Dec 25, 2012

23.

Well, God knows my feet are aching
And I've got mountains ahead to climb
One way at a time I'll try to lend 
These broken hands of mine
Give me strength, be my light
One way at a time these walls will fall 
And fill our empty souls
Give me strength, help me guide
These broken hands of mine

These Broken Hands of Mine
Joe Brooks


Happy birthday, dear self.

Dec 23, 2012


I can't really put my fingers on what this is and how and when. It's good the way it is now. It's just me who wants to satisfy my greediness of having a certainty over things. I hate uncertainties as much as I hate cockroaches. And this world is full of them. Asked Allah for any sign on how should I go on. A little bit of confusion there cause I don't really know to differentiate His sign and my desire, unless there's a voice from above saying I should do this and not that.

But then, this morning, I got a sudden unexpected realization after having decided firmly the night before, that this is just as good as it supposed to be. Why do I want to poke around this fragile precious thing we have unnecessarily? I worked hard for us to be normal again, well, close to normal again. Last two years was hell, I tell you. I was a mess.

So, I guess this is what Allah wants me to do. This is His way of telling me 'No, not just yet. I have a very beautiful plan for you. Just wait a little longer.'

Just, wait.

Dec 22, 2012


Your name never fails to make my heart jumps, even just a teeny weeny little jump. Medically, we call that palpitations.






About to make the biggest decision in my life.

Or not.

Dec 15, 2012

Four musketeers.

I have a few close friends. Very few, but enough.

Today I was feeling a bit moody, with a lot of things going on inside my head. Didn't feel like talking much. When asked, I answered, I smiled. Couldn't wait to go home, drowning in solitude.

Then, I got a text message. I went to the window and heard someone shouted my name. Haha, there they were, waving in the dark. Three girls in sweaters standing on the rooftop of the apartment building opposite to mine, exactly on the same level as my room. I went out to the balcony and waved back.

These people, I said quietly, they sure know how to cheer me up.

Another text message came in. She said they were watching shooting stars while lying down on the concrete floor, shivering in cold winter night.

And we stood there, looking up into the dark night, facing each other in a distance. I prayed silently.

Allah, thank You for these people in my life.

Romantic, isn't it?

Dec 10, 2012


Cause we are broken, what must we do to restore our innocence?

I'm not always an unhappy person. I do laugh, hard and loud, most of the time. I do smile, big and wide, most of the time. I just think that writing down my emotions is a better alternative on how to manage my anger and sorrow.

When words are more honest written, then you'll find me here. Because not all people understand what it feels like to bottle up your feelings inside, not able to talk or explain or make someone listen. This is just the way I am.

My whole life is based on things I couldn't say. So, I write.


Terima kasih kerana membaca sampah-sampah saya.

Dec 6, 2012

I too, have a side you wish you'd never seen.

I don't know why God has been a little bit too hard on me lately. Maybe to toughen me up. Or as a payback for my forgotten sins. Or as a reminder that I need to start looking for a way to return. I don't really know.

The more I wanted to forget, the more those things keep showing up right in front of my face. Your name, your face, your doings, your being. It suffocated me to the core. What did I do to be repeatedly reminded of my regrets?

No, this has nothing to do with Doraemon. It's a girl.

A girl, I realized, can break your heart ten times more than a boy ever could.

Your pride, I'm amazed.

*applause*

I'm done pleasing people.

Dec 2, 2012

Aftermath.

"Tears that we cry over failed exams, lost loves or bitter disputes are reflex tear, generated by the main lacrimal glands in the upper, outer corner of your upper eyelid. When we cry, excess tears overflow down the cheek while the rest flows through tiny tear drains into the nose and then into the throat. This explains the runny nose and the strange voice we get when crying. The face becomes flushed and puffy from blood flow and from the facial muscular effort that crying generates."


I wake up. I walk to the mirror which is almost the same height with me. I look into it.

Yeah, hello there.

Long time no see.

Malam ini sejuk. Angin kuat melanggar batang tubuh aku di luar balkoni. Berlapiskan sweater nipis, aku mendengar malam berbual.

Malam, aku sedih.

Aku pandang atas. Ada bulan hampir penuh. Terang. Walaupun rabun, aku nampak perimeter bulan yang indah. Silau. Aku beralih pada bintang. Ada satu, dua, tiga. Empat.

Bintang, sering disalaherti. Dilukis berbucu lima, dicalit warna kuning, dipuja dan dipuji. Mahu dikait buat pemilikan atau pemberian. Bintang, kamu tahu itu hanya seketul batu besar terapung dibuat daripada gas dan logam, yang tak punya apa-apa? Tak berguna, buruk lagi. Sudah mati beribu tahun, baru kamu mahu perhati. Pilu.

Malam, aku sedih.


Kenapa menjadi manusia, menyedihkan?

Geoji chorom.

Honestly, I won't apologize anymore. I've sincerely let my ego down repeatedly only to be pushed away by silence. Even if you won't pardon me your whole life, so be it. I believe my part is done. I'm done.


You know how I feel?

Like a beggar.

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