Monster

She's the monster I chose to ignore.

That if I speak further I would hurt her more than I already have.

And that I will continue to pray for her.



That was my mother.




I can think for myself, therefore the decision is all mine.

I decide what I want, therefore the accountability is all mine.

I have been raised well and I refused to be denied of what I have become.

I am here now, with His Consent and that I started with all my faith in His Hands and chosen a good man that I am yakin with to lead me from herewith.

Should things not turned out ideally, I hope I will always be smart.

The Last Breakup

I'm picking up where I left off. The so-called last break up of my life.

Turns out there was more. But we'll get to it later.

I am married now. Exactly a month and a day ago. It does not even feels surreal typing that. They're not kidding when they say when you finally have it, you tend to take it for granted.

At most times, I feel like I'm behaving like the man -- in this sense, an ass -- in the relationship. I was more selfish, more temper and tantrum, more shouts and scowls. As for my husband, he is the real man -- generous, kind and patient. Very patient.

I refrained myself from talking out loud about how wonderful my husband is. I was afraid that The Big Boss up there, who is always pushing my nerves around (here thinking that He wants me to always be close to Him and not that He doesn't care about me anymore but Y told me to never underestimate His Mercy), would test me on the one person I hold closest to me at this rate.

I have lost my mother. But we'll get to it later.

Y does most things better than me. Even if it didn't turned out good and sometimes my ways could have produced better result, Y settled with what he made with a big smile, which always, eventually, makes him the better person than me.

Y cooks better than me -- that is one thing I am not fazed about, I am always the expert on menu rather than a cookbook. But Y also does things around the house better than me which that works me out because I used to be the Monica in cleaning. And if I'm not mindful, Y can also does this for another woman.

This could be newlywed bliss or it's not -- I have known Y since almost two years ago and if he slacks substantially big, I wouldn't marry him a month ago. Y has his very lazy days and I let him sleep in while I am one of the elves or all of them.

Sometimes, like today, I wondered what's next in this partnership. We make a decent start into our marriage -- we have a place to ourselves and we have all the basic necessities. Financially, we couldn't have been at a better place for a pair of lower-ranking white-collar newlyweds.

But I still have my emotional baggage although these days I am only taking the carry-on. I have my lazy and not looking-forward-to-work days but they aren't as nightmarish as before. In the five stages of grief, I moved to acceptance faster than I did in previous employment.

They're also not kidding when they say to count your blessings. And that this is what I have actually prayed for. A slower pace to enjoy the little things without losing my weekdays corporate atmosphere.I got too ambitious at the start of the current employment, tearing my colleagues to pieces every evening with Y but at the end of the day, like always, the biggest fault is me. I gotta move on and so I did. Sure, I am always killing for what is rightfully mine -- signed and legally binded in the employment contract -- but perhaps before, I have already taken things that are not mine and so He is telling it to me like this if I just listened hard enough.

Therefore, after all the outpouring rage and tears, fierce about being better than the previous company or at least beating them at one game, I withdraw and enjoy my slower pace days (until the contract ends in 2018). Be the comfortably-paid slacker who just finished off her incentive payout. Relish in the anxiety of baby-making -- I guess that's next in the partnership. Read The Grub Street Diet (previously known as The New York Diet) which I have always enjoyed -- but now that I'm reading it, I keep thinking about the Syrian refugees, especially the children.

And I should be arranging the folded laundry -- three guesses who does it but you only need one -- in the little room I used as a closet because I now have to co-owned it with Y but here I am, blogging. I also wanted to get back to planking and squats but hmm ...

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.