Grief Is..

My grandmother was a tiny force of a woman. When she died, she was so light. They say moments live on in your bones, like words layered brick by brick. You're a skeletal foundation of stories and your knees are muddy. I cried at her funeral and the sound of death broke on my skin, falling like rain.

I started this post, "Grief is..." and couldn't find words. I laughed at first, but it's hard. A sad little knot in your stomach. It's hard when something you do doesn't come easy. It's hard when one of your things, your way to process and pull apart life and say, it's still good, still beautiful, feels foreign. Like realizing you're speaking gibberish and you thought it's a language. Unsure. Hesitant. Tasting out words on my tongue and trying to remember if they're the same. I'm reading what I write and telling myself I can't delete the words. That to put something out there, anything, is better than nothing. That the first step to get through is to dive deep.

It's messy. I say that about everything. But life's messy. It's gory. It's gritty. It's unpredictable, in a laugh so hard tears come out your eyes and ache so hard you stay up all night weeping way. I read something on weeping the other day and it hit me right in the face. One of those pieces where you breathe a little deeper and shift in your skin. Because someone tapped into a raw place and pulled out something still beating. Someone put words to it, like touching a frosted glass with cold fingertips. Brushed the edge of something.

Weeping is not the same thing as crying. It takes your whole body to weep, and when it's over, you feel like you don't have any bones left to hold you up. - Sarah Ockler

I had chills when the word weeping caught my eye and I was crying at the end. Maybe that sounds silly. But to be walking through long and lonely moments only to turn and find someone next to you, saying, I get it. That's a relief. That's what's so delightfully, deliciously, dearly human about us. That we're not alone.

Grief is a funny thing. It's unnerving, unsettling. I start to write a sentence and stop. Everything is heavy. There's a weight we carry, unconsciously. Grief clings to our back with cold fingers and we hunch over to compensate. Curl up, close in. I need to apologize more, because I'm so damned shaky. I'm sorry, I just feel so unsettled. I've said it more than I can count to someone. I'm sorry, I feel so uprooted.

The irony of feeling uprooted when my 2014 word is seed isn't lost on me. What I'm trying to say is. I'm sorry that it takes me so long to reply. I'm sorry that I cry about stupid things. I'm sorry that I ask you what you think twice. I'm sorry that I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, especially now with that last sentence. I'm sorry I snapped at you.

It's just. I'm so tired. Of waiting and hoping. The hoping is what hurts the most. It's like carrying hot coals close to your chest because just a little further on, there's wood. That's what you believe, anyways. It's coming. But the journey, staggering forward and faltering steps...it's numbing. It's exhausting.

I feel sapped. I feel heavy. I feel unhinged, in a quiet, curl up with my cat and cry it out way. I gain weight. I cut my hair. I'm tired of writing when everything feels old. November is turning me into a hermit. I want to throw off the stale scent of indoors and last year and scrub everything clean. I want to strip back to the foundation and rebuild with good wood.

I'm waiting for this earth to unthaw enough to plant something new. I don't know. I don't know. My hands are shaking and my head is spinning and all I can think is, the days are lengthening. I make my coffee in the morning. I say yes to green tea. I'm practicing being kind to myself.

Sometimes, it's enough. Right now, it's enough. Grief is. And maybe it's not grief anymore. It feels different, not quite so raw. Maybe the swelling has gone down and it's a sad, slow sorrow. Maybe it's an undercurrent, not the whole melody. The days are lengthening. Thank God it's not the end.

Devastated

If I said things were going just peachy at the moment I think you could probably sense the fact that isn't true. Things are tough. Yes, I have a job I'm beyond thankful to have (even as a temp). Yes, I have family and friends that love me. Yes, I have a place to rest my head at night. I'm thankful.

But when your heart's broken and your mind's racing with anxieties, it's hard to take a minute to enjoy much of anything.

I think exhausting is too simple a word. 

My dream cracks.

I'm devastated. 

On Sadness and Its Place

There's a friend who asked me about sadness, noticing that I seem to skip the negative here on my blog nowadays. She wondered whether I purposely kept things positive, and I said, yes I do. Truth is, I like to hold on to this as a lighter space, and I save the good, darker stuff for fiction. In any case, I thought I'd take a moment to share my thoughts on sadness and its place. I hold on to sadness like holding on to a new dress, waiting for the just-right day to wear it. I've always been a saver of new clothes, the sort of person who buys something and swears not to wear it until the perfect occasion comes up..only to finally debut it at some place. In any case, I tuck new clothes toward the back of my closet and make a mental note to grab them when the time's right, when I'm eventually ready. And so it goes, I've realized, with sadness.

Melancholy has always felt comfortable to me. Nostalgia and melancholy, those I can do, those are the backbone of the things I love. But sadness? It's not something I easily wear. I tug and itch at it, then reach for something softer, something a bit more worn-in. I pick melancholy usually, which tends to bleed into some shade of understanding if you sit with it long enough. 

Scattered weekends and occasional rainy day. Those are the times that I normally decide to unfold the sadness I've been stashing away. And when I unroll it, I spread it out, letting it splay across my chest so that I can really feel its weight, its pressure. Then I wallow. I  wade and sink and sometimes drown in whatever it is that made me itch, because I've come to realize that I can't let those stacks of sadness pile up forever. At some point or another, it's necessary to pick up each piece, see it for what it is, and throw it away so that I can move on.

This isn't to say that I always toss the bad stuff aside. There's room for pockets of sadness within each moment, I think. And if those spaces start to spill over, that's when it's time to bring them to light. That's when it's time to wallow, to call someone, to curl up in bed and read a book or listen to rainy-day songs or just sit there feeling sorry for yourself. Every so often, that's okay. There's a time and a place for sadness, and I've found that eventually, when I come across the right occasion, I'll try it on.

Just a Memory

Ifo made a new song called Memori. I've been listening to it over and over again because it reminds me of grandma. Ironically, Ifo made it on the night before my grandma passed away. Each time I play it, I'd get a feeling, the same one when I was listening to Paramore's In The Mourning, Avenged Sevenfold's So Far Away, Avril Lavigne's Slipped Away, etc. 

I hope you'll listen to the song and love it. The music and lyrics are solely made by Ifo, and here's the demo video, presented by Ifo and Naaszreen.

Memori - The Baks

Kau pergi jua,

Tinggalkan segala,

Takkan ku lupakan

Senyummu selalu

Tinggallah kenangan

Tinggallah memori

Memori yang terindah

Ku rindu dia

Sekian selamanya 

Ku ingat dia

In the Mourning

the last picture of us together

It was 27th November 2013. My grandma came to house that morning. She looked pale and tired, but was still smiling and cheerful. So we talked like usual, she told me about gardening and planting coconut trees at aunt's house (which she couldn't make it). I showed my convocation pictures to her and she's happy for me. She also hoped that she could see my wedding one day. Then I asked her to rest and watch tv for a while as I did laundry, but when I got back she's already went back home. 

Only that evening I realized that it was the last day I saw and talked to my grandma. Around 3pm, she felt uneasy, was hard to breathe..she asked my aunt to help her taking a bath and apologized to everyone for being a burden before she's taken to hospital where she's admitted to ER. I didn't join them (which I regret) because I had to take care of my niece. Then I did the weirdest thing that day; I vacuumed the carpets and changed the curtains. I didn't know why I did that, as if people were coming for an occasion. I mean, I just did. I went to hospital with my dad before 6, but when I got there, everyone's weeping, crying..I knew it's already too late. The doctor said he'd done everything he could. My grandma's blood pressure was too low, her heart was too weak and there's a sudden attack of pneumonia. 

I ran into the ER and saw my grandma in the bed, white and unconscious. My mum, aunts and others were crying around her..but I just can't go nearer because I felt so sick and weak. I thought I was prepared. I wasn't. I got out of the room, ran to empty space until I couldn't feel my feet..sat on the floor and cried so hard. I recalled every moment with grandma..when I was kid, when we celebrated something, few weeks ago, and that morning. I recalled our last moments together. I can't believe things happen in a blink of an eye. She's gone. The person I love, the person I talk to everyday has gone now.

It's been 4 days now. I've been losing sleep, losing interest in everything, losing myself in deep thoughts, my body and mind are out of sync, my tears have dried but my heart's still broken. It's like I'm still stuck in the morning of 27th November. 4 days and it still lingers. I'm trying to keep things together. I told myself all the right things to justify why it was okay.

Deep in my heart, I'm thankful to Allah because grandma slipped away in peace. She's left us miracle and a lot of greatest life lesson. At least for me. She had lived a full life. She's the friendliest person I've ever known. She treated everyone, even strangers, kindly like they're her family and friends. She loved to do sedekah. She's hardworking and never tired of giving useful advice along with interesting stories. She's funny and a bit of superstitious, and that's how we love her. She used to advise us to be aware of death as much as to obey Allah's rules in sickness and health. The way grandma lived her life has changed me: I aim to be as loving to others as she was to people. In this way, her spirit lives on through me. One flap of my grandma's wings creates a wave that will ripple on into the future indefinitely. 

Though she couldn't get to see my wedding, I'll remember her when the time comes. I'll always remember grandma. May Allah rest her soul in eternal peace. Al-Fatihah..

Fiction Friday: Heartless

Anger filled my heart as I walked into my favorite cafe. She's sitting at my table. I walked up to her. "You killed him!" I said, slamming my hands down on the round table. I only said it loud enough for her to hear. I didn't want to cause a scene. She didn't know who I was, but I knew her from the pictures I've seen. She acted confused, but she definitely knew who I was talking about. 

"Why would I kill my own father?" she said. Her act of innocence made me want to slap her face, but two could play that game.

"I know you killed him." I said, calmly taking a seat. 

"He died of a heart attack." she said. I sat quietly as I thought about what I wanted to say to her. We sat there for a few minutes, before she spoke again. "Who are you? Why do you care?" she questioned. 

"I'm his daughter." I said, which seemed to set her off. 

"No you're not! I'm his only child," she said as quietly as an infuriated person could. She didn't want to cause a scene either. 

"No," I said calmly, "You’re the reason he's dead."

I was more of a daughter to him than she ever was. He had never wanted to talk about her. When I had gone to his house for the first time, I noticed that his house did not reflect his character. I knew he was a family man because of the way I met him. Yet, there were no pictures of his family, not even any of his wife. Why don’t you have any pictures of your family? I asked. He smiled at me, with a tinge of sadness in his eyes, saying I took them down. Angela, my daughter, hardly visits me anymore. I think it was because the pictures make her sad. He brought out a couple of pictures of his wife and daughter, but he quickly put them away, and the subject was never brought up again. 

"Please," she said, bringing me back to the present, "explain to me as to why I would kill my own father. Only a sick person would kill their father. I am not that kind of person."

I laughed at her. "You're right," I said, "you didn't kill your father." She sat back in her chair, folding her arms, and smiling smugly. "You killed my father." I continued. 

If she was boiling before, she was about to blow now. She stood up and raised her hand at me, ready to slap me. I quickly put out my hands in defense. The action caused a few people to look at us. Her face fell as she asked me, "where did you get that bracelet?" We slowly sat down, again. The onlookers quickly went back to their own business. I knew we were finally getting somewhere. However, I did not know where I wanted this to go. 

"He gave it to me for my birthday last year," I answered. 

"How do you know my father?" She asked. 

"I met him at the graveyard two years ago," I explained. I had gone to the cemetery once every week to visit my parents after they died in a car accident. This man was there at the same time I was, every Sunday. I had seen him there a few times before I ever made any move to acknowledge him. We slowly went from smiling to each other, to saying hello, to finally talking. As time went by, we got a good relationship going. 

His name's John Ng. Mr Ng went to the cemetery every week to visit his wife. She passed away because she had heart attack. Mr Ng and I found comfort in each other. He was like a father to me. He always told me that I was the daughter he had lost. I did not know what he meant by that, except that his daughter hardly visited him, but I knew that I was going to be the daughter he deserved. 

She was quiet again, after I explained my story to her. I was getting tired of her silence, so I said, "why do you care about my bracelet anyway?"

She stared at my bracelet as she whispered, "it was my mine." She quickly changed the subject after that, which was something Angela and her father had in common. They didn't like to talk about things that saddened them. "It doesn't matter anyway," she said, "you still haven't given me a clear explanation as to why you think I killed my father. If you truly knew him like you say you did, you'd know that he wasn't murdered. He had a heart attack."

I sat back thinking about what I was going to say to her. "I visited him every day," I said. 

"I was busy," she replied, "is that a crime?"

"You never tried to contact him in any way," I told her. 

She sighed, then. "I knew that he had heart problems, just like my mother."

"So," I said coldly, "you should have been there for him." 

She looked away, sighing again. "When my mother died, I blamed it on myself."

"So?" I said, again. If she wanted me to feel sorry for her, it wasn't going to happen. 

"I didn't want to feel that guilt again, so I decided to distance myself from my father," she whispered. 

I grabbed her cup of coffee and dumped it on her. Everyone in the cafe looked at us as a loud, piercing screech came from Angela. "What is wrong with you?" She screamed, standing up. 

"You pulled away from your father because you did not want to feel the guilt you felt when your mother died?" I said. It suddenly hit me that, despite my attempts to not make a scene, we ended up in that exact predicament anyways. I suppose you can’t just accuse someone of killing their father and expect everyone to go about their business. I headed for the door, feeling the burning stares of everyone in the room. 

"Wait!" she yelled at me. She ran after me, grabbing my wrist. 

"What do you want?" I said turning around. 

"Why do you think I killed my father?" She said. Everyone listened closely, wanting to know the exact same thing. 

She was blind. After all of this, she still didn't know why I accused her of killing Mr Ng. "Don't you see," I said, "You tried so hard not to feel the guilt you felt when your mother died, yet guilt is all you should be feeling. You abandoned your father when he needed you the most. You basically left him there to die alone. You may not have stabbed your father in his heart, but you might as well have." Everyone became uninterested at this point, realizing that Angela was not a real murderer. Angela, though, was shocked as the revelation hit her. I removed my hand from her grip and walked away.

Fiction Friday: You're Not Mine

Black long wavy hair right down to her hips with slight curls at the tips. The white light bounce off her hair resulting in her black locks instantly shining and attracting. Her hazel eyes with a slight glint stare right into me. She's wearing her favorite red dress. That's what I see before me. My reflection. Every aspect of my appearance is carefully prepared to match Jay's liking.

My heart pounds not knowing how the night would end but I know it has to be today, otherwise I know I would never get a chance again. I readjust my dress and check every part of my body, checking them off in my mind. I sigh and look over to my watch. It is almost time; I have an hour left to panic before seeing him. Come on pull yourself together, I say to myself. Calmly I sit on my bed and look at the pairs of shoes I have in front of me not knowing which one to choose. I carefully analyse each pair of suitable shoes I own. Still I couldn't figure out which ones to wear with this red dress. I look at my black heels and then dart my vision to the red pumps. Why's life so difficult? I stare at the black heels and suddenly remember Jay had commented on them before. In fact he didn't just comment on them, he bought them for me for my birthday. 

"I don't know why but for some reason I just had to buy them for you. I know you'd make them look amazing!" He smiled at me whilst handing me the box.

"What do you mean I'd make THEM look amazing?" I questioned him not being able to stop myself from giggling. I took the black box and opened it up to see a pair of black heels. They shimmered in the glow of the light. There was a big smile on my face. He didn't know that I had looked at these shoes just the night before wishing I owned them, it was as though he had read my mind!

BZZZZZZZZZZZ. That sound snaps me away from the memories. Crap, it's my phone! I jumped off my bed and picked it up. "Hello. Okay, I’ll be there!" I hang up and run out of my apartment. I couldn't lie how happy I am. I hurriedly walk down towards the end of road just until I could the coffee lounge. It has been our secret place that no one else know about. I guess it has become special because it's where we first met, where we could be alone, away from the rest of the world. I slow down now as I could see the shop sign. I feel a sudden rush flow up my body at the thought of him finally hearing what I was about to say, the thought of him booming with happiness. This is the perfect time to tell him. 

I stand outside the store and look in to see if he's there. I press myself against the door to get a better view but no sign of him. Only the heat of my breath seems to mist up the glass window. I open the door and hear the jingle of the chimes above the door. I smile as it seems to suit the happy glow oozing out of me now. Just as I close the door behind me there's a handsome man before me grinning. He winks at me as I walk past. It makes me blush but I look away happily. I sat in our favorite spot peering at the view through the window knowing that any minute now he would walk in. 

I got nervous as I keep exchanging glances between the clock hanging on the beige wall and checking my phone for missed calls or messages. Still no contact from him but there is still time, I am just early. I reach out to the stack of magazines in front of me and pull one out from the pile to divert my attention elsewhere. I begin reading the relationship advice section to find all sorts of dilemmas. I'm so involved in a case given by a woman where she found her husband had cheated on her with her best friend, I'm shocked that such a situation's even possible. 

"That's good huh?" A familiar voice questions me. I look up to see a smirk on Jay's face. I totally forgotten about our meeting and feel so calm until I study his face in more detail. His lips lure me towards him every minute he speak. His eyes make mine flutter every moment he blink. There's nothing I could do but remain glued to this emotion I'm feeling instead of resisting temptation. He waves his hands at my face and clicks his fingers to get me back to reality. I guess he must have realized I was studying him too close as he's in confusion. Slightly embarrassed, I look away.

I laugh, trying to change the conversation, "Err.. I see you're wearing your good luck red shirt." I said pleasingly. He looks at his shirt and looks back at me confusingly. He walks to the counter and orders my drink. I couldn't stop wondering if there's a reason that he's been wearing that shirt today of all days. I smile unconsciously not realizing how stupid I look like. He must have realized I'm daydreaming again as he places our drinks on the table because he nudges my cheek to get my attention. But he never noticed how much I long for his affection. I move my head away and look up at him smiling. 

"Why are you so far away? Did you forget to eat vitamins?" He says and giggles. He gets up and sits next to me on the couch sliding his arm across my shoulders and resting his. I watch his face glow in amusement as he finish off his coffee ice as if he's a child happily moving to the beat of a nursery rhyme, he smiles pleasingly as though he had accomplished his lifetime goal.

"Nothing, I'm just happy to see you," I say. We hold a gaze for a while. Then he puts his drink on the table and is facing me. He pulls my hair back from my face and tucks it with the other strands and held my head between his hands carefully as though it was fragile, and he stares into my eyes.

"Jane..." He pause and grin. "Today is gonna be my lucky day!" He's almost shouting. I feel the excitement from him contagious, I begin to get excited myself for an unknown reason. Deep in my heart I'm confident this is going to be the end of my wait. He leans forward and whispers into my ear, "I hope you like her."

HER?! I looked at him disgusted, not meaning to. I pull back confused.

"Hey," a female voice hovers from behind. I couldn't recognize it, but among my confusions in the event he's already turning around and locked into a conversation with a brunette curled figure. I peer over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of her. She glances at me briefly making an awkward moment between the two of us. 

"Hello." I smile at her trying to break the ice. She waves back to me and smiles.

"Oh, sorry Jane, I totally forgot you're here! This is Louisa. Louisa, this is my best friend, Jane." 

"I've heard a lot about you." She replies, addressing me. Her eyes beam in amazement. Who is she, I wonder. I watch her holding Jay's arm as he plays with her her. If I didn't know any better I would say there's definitely something going on, they couldn't have been any more obvious.

"So don't get angry with me or anything, but do you remember when I told you about my ex?" Jay asks me and I nod. "Well, we started talking again and our families got to know that we had been in contact and well, you know how it is when the parents know." He winks. I'm still confused, he must have guessed my blank expression as a reply to his statement. "THAT'S her!" He exclaims. "Louisa's my ex. I wanted you both to meet, that's why I had kept it a secret all this long and not telling you about anything."

"Nice," I reply back. Then Louisa goes to the counter while me and Jay are sitting on the couch, but Jay sits away from me. It's almost as if this is a sign to show me how destiny's going to turn out, but during the moment I haven't really pick up on it. "Hmm, I still don't get why the secrecy if you're just talking to her, you goof?" 

"Well, isn't it obvious, you dork?” he pauses for a brief while, looks back at her and leans towards me and whispers, "we're getting back together. That's why I wanted you ladies to finally meet. I mean you're my best friend and well, she's my girlfriend. I want you both to get along with each other. Just give it a go please?" He begs.

I feel like a total stranger. I bite my lip trying ever so hard to not let my tears fall. I gulp the meaningless words down my throat and engulf the shattered pieces of my heart. Slowly I begin to edge a smile out through my face and nod. He gives me a high 5 and pinches my nose. As I watch him approaching Louisa, I run to a restroom.

Tears begin to fall down into a gush of an uncontrollable waterfall sliding off my face. I watch my reflection in the mirror not understanding why this is happening. I know I've lost the battle when he mentioned that she's his ex. She's the long lost love he would always talk to me about. I always thought that there's never a chance they would get back together again. Well I thought wrong. My mind is clustered with so many thoughts but this isn't the time or place, besides he'll be looking for me. I know that I have to go back out there and behave as everything's fine.

I check my face in the mirror and wipe away the tears that have dried on my face. I catch my breath and push the door. There he is standing with a smile on his face. He swings his arm around my shoulders and walks me up to Louisa. "He's a good man, I'm happy for you guys." I never imagined I would've been able to say that. Quite frankly I thought as soon as I walk up to her I would have set off crying, but instead those words came out straight from my heart. 

I think it's time to leave. I walk over to the counter to get some takeaways so I could get rid of the gut feeling I had around my stomach. While taking my order, the staff brings me into conversation. "I hope you don't mind me saying this but..it's his loss that he chose her over you. He's had you at his side for 10 years now and has been so blind to not realize everything he needs was always right there," the staff says nonchalantly.

I look up at him once realizing what he just said. How did he know? I was baffled. "Excuse m-"

"Who knows, maybe you'll make another guy lucky." He quickly interrupts me and winks. I feel myself blush but glad upon hearing those words. For some reason it gives me some assurance. I'm sure that in the upcoming years I'm going to be entirely happy with them being together, which is hard but it has to be done. I wouldn't want anything for him but happiness. If that's with her he would always have my blessing. I still love him nonetheless, I have to find a way to let go of those feelings. 

I look at this stranger and feel at ease. I look back at my best friend and his dream girl and then at this man, who plants a seed of hope within me. "Maybe," I reply and smile.

Dear Cory

The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected. Maybe they always have been and always will be. Maybe we've lived a thousand lives before this one and in each of them we've found each other. And maybe each time, we've been forced apart for the same reasons. That means that this goodbye is both a goodbye for the past ten thousand years and a prelude to what will come. 



When I look at you, I see your beauty and grace and know they have grown stronger with every life you have lived. And I know I have spent every life before this on searching for you. Not someone like you, but you, for your soul and mine must always come together. And then, for a reason neither of us understand, we've been forced to say goodbye.

 

I would love to tell you that everything will work out for us, and I promise to do all I can to make sure it does. But if we never meet again and this is truly goodbye, I know we will see each other again, and maybe the stars will have changed, and we will not only love each other in that time, but for all the times we've had before.

— Nicholas Sparks

The beautiful words above are taken from The Notebook novel by Nicholas Sparks. I've always loved it. When I read it back, my mind somehow drifts to Cory Monteith. All Gleeks were mourning him and crying so hard, I guess we still are, well at least I still am. My excitement for Glee 5 has all gone because it doesn't feel right to be excited for it anymore. Watching Finn Hudson on tv and knowing that he's dead would be a devastation. It won't be the same.

Dear Cory, I'll probably never meet you and never be able to thank you for the moments that you made us happy even if you don’t know it. Of course I never will. The love of a fan is funny, you know. When you think you could not love so intensely someone that you barely know, sometimes life just sweep you off your feet and you find yourself loving them more. Thank you for the smiles you put on our face. Thank you for soothing us with your amazing voice. For all the friends I've made around the world. There once was a tall, awkward Canadian with a crooked smile that came in this world with the mission of bringing happiness to the people that surround him. 

Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone. I miss you, Cory. 

be strong, Lea

Fiction Friday: What's Left of Us

Sequel to this. 

Her eyes are glued to the scenery ahead as we rush through the heart of this city. Her slender fingers tap the steering wheel as I thumb through the newspaper we bought at our last pit stop a few miles back. The headlines read that our strength as a country is rapidly dwindling and violence has taken precedence over love. This is not news to me so I fold it up and cram it into the glove box.

I halfway roll down the window and light up a cigarette, letting the rush of toxins and smoke cloud my lungs for a brief second before exhaling. She shoots me a disapproving glance so I steal a few more puffs and toss what’s left out the window. I watch as it tumbles onto the rolling ground behind us and out of sight. She smiles and averts her eyes back to the cars she is chasing after. I fiddle with the radio but fail to find a station that plays good music. Great. Now, all we have to listen to is our impenetrable silence which I have learned to be equally as deafening. 

The car slows around a dangerous curve and I make believe that it flips off the edge. I wonder if thoughts like that ever cross her mind or if I really am just the jerk she has declared me to be. I shrug it off and touch her hair but she swats it off almost instantaneously. Is this really what happens to love as it ages? I always envisioned everlasting butterflies and laughter but instead we are immersed in silence and anguish.

This vacation is built on the hope that we can rekindle a flame that has long since extinguished, and so far that hope is dwindling. She is fixated on cutting our traveling time in half rather than living in the moment with me. This is never going to work. We are hopeless. Hopeless. I mutter this word under my breath which stirs a reaction in her. Her eyes are already reeling when she asks me what can possibly be wrong now. I pretend that it is nothing because I know she won’t pry the way she once did back when she cared to know what was on my mind. I am right and she resumes her battle against the ticking clock.

We are 260 miles of our destination and a hundred more light years away from salvaging anything from this relationship. I am not even trying. She is not even trying. The lack of effort is burying us alive but still we are not kicking and screaming to be let out. We are accepting our defeat. We are cowards, afraid to fight for the love we once called our oxygen.

I am mourning our loss and she will not stop tapping her slender fingers against the steering wheel. The sound is puncturing my heart now. This is what is left of us.

Always my Last

Thoughts

Dawn turns to day,

as stars are dispersed;

wherever I lay,

I think of you first.

The sun has arisen,

the sky, a sad blue.

I quietly listen -

the wind sings of you.

The thoughts we each keep,

that are closest to heart,

we think as we sleep -

and you're always my last.

Lang Leav

p.s: Cory Monteith is dead. I long for Finn Hudson. Glee without him is unimaginable and unbearable. I'm in the mourning.

Is It a Contentment or Happiness

A few months ago, I talked to my old friend and I asked how's she doing, she said that she “wasn't great but content.” It's a throwaway comment, but it stuck with me. There's this sad permanence in her tone of voice. It's like she reconciled herself to the fact that she’s never going to be great and that it's what it is. I think that sucks. I never want to be content. I want to be happy. Unfortunately, that's what I exactly feel right now after what had happened today. 

I’m not good at much. It’s true. I’m genuinely not saying that to garner sympathy, I’m just a realist. If you were to stack up what I’m good at in one column and what I’m bad at in another, the difference would be staggering. In fact, off the top of my head, my only discernible skills are being nearly unbeatable in Scramble and Candy Crush on the phone. Aside from that, I can write. And even if you aren't entertained by my crap, I am. It makes me happy, not content. That fact is why I’m trying to make a living out of it. That fact also brings me to my point: being content is not being happy. And after today, after 4 years, I don't feel happy at all, but content, because it's not what I'm good at, it's not what I dream for.

Being content is settling. It means that you’re almost happy. It’s like saying you're going to win the gold but settling for silver. Yes. I've found something I love. That’s what I should have done since 4 years ago, I should've gone to the other road, the road not taken. Now I regret and I won't take the wrong turn anymore. I've seen some friends and family doing the things they love. It’s inspiring. It’s also what fuels my attempts to go for my dreams. I still have time. And happiness is the most subjective of things. It’s the most personal journey there is. 

What makes you happy, friends? I imagine for the person who always wanted to be a teacher, it’s when you’re standing in front of your first classroom. I imagine for the person who always wanted to practice medicine, it’s the first time you save someone’s life. And I imagine for someone who always wanted to be a writer, it's the moment you're holding your self-written published book. 

Let's be happy. Don't be afraid to fail but don't choose something you're forced to do. Be afraid to look back when you're old and gray and realize you never tried. That's scary, failing isn't. When someone asks how I’m doing someday, I never want to answer by saying that I’m content. I want to say that I’m great. I realize not everyone can be great. But no one should give up on their own personal pursuit of happiness before trying their absolute effort to get there. 

Fiction Friday: Walk On By

If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours, and if they don't they never were. - Kahlil Gibran

We ran into each other the other day. In the midst of all the people who went off the train that afternoon, there he was. I hadn't seen him for over a month but you looked just the same. He had that wrinkle I know so well between he eyebrows, the one that he got when he was feeling impatient or annoyed and I couldn't help myself but to smile. 

I'd barely rested my eyes on him for more than a few seconds when he noticed me. A look of recognition and we paved our way through the crowd towards each other. A quiet hi, and of course the most common question of all, “How are you?”

I was just about to answer that everything was fine, everything was just normal, yes everything was just like it was supposed to be, when the words I was going to pronounce got stuck down my throat. He gazed at me with his honest brown eyes, the ones I'd always been able to tell everything and I felt how my lie crumbled into dust. I couldn't lie to his face, I couldn't lie to him at all. So instead I took a deep breath and spoke the truth. 

“It's crap.”

He froze and looked surprised. This wasn't the answer he'd expected to his rhetorical question but I was tired of playing strong so I continued,

“It's crap because you and me are acting like strangers. As if we haven't known each other. It's crap because we don't see each other anymore. I missed you. I missed you so much that it hurts. But do you know what the worst part is? The fact that you don't seem to miss me at all. Are we still together?” 

The waiting hall fell silent. All the train travelers seemed to have disappeared and we were all alone. 

Seconds passed but he remained quiet. I wanted him to say something. I wanted so badly for him to say anything at all but instead he gave me that hurt puzzled look which said, “I don't know what to say,” so I did what first came to mind, I turned around and left. 

I left despite the fact I had so much more to say. More explanations, questions and things I missed about him. And yet, as I stumbled down the stairs with tears rising in my eyes, I got a feeling of accomplishment because at least now, he knew. Now he knows. Now he knows how I feel and where I stand. All my cards are on the table and there is nothing more I can do. It's up for him to decide where we go from here. 

If it is going to be an us or simply just a he and then me. All I want is an answer. An answer to let me moving forward either alone or with him. An answer for me to escape from waiting. But for what it is worth, I'm hoping for the first alternative. I am hoping for an us. 

My Unexplainable Sentiment

I wanna give up sometimes. I wanna crumple up all paper I've ever set my worthless thoughts on and shoot them into dustbin. I wanna drain all memories out of their banks and dump them into the roaring ocean and laugh as they roll away with the waves.

You know, the way you wanna throw away sentiments from an ex lover? Especially after they've ripped your heart out and stomped on it as if it's a fire hazard, until every last ember of love is extinguished into a thick layer of soot that coats the ground beneath their ungrateful feet. That's the way I wish to rid myself of this insatiable thirst to explain the unexplainable. But this is not about any ex lovers. This is about...it's unexplainable.

It's completely and utterly unattainable. Just like the moon will always be out of reach even when it appears to be hanging low enough to grab, so are the perfect words to describe that memory we wish to hold in our wretched hearts forever.

A memory may perch on the tip of our tongues long enough to convince us that we can capture its beauty indefinitely, but just a nanosecond before we obtain the wealth of wisdom, it withholds. It'll flutter away like a butterfly flapping iridescent wings. Just like that it'll vanish into thin air as if it never even existed and we'll soon forget what's so important about that flighty recollection in the 1st place.

I'll forget how incredibly painful losing something so beautiful can be. And at the same time, I'll forget how to trust. That's what frightens me the most. That's what drives me to say ludicrous things about my thirst to explain the unexplainable because I fear, with every ounce of my being, that I'll forget how to trust.

Come Home, Kitties

After 3 weeks, I am finally home and find myself crying really, really hard. It's been a while I didn't cry so hard since the last time when my deary cat, Asmara, died on the road. Now my 3 kitties and a mummy cat have gone missing. Mom said we lost them almost a month now. A month! And I never knew it till today, I am the last person to know about my missing cats. My heart shatters to pieces.

It's quite hard to believe, so I went knocking every door of my neighbors & crossing the dried paddy field to find my kitties. But they're nowhere to be found. If they're just wandering around, they would've came back. My kitties are either lost in somewhere, being kidnapped or donated. Either way, I should've known from the start, my family should let me know. I deserve to know! But I don't blame my family though..even I could  be angry at them.

Whoever has my kitties now, he/she better be nice to them & love them as much as I do. If I ever found that he/she is treating them badly, I'd make sure he/she lives in miserable. But if they're still wandering somewhere and couldn't get their back.......... *sobbing*..I hope they're safe and sound. 

My deary kitties, please come home..... :'(

Those Moments

Love can be hard and grueling. You know, one of those moments where you wish you just weren't capable of love? We all have it, rare as it may be, it's the moment that you wish you couldn't love so that it can keep us from the pain of watching people we love forget; forget who you are and what you meant to them, where their mind slowly slips away and you become a stranger in those eyes. Those eyes that now fear you.

People with Alzheimer's disease could make you feel those moments more than you should, because you don't want to feel the pain of watching your loved one slip away in such an ungracious and undignified way, for them to lose everything that meant something to them. I've watched some movies about Alzheimer's and heard friends' stories of their grandparents affected by this disease. Although I never have experience of spending time with people who have Alzheimer's, but I can feel the heartache from the stories I heard. 

Imagine the sadness fills your heart every time you visit your grandparents and they stare up at you and say, "who are you?" or "why do you look familiar?". My heart would break. I wish everyone I love will never suffer from Alzheimer's or any kind of diseases.

Sleepiness Kills

Yesterday I heard a news about road accident at my town (Papar) that happened last Thursday. It's a tragic accident caused by SLEEPINESS where the driver died just when admitted to hospital. 

The victim's a daughter of my mum's friend. She's on her way back from work and it's already dark. Of course we'd feel fatigue and drowsy after a long day of working. So she got sleepy while driving Persona at normal speed on a straight two-way road and unconsciously drove to middle. There's a truck coming from opposite direction but the truck managed to pull over at safe distance and honk. The lady was awoken by the horn and immediately drove back to left side. Because of panic, she forgot to glance side mirror, and then collided with a car coming from behind, pushing the Persona forward and crashed another car in front. 

Initially, the lady was said to have minor injuries and she could still move and even called her mother telling about the accident. But when she reached hospital by an ambulant, she died because of internal bleeding and organ damage. Besides, she's just gave birth 3 months ago and there was severe effect on her uterus. 

(Al-Fatihah..)

Deep condolences to her family, her 3-month-old baby, and her husband that's outstation during the accident. Though I barely know this family but the tragedy broke my heart to pieces. So guys, please drive carefully on the road. If you get sleepy, just pull-over and take a good nap for a few minutes or go to nearby cafe and have a cup of coffee. We can make a difference and save lives by doing simple acts. Sleepiness kills, you see. Be safe, loves, especially ladies.

I leave you with an infographic about the stages of sleepiness:

Forever in Memory

It was a great day..

I finally finished and submitted my thesis part 1 that I dreaded over the past few days. I also had a great time today with Ifo and his sister, Niza; gadget-hunting, having lunch and hanging out at Tanjung Aru beach. 

It was a great day..

..until I got a text from my friend telling the death of someone that I met during internship. 

If you were following my internship story in March to August 2012, you might have read an entry that I wrote about the day we went to a house of a chicken slaughterer, Hj Marusin and met his wife. They're one of the sweetest old couples I've ever met. They're so kind, generous and treated us like their grandchildren. We visited them more than once, including on Aidilfitri, and we've been getting closer since then. 

Classes and final year projects kept us busy. We didn't get the chance or time to manage a visit at Hj Marusin's place. Just a couple of days ago I was thinking of them, reminiscing the sweet memory at the house and I miss them so much, especially the wife. I was planning to visit her after final exam.

But now, I could never see her again. She died today, this evening. 

I don't know what's the exact reason, but as far as I concern, she's old and suffering illness that old people are commonly having. I wish I were there now with Hj Marusin's family. I still remember when they told us how they met each other long long time ago. It's the sweetest story. I've known her only in a short period of time, but she's been a part of my happiness, a part of the reasons that strengthen the bond between me and my friends, a part of something that keeps me believing that love lasts forever.

My friends with Hj Marusin and his late wife

May Allah place her among the ones He loves and among the members of Jannah. Amin....

Al-Fatihah..

:'(

RIP Young Lives

Can't believe what I was hearing about the school shooting in Connecticut that killed 28 people, including 20 innocent children. My heart shattered to pieces. I'm still so angry inside that someone would ever want to take life from any human at all, let alone human as innocent as those kids. It's even harder to be grasped when I read the profile of suspected killer, Adam Lanza. You can read it here:

Adam Lanza: Profile of suspected US school shooting gunman

He's a nerd! A smart boy with major issues. And he's also said to be an autistic. How could an autistic boy kill people? And out of everyone, why children? I mean, they're just kids, for God's sake. 

Adam Lanza was truly insane, or maybe he's hallucinating or didn't comprehend reality. Whatever. Kids were killed. We've been saddened enough by the dead children in Palestine, now another tragedy came up, it's just too much. If the world's going to end soon, then be it. Can you live in a world where humanity fades and even adults kill children? 

they're among the victims. RIP.

 Deepest condolences to the families of the victims.