Drugged (continuously edited)

"She doesn't want to see you."

I was baffled. "Why?" I demanded. I tried the door but it was locked. She never locked the door, not when she knew I was coming around. I faced her secretary, "Why?" I asked again, over and over, as if his answer would change.

He simply shrugged, "She doesn't want to see you."

That made me sit down, well, more like dropped on my rear. I tried replaying yesterday, and the day before, the week before, the month before... Where did I go wrong? What happened? What did I say? What.... I remembered she had a hospital appointment the day before. Was that why she had shut me out? Because something was wrong with her? I sighed and stood up on my heels, straightening my dress slightly as I took out my notepad, wrote down a message and placed it on the secretary's desk. I didn't know if he would even relay the message, but a girl could certainly hope. Maybe. I walked away all the same, wishing she would read the note.

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She was finally gone. I heard everything she said behind my door, mostly because I was sitting down behind it, my knees up to my chest. I didn't have to see her face to know what she was feeling; she probably felt she did something wrong, or that she said something wrong. The way she said "why" explained everything to me - I knew the woman long enough to know that she was confused. Probably hurt. Probably hating me. But I had to shut her out. What if she knew? How crushed would she be? I could barely think about it without breaking apart myself. I had to save her. If I couldn't save myself, let me save the woman. Let me, God, just let me. Just this once.

My secretary unlocked the door, walked in and placed a note on my desk, ignoring the way I was down on the cold, hard floor. He wouldn't understand so I didn't feel the need to explain. I knew what it was; the note was in the woman's favourite colour and I could probably figure out what she wrote on it.

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I missed her. I miss her so much,  I thought to myself, trying my best not to get choked up. It felt like I was being selfish. Maybe I was. But for once, I didn't care. I had to see her. I had to know. I had to-

"You can't be mad at her for leaving when you were the one who pushed her away all this time."

I was cut short as I remembered this excerpt. I wanted to swallow, but my mouth was dry. My throat didn't make any movements and I was desperate for a movement. I knew it was true. I pushed her away more than I could bear to count. But she stayed all the same... what if she got tired of fighting for me, when I stopped fighting for myself all those years ago when he had left? That must be the reason. She didn't want to see me because she was sick and tired of the way I acted. She was tired of me. She was sick of me.

If there was a summer breeze running through my hair, I didn't feel it. I wasn't walking anymore, I was frozen in place in front of the building where she was worked. People walked by me, almost through me, as I stood still, my eyes down at the white pavement. Somebody must have shaken me, because I heard a voice. I conjured up whatever energy I had in me to face whoever standing in front of me, hands still on my shoulder. I tried smiling - nothing. I tried to speak - nothing. Before I knew it, my breakdown crept over me, making me fall into this stranger, this bless of a man, who just dropped down with me as I cried and cried in his strong arms. My face was buried on one of his shoulders, smearing my salty tears all over his suit. But he didn't seem to mind, that's what I had wanted to believe. I think he tried asking what was wrong, but I couldn't talk. Not with the way I was bawling my eyes out. Somehow I slipped away from the stranger's arms and left for home. I didn't know where that was anymore, but I couldn't stay any longer. I had to, I had to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Not here.


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I was crushed. When she froze, my heart shattered. The broken pieces broke into more little pieces. And when she fell into his arms, I held myself back so much, resisting the urge to hold her in my own arms. I couldn't, I wasn't entitled to. Maybe I did before, but now, it wasn't my place. The sounds of her crying made a tugging motion in my chest, I couldn't breathe, just stood there and watched as she cried. Over me. This woman was crying over me. If only she knew. If she knew the truth... there probably would be more than tears. My cowardice caused her to breakdown. I broke her. I did this. Warm tears streamed down my face, but I ignored it. It felt selfish of me to cry as well. I exhaled deeply, as silently as possible so that the duo didn't notice my presence. I was startled when she stood up so suddenly. I knew what she was going to do, she had to go somewhere. But where? I had to figure it out; I shut her out but I couldn't leave her alone. She was impulsive and spontaneous. If she... it would be entirely my own fault. I couldn't let that happen, but maybe that was an excuse for me to follow her around.

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I didn't know where I was heading, but I was hoping to reach a destination. Anywhere would have sufficed, but I realized I just ended up at her front door. I walked back and forth on her front steps, knowing she wasn't home because she was obviously at work but I decided to try the door. Locked. I didn't have a spare key and I suddenly hated myself for dismissing it when she offered me one. I took a deep breath and I could've sworn I caught a glimpse of her. Maybe I was starting to hallucinate, that would be the logical explanation. But logic didn't seem so logical anymore. I hated not knowing, I hated being left out in the cold but I had no one to blame but myself. I was away for several weeks at a time, and I had depended on her reaching out to me first. When she didn't, I simply assumed she was busy. She was constantly busy so I didn't think much of it. But maybe I should've started a conversation every now and then, especially during my last trip. I tried to justify my actions, but I couldn't even do that. I should've said something, did something. But I didn't because I had so much pride and ego in me, that I just simply couldn't. There was a slight throbbing in my head and my chest felt constricted, so I decided to breathe some more. I decided to just walk away. For now. I would come back later, I told myself. Maybe now is not a good time. There was a lot of maybe's, because I wasn't sure of anything anymore. A thousand different thoughts went through my mind as I walked away, turning my head back every now and then towards her house until I was in my car and the house was out of my sight.

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I followed her silently, keeping a close distance in case she noticed me, because then my shutting her out would be silly. I watched as she went up to my front door, trying the door. It was so like her, she tried doors, even though she knew perfectly well it wouldn't open. It was just the way she was. She was blindly optimistic about everything and anything, knowing well that things wouldn't simply go her way. But she tried regardless, and I admired that about her. She didn't know, because I didn't voice my thoughts as often as I should. I regret never telling her how much I adored her, how much I admired her, how much I loved her. Was it too late now?

Since she ended up at my house, there was one place left where she would go at times like this.

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Drugged

"She doesn't want to see you."

I was baffled. "Why?" I demanded. I tried the door but it was locked. She never locked the door, not when she knew I was coming around. I faced her secretary, "Why?" I asked again, over and over, as if his answer would change.

He simply shrugged, "She doesn't want to see you."

That made me sit down, well, more like dropped on my rear. I tried replaying yesterday, and the day before, the week before, the month before... Where did I go wrong? What happened? What did I say? What.... I remembered she had a hospital appointment the day before. Was that why she had shut me out? Because something was wrong with her? I sighed and stood up on my heels, straightening my dress slightly as I took out my notepad, wrote down a message and placed it on the secretary's desk. I didn't know if he would even relay the message, but a girl could certainly hope. Maybe. I walked away all the same, wishing she would read the note.

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She was finally gone. I heard everything she said behind my door, mostly because I was sitting down behind it, my knees up to my chest. I didn't have to see her face to know what she was feeling; she probably felt she did something wrong, or that she said something wrong. The way she said "why" explained everything to me - I knew the woman long enough to know that she was confused. Probably hurt. Probably hating me. But I had to shut her out. What if she knew? How crushed would she be? I could barely think about it without breaking apart myself. I had to save her. If I couldn't save myself, let me save the woman. Let me, God, just let me. Just this once.

My secretary unlocked the door, walked in and placed a note on my desk, ignoring the way I was down on the cold, hard floor. He wouldn't understand so I didn't feel the need to explain. I knew what it was; the note was in the woman's favourite colour and I could probably figure out what she wrote on it.

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I missed her. I miss her so much,  I thought to myself, trying my best not to get choked up. It felt like I was being selfish. Maybe I was. But for once, I didn't care. I had to see her. I had to know. I had to-

"You can't be mad at her for leaving when you were the one who pushed her away all this time."

I was cut short as I remembered this excerpt. I wanted to swallow, but my mouth was dry. My throat didn't make any movements and I was desperate for a movement. I knew it was true. I pushed her away more than I could bear to count. But she stayed all the same... what if she got tired of fighting for me, when I stopped fighting for myself all those years ago when he had left? That must be the reason. She didn't want to see me because she was sick and tired of the way I acted. She was tired of me. She was sick of me.

If there was a summer breeze running through my hair, I didn't feel it. I wasn't walking anymore, I was frozen in place in front of the building where she was worked. People walked by me, almost through me, as I stood still, my eyes down at the white pavement. Somebody must have shaken me, because I heard a voice. I conjured up whatever energy I had in me to face whoever standing in front of me, hands still on my shoulder. I tried smiling - nothing. I tried to speak - nothing. Before I knew it, my breakdown crept over me, making me fall into this stranger, this bless of a man, who just dropped down with me as I cried and cried in his strong arms. My face was buried on one of his shoulders, smearing my salty tears all over his suit. But he didn't seem to mind, that's what I had wanted to believe. I think he tried asking what was wrong, but I couldn't talk. Not with the way I was bawling my eyes out. Somehow I slipped away from the stranger's arms and left for home. I didn't know where that was anymore, but I couldn't stay any longer. I had to, I had to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Not here.


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I was crushed. When she froze, my heart shattered. The broken pieces broke into more little pieces. And when she fell into his arms, I held myself back so much, resisting the urge to hold her in my own arms. I couldn't, I wasn't entitled to. Maybe I did before, but now, it wasn't my place. The sounds of her crying made a tugging motion in my chest, I couldn't breathe, just stood there and watched as she cried. Over me. This woman was crying over me. If only she knew. If she knew the truth... there probably would be more than tears. My cowardice caused her to breakdown. I broke her. I did this. Warm tears streamed down my face, but I ignored it. It felt selfish of me to cry as well. I exhaled deeply, as silently as possible so that the duo didn't notice my presence. I was startled when she stood up so suddenly. I knew what she was going to do, she had to go somewhere. But where? I had to figure it out; I shut her out but I couldn't leave her alone. She was impulsive and spontaneous. If she... it would be entirely my own fault. I couldn't let that happen, but maybe that was an excuse for me to follow her around.

Her 2.0

"She called me a dork once, and it stuck with me even after all this time. It must be true. It was true. I was a dork. I was an idiot. I was a fool. I was desperately hanging on to something that was vague. It didn't have a line, it wasn't specific. I knew what the woman meant; I was in love with an idea. But it didn't feel so bad at the time. I only discovered much later what everyone was trying to warn me about. Although by then, I was already down in the hole I dug up for myself and now I have no idea how to get out. And I don't know if I even want to escape."

Promise

I couldn't believe it.


I couldn't believe it, when I picked up the call from the hospital telling me what happened to you. I assumed they called me because you had put my name as your emergency contact number. But I never knew I'd find out this way.

I barely blinked on my way over, gripping the steering wheel so hard it might have snapped into two. I wasn't in a rush, I tried so hard to keep my calm. But I was far from calm. How do I believe this? It was a normal sunny day in March, the flowers were everywhere, your favourite kind was in the back seat of my car. I tried to swallow. Nothing. I felt nothing.

All those times you had told me, what I should do in case something like this happened. But I always thought you were being silly. I remember telling myself, "She's just being silly." You wanted flowers, bright yellow flowers to be there in my hand when you took your last breath. But I couldn't be there when you breathed your last, I told you to wait until I came back. Why didn't you?

I fought back tears welling up in my eyes when I finally saw you. You were lifeless. You were so pale, I wanted to hug life into you. But I knew that was a lost cause. So I just sat there on the wooden stool as the doctor pulled down the white blanket over your cold body. Was your body cold? I was afraid to find out. I was afraid to find out if the woman who had been screaming at the top of her lungs when I didn't want to take my medication, who fought me over what colour the walls of our house should be, who tackled, pounced and lunged at me whenever I came around. I was afraid to find out that the woman who had the brightest smile, who made my heart skip several beats just by walking towards me, was cold. No, I didn't want to believe. I almost turned around to the other doctor, asking if this was my best friend. I didn't want to believe it. This wasn't her, this wasn't her, this wasn't her... Your flowers were there, if you are watching me from above, I kept my promise.


But I could never prepare myself for the day of your burial.


Everyone was there, EVERYONE was there. Even people you thought would never come. But they were there to pay their last respects. I tried to breathe. Nothing, again. Your mother was there, putting her hand on my shoulder, trying to reassure me the best of her ability. How could she be so calm? Why was I so lost? How do I pretend I'm okay, when the day you passed away, was the day we were supposed to sign off on our house? We were supposed to finally live together. I signed off on it, anyway, just so you know. You know, don't you? But I was restless in my black dress, the dress you picked out yourself. You always joked how when you were gone, I was supposed to look pretty. I scoffed on the idea. But here I am, in the same dress you bought me all those months ago. I didn't hear a thing that was said, I didn't respond when the priest asked me if I wanted to say some words. Your mother tried shaking me, and she shook her head.

I tried to remember the last time we were together. I was packing in my apartment for my trip away for three days across the country. You wanted to follow, you were begging me to stay with you, but I had told you that you couldn't. I wouldn't have had time to pay attention to you if you had followed. But you insisted anyway, you said you didn't want to be alone. But I had to go, you know that, don't you? You couldn't let go of my hand on the way over to the airport, up until I had to finally go. I hated leaving you by yourself, but I knew you could take care of yourself. You forced me to look at you but I had kept my head down. I was fighting back tears back then, but I think you knew that. So you kissed my forehead, gripped my hand for what seemed like the millionth time, and told me to have a good time, to take my medication, to not skip meals, to sleep well and all those other things. The same thing you would tell me every time I had to go on a trip far away from you. But I didn't understand why you had been so... I don't even know what the right word is. Looking back, I should've stayed. You lifted my chin up the same way you would so that you could look at me. You had a smile of your face, but it was so very sad. My heart shattered at the sight of it. Instead, I just hugged you tightly, pecked your cheek and flashed the best grin I could muster up. If only I had known that was the last time you were standing in front of me. I could have told you that I loved you. Did I ever tell you I love you? I can't seem to remember.


I still remember the day we met. I remember the exact time, the exact day, the exact date. I remember what you wore perfectly. It was 6:05pm on a Tuesday, 28th October 2007, you were wearing a purple dress and I caught a glimpse of you from across the street. I remember how my jaw dropped at the sight of you. You didn't know it then, but it was the exact moment I gave away my heart to a complete stranger. Some man ran towards you, making you fall. I didn't know if I was holding anything, but I ran, ran as fast as I could towards you as cars honked at me, and extended my hand to help you up. But you had insisted that you could get up on your own. I couldn't help but chuckle. You never wanted help, you didn't want any even though you were on the ground. I helped you up anyway and you scoffed at my effort. I was slightly hurt that I had literally sacrificed my life for you and you simply scoffed. I offered to walk you home and once again, you had insisted that you couldn't make it back on your own. But I rolled my eyes because you were limping, that's why you had fallen down. You didn't want to hold onto me so I thought maybe I could drive you home. I could tell that you were a little distrustful over a woman that was being so nice to you, but I just flashed my best grin. Somehow that made you smile. I never felt so accomplished in my life.


After they buried you, I just stared at the ground. Once again, your mother had tried to reassure me. She lost her daughter, but I lost my whole life. But she must have felt so kind of pain, right? I looked at her, you had her brown hair, her hazel eyes and I tried to swallow again. Nothing. She just smiled warmly at me, but I couldn't break down and cry at your grave. I had promised you I wouldn't. So I fought back the tears with all my strength as your mother pulled me away. She sat me down at your family's house, I still remember the feeling of the couch you constantly tried to tickle me on. It brought a sad smile to my face. Your mother pulled out a piece of orange paper and walked away.


I knew what it was, because my hands were shaking when I opened it. It read,

"Hey babe!

If you are reading this, I most probably would have been gone. You kept your promise right? The flowers, the dress, the no crying part. Yadi yada." I scoffed. I can't believe you actually wrote that.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't wait. It's not like I could tell the angels to wait for you to return so that you could be there for me. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry it took me so long to open up to you, when you had been so open with from day one. You don't know this, but I fell in love with you at first sight. Crazy, isn't it? The girl who doesn't believe in love fell in love with a complete stranger. You even drove me home. I was 19, wild and somehow you locked me down. You don't know this, too, but your grin was everything to me. It gave me hope, that tomorrow was going to be a better day. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I was already sick the day we met. But my condition didn't get worse until much later. You made me want to live, that's why I had been holding on for so long." You fool. Why didn't you tell me?

"Babe, I love you. I kept telling you, but you never want to believe me. So I hope when I'm gone, you'd believe me. I really, truly loved you. I will always love you." I felt a single tear down my cheek.

"I'm sorry." Stop apologizing. "All those times you tried to be there for me, and I just... I just pushed you away. But it never stopped you from being there for me. The day you stood in front my house on your 20th birthday, and it was raining but I didn't want to see you because we had a terrible fight. You stood there until morning. It was your BIRTHDAY and I acted like such a bitch. You are several years younger than me, you were 17 when we met, but you had always been much more mature than me. You patiently waited for me every time I got into a relationship and had left you out in the cold. I couldn't understand it, why didn't you just walk away? I know now, you loved me, didn't you? You love me, don't you, babe? You didn't have to tell me, I could tell by the way you looked me, tilted your head, how you curled your lips when I screamed at you. I yelled at you many times, didn't I? I'm sorry. But I was only doing it for your own good. At least that's what I told myself." I exhaled deeply, leaning back to the couch before I continued reading your words, before I hear your voice inside my head as my eyes studied your neat handwriting. You had always been messy, but your writing was always put together.

"Babe, you stayed through everything, you were there for me even though you yourself didn't know it. The last man I was with broke me into a million pieces and you were patient, holding onto me as I cried into you. You were so tiny, but you felt so strong with me. I still remember how your face lit up when I told you that I wanted to live with you. You weren't like me, which was a relief. You didn't jump into relationship after relationship to feel something. You didn't sleep with everyone, you were always so pure and innocent. But I didn't find out why until much later. You weren't simply saving yourself, you were cautious over who you loved. And you only loved me." You knew. Of course you knew.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't be the woman you thought I was. At 28, I was still trying to figure out the person I was but you had figured everything out even at such a young age. I envied you, you know? I was jealous over everything you did, and everyone you had met. I was scared that when you found the right girl, you would leave me the way I did. But you didn't. And I watched as she made you happy the way I could've. But I was too scared. God, if only I wasn't such a coward. But you left me with your heart, you wanted to hold onto it until you were sure you could give it away to someone else. But you never asked for it back. So I guess I'm giving it to you now. Be careful with it, and take care of my heart, too. I know it's a big responsibility, but you can do it, I know it." Your mother came back around finally, her eyes were red, probably from crying as she handed me a box.

"In the box, is everything I saved from the times we spent together. Yes, baby, even the ring you gave me on my 24th birthday. I could never wear it because I was so afraid of losing it. You can probably check out the contents yourself. I guess, what I'm trying to say is, that I'm not saying my farewell. I'll be there with you, in spirit, in heart, in everything that you do. I have always been. But for now... Take care of yourself. Eat well. Sleep well. Stop overexerting yourself and don't forget to take your pills.

I love you,
xoxo Mary"


I finally felt air enter my lungs again. I felt relief wash over me, it felt like a huge burden was lifted off of my shoulders. I went back home to my apartment, into the arms of my lover. I'll paint the walls of our house the colours you wanted. I'll decorate everything the way you wanted. But I'm going to live there with my woman if you don't mind. I'll raise the kids you wanted. I'll do the things you wanted me to do. Most of all, I'll start loving myself the way you had loved me.

Thank you. Thank you for everything. And goodnight for now.

Train stops

Since I typed this out at 4am, I decided to actually reread and replace some words.




It was a cold Wednesday evening as I was slightly trembling from the light shower that hit me as I ran into the train station. My gaze fixed on the route plan as I calculated the stops till my own; 10. I sighed, standing upright in my 6'2 frame, in my 'casual' red blazer, with my grey long-sleeved t-shirt and my black slack as my right palm rested on the train's door. It hit a stop and a woman went in, so I took several steps back and leaned across the other door; she looked in her twenties, a red with white ribbons Keds, red pants and a pretty orange plaid as her top. Her hair was neatly combed to her left, short but to my liking. I caught her looking up from her 5'3 height up at the route plan the way I did and got a glimpse of her face. I had to swallow. As a man going into his thirties in a month, I had never seen a woman look so beautiful. I kept my head down, hoping it'd conceal the blush creeping on my face. After exactly 2 stops after she went in, I felt a hand on my left shoulder and I so much had turned my head into the direction, and I saw the woman give me a warm smile. I fidgeted about nervously, trying to clear my throat. I wasn't uncomfortable, I was... overwhelmed. She spoke and I found my ears trying to take in all that she had to say, "You know, it's okay." She stopped right there, as the train stopped another time. "It's okay to feel lost."

I was baffled - did I not hide my feelings well? How did she know? She continued, "Stop trying to run away. Don't bury yourself in, don't put on a mask just because it would please people." She let her hand fall, "You are not weird. You are just... you. And that's perfectly fine, there's nothing wrong with it." I stared at her unblinking. "You beat yourself up too much. "I'm doing this wrong, I'm not doing this right, people hate me, people don't like me the way I am" You feed yourself these negative thoughts and now you can't escape. You tell yourself that you are happy, but your happiness is somehow 'not the right thing'. Wrong. Stop beating yourself up, stop. Just stop. It hurts too much." I began to open my mouth but she just continued, "They love you. And if they're making you feel this way... tell them. Screw whatever they will think, you have the right to say what you feel. Damnit, you have the right to voice out! Tell them!" By this time, every head turned to our direction. I felt eyes on me, but all I cared about was why this woman felt so much pain and agony over me. A literal stranger. Soon, my stop came, and I got out but the woman followed, silent now. I didn't know what I should say, should I thank her? For what?

As if the whole thing couldn't get more awkward, I turned around and held her in my arms. She didn't budge, so I let her head rest on my beating chest. I had so many words to tell her... but I just felt hot tears go down my cheeks. It was the first time I cried in my life and this woman was somehow the reason for it all.

Suicide Prevention Month

So, since I somehow cleared up space in my phone to be able to read my emails, Good Therapy tells me that September is Suicide Prevention Month and they gave me some articles (that I may or may not read at this point). I was just laying down thinking about everything and decided that I'm going to write it down for future references.

I don't like telling people about my mental illnesses because I feel like I'm seeking attention and trying to put myself in the spotlight, but I won't go ahead and lie about it. I'll probably admit that I have depression, but I won't elaborate much unless you're asking for it. And most people do, anyway. I think some people can read it on my face, because I'm so horrible at hiding my feelings all the time. I get asked many times on several occasions; "Are you okay?" or "Do you need help?" or "Do you want me to call the ambulance?" or "Do you want to talk about it?" and such and such. The list keeps going on. But I try to put on a mask anyway, because it gets tiring to get all these questions, and no, I don't want to talk about it. If I did want to talk about it, you're not the person I want to talk to. That's mean, though, but it's true.

I'd like to point out that I have decided to not talk to certain people for some period of time, since my condition is not getting better anytime soon and I don't like saying, "I'm getting progressively worse" every time that it just loses meaning, but it doesn't mean that it isn't true. So if you think I'm avoiding you, I probably am. Not even getting "progressively worse" because I stopped taking my medication and all that, it's just that I'm not even trying to get better anymore. I think I stopped for several months back, even though my doctor tells me that I'm doing a good job. No, I'm not. I'm not doing a good job. Because every time I have to see you for an appointment, I hyperventilate for a good half an hour in the toilet, trying to muster the courage to tell you what's really wrong. And I never do, because even after all this time, I still don't trust you with my condition. And it's silly, to not trust an expert, but I don't anyway. I have no explanation to this, and I don't want to talk about it further. Okay, I didn't want to get into this.

Anyway.

Suicide. It's pretty scary of a word. And it's still somehow so vaguely explained. I know a friend that had to deal with the death of a close friend, and he was pretty wrecked. I did as much as I could at the time, but it's really up to him to recover. Eventually, he did though. I think that's why people say suicide is a selfish thing to do, because of the emotional damage caused to everyone around. Selfish? Really? How about we take a moment to think about what the person is going through, so badly that they think suicide is the only answer? Also, the whole "Don't do something permanent to a temporary problem" is kind of stupid, I'm sorry to say. To a depressed person, the "problem" is not so temporary. It's pretty permanent in our heads. You can't just accuse people of things you can't possibly understand, until you're in their shoes. And it's the worst shoes anyone can wear. Because I've been around suicidal people almost all my life, and I've been too myself on several occasions, I can say that even the slightest thing can trigger the emotions. Usually you'd advise them to avoid these situations, but it's kind of hard when everything seems to be stuck together. I feel blessed that I at least grew up with a religion, that it limits my "options" to a certain point. But there are still things that I do. Sometimes it would get so hard that I would end up curled up on the floor, just trying to remember to breathe. Because when you're at that low point in your life, there are very little things that will make sense to you. My sole advise is to have at least one person that you can trust to be around for you when that happens. Fortunately, and unfortunately, for me, that person is my best friend. But even your friends lose words sometimes, and you have to understand it is hard for them too, because they don't want to trigger you further while trying to be there for you at the same time. And ultimately, you're left by yourself. With the voices in your head. And it could make or break you.

The voices though.

Stranger things have happened, my friend

So you may be wondering right now, Amira's blogging two times in a day?! Is she dying?? No, well- everybody's dying, so that argument is invalid.

On to other important things; I wanted to write this the other day but I dismissed it for some reason. So I'm back again, trying to put my thoughts into words. Basically the only reason why I write. Also because it's fun playing with words, especially when people keep misunderstanding and turning your words around. Fun fun fun.


Anywho:

I wanted to address this because it caught my attention. Like a million other things, but let's go through them one by one, hm? I've been talking to like.... probably more than 10 women in the course of one month. Which is a feat, considering that I struggle with keeping a conversation for more than a few hours. Let me just figure out a way how to get on to this topic.

It's interesting to observe how girls refer to themselves. I mean, like, not what they think of themselves, that's for another post, but at what stage they start referring to themselves as women. I wonder what roles play in this... reference? I don't know. Because I know 19 year old girls that refer to themselves as women, but 21 year old women that refer to themselves as girls. Personally, I didn't start referring to myself as a woman until I turned 21; 1. Because I was legal for some time, 2. Because at that age, I was able to do almost all adult stuff. Almost, because, I was, and still am, under the care of my father so that limits me to a point.

There should probably a study conducted on this. Maybe there already is one, I'm going to look it up later. But for now, can I just say that I find it attractive when girls refer to themselves as women? I do it for people as early as 18 years of age, mostly because it's formal and I don't want to seem off putting or anything. But if she thinks of herself as a girl, I'm going to go ahead and do the same thing. Because I don't want to overdo things when it comes to other people. At least I try not to. If you speak to me in a certain way, most likely I will respond to you in the same way. Maybe higher, but never less. A good example would be if you're bubbly around me, I will do my best to match my mood to yours, mostly because I don't like to ruin it for other people. But if I do it, I'm just being honest towards my feelings. And also because I trust you enough to let you see how I feel, so you should feel awesome about yourself.

Also.

I've been doing some painful waiting, and it has taught me so much and made me think of everything in a different light. Waiting for the right time, waiting for ideas, waiting for a chance and everything else that I am unable to mention as of right now. I've always been spontaneous and going after what I want as quickly as possible, and waiting has never did me right, but it's not so bad. I mean, it's not horrible. Just maybe a minor convenience, for my part. Because it's against what I really want to do, but I'm not exactly complaining. The fact that I can be forced to wait, means there's an endless possibility ahead. Maybe one day I'll learn the art of patience. *internal cringing* If I ever do, I'll definitely write it down in one way or another.

Finally.

Weirdly enough, I got an offer to bring my dream to life. What dream was it? Ask me, maybe I'll answer. I guess dreams can come true.


Until then,
I'll take my leave.

Goodbye.

Folders of My Heart

You can say that you've moved on. You can say that you don't think of them anymore. You can say that you don't replay the words they tell you every single second you're awake, that you don't dream of them anymore. Dream of holding on to them, begging and pleading them to stay. You can say that.

But I know that you still hurt over them. You're still bitter over it all. That's why you ran all those miles away at the mention of the person that came between you two. I know you still hope for them to reach out to you, even though you know the chances of you making the moon is substantially greater. I know you haven't let go of their heart.

And you've got this folder, named a single letter. 8 years of knowing, 4 years of unity and 2 years, 1 month and 3 days after their disappearance, all down to this one folder. You open it every now and then. You tell yourself not to, but you keep doing it. Over and over again, like a broken song on your music player.

But even though you choke slightly, you come back to your senses. Heartbreak heals, just like everything else. You've moved on, opened up your scarred heart to someone else, still hoping they'll take it. You've given your hands for that someone to hold, and you might be a little scared of them running away, but they haven't yet, so that's something, right?

And you go over that folder. You right click on it, you breathe in, you scroll over to that 'Delete' button, and it's gone, breathing out. All traces of them, physically and emotionally, gone.

And you're finally clean.

Short update

Hi!

I'm just here to update that I've been working relentlessly on a story and I mean to publish it here (for maybe 2 weeks to a month, depending on how good my mood is at the time) and Maya is the only one who has read it so far, so I congratulate her.

August has been... very annoying so far. At least there's only 4 days left of it, right? Annoying in the sense that my feelings and emotions are excessively and aggressively all over the place. Every single thing ticks me off and I swear I have to hold myself back many times. But it leaks anyway, because self-control for Amira is currently non-existent. As of right now, I am in my room, on my laptop, sitting with my back against the wardrobe as I'm typing on this rather small table here, with my old school BISC's cap facing backwards. I guess you could call it a snapback. Oh and my favourite pink teddy bear is looking over at me, silently judging me as I'm typing away. I hope no one else is having it anymore rough than I am.

Um, not sure what else to say here. Also I have my phone turned off so apart from posting this on FB as always, I won't be on there. Or anywhere else. I've also been sorta job hunting so we'll see what happens there.

Oh! Before I forget, I regret to say that I have been through a rather traumatic experience just yesterday. My crush got married, and it left me very sad, though I couldn't produce any tears. I feel like there's some sort of conspiracy going on to leave me to get married or something. But lol I'm just being dramatic here. Happy for them though. But I can't really talk to them anymore because I'm kinda avoiding them as I give them space. But I know they need me, because when they got engaged, they said that nobody but me was happy for them. I was temporarily depressed at this fact.

Anyway.

I'm sleepy and I have a pounding headache so I might take a short nap so I can continue my story later in the night.

P.S. A big shoutout to Allison for releasing that WayHaught video... I kind of worship you now. But please, GIVE US MORE!

Ok bye!

Broken leg

So as usual, I haven't been on as much because I have been busy with my not so temporary job. I worked at a kindergarden and honestly, I quite enjoyed it. Plus I get to cook, and improve my cooking. (It still needs a lot of work. And I'm not married yet)

     I've come to tell you all (all 3 of my followers lol) about what happened to me last Tuesday, around 12pm. See, the irony is, I've just (and I mean JUST) came back from the hospital. And in the morning, I tried to wake my sister up and send me to the ERL but she wouldn't budge and I don't want to park somewhere far so I decided to take her motorcycle. (Bad idea already) I paid like RM1 for parking and moved on to the hospital. I talked to the doctor, got a medicine to get me by until my next dosage and went back home. I ate bread with mushroom soup, because it is the only thing that gets me by in the morning.

     As I was on my way back, I already felt like there was going to be something bad happen, but I didn't know what. You see, you should never ignore your first instincts, because usually they are right.

     So I got back to my motorcycle, and drove back. Everything was going well, until I made a turn and suddenly the brake wouldn't work! I swear, I just flew across the road and into a road light. I lied there for about 10 very long seconds, contemplating on just laying there when out of nowhere, I swear 6-7 men ran towards me (I couldn't see them at first as I was busy laying down in pain on the ground) and started to pull the motorcycle up for me. They couldn't help me pick myself up because that would mean touching me (I guess good men still exist heh) so naturally I had to act tough and got up on my own. They asked me, "Are you okay, miss?" I nodded and they vanished. I swear, either they ran very fast or I blanked out as they went away. Only two men were left and they stayed at the side until I could go back on the motorcycle. Honestly, I was in so much pain from falling down that I decided to stop by a cake shop to eat my pain away. I ordered a blueberry cheesecake and a long black coffee. It was funny because I was hopping around and everyone started and I ignored them because I needed something sweet so I could ride back home.

     So when I came home, my sister opened the door and I gave her a face. She was like, "What?" I said very slowly, "I fell down the motorcycle." She couldn't believe it until I limped on one leg into the house.

     So that's the story of how I fell down the motorycle for the third time. The first and second time occured on the same day and I was fine afterwards. I guess three is my lucky number. And oh, no, my leg is not broken or fractured but the doctor said to go to the hospital if the pain persists, which is what it's doing.

Anyway, thanks for reading this post. I wish you all a good day. Bye!