attractive (as newborns never are, but Malisha grew into her looks, thank god!), but I felt a sense of overwhelming love. You know how people say I love you so much it hurts? At that point, I believed it to be true because when I laid eyes on her, I felt my ovaries explode and its shrapnel stabbed my heart in a million different places until the whole feeling oozed into a gooey form of caramel-ly goodness and warmed my entire being.

Ikan

I wanted to write a book for Malisha. I had drawn the characters and illustrations and even had the storyline ready. I read it to some people but they didn't like my ending. That demotivated me so I never gave it to Malisha. Maybe one day, when she's older.