Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Faulty

(Once Upon a Time then)

Know how it is like, sampai ke hujung deadline you just don't feel like even moving at all?

Nothing. Not prompted. Not moved.

Just. Not excited at all.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Dalloway

Whatever I say or planned it will turned one-eighty degrees. It will never be the way I wanted, the way I imagined. It could be better, it could be worse.

"Go back to what triggered you to be in this kind of feeling."

I wrote how much I love my work more than any other being. I was also wary to think that if I settled down, would my partner be understanding of my work – how much I am so into it and committed to it, possibly more committed to work than to my partner.

Eventually, I realized that I don't love work anymore. It became too much, cruel and overwhelming. It made me into a person that is mean, lifeless and full of hatred. Too tired, too exhausted, too much. It is already one thing about me that I bottled things, and it was another fight to let it all come out.

Because I do not know any Iron Maiden (and alike) songs to scream it out, I listened to Baek Ji-Young's Like Being Hit by a Bullet to break the tears out of me. Every day I woke up, go to work and I dreaded each hour passed. Every day I feel like jumping off the cliff. I look forward to coming home. I forced myself to drop and rest. I could not go all the way anymore. I don't care. I want to die

I keep saying and thinking those things. And I know that's not who I am at that moment. Each time when I realized I have already crossed the bridge, I was full of relief. I never want to look back, I keep walking away from it. But I know it will come back around the next cycle because I have to deal with it, yet again.

It made me realized that it has been awhile I do things that I used to do. The bru coffee and rawa thosai across the street. Reading my favourite websites. Going to my favourite playground. Stalking the old boyfriends' tweets and posted pictures. Writing to escape. It made me realized that the things I hated – going to the dentist, my investment classes – became the things that I thought of staying in for a much longer time. I feel happier there. I like the smell of hospitals whenever I visit someone or having my own follow ups and long to be installed for a couple of days.

I actually have those feelings. It was actually calming and comforting.

And despite all the craziness, there's this lust of keeping it balanced. Fighting the demon inside me, ignoring it, not feeding it – with new strangers. Threw myself into the more unknowns. Not that it is bad, but I could have got myself into trouble. The most terrifying thing I did was flying to another country and seeing him for the first time.

It was not that terrifying, really. It was a sublime feeling to get away from it all even for a day. The plane ride, the travelling alone, the lavish hotel, the handsome man waiting for me. It was enough, I felt contented, enough and happy. I had enough affections, kisses and perpetually in his arms throughout the night. I did not even get the waist cramps – that terrible, stabbing pains I get sometimes in the early morning, waking me up from my sleep.
I was yearning for him to be in my arms at one time, I wanted to feel him in that way. For now, we are about just being present for each other.

I still have good days. A lot of people made the effort for me. I actually felt happier.

I do tell people how I feel, my despair, my my sadness as to not bottling it up. I hope this helps (me). And I keep going too. I fix as much as I can. I am not like what I used to be anymore – stellar and exceeding expectations in my work. I am tired out, burned to crisp. I sometimes see the fear in my mother's eyes observing my conditions day by day.

With all these craziness, the crying in the car, the isolating myself in the toilet, in the gym – I am still very blessed. I have not lost anything. I still have a job, a comfortable and familiar shelter, a mother, a more understanding albeit more eye-rolling relationship with my father, a closer gap with my brothers, new (boy)friends, les chats and everything else I hold dear. 

I have only lost myself. I hope this is the last break up. I hope I triumphed this. 

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Self-Hatred II

Refer this.

Recently I have been reminded by a girl that I have this confident exterior – that IDGAF what people think. I have my own style, my own stride. That this is how I smile. That I am always the sexier of the two.

It was unbelievable for her to witness my meltdown after I tried on a bikini with a mirror that smacked reality on my face. See those thighs – they are the size of tree trunks! That was what the mirror was screaming at me.

But the mirror in Krabi was kinder and I had more fun bikini-shopping. But alas, the Samsung camera don’t lie in capturing those thighs, man.

Regardless, I can be proud of my ass. H, thank you for telling me to do squats.

With regards to the tree trunk thighs … H once asked why I don’t wear shortpants. And wondering aloud that my legs are long enough for the gas and pedal yet I have the driver’s seat so close to the steering wheel.

Kaki panjang kan?
Man, I love that line.

Yet, I have thighs the size of tree trunks – with matching calves. I think I have legs matching to a soccer player’s – a male soccer player. Thank goodness for a decent length of my legs, though.

I want to tell you something – don’t lose weight. I like you like this, it’s just nice. Just right. And no, I don’t see those tree trunks on you that you have been babbling about. Why do you care about what people think, why don’t you care about what I think? 

Wow, that guy. He is everything. I don’t have to hold anything back with him.

Yet, besides the tree trunk thighs and the jutting teeth, there’s something new – the protruding huge forehead of mine.

Linger

I am guilty of always comparing. With the girls on Instagram, with the girls on Twitter, with the girls on Tumblrs. Mostly on Instagram. All these pictures are infiltrating my mind negatively. I want a loving partner and cute babies. I want a tastefully decorated house and a nice ride. I want fashionable and successful circle of friends. I want lavish trips and be photographed in my latest designer bikini with matching jewelry.

And H, I always want to position you as the loving partner. Don’t we have the same ideals in most things, as much as I am always opposing you but it really is that I have tons of feelings for ya.

I get sick and nauseous when I read someone I know is finally hitching it. Hate it. Hate the bling, the dress, the flowers and the adoring smiles they get from the photographed expression of their beau. Where’s mine already?

So what is wrong if there are some girls’ dream or destination is that dais by Pak Abu? She didn't pull a wedgie out of you, isn't it – not that it’d be any trouble with that granny panties of yours.

Man, I’m spiteful.

There, I am guilty of comparing.

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Cavalier

I'd better write this all down while I can remember it all strongly and later forget about it just as quickly as it has all started.

He's the perfect ray of sunshine.

He arrived in September 2012. We get to know each other in April 2014. He's leaving on the 1st of May.

I cursed and my heart had a hairline crack, sort of felt betrayed when he said he won't be around much longer.

If I had known him way earlier, I wouldn't have such a rotten 2013, methinks. He's all the party-going, the rave, the fun, the great make out keeper. Such an ideal.

But alas, who would have ever known how it would have been? It's always the better circumstances that it is short and sweet like this.

"Why do you burped so much?"

He was all smiles despite me being the princess, the posh, the gullible.

Never trust a guy who says he likes Japanese food when all he can named is sushi. When he doesn't like unagi (and will returned it if I ever ordered it), ate the tofu for my sake and not-so fancying the salmon belly sashimi.

Scored it perfectly for my choice of the burgers, the coffee, the sinful fried doughnut and those darned 2.29 apiece Granny Smith apples for him. I just love to spoiled, to indulged. And being allowed to be all corny, all cheesy and all soapy cause we're not going to meet each other anymore after this.

The pretty little white house, the messy room and the beautiful antique wooden wardrobe. Of Wai Wai instant noodle and James Vincent McMorrow. And that fucking highway that will destroy the little white house should the neighbourhood lost the battle.

This is perfect. As much as I am bawling inside.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Happy Thoughts



I can't believe it. That I am back here again. Though it's a different kind of feeling of heartbreak.

Is there nothing that you'd want to say or do to change how I feel if it's wrong, what you said was not criticizing, not what you intended?
Is there anything that you will help me towards finding peace, guiding me, helping me?
I need it, I want you to help me
You're not staying with me through this?
Else, the only way I know is to just walk away and mend it myself the only way I know works or actually backfires on me
No one ever stayed
And in the end work is all there is
Something that is mine, that I worked on, everyday, putting my heart in it, there's ups and downs n that's all I know for now
That's the closest thing called relationship I could have
I am that pathetic. And impatient.

Nobody ever noticed me when I'm quiet. When I keep it to myself. When I was patient. No one ever take a step back and see how hard I cried. How bottled up my feelings are. That you need to shut up and just hold me.

Weird that when I'm crying this time, my heart doesn't hurt the way it did last time. No matter how hard I cried and screamed into the towel, it only hurts because I'm gasping for air. 

But yes, I am bottled up. I don't know how to make it any plainer to show my adoration and affection towards someone. I sucked at this. I so wished for someone to break the walls for me and just keep reaching out for me no matter how deep I went inside myself because I am that terrified of the pain. 

That pain is my biggest fear, the condemnation to my trust. Something that I am just not brave enough to let go of my past because even if it hurts and pathetic, lonely and impatient ... it's familiar. And that's about the only comforting thoughts I have to try to encourage myself to keep living, to keep pushing myself to be better. Ironic, but what the hell?

Why do you only see me in my dark days, why do you criticized the hardest? Did you not notice me when I was fighting, when I was normal, when I was happy, when I was present?

Wow. I can't bring anything to the table.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

The Sheltered Life

"Can we please change the subject? I had a long week!"
-- "Everyone had a long week."

I can't keep myself from continuously debating with him. Mum will not approved this as she feels that I should be docile with a man, keep my thoughts to myself and never be intimidating. Don't be forceful.

I am, one of the most impatient person when it hits me wrong. I can be that forceful. And I can talk back just as much. But at times, I have seen others worse than me, never want to back out from a point that I contradicted and because of that, I hardly wasted my time talking back. I let them talk all they want.

And boy was he a talker. He can talk all night. Until he fell asleep watching his favourite show. And then he wakes up the next morning not getting Explosions in the Sky, making fun endlessly of the college I graduated from and rolled his eyes when some people are not aware of some obvious facts that he faced every day.

These boys, they have facts. They have very decent paper qualifications. Very sociable, civil, delightful and pleasant in the eye. Extra pleasant, if you must. Please don't see yourself in their future.

Yet, I am so drawn to them. And I like talking to them. I like to hear and know those facts. I like to know it from their own point of view, although I may have already read it somewhere or watched it from a tv documentary. I like to hear their stories, their experiences. And I let them pay for everything.

And boy, can he talk all night. He really likes listening to his own voice. And the only times he likes listening to yours is when you moan and scream. You're only in their present.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Amorous

There's nothing that can take a girl out of Paris. Not even the love of her life.

Except Carrie Bradshaw.

But in this era, we have moved way passed the Post-It breakup. Relationships are tricky. Women start wondering just as loud as men – what do men want? And that they are also getting just as bold as the men playing the same game of one night stand, friends with benefits, commitment phobic and keeping their options as wide as their opened legs.

It's that rough out there.

+ + +

"Who are you going with?"
-- "My mum. Probably the last good long vacation before I get married."
"You have a plan?"
-- "Plan for?"
"To get married."
-- "Of course."
"Sorry – you have someone in mind?"
-- "Nope."

Marriage is like death. Not that I mean it is the end of my life. But that I will never know when it will come around. I will already be surprised if a guy actually stayed. I will never know when it will come to invite me, to tell me that someone is waiting and that someone wants to stay long enough and a little while longer.

Because just like death, marriage is one of His Secrets, it's within His Firewall and you can't even take in His Presence already what more to pry. But you can always ask, you can always pray, you can always request it from Him for He becomes shy to return to His servant with empty hands.

+ + +

This is nuts that I am waiting for you each day to wake up. That I am thinking what you are thinking. That I really like the way you talk to me. That it is nice to have you in my happiest thoughts to go through this madness.

Amorous, and you are the lucky one.

Sunday, March 2, 2014

Emotionally Invested

I realized that I forgot how it feels like to break up with someone. I may have lost a chance to have relationship again and again as time passes, but when I watched all the break up scenes in the Korean dramas my mother keep watching one after another -- I realized I forgot how it feels like to go through a break up.
I know how a break up goes, how it hurts but it does seemed a bit unfamiliar. Something that I am not that used to, despite hooking up with one guy after another. Despite that it always turned cold turkey when I finally decided to meet them halfway. It seems that I am only desirable when I am unattainable.
When I'm here, I'm here. When I'm gone, I'm gone.
I never like the rules. I never like the games. Yes, I am very bad at it. I am trying not to waste time as much as I have actually wasted my time with one after another. I also realized that I gave in to my desire, my lust. I should not be too mad about it, that's just how it is for the guys too -- just purely biological.

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Tenacious

After all the crazy things that I've done, I will eventually come through for myself.

I may be too blind at first, too slow to understand and a very delayed fit of rage because I still always, always think good of others and kept fighting, kept mending, kept hoping because it's worth it, but I will eventually came through for myself.

After the cheating, the crazy back-n-forth drives, only to realized that he's at the other person's place, the humiliation, I remember the determination to separate, at the school's parking lot, minutes before I sat for my papers.

After the cold shoulders, the hundred and eighty turn of events, the scariest of feelings, the repeated agony to endure, the drive to nowhere, alone and crying for a lost cause, the ignoring and again, the humiliation, I remember how I collected myself and decided to cut it off.

After the fun, the spontaneity, the last thread to happiness, the want for something more, I laid out my cards but you never showed yours.

In my own way. In my own time. In my own shell. Tenacious.