Silence

I think this phase I'm going through, is the phase of liking someone and get on these silent rides -- watching as things go by. Watching as people moved on. Watching as life catches up on you. And then letting go. And then having the pain knifed down in your heart. While your heart bleeds, your brain writes down to-do list. Things to settle, movies to see, books to read, other friends to meet, new things you may want to try. Although you're just so sunk in and comfortable with the misery you know. I'm thinking of big windows, a huge bed. I'm thinking of patios and cushions, with flowers and coffee mugs. I'm thinking of scenic views, soundtracks and books. I'm thinking of the pictures you'd took on top of the pictures I have in mind. And somehow, I see you in most pictures. I can't shut down certain things. I just keep playing and replaying it. It's a soothing effect that consumed not only my misery -- but also my time, my availability, my being that should be better off elsewhere. But one day it will come, one day when I will eventually be rid of my demons.

Petals

I'm a sad, sad thirty-year old.

My so-called unofficially appointed book agent is reading my blog, sort of like, a test run. So, this post here is like more work, or... a "heyy, surprise!"

Ha ha ha ha.

I'm a sad, sad thirty year old who have been wasting my weekends away committing to house chores and laundry. I could have gone to my investment classes or go out with my girlfriends but currently I'm yearning for kisses -- not a make out session (not yet, unless, well, you know, if. you. can. take. it. to. the. next. level) -- from a guy that I am emotionally interested with. Currently there's none that I am emotionally interested in -- but I looove kisses!

Maybe I can opened a small florist stall. Not a serious, registered, licensed business kind of florist stall. Maybe I just set up a make up booth like those Charlie Brown selling lemonades -- or was it Linus? Oh, okay, like Lucy's clinic booth. And I set it up at, say, busy LRT stations or anywhere nearby SOGO in KL. Surely they can't missed a pretty girl selling flowers for nuts. They will think I'm crazy, yup. Or easy crime target.

I can get cheap flowers from Petaling Street and mark it up just a mere few percent. Not costing in time, fuel and transportation for the exchange of human interaction. Real-life communication, experiences and a good practice of sort.

I'm not a very smiley person. On weekends when I sort of have a routine outfit running errands -- stripey grey long sleeve top and blue jeans -- and I don't want to put on mascara or filling up the blanks in my eyebrows, my greatest asset is my smile. I. Must. Smile. Learn to make it a habit.

And from there, a smile and pretty flowers, I will be able to strike conversations with strangers. As long as I am talking to someone. The people I know in my contact list seemed pretty busy and they have no time for small talks and all angst and frustrations have been vented on social feeds, anyway. Nothing else about being there, done that to share.

And from that small booth selling flowers for nuts, I will meet a lot more people than the existing types I have made acquaintances with. Talk to the elders, children, immigrants who have the hard lives. Maybe get to know some policemen and policewomen -- and then they will be asking for my business license, ack! Chat with the tourists, the expats and the outsourced Indian geeks.

I think that's one of the best soul foods. I have seen how others my age or younger or the older ones who keep going, do their part being volunteers, set up their own business selling clothes or books and getting closer to Almighty. They have goals and are very inspiring.

As for me, I just have a crazy idea. Things are going to be hard. I just want to get through it. And not very much about leaving my comfort zone just yet to start with.

Pattern

Hello, what did I write last time?

About a man, a muse, the reason I write so I could create another escapism to get away from the fact that I am just one of his ... can't romanticise him any more, can't say out the simple truth.

I imagined I would falter even worse than it was the time with Adi, perhaps Hadri was masking my other, actual pain. What I eventually realized, after crying in the rain (while driving), the loathing part I have for Hadri, consumed all the endearings.

And I realized I'm over Adi -- as much as it took me two years.

But I made it, so what's next?

+ + +

If you have to talk about a guy with your girlfriend -- that's a red flag.

And Roha, being that annoying elder sister role that she is at times (and me being that spoiled, ungrateful younger sister at times), I know she is only and only looking after me when my mother couldn't.

Ughhh, I'm getting emotional. Okay, stop.

+ + +

I will talk about him here, because experiences as I knew it, predictions as Roha can sees it, advices as Shoobs has always asked to consider it -- it's a gone case.

Thing is, I am only happy like this when I am with you. I am happy that I am fighting and crying for you. I recognized this as genuine feelings and that I only have it for you.

I yearned for you, I read every thoughts of you, I checked my cell for you, I constantly hope that notification sound means it's from you, I waited for you every morning, I wished that those thoughts were about me, I wanted to know if it is only me that you're holding like this.

My heart misses you and my eyes welled with tears each time after a good day spent with you.

Here's to another silent ride.

Unknown

Aku tak tau la.

That's my first retort. Truthfully, I really do do not know.

It's well passed a year after I last had some. It was a long day at work, quite gruelling too. I was tired but I was thrilled, I was playful but he was emotional about his room break-in that happened a few days earlier. He shouted and for a moment I was thinking whether I should get into the lift with him or not. I left him to bring in everything on his own once he unlocked the door. I plopped on the sofa and gave out a fuck-you silent treatment throughout the 600 square feet studio apartment.

He didn't bother about feeding me. I sang out loud in the worst out-of-tune (and beat) voice ever to Spiritualized's Ladies and Gentlemen, We're Floating in Space, feeding my boredom and thinking of how the other who will always attend to my every needs even when I never thought of it, spoiling me like a princess.

I went to bed early because I have seen that episode of The Simpsons and it is not particularly my favourite. It's wistful when I thought about it again, when he asked, "Nak tidur dah?"

I should have just stayed and stayed and stayed by his side.

I woke up in the middle of the night and found him sleeping on the couch. I forced myself into his arms until he wearily said, "Let's go to bed." His sleeping breath and liquor smell, I inhaled it. I want to sleep with the person I have crazy feelings for.

Again, he didn't bother about feeding me so forget breakfast. He scrolled his social feed and didn't talk to me. I always love getting some in the morning but again, I'm the only one being playful here. I got cranky and demanded coffee. I ranted and told him how the other guys wouldn't treat me like this. He told me off to be independent like all his girlfriends and so many had spoiled me by doing everything for me I should do stuffs on my own.

Ohhh. Didn't he hit a fucking nerve in me. I was so furious I slammed the bathroom door and sat there crying. I came out after I finished and checked my mascara and eyeliner in the mirror. I remembered him coyly peered in to see how I was doing.

Another fuck-you silent treatment, an even fuckier one. He lost his cool and started to confront me. I could barely looked at him, which is to say, I was really, really pissed with him. He played all the I'm-the-man-here-woman-you-better-answer-me but all he's getting is the fuck-y silent treatment.

But he did make coffee for me. And it was one of the best black coffees I have ever drink. The perfect balance of sweetness and the very right temperature. I thoroughly enjoyed the whole mug. He's a genius. I told him so. He was dumbfounded but as always, he doesn't take compliments well.

I get ready, packed up to leave and smeared all the rouge on my lips. Now only does he wants some, his last attempt to make up. I reminded him that his friends are waiting for him and I am not important, I'm just his real-life sex doll. For a moment I thought I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes, for saying that to me last night. And I'm always good at giving back.

He drove me to my office. He held my chin when he finally gets it where my sarcasm comes from. Again, he criticizes me. About my work, my attitude -- if I can't take a critique, how does my manager handles me? It pisses me off because he's never seen the other part of me, he never asked so he never knows that I am working with the best people in the business, and at one point I offered him an opportunity to work with them. He thinks he's better than me, he has travelled more miles, he has met so many people and their dirty tricks to win and that he's so great closing a 5mil (in RM)  project and me ... just a 4mil (in USD).

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

He's just the worst and lamest person ever when he's with me. Or when he's not with me as I stalked him now and then.

But how every inch of my body, heart, mind and soul  betrayed me. And I only have this sort of feeling for him, this genuine liking him to bits, adoring his arrogance and endearing ... what the hell, what the hell.

Aku tak tau la.

Nuclear

Don't celebrate his birthday after he spoiled you on yours.

A few weeks down the road, you're like, poking around. Annoying him. On other days, whatever you're doing now is considered thoughtful but not after the birthday celebrations. You're annoying. And he starts to get mean with you. Whether he means it or not, it gets the better of him. You're not enough.

Oh, it hurts.

But this is not my fault. I started to open up. I don't allow happiness, but it gets the better of me. Just unfortunate that these happiness are only the tip of an ugly sadness. How it will always catches up on me.

Funny how I can see the same episode played twice by two different men. I seemed to get this now and then. I see the patterns. I couldn't help seeing the vivid similarity. So glaring, so clear it's like I'm watching re-runs.

But this is not my fault.

Arissa menangis semahunya. Seluruh jiwanya rapuh. Hatinya meruntun inginkan kebahagiaan dan dia tidak mampu mengecapinya sendirian. Walau dicuba sedaya upaya, bagai ada satu kuasa yang mencemburuinya dan dengan sekali hembus, Arissa kembali jatuh dari hampir mencapai kebahagiaan. Arissa cuma dibenarkan bergembira tetapi untuk memiliki sesuatu yang mahu memilikinya kembali, hajatnya tidak tercapai.
Dia tidak sangka segala usahanya sia-sia dan masih ada yang meraguinya. Dia cuma mahu terus mara dan meninggalkan semua yang pahit, tidak mahu diingati walau untuk sesaat. Tetapi semua kenangan yang menyakitkan itu masih mahu bersamanya dan menambahkan lagi perasaan berat dalam dirinya. Terasa bagai dia tidak dapat menyelamatkan dirinya sendiri dan lebih mudah lagi untuk terus berhenti hidup kerana harapannya tidak mungkin dapat direalisasikan.

I could not make it last even half a year ... what more a lifetime.

But this is not my fault.

My fault is that I am still here, down in this pit. Sadly, or funnily, I am actually comfortable being down here. No one can get a piece of me, to break, to shatter, to rip.

Nuclear, and I knew it.

Left Brain

She just disappears.

+ + +

You know when you are breaking down, and you felt there’s no one you feel like you can turned to, no one you felt like running too because you had to explained to them what you’re going through, there will be too many questions coming from them and while you’re explaining to them you might choke on your own tears.
That’s bad. That’s really bad.
You brought this mess on your own. You need to clean it up. You need to pick yourself up. You need to suck it. You need to take it one shot and cry to yourself while it’s hurting. Until you don’t feel hurt anymore.
There’s just too much sadness you’re carrying inside. Too many grudges you kept filed. You put hope on a chair and put it in a corner. You hardly talked to it or let itself be heard. You’re scared of it, you’re terrified. You don’t believe it.

+ + +

“What the hell just happened? It was pathetic!”
“Yup. It was crazy shit.”
“Scary. I never want to be there again.”

+ + +

“She doesn’t belongs anywhere exclusive. She doesn’t look for anyone, only they looked for her when they think of her.”

+ + +

“You should have it all moderately, but you are blessed when there’s others who bestowed upon you more. Or maybe cursed, depends. It’s needless to remind all of us what’s the point in being popular, well-known or the best when you are not happy, when you can’t get what you want. Then again we should just make do and be happy with what we already have. We just can’t stop complaining and comparing while others had to slave away or have no room at all to correct their mistakes. Or illness.”

+ + +

“Honestly, I don’t think that people ever pay any attention to me. There’s so many other prettier, more interesting gals especially.”

+ + +

“There’s always limitations in what you can do, even though you’re the best at it. One can break through firewalls and changed or delete data but you can never break into time and reset it to buy more for yourself. It’s gone. Time, a mother’s instinct, gravity – among the things that you can never challenge, because it is within His Firewalls.”

+ + +

“I have no one who will fight for me and wants me bad enough for himself.”

+ + +

“Well, you see ... she doesn’t believes in anything on relationship.”

+ + +

“She’s pretty brutal about herself. She usually conjures something out of nothing.”

+ + +

“It’s a very sad song. It just ... sets you back. It’s very lonely and you’re just ... aimless. You keep walking ... not knowing where it ends. You can never get that closure. It’s all agony and desperation that has been kept only to yourself. It’s pointless to tell it to anyone else ... they can’t do anything about it.”

+ + +

“She’s actually very normal, normal. But she pretended herself tragic.”

Pointless

The thought, a while ago.

I struggled to put it in words ...

I don't allow happiness to get thru. Except with you, it breaks the barrier, again and again. I feel so happy that I could cry. Which I actually did, because I couldn't believe that I could be happy this way again.
Furthermore, I found myself happier after I kissed you.

But I know the signs, I know it's not going to work, I know it's not going to happen and I will stop telling you to give it a shot to someone who will fight for you.

I don't want someone who can just make me happy. I want someone to fight for me too. And I know you, you will just ... let me go.

Touché?

+ + +

HIMYM is getting vegetable. Barney's getting old. But I'm always the sucker for being a Robin, a Blair and maybe one day Suess made H got serious for her ... I don't know, whatever.

+ + +

I let him go, but I didn't move on. Or maybe I moved on but I did it at such glacial pace or hardly any improvement. Significantly glacial that others moved past me -- wow, they moved on fast.

I'll just live with it until it dies its natural death. I'm sure there's no cure.

+ + +

I think I could mastered crying silently in the bathroom with minimal damage to the applied eyeliner and ninety-dollar mascara.

+ + +

It didn't feel romantic but it is romantic that when I hitched a ride with someone to work, that someone bought breakfast for me. And maybe he chose that well-known for heavy traffic route so that he could spend more time with me.

Perasan.

+ + +

When we're good, we're good. When we're not, just shut the fuck up. Have gone times without you.

Nothing worth telling, nothing worth sharing. Just episodes on rerun.

+ + +

I struggle to put it in words.

Guarded

I'm easily bored lately. The Big Bang Theory is hilarious but it's wearing thin already within 48 hours.

There's no good men out there -- I told off my mum with that statement yesterday. But she was actually speaking the way I did once upon a time. Of course I know, I'm my mother's daughter.

Of course she wants the best for her daughter. At least someone better than her daughter for her daughter. By position, by earnings, by achievements ...
But I realized that my being happy is much more important.

Let me be happy first and foremostly for I have been upset for too long. Happy, and then I will work hard for it. I will jump and fall in love. Those are important. We will never know what would happened. Nevermind.

There has to be enough love. Enough strength in that bond. I want someone to fight for me too, besides just making me happy.

I found myself happy kissing someone although way before I have been kissed. I allowed that for that is the only time I was delirious. I was happy being kissed, being spoiled but I was happier after I kissed someone.

Happy. That comes first, once Consented.

Losing

How does it feels like to stand before the love of your life?

Can't say love of your life, it has to be mutual, and I don't think it's mutual.
Let's rephrase.

How does it feels like to stand before the person you love most?

I imagined it would be ... breathless.

Can't nobody put me in that state any more.

I've run out of things to say, sometimes I prefer silence. Or most of the times I do. I just like to drive, or being drove around, accompanied with the soundtrack of the moment.

I have nothing to offer nor I feel like offering anything. There's the best of me, the me as it is and tantrums packed together. One treads around, lingers but never stayed.

What is this feeling actually, it's crazy to still be having it.
Is it the ideal, or only the memory, really?

When you see him in front of you, you won't have anything to say anyway. You either rise above or you crumbled the moment you know when.

Happy Birthday, Princess

A year ago.

At this time a year ago, I can't remember ... whether I was still inside the pool , looking up to the black sky while clinging to you -- very happily -- or we have moved. Or that they finally left us alone. You marvelled that I could withstand the temperature for so long since I've been there since the prime news began.

You appeared and ruefully complained that I didn't invite you to join  me.

I wished that, we are now together. Maybe already settling down. And you could've said, "Remember a year ago ... we were ..."

But they're just ashes now. Ashes. It has long gone with the wind. You're the ship that has sailed. I don't know why there is still a small part of me thinking wistfully of you.

The point is, it has been a year.

Those who stay, stayed.

"You put hope on a chair and put it in a corner. You hardly talked to it or let itself be heard. You’re scared of it, you’re terrified. You don’t believe it."

Please rest in peace.

MH 85

Hi,

I miss you. I miss you so much that it doesn't hurt but it got me into some crazy fit. Maybe it actually does hurt so I faked cry sometimes, thinking that I would flush out the feeling.

I miss you, stupid. I miss you, silly. I miss your wide and knowing grin when you pulled me close. I miss you pushing your face close to me before you pressed your lips on mine and I gave in.

I miss your arrogance, I miss your flaws. I find them all endearing, only when you held out your hand to me and kept me close to you.

I am actually better off without you, or you should just become an accessory. I am a damaged good, a broken ice queen and almost an android.

As much as I tried to dismiss you, you occupied all the spaces inside my head. My heart, on the other hand, placed you on a pedestal. Needless to say, no part of my body reject yours.

I miss you, sweetheart, I really do. When I stopped thinking about you, or when I have had enough of thinking about you, you came around. You dropped by and say hi, you made your appearance felt in more ways than one. Each time I see you appear, it felt like someone jabbed a needle into my heart then tossed me to the ground. I truly panicked when I see you looked for me when ironically I have been waiting for you, haven't I?

I won't tell you that I am missing you like this. I know you deserved to know but I couldn't be bothered because I know you wouldn't care. I don't waste time on things like that anymore. I don't care that you're not aware about this because I don't want to think about you.

But me, yes, I need to think and look after me. I can't stop me from adoring you and replaying all the things you did and said that made me still believe that there is something out there, that only He Knows.

Imaginary Disclosure

Arissa did a quiz on-line to find out why she could not keep a man. The result came out that she’s too annoying. She scowled at the computer screen and think that there are more annoying people out there and what happened to them? Well, they got married. And reproduce.

Cheap shot.

She read a tweet of someone who seems to have it going – a great job, fashionable, oversea work trips and vacations. In short, those are the benchmarks opposite the other group – married, kids, and well-documented decorated house and who’s who on their Facebook and Instagram.

Among other things.

Back to that someone again – he said he’s deactivating his online social networks, unplugging himself from too much information. Arissa felt for him. It might be a different story but to her, nothing will ever come close to what will always stay inside your heart. One can erase every virtual trace but as long as you’re still living and breathing, you might just need to learn living with what your heart, feeling and mind has gone through with that one person you can never get that disclosure from.

Exit

"We have to kill that bastard already."

It's funny, it's really funny. How can someone you've already somewhat sworn off is still in your head. Is still like a regular, popping now and then in your mind. Even make appearances in your dreams that made you wonder, are you coming around or what?

It's really weird, really. You moved on. You go to movies, you have fun. You work hard, you tire yourself off. You go out and eat, meeting people and swore off any intimacy. You're not open to any possibilities and you shut out the past. You let go, you moved on.

Guess it doesn't seems like it. Not that you're missing it, or do you? You always took the farther entry because the nearest one will make you passed the first meeting place. Not that there's any stabbing pain when the memory rushed back to you.

Maybe because you keep saying that he is the last thread of happiness, your mind has efficiently taught itself to only go back to those times before it went south. The e-mails, the way he talks to you, the way you can shut him off, the way you can drove him wild, the way he took care of you then, then, then.

And you do know whatever that he has becomes now doesn't matter, doesn't concerns you. There's nothing to it, "we have to kill that bastard already."

Dorky

Arissa is somewhat weird.

She watches television shows a lot. Only that she downloaded it instead of watching it on the black box, or a black monitor as how it is now – everybody has gone LCD and LED. She doesn’t watch the popular ones – Desperate Housewives, Glee, True Blood, Suits. She’s more on the New York based shows like Gossip Girl, Sex and the City, The Newsroom and reading New York Magazine online.

She treasures Anthony Bourdain and David Chang with great fondness.

She’s dull and somewhat colourful. She can be very reserved and very outspoken depending on her moods. When extremely nervous, she stutters or pronounced two words at the same time that it merged into a gibberish word. She can also be a smooth talker or worse, a very seductive sweet talker. She’s witty and sarcastic, also very emotional.

However, Naqi is hooked. He’s amused, enamoured and also tenderly curious of Arissa’s personality. She’s eccentric and has her own set of antiques. She can be very cold, dismissive with any issue simply by the expression on her face or the rolling of her eyes. Then again, she can also be gentle and considerate, thoughtful and genuinely concern.

Still, Naqi is attracted to her. He likes her face, her threaded brows, eyes and mascara-coated long lashes. He’s entertained when she puts on the lip balm, lipstick and lipgloss ceremoniously each time after they finished their meal. He enjoys looking at the pair of painted lips when he greets her, while she’s sipping her coffee and when they parted.

Naqi likes everything about Arissa when they spend time together. The smell of her shampoo, her flower-scented lotions and simply when he sometimes caught her breath that smells of coffee and mints. Arissa used to have her hair long but these days she has it bob only above her shoulders.

She wears braces and it is more about losing her weight rather than straightening her teeth. She’s just funny that way. As much as she whines about her weight, she still eats heartily. She loves the way sashimi melts in her mouth, loving her steaks medium to medium well. She enjoys poached eggs, anything potato-based and a lot of greens on her plate. 

There’s a lot to learn about Arissa. Naqi is in no rush and he’s taking his time getting to know her. At times he’s surprised with how a rollercoaster freak Arissa can be but he’s usually very happy with her – in Jason Mraz’s song, Arissa is a beautiful mess in his eyes.

Arissa loves a good sandwich. She also enjoys a good spread of lauk at any nasi campur stall. She doesn’t mind getting lost into a very good breakfast or spends the whole day having brunch. Arissa can eat through a buffet and will always have coffee at the end of it. Basically Arissa loves food and she loves to eat to the point she occasionally takes a hiatus.

Arissa is also enthusiastic about the ingredients. She’s not interested at all in the process of cooking but she loves the raw materials and preparing before the cooking. Arissa gets all excited going to the market be it dry but especially the wet market. She loves looking at the seafood, dead or alive. She observes the vegetables and herbs like it’s art, like they are visiting a museum.

Arissa also gets excited eating at the food stalls having a bowl of noodles or a regular plate of nasi campur – she usually tries the bergedil, the eggplant sambal and sampling the veges. She couldn’tsay no to a freshly fried chicken or a nicely grilled catfish. The aroma got her hooked like it’s crack.

It’s one of the things that Naqi doesn’t mind having Arissa with him. Although Arissa is at the very least interested to visit livestock farms, Naqi is secretly entertained at how she clings to him, how cute she looks in a pair of rubber boots and how petrified she can be with the big hooves. She whines and muttered to herself, and some point she keeps quite as in keeping her opinions to herself rather than displeasing Naqi.
This is just one of the moments that Naqi felt he has found a soulmate.

Self-hatred

I was butt-ugly. Worse than an ugly duckling. What with the dark skin, small nose, the protruding forehead when I pulled my hair back, half-orb coming out of my eye sockets, too round cheeks, the jutting lower lip, and worst -- the teeth.
I had it last time, holding a pencil between my upper teeth and beneath the lower lip while I guffawed. It was a habit that later made me "jongang" -- couldn't find the English word for it. I remember the disdain from the dentist after examining my profile sideways. I remember a lot of things the kids said to me, right when I was a kid and until now. They were merciless taunts and comments at times, or most of the times.

I guess I am still ugly but I learn to control it. I learn to use make up, I learn to take care of my skin, I learn to smile that minimizes the jongang effect, I learn, I learn, I learn. But nothing could erase the ugly past. Especially when people keep tagging me on Facebook with the worst images of me.

I hate it when people tagged me on Facebook when I am at most unflattering -- when I had some sleazy hairstyle, them teeth that affect my smiles, or laughs, the oily dark skin. Once I lashed out a thousand miles away to a guy who posted an unflattering image of me on his Instagram. He thinks it's love ... guess he is blind after all.

Weird that when I was ugly then, I had me some gorgeous boyfriends. Tall, fair skin, sharp nose, deep set eyes, defined jawline and perfect teeth. What did they see it in me then?
I guess I am now just butt-uglier that it is a lost cause.
I am in awe when there are people who told me that I am pretty when I do believe that I have unflattering angles. These days I am like Mariah Carey, I will only be photographed from the left side of my face. The left side seems to have a more defined face shape while the right side showed an unflattering round cheeks that swallowed my eyes and nose.

I work hard to show the world that I am pretty -- with all that I've got, the make up, the lighting, the pose, the best angle, the long eyelashes that I naturally have, the threaded eyebrows and hair that when I had it long, most people suggested me to auditioned for Pantene ads.
So when someone posted or tagged a photo of me at what I deemed my ugliest, it's all God's wrath sort of thing. Don't. I hate you. Even I don't do it to myself, why would I let others? Painstakingly I combed through every detail before I post a picture of me, of what I deemed the most pleasant that at least the virtual community could endure. The operative word is 'painstaking' -- which means it's a lot of work so better understand where I'm coming from if I don't want it on my timeline after you tagged me.

Then again, when I look back at the approved selfies posted or used as the avi for various social sites, I hated it. Yeah, I was balking, "What the hell was I thinking? Euch! Yuck!"
These days I am depressed about putting on weight. I hate it that I am reaching a man's weight. I hate that my pants are feeling much more tighter. A real fuck you feeling not in a good way, ever.

I don't know. It's a pure self-hatred day today.

Replacement

"You forgot that you're not on your turf. No homeboys gonna back you up nor your mum saving your ass."

Adam looked away from Arissa although he knows it that she's right. He's so used being guarded and protected while he runs his plan whenever situations arised but this time, like Arissa said, they're not on his turf.

Changing the subject and not letting himself being beat down by a girl especially Arissa, he retorted, "That huge pimple is killing you, huh?"

Arissa has been meddling with a pimple on her right cheek. She keeps touching it with a wet tissue, slowly applying pressure and alternately pinching it.

"Yeah. I can't wait for it to pop. It won't pop, it drives me nuts and I can't forget about it."

"Why don't you just leave it, it'll either be ready to pop or it'll disappear," Adam, always wanting to be the better of the two, especially when with Arissa.

"I don't want to leave it!" Arissa whines, putting pressure on the said pimple.

"Why? If you pushed it, it'll leave a scar."

"No, it won't. Once it's popped, it'll dried up and then the dried skin will fall off. It won't leave any scar if you waited for the dry skin to fall off, just a brand new skin replacing it.
Not like the heart -- the heart is irreplaceable. You have it new and then used, broken, battered and scarred. You still have to use that same heart again. You could never feel brand new after all the heartaches, because you can't get a replacement."

Hope

You know when you are breaking down, and you felt there’s no one you feel like you can turned to, no one you felt like running to because you had to explained to them what you’re going through, there will be too many questions coming from them and while you’re explaining about how you feel you might choke on your own tears.

That’s bad. That’s really bad. You brought this mess on your own. You need to clean it up. You need to pick yourself up. You need to suck it. You need to take it one shot and cry by yourself if it helps while it’s hurting. Until you don’t feel hurt any more.

There’s just too much sadness you’re carrying inside. Too many grudges you kept filed. You put hope on a chair and put it in a corner. You hardly talked to it or let itself be heard. You’re scared of it, you’re terrified.

You don’t believe it.

Joy

It’s sad and funny not in a good way that he’s still inside your head, on top of your mind. You don’t long for him, you don’t need him. Not that you miss him too. But you still like him, that much. Even if he were to come around eventually, he’s already a day late and a dollar short.

You will keep moving on. Soon, when you have had enough, those things will just stay inside the box. Because you do know that you deserve better and you’ll get what you deserved.

Write to forget.

Blocked

“Mr Anderson, can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“Why do nice people choose the wrong people to date?”
“Well … we accept the love we think we deserved.”

She used to be nice.

Her face keeps breaking into a smile when it really hits her enough to show some emotion. Else she only has a mild feeling, straight face. Sometimes she nods her head, moves her shoulder and sways slowly from side to side to the music when she really enjoys it.

Some notes of the music reminded her of the flashing lights, the dark room, the drinking game and when she was pushed to get up on the stage. After she lost the sexiest dance game, he came to get her down from the stage.

As many times as she has went clubbing, with the girls, for her birthdays, for other people’s birthdays, crashing other people’s parties, celebrating the new year – only that first time she went with him was the best times she ever had. She finds herself more than grateful that she did follow him that night.

But she can’t repeat the past.

Only God knows how much she wanted it. So she had the chance once again. She was happy, too happy.
She was in a private pool, in her bra and panties, matching like it’s a pair of bikini. She looked up the sky and saw the moon shining. She smiled, thinking quietly to herself, for all the hard work and long nights.

And after another shattering heartbreak, she was with him again. Happy just like that first time they spent the whole night together. She had all his attention put on her, had his arms all around her, and him playing with her hair. She likes him a lot when he's drunk. It's the only place that she wanted to be – in his arms.

And that’s all there is between the two of them. She could never have more.

Love is fine. It’s relationship that hurts.

She keeps crying. She refused to cry. It was a mistake to deny the feeling. It was a mistake to fight against the need to cry. She identified it as a weakness, she refused to accept the fact that she needed to cry to let go.

Crying is about washing the emotions away, but she was very stubborn and keep saying that she need not to cry. It is not necessary. This is not the time to cry. This is not right, it is wrong. So wrong. She’s doing okay. She’s better now. So why the need to cry?

She blocked it. She kept it at the back of her head, far, far away. She doesn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t do anything about it anymore, it already happened. It’s those times that she can never get back, can never have it repeated or have it any longer. It went to someone else. It chose someone else to have it.

She only has a memory that pained her more than made her happy or at least broke her face into a smile when she needed to visit some happy places.

Post-it(s)

Fun like the fling. Smart like the psycho. Career-wise like the mummy's boy. Handsome like the first ex.

Still on men, yup.

I'm wondering why the hell I still miss these assholes.

Fun like the fling. I missed all the first times. I missed how he propped my legs on his lap when I sat beside him while he plays the Prince of Persia on his friend's Xbox (I think). I think he was trying to impressed me when he told me his little secret that he actually couldn't helped himself to boast about -- that I don't care if it's bad, with me he was a gentleman. I missed how he knew I will only ordered Nescafe. I missed that devilish grin. I missed how he goes nuts when he has to keep his hands off me. I missed those times we exchanged e-mails, exchanged sarcasms. I missed when he calls me, 'love', although it never means anything to him. I missed seeing him happy with the simplest thing that is most precious to him -- his friends. There's a lot of things that I adored and missed about him but alas, he's just a real life John James Preston.

Smart like the psycho. One of my weaknesses is intelligence. He knows a lot about the current affairs, politics, culture, music (pfft, boys), environment, food, art, books, movies, animals, et cetera. He opened my mind to a lot of things. He was very, very interesting to me that I am happy to just make acquaintance with him. He was nice and friendly. And then he started to flirt. And then he asked for my number. And then we went out and after a long, long time, that first time holding hands' moment was ... wow. And then he turned bossy, becomes the biggest bully, goes beyond the grumpy guy to bipolar and eventually, a pyscho. Weird. I missed this crazy guy once in a while, out of fondness when he was none of what he then turned out to be.

Career-wise like the mummy's boy. In my girlfriend's words, "Isn't there a doctor in this family of his that will then make the whole picture perfect?" In the long run, he will prospered and becomes ever more successful, hired as an associate by one of the Fortune 500 (is it still relevant in 2013?) after he graduated. He was the potential life partner, a Kennedy of sort but I guess I was just too blonde for his perfect life.

Handsome like the first ex. Girls craned and turned their necks whenever he passed by. He has perfect teeth, deep set eyes, tall and stylish. This one I don't miss. I already put the last nail to the coffin.

Fear

Can't help it that I would start with an entry on ... men.

This afternoon I went to KLCC with mum -- it's Mother's Day. She has a new cell and we went to Celcom to get her a micro SIM card and have lunch at Ben's. It's been a long time since mum last went to KLCC so it was an outing of showing her around what has changed and expanded.

When we drove back home, I recalled the time I broke up with Adi more than a year ago. Me more than a year ago was in a frantic trance, helpless and clueless. I went out of control and berserk that I was crying non-stop and drove around KL aimlessly. I drove into KLCC carpark, turned here and there and went out -- still being charged on my TouchNGo.

That was a crazy time indeed and I deemed it as one of the scariest shit holes I never want to returned to.

I am scared of pain, especially something that I find unnecessary yet am consumed by it. I noticed how things have changed between me and Adi, how they are the signs that glaringly says, 'leave'. As usual, the story is this girl yours truly, naive and foolish to believe that Adi will come around. But it was too crazy to keep handling it to the point I decided that I could not let myself be unhappy like this. Eventually I made the call because Adi never came around.

We parted ways. Aftermath: tidal waves, tsunamis, earthquakes, the works. It's enough to make me lose faith in relationships.

Getting over was crazy. I don't want to repeat the same episodes I had after the break up of my first serious relationship. But somehow I can't help noticing how the following events that happened after the break up with Adi are so similar -- depression was overwhelming, lost friends, trouble at work.

And somehow, God put this particular guy, Hadri, into my life. I first knew him after my first serious relationship break up, and again after Adi, he reappeared. And like I mentioned, the same event repeated.

Hadri was supposed to be the fun guy. Impromptu, spontaneous, one-night-only kind of thing. That's all there is about him. However, there's this bothersome feeling that I like him too much, more than I'm supposed to.

Dealing with this bothersome feeling, I have to make the call. As much as I'm scared about relationships, I will give a shot with Hadri -- if the feeling's mutual -- and take whatever that comes our way. If it's not mutual, I'll walk free.

As it turned out, it's not mutual. I walked free.