Saturday, May 26, 2012

Deja vu?

I just want to say how grateful I am to be able to even want to say anything. Because for me especially, it is a gift. When I can't say words, even in writing, that would be bad.

Ever get a deja vu feeling? Is that hyphenated..? Deja-vu... there. Probably the latter.
Anyway, yeah, I would assume that everyone would get the feeling at some parts in their life. Today was one for me, I remembered one of my dreams; just flashed through my head. It's slightly upsetting, when I get flashes of images. It's almost as hard as remembering what you dreamt of the night before -- if you don't remember.
Most of the memory I have is like that.

Hmm... you know, I feel like the more I try to heal, the more wounds I see.
My friend argued the fact that I had a blog -- I just said that it's good to be able to go back posts and see how much I've grown, lessened, if I were to become a hypocrite and such, blogs are good for that reason.
It's like that. Because sometimes (maybe all the time) I can't be satisfied with what people say. Since they can lie to my face without me even noticing it. Not that it matters. Maybe it's for my own self-ego.

I think I like to jump topics, no?

Back to the healing process -- it scares me. Maybe what I'm trying to say is, I'm not sure how I want to see myself grown up. Because I'm passed the legal age, but I still can't run away from the house without the police tracking me down and bringing me back. That scares me, too. Not the police part, but the legal part.

How DO anyone want to grow up? Since we can't actually track EVERYTHING we do and make sure we turn out fine. Do we want to even turn out fine? I don't know if I wanted to or not. But I just feel it is scary. You know why? Because I'm my own biggest critic. Everyone is. Everything I do, I have to question myself; barely do I sit back and think about my own actions. Probably I should start doing that. Because when I see someone older than me acting in some sort of way, I fear of turning out that way. Not that I'm saying I'm criticising the person for how they are, I just want to be fine. You know.

Guess paranoia goes a long way.

One thing I love about literature? People can't judge you for the jumping topics, being unclear of what you are trying to say and just read and be like, "Don't know what she's talking about, but I just spent minutes reading nothing."

This has been a normal-deprived person. Thank you.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012


Okay, fine, I'm a little lazy to find an appropriate title.

First off, I just want to say here that I'm a little excited + scared + anxious + every other feelings combined about the upcoming semester. But I'm sure it'll all be just fine.

I had a revelation. You know. I don't even know what that means. Haha. But seriously, I've been thinking since one of my cousins got married. I thought.. "Okay, in a few years, everyone's going to get married EVENTUALLY... and then it'd be my turn... Gulp!" Scary. That's what marriage is to me. Plain scary. How do  you know that you're going to marry someone who's going to be there for you till the end of your life? I don't know. So don't ask me.

And ever since my 'change', I learned a lot of things.

One, people can say really negative things. Like, girls who wear longer hijabs can go around and do bad things themselves..... I took a moment to swallow that. What does that mean? It means some people can have a very negative outlook on something and sometimes you just can't buy them. Yet.

Two, before or after my change, my friends still say I'm quiet. Haven't I been quiet all these years? Maybe. To my room mates however, my 'quietness' may depend on many variables.

Y'know, the other day I was at Nilai 3 for my mother wanted to look at some fabrics, and I sat in the car with my father and little brother because I was a little fatigued. My sleeping patterns had been off for over a month then and I haven't quite yet fixed it, even now. And I saw something after closing my eyes for a few minutes; a woman and her daughter passing by, and they covered a portion of their face. (Gosh, I can't remember the name of that thing...)

There. But the girl was wearing glasses, so that's why I fell in love. I can see myself like that. The problem is, in the country, we are not encouraged to wear it. Why? I always wondered. What's so wrong about it? Even with a long hijab, I've had someone tell me, "You won't be in a workplace where everyone's going to wear like you do, you know that, right?" I took a deep breath then. I couldn't believe what I heard.

You know what's worst? I actually hesitated. I don't do hesitation very well. Because I've always done things because I know they are/were/will be the right thing to do. I thought to myself, "I should worry about work later on? How about the fact that Our Creator is not pleased with me now? Nobody is worried about that for me." I guess it's true what people tell me, "Satan is not going to sit still." I will say this right here and right now, go on Satan. Inject hesitation and doubt in myself -- because I believe in His guidance. He's not going to leave me by myself while I drown, and I admit it, I'm still choking violently. I feel suffocation every other day, and it's not nice, I tell you. But it's worth the suffocation. The mood swings, the pain I hold inside in order to find something better.

Sometimes I am happy. Yes, I CAN be happy, don't give me that look. *facepalm* I'm not always a grumpy old man, I can be happy and giddy. It just depends on the situation. Lately, I've found serenity and peace in a whole different feeling. It's really, really nice.

So in my change, people will go, some may stay. The ones who go, and think I'm changing, please see that I'm not changing. I can't be. It hasn't even been two months, how could I possibly change in such a short amount of time? That's ridiculous. Give me time, and I'll show you that I'm still the same person as I was before. But sometimes I think, I don't deserve time from anyone. How could I? Who am I? I'm only someone who lacks in every single way, but I believe in time, that I can find myself once more, and be content with myself once and for all. Please believe me. But if you don't believe me anyway, it won't sadden me. Because I believe in myself now, and that alone has kept me going for this long.

And it took me long to get here because I know society. I know what I'll get myself into. That's why I took so long -- I thought about changing for over two years, but I couldn't execute it until I'm convinced in which way I would like to change. Once I make up my mind, then I'm good to go. Because I'm that kind of person. It's hard for me to start, but once I know what I'm doing, it becomes hard for me to stop.

Look... I already forgot what I was going on about. Wha? Yes, I know.

I think... I don't want to say anyone is right, or wrong, in saying anything to me. You can say anything to me, because it's partly my job to interpret what you say into some way so that I can understand. And I'm not mad, nor disappointed. I'm just grateful that some people are willing to be honest about what they feel about what I'm 'doing' (would it be considered doing if it's connected to wearing?) I just feel that sometimes, it's because of things like this (saying less appropriate things to other people) that makes them not want to do what they originally wanted to do. We should respect each other's opinion, but please, say I'm wrong when I am. I didn't say that I don't want to hear that I'm wrong. I'm still learning, but don't judge too hard, because it is very, very, VERY confusing. Take it from me because I've been there back and forth. I've had self-dialogues and I had to think very hard, rationally, sometimes emotionally. But I'm aware that we're not supposed to follow our emotions, because we are granted something, called the mind, to help us think.


Life is like a subjective question apart from those that are clear of their objectiveness.-

Wednesday, May 2, 2012


I had a phone call yesterday, stating that I am to pick up my new glasses whenever I am free.
That kept me hanging on for hours.

As of yesterday, I FINALLY (yes!) finished typing out for my father. It was heart-wrenching and boring, for the most part, and I came to realize it is that of these tasks that I am equipped with the basics. So thank you, my father and mother~

I think I had only a post for April?
I was going to write more, and I've had ideas swimming in the back of my head, just tickling to get onto a soft copy. That didn't make sense, did it now?

Well, I question the fact that if I ever made sense throughout my existence.
Ever since I saw my Twilight Saga Books got torn up right in front of my eyes, and I had to contribute to some of it, my heart started beating unusually. I know, because one of the two things I do frequently on a daily basis is listen to my own heartbeat. Literally, and metaphorically.

It wasn't nice, but it was a relief of some sort. I can't give it up completely.
But thinking of the painful memories it brought -- I get caught in a twist between two distinct feelings.
Wanting to let go, and unable to let go.

This is to you.

She had felt something troubling her heart for quite a while, but she never seemed to pinpoint on what it is. And that day it finally came true. Anguish washed over her feature, she took his hand with hers as usual, and came aboard the bus. They sat in a position as always, and she could feel her heart doubled in terms of beating.

I guess you could say she had always been this way. Always paranoid, always overthinking. But one can only guess what would happen on that fateful day.
It wasn't that she didn't want him with her, it was the exact opposite. Wasn't the fact that she didn't want to be on the bus heading back to her home -- it was something else.

As they arrived at the bus terminal, a tear dropped down from her left eye. She didn't want it to be this way. She hadn't planned on getting this far. Whatever happened before -- it broke her completely. He seemed to know all of this, but he hadn't had the strength to stop himself. But why didn't he? A question that flashed through her head millions of times.

Everyone saw it, but they didn't want to be a part of it. The anguish grew, and with every line engraved under her eyes, they avoided her. She is sure to be a trouble, they whispered. With her head down, he didn't follow behind her as always. She kept going forward and forward, avoiding all glances as the glances avoided her. He fell on his knees and choked up blood. Feeling helpless, he passed out in the midst of a crowd, with her losing sight. It didn't help that she couldn't see. The anguish finally found its peak, and he cried loudly for her; trying to hold himself by hugging his knees tightly to his chest. One may wonder why no one helped him -- it was because he wasn't there. Not for real, that is.

The girl with soft blue eyes finally turned back, dropped all her belongings, and ran to the place where she had lost him in the first place. She knew this was going to happen -- but what did happen? He had died so many years ago, yet everytime she came to the same place, she sensed him. He was begging for her. No, she had begged him, but he gave no response. With bloodshot eyes, he pulled the trigger to his head right in front of her eyes on the fateful day. And that fateful day replayed itself like a broken record, taunting her. Why didn't she stop him? Because she couldn't. She wouldn't. Because stopping him would be like telling him to live with his and her misery for the rest of his sick life. And she couldn't have that even though she suffered the most damages.

Dropping to her knees, she held her hands to her head and cried bitterly, as loud as the sound drowned out with the crowd chattering away. It was like she wasn't even there, but was she?

Only she knew.