So, this is how a broken heart feels like. Not that bad. I'll live.
I heard the rumour once not a long time ago. I forgot who told me. I didn't believe it considering I read what you wrote. But I think I just confirmed it with my own eyes. I got a sixth sense, you know. My observational skill is good. Did you somehow mean anything that you wrote? Cause I take words seriously. But I guess none of that matters now.
I've been holding on tight to my senses for so long it's tiring. What if I loosen up my grip? Would you forgive me then for intruding your life once again? Just to say a simple hi, my brain works so hard thinking about the consequences and tries to build up the courage but ends up cowering. This is confusing. How should I treat you? As a friend, stranger or someone I once knew? Despite all that titles, I know deep down you means a lot more than that to me. Should I pretend nothing ever happens when in fact my life has been turned upside down for the last few years?
I miss your wise words, that's all. Words that I search for when I need a comfort.
Sometimes a few words are enough. A few honest genuinely expressed words.
"What happened to you?"
"What's the problem?"
"Are you stressed out last night that you cannot even answer my basic questions?"
Madam, thank you for asking. Even though my answer is just 10% of what it really is. Because seriously, no one has asked me those questions in a long time I don't even know how to answer it properly. I was so close to shamelessly bursting out in tears in a ward full of sick children.
I cried all the way home, with a heavy heart sinking in my chest.
How can you show the underlying cracks when everything and everyone around you slaps you hard in the face and tell you to be strong and whatever bullshit there is, but then walk away and leave you alone helplessly trying to swim in the sea made of failures?
I don't know where else I can write this. I tried to sleep this feeling off but it didn't go away. It keeps echoing in my mind trying to get out. I've never told anyone about this before. So here I am, writing to no one in particular. If any of you who's reading this knows me personally, this is not membuka aib sendiri. I just want to come clean about who I actually am, not what you perceive or imagine.
I was not born into a religious family. Not many knows, no one in my current circle of friends since they all think that pakai tudung labuh is religious. Nope, you're totally wrong. Abah was not strict to us in the beginning, only for the past 10 years he began to. He started to send my sisters to sekolah agama, of which Along and I didn't get the chance to.
I was a bad kid. Solat tak pernah cukup, always argue with my parents, mencarut adalah perkara biasa. I still remember one time, my ustazah asked me to recite a few verses of Quran during our kelas mengaji session and I couldn't even read it properly. When she asked me "Dah lama tak mengaji ke?", I nodded in embarassment.
Then I went to a boarding school. This was where I became a new person. I felt like I was reborn. Rasa macam Allah bagi satu peluang untuk berubah, no matter how rotten I was in the beginning. I started to wear tudung labuh (not that labuh, but still), cover my aurat properly and began to hold the Quran once again. This all started during my orientation week, so most of my high school friends also didn't know me as I once were.
Then I went to India. This is where my faith was challenged. Being away from home and from a community where Muslims are majority really put a test to what I've been practicing before. But in the end, I can say that I became better than I was. Before this, I did everything without understanding why I should. I did everything blindly without having the soul of doing them. My faith became stronger.
But everyday is a struggle to me. My past did not go away, it has become a part of who I am. You can't run away from who you are. People see me as this sweet nice 'alim' girl who is always smiling. Honestly, I hate it when they call me alim or nice. Because deep down, I know I'm not. I really try to shrug the image off. You may not understand this, but it hurts me for people to see me as a person I'm not. I'm not that special, I'm not that great, I'm not that person you can look up to, I'm not that person you should be jealous with, I'm not that person you wanted as your guide and companion, I'm not that person you can say "Ah, I really want her in my life". I am not.
When I look at my friends who have changed for the better just recently, not long ago, I felt ashamed. It's been what, 8 years now since Allah chose me to be a better person, and here I am still struggling on the inside. One day I can be on the top, and suddenly the next day I can be on the lowest bottom. When I look at them who have changed for not more than 2 or 3 years, they can even handle an usrah, giving tazkirah and all. Then I look at myself, and I see a girl from ten years ago, wearing a different mask.
Self, I know that I love you. But I think I hate you more than you can ever imagine.
When that old story resurfaced out of nowhere, I was left speechless. Left undecided between feeding their hunger of the truth, or keeping the sensitive issue of Doraemon and I just between us and left his name behind my tongue, forever buried under the unsaid words.
Honestly, I could tell it to any person asking. I wouldn't mind. But this was a story between two people. One could not mention her name without the other. He deserves at least that. This issue used to be a joke for some people, ridiculing him from time to time. They did not know the pain and burden we both felt. Do you know how difficult it is to deny one's own desire in order to do the right thing? An endless fight with yourself. The unseen struggle.
If you ever come across my writing, please know that this was not my intention. Things became big and out of my control because of my one silly mistake.
Trust me, it's true. When you get that kind of smile, chills run down your spine and paralyze you for a moment before leaving you with this gigantic enormous angst sitting in your chest for quite a while. It did to me.
I can never understand how you could crush someone's heart by throwing her out of your life like a meaningless piece of paper, and then smile like nothing ever happens. Why not a poker face? Why not just keep walking straight without looking at my face? I have a lot of questions I want to ask her but I can't. How could someone be so soft yet so headstrong? She reminded me of myself.
And yes, when you see that kind of smile, don't be alone. Find people, get distractions, don't be miserable. I've had enough experience of that I don't ever want to repeat.
Love for me is when you want whatever may be the best for that person. Both personally and professionally. You want to protect them with whatever way possible. The most precious thing you can get from them is their smile, and that's enough. Aside from the usual definition of love given by books, movies or other people. So far, I really love these three guys. D,Y and F. And all of them have blood type O.
Do type O people tend get attracted to each other?
But seriously. Sometimes I think my heart will burst any second because when I love, I just love too much.
Last night I was watching a video about someone and there's this scene where he walked down an empty street early in the morning. Then I suddenly had the urge to go and take a walk but unfortunately it's not safe for a person to walk around very late at night alone without any martial art skill. That video was filmed in Japan. Ah, I've always wanted to go there. I think Japan is the most beautiful country there is, next to South Korea. I love the culture, the people and the places. Not sure about the food though.
I miss blabbering about meaningless things. I wanted to write on Twitter but nowadays, somehow I think it's a stupid thing to do. I don't know why I get this sudden feeling of disinterest in any social site. I have a lot of things to say but every time I gather my thoughts and put them into words, I end up deleting them over and over again. I guess writing here is more acceptable since not many will read it anyway.
My writing skill has started to deteriorate too. But whatever. I don't write to impress anyone. So, what the hell.
Can we go back to four years ago? Thinking of you makes me smile while my heart aches. Time goes by, but the torture is still the same. All these years, I never like you lesser. Only more, and even more.
Nota-nota putih di sini kebanyakannya adalah surat-surat yang ditulis untuk penerima-penerima yang spesifik, tetapi tidak pernah sampai ke hati yang sepatutnya. Nota-nota yang terbuang dari jiwa kusut di tengah malam waktu mata pecah berair. Momen-momen rabak dan hancur, ketika hati memberontak mahu dilihat dunia. Di bilik gelap tingkat lima, di medan selera lapangan terbang, di kaki lima hospital atau di mana-mana sahaja.
Melalui komputer riba atau telefon bimbit. Aku tidak pernah gemar menulis dengan kertas dan pen. Satu, tulisan hodoh. Dua, penulisan maya tidak kekal, boleh dihapus dengan satu klik.
I'm surprised you didn't know how I feel all this time. I think I've shown it in all possible ways. You thought I forgot, didn't you? You thought I moved on and left all these unspoken unsettled issues between us and be happy, didn't you? Well, guess what? I suffered as much as you did.
I'm such a good actor, that's why. I don't blame you for not knowing.
My dear F,
now that you know this hidden truth, what are you gonna do about it?
I doubt you're gonna read this anyway. You're not a good stalker, not as good as I am.
I don't think I will ever get married. Or maybe, just maybe, at least for the next 5 years. I don't have the confidence to share all of my scars with another human being. The thought of having someone else to see the hidden side of me seems somewhat wonderful and poetic, but does it really? Have you ever found something that you regret later on? Living alone somehow suits me. I can't imagine waking up every morning to impress someone else even when I'm a mess tangled up with my own emotions and self-hatred. Because that's who I am. I live to impress people, because I know I'm actually just a big gaping hole with unseen bottom. Will anyone dare to dive through me? The darkest black with untouchable end.
I have this curse in which when I'm trying to forget about someone who hurts me, I will never do. Because I always get to hear their names and stories from the people around me. It's like this constant reminder straight on my face that I should never ever think that the wound would heal.
Like a punch to the chest, left me breathless in my own pain.
It's not their fault to be mentioning her name in front of me continuously cause they don't know about this deep-seated unspoken estrangedness between us. I didn't tell a soul. Don't even know how to begin.
When I think about all the things that happened to me these past few years I couldn't help but to ask myself, how did I get myself into these messes? Why is my life so complicated that I can't even explain the things that keep me awake at night to anyone else?
How do you stitch the wound that keeps on breaking?
I whispered silently,
'No. As much as I want to start planning my life with someone who will spend the rest of his life with me, I don't think so. Not at this moment. I already have more than enough on my plate. I'm not gonna screw up somebody's life so that mine would be complete. Besides, belum puas hidup dengan keluarga sendiri.'
So, this is what it's like to be in the middle of friends' engagement and wedding spree.
I couldn't sleep. So I decided to browse through my old emails and found this.
Little did I know that was the last birthday wish from her. What happened to us? I asked myself this question hundreds of times but still couldn't figure out what's the answer.
Predominantly, I think it was my fault. I was and will never be good enough at keeping people close. I didn't realize until it was too late that people that once were very dear to me slipped away from my life, just like that.
I actually miss him. Sitting about three feet apart in the exam hall was the closest I got to him in years (well, I guess bumping into each other once in a long while didn't really count). Honestly, my heart skipped a beat when I saw him two weeks ago after quite a long time.
I never knew I would ever like someone this much. I knew he's different the first time we talked five years ago.
I'm not so big on birthdays. When I was a kid, I didn't even have a birthday cake. Ma would cook something special like nasi minyak or nasi ayam for us, that's it. No presents, no wishes. My family is not a talker, means that we don't talk about something personal or intimate or sentimental or anything like it, just the usual random routine stuff. We're not like a typical loving family, yeah I know that, but that doesn't mean we don't love each other as much as other does.
So, today is my housemate's birthday. I swear I forgot. I kind of isolated myself from everyone lately. No phone, no facebook, not even books actually. I spent most of my days watching a new series I downloaded (I'm on season 2 already, talk about wasting time idiotically). I thought I heard someone came to our house and screamed happy birthday, but I didn't even bother to come out of my room. There was even a cake sitting in my fridge this morning, still I had no idea it's her birthday. Then a few minutes ago I decided to check on facebook, there it was--the notification. Bam.
I wish someone had messaged me or knocked on my door last night. Do you know how weird this situation is? Maybe you don't. I kind of feel awkward wishing someone's happy birthday alone. It sounds really..how shall I put this? I don't know, just not my kind of thing. I wish I could be more comfortable reaching out to people, not keeping it all builds up inside.
This is why I think I should have lived alone, in my cave. Maybe forever, I don't know. I have problem connecting to people. It's just easier to carry on things on my own. I don't have to give a damn about what other people feel or think or even feel bad when I hurt them.
How can you change the worst part of yourself?
This is also the reason I think I'm not supposed to be in his life. Doraemon has a big family, like really big. I can't think of a way to insert my socially awkward self among them.
It would be great to have a therapist, I guess. A stranger who sits beside you and listens to all the craps poured out from your heart. No one gets hurt and then when you're finished you can just walk away without turning back to receive judgement. How great is that?
There was one moment when I was very sure of something. Almost shove up all my cards for the bet that everything was perfectly how it's supposed to be.
How can life be so uncertain? Like one moment you thought you've figured it all out, then later you sat down and wondered if it was just a delusion inside your head.
For example, three months ago I was very sure of what I wanted and ready to plan my life for the next 5 years at least. And then just a few weeks ago I felt that all of it just something far out of my reach, like it was not meant to be.
Plans fail, promises are broken and life can end any second.
I'm certain of my feelings for you, but I'm not so sure anymore if I should be in your life.
Have you ever stopped for a moment in your life and started to wonder how you got there? All your mistakes and falls and how you got back up, mending your broken spirits and then fell all over again. How do you breathe in your failures? How to keep going when everything seems to fall out of your control?
I don't ask much, just enough to make my parents proud of me. And I think I never fail to do so since as long as I could remember, but just up to this point in my life where all that I do is disappointing myself. How could you make someone proud when you disgust yourself to the bone?
I never run away from anything in my life no matter how hard it is. But this one, I can barely be insane long enough to realize that I have a thousand hopes in my hand, ready to be crushed anytime I slip.
These days are hard. It's difficult to breathe without feeling the urge to cry thinking how much I've screwed up my life. Who am I kidding? I can't be and shouldn't even try to think of becoming a doctor. Totally the opposite of who I am and what I love. I'm not a people person and I can't even talk properly to patients. I may become the worst doctor in history. Not to mention how inadequate my knowledge is. What on earth is this? What the hell am I doing? I sleep too much nowadays. Because I feel that sleep is the only way to escape, even just temporarily, from this madness that I begin to feel. This is so not right.
You know what? Reading books and memorizing words are so different when it comes to treating patients. I don't know how to connect the dots and apply the things I read to make someone better. Again, what the hell am I doing? It's so different from when I'm doing Maths. I know exactly which formula to use, how to solve a question and will try until the last second to do so.
You can say that I am one of the best example of people who destroy her life by taking a wrong choice.
This may sound childish, but I really want to stay with my family forever.
Being away from home since a teenager somehow makes me value my family more, though I rarely shows it. Dan malam ini rasa rindu itu datang bertimpa-timpa. Can't we just stay together forever, all nine of us? I mean just us, no outsiders. Rindu mahu bergelak ketawa bersama di ruang tamu yang sempit, berebut kerusi di depan TV sambil menghirup kopi yang dibancuh Ma. Kali terakhir semua orang berkumpul lengkap sembilan jasad adalah raya tahun lepas, selepas tiga tahun tak bersua muka dengan Along. Felt like we were living our childhood again. Those school days and holidays, before Along and I went to college. And I think that would be the last time ever, since Along will be getting married this May. Then he will have another family of his own. Somehow that makes me sad, jealous even.
I've said this once before. If I could keep my family forever, I would happily give away all other things in the world.
When I was in my second year of medschool, we were already posted to the hospital. Met patients, learnt bedside manners, read charts, interpreted ECGs, came across death first-handed. There was a doctor, let's call him Dr. C, who was the HOD of Internal Medicine department. As far as I was concerned, he stopped working soon after we were posted to the hospital due to lung cancer. I still remember one day, when he was escorted to his car by all of his colleagues carrying a briefcase, to say goodbye I guess.
Then 3 years later, last Friday, I met him again. He was supposed to give a lecture to us at 8 am about vasculitis. He wore a white shirt, black pants, a device hung around his neck like a necklace--which is used to tell the radiation level he has been exposed to, and what struck me the most was, an oxygen tank. Which immediately reminded me of Hazel Grace Lancaster.
He talked for about an hour and half while standing, with the tube stuck inside his nose and the tank connected to the electrical source. I could see he's a little bit tired and somehow out of breath but he kept talking on and on and even gave a slot for questions. He left quite an impression to me, about how passionate a teacher could be, how a person could survive the greatest obstacle in his life and still standing in one piece, better maybe.
Just so you know, oxygen is one of the most expensive drugs that exist. And we actually get it for free.
I've always imagined there are universes other than this. Parallel alternative universes. Made up by the choices we didn't take, the roads we didn't travel. Another us. Another me.
I love to make up scenes in my head, watching myself from afar. I love to see me cycling to work early in the morning in the thin mist and when I reach the library, the smell of the books blooms my heart until it nearly bursts. I love to see me walking along the ocean, watching birds flying freely, counting the seashells I collect for my next art project. I love to see me writing in a book, doodling things with coffee in my hand while waiting to board the train to the place I've never seen.
I never get tired of imagining things. It's a way to escape this life that I am compelled to live. A way to ensure that I have taken all choices and lived all the consequences. Because a single road alone kinda sucks. You are bound to the one road you choose without any collateral ones. When you're stuck, you're stuck. There's no other way around. No back up plan. No U Turn. It is what it is, and you become what you made yourself up with.
When you're misunderstood and not given a chance to explain yourself, it's quite hurtful. Yeah, a lot actually. I was a mess for a few days. And then I decided why the hell should I care about something or someone that just made me unhappy?
So, screw you and your life and your perception that I was a beggar to plead a place inside your circle of care. I don't give a damn anymore.
I only keep what makes me happy. So tired of being so damn miserable all the time.
Kalaulah aku boleh ceritakan kegilaan ini kepada manusia. Semacam Tuhan mahu aku jangan berputus asa tentang kamu. Berkali-kali Dia usahakan supaya aku tahu kamu itu significant, jangan buang dan jangan lupa. Jangan berani aku kikis walau secebis.
It shocked me actually to know how many people knew about Doraemon and I. The so-called 'scandal'. Haha. I am definitely sure I told partially about him to exactly four people at first. Then all of sudden the whole class knew about that. And today, after more than three years, it came to my knowledge that more people knew about it. I guess I know who the leak is. But never mind.
As he said, people can talk about it and guess and gossip around. But only the two of us know what exactly happened. How much we get hurt. And how big the impact it has brought to our lives. It's like we grow up together through these challenges.
We are two strong people, Doraemon and I. I am proud of him as much as I am proud of myself to be getting through all these years, all these hardships and be a better person. To deny one's desire is not easy, seriously. I had the taste of it, and whatever had happened was beautiful and ugly at the same time. Now, if you ask me that if I could turn it all back, would I want to? No.
I remember clearly how he talks and the way he laughs, how he walks and his big smiles. I can recognize his checkered shirts from afar even if I don't wear my spectacles, the way I can recognize his bike even without looking at the plate number first. I remember his worn out green slippers, blue hoodie, that black jeans with its fold at the bottom, or even the pencil case he lost.
Everything is just a small little detail. Every moment is as brief as a second. But these are important to me, because these are as much as I could get.
I think I know how Kim Joo Won felt when he said he had the Alice in Wonderland syndrome.
These past few weeks had been very hectic. End of posting exam, sports day, birthday celebrations, usrahs, daurahs, jaulahs, sleepovers, class luncheon and whatnot. Not including classes, in which now I am posted to Orthopaedics department. 8am to 5pm, with mostly half of it standing in the OPD beside the doctors, attending patients. I barely have the time and energy to read my favourite books, watch my favourite series, or even lie peacefully on the bed while listening to good songs.
But weird enough, I'm happier than I've ever been.
As tired as I get, I want to make as many memories as possible here. Because this is supposed to be the final year (by God's will) that I get to spend my time with these friends I knew for more than 5 years already. We came from different parts of the country, so the chance to meet again and do these things together is highly unlikely.
May lots and lots of happiness fall upon us in the year ahead. And may we be closer to Him through any sort of ways.