i'm done

"never felt the way
i feel today
in so long it's hard for me to specify
i'm beginning to notice
how much this feels like the waking limb
pins and needles
nice to know you
goodbye!"

Heartquake

It's been three years and I've been masking my true feelings. Running away from finishing what I've passionately started. That's the easiest way to momentarily hide from such feeling that makes anyone feel like a loser.

I dont have that much time left n life is still chaotic. I long to feel at ease, genuinely at ease. I want to quieten the chaos. I want to reasonably and deservedly lament. Most importantly, I want that sense of achievement which has long been gone.



I should do more than just wanting 

It's about time to move from dormant to active.

You, my friend, have to restart again and I need to get mine done.

We shall keep ourselves busy and restless.

You, my friend. If I'm so sick to do this for myself, then I shall do this in the name of our friendship

Let's call it a pact.

To hit the rock bottom and rise together.

It was a sea of tears last night. It's been a while since the last time such anxiety, guilt, suffocation, helplessnes surfaced

Don't know how much it's worth but he wears it like it's no big deal. It's clearly worn out and the seaming, the zipper is torn, signalling its heavy duty. Years back, I would've gritted my teeth going to school with such a bag. I would've hungered myself and bought a new bag. Or go bagless.

He might be feeling the pain of embarrassment, he might not.  He might be concealing the pinching pain of embarrassment each time the others shoot the degrading look. He could be bottling it inside.

I look at the fossil that i've just bought and the dkny that I'm planning to stash. A few purple notes exchanged and I'm satisfied. The same amount that could get him a new backpack and keeps him away from hunger for  at least 3 weeks. Like the sun eating up the ice, the shame it causes feels really harsh.

I wish I could just wrap him a new bag but my position wouldnt allow that 

When it's just too noisy

Get on the train, sit next to strangers or give up a seat for a stranger.

Go grab a coffee. Maybe green tea. Or sandwiches. Cendol is yum too.

Don't forget that beautiful recycled book. And wooden pencil. Write something. Draw something

Cook up reasons to see a doctor. Because doctors listen. And they are nobody.

Exchange words with kids, pakcik, makcik, taxi driver, fellow commuters, cendol junkies, random people



Ahh...how relaxing. My kind of escape.

A few words with such great impact. A few words that broke me. A few words that brought back difficult times. All those times trying to convince myself to forgive and let go.

To know that I was not alone. I am supposed to feel relieved. I am not.

I shiver. When I got that scar, when I was too scared, when I feel disgusted, betrayed, mistreated, someone else was going thru the same pain. Offering me the faintest protection possible.

It hurts.

I'm sorry I don't have the courage yet. I'll let it stay buried for as long as I can

Something is very wrong when people associate talent, warmth, attraction and most important of all, acceptance with physical appearance.

Looks are the first thing that most of us notice in a person. Yes, we gravitate to hot guys, pretty girls, cute kids. But, that usually starts to fade when we look at the internal aspects; intelligence, manner, dependability, etc. A guy/girl loses his/her beauty once he/she becomes pretty much a dumbass. Kids are no longer cute when they act all mighty and bratty.

A lot of us fail to notice that we judge and emphasize too much on the looks. Unknowingly act and speak all nicely to those blessed with good looks yet become oblivious to the existence of those who are lacking in the beauty department. So we give a standing ovation when that pretty girl picks up the thrash but we look at the other place when the not-so-pretty is saving a life. Now I can already hear voices contesting me. I might exaggerate a bit there but seriously, a lot of us are guilty as charged.

 Remember what we've said bout geeks and nerds, despite knowing so little bout them? Remember how we've acted nonchalant to the existence of those with mediocre looks? Remember how we've waited for Betty to undergo a makeover and be smoking hot? Much to our dismay, she never does. Not a single physical makeover. And why is Betty not going thru a physical makeover frustrating us so much?


I'd be a big fat liar if dont admit that I wish to marry someone who is freaking hot. How can I not want him to be freaking hot. He has to be. And it's his exceptional personality, together with wisdom, leadership, wit, etc. that make him f.r.e.a.k.i.n.g.h.o.t.

And I hope I always stick with this. I too, might get infected with this cancerous norm that is eating the society slowly, silently.