no more coke for the next few days. bugger.

taking a break frm stupid studying, surfing aimlessly while waiting for my friend to finish work so she can teman me to the doc…blardy sweet rigghhhtt??? hee. i am SUCH a sucker for this kind of things. seriously mash, boleh buat sendiri tak nak…ngada ngada…heee… waiting for some lovin’. i did not ask her k. she volunteer. swweet swweet girl..

forgot how persuasive a lil whining can do. especially to the parent of an only child who has given up taking care of her unwell self. usually im pretty independent when im sick. but this time round, after iced tualas and self-medication, i literally hobbled to my mom’s bed and whine, AYU SAKIIIIIIIITTTTTT….haha… and HARLOW steamed fish. thank you mummy. hmm wonder what else i can whine my mom into cooking? …before i recover. think think… absolutely loving the power im weilding right now. hee.

i seriously believe a lil temperature literally fry up your brain cells. can practically hear them frizzling. remember how incoherent your thoughts are when you have a high temperature? forget about making sense la. simplest tasks become rocket science. i was like ms word with a virus. jumbling documents and users. clearing morning smses was so freaking hard. its like connect the dots with a billion freaking dots.

missing coke. all that gas fizzling in my throat…

dun let me go…no matter what i say

over 7k. waiting for 14 days to be up. exhallleeeee….. now to settle for another 4k…seriously…11k to some motherfucker rich bastard somewhere is peanuts. yet we are fighting so hard for this ‘measly’ sum. hating the world.

kiss me in the rain.

…eye contact. Eye Contact. FUCKING eye contact!! issit that fucking hard? preference schmeference. its plain courtesy. think the orange lion with the dumbass smile and pudgy hands.

im waiting for one of them to knock on my door, to say ’stop this nonsense’, ‘we are not accepting this crap from you anymore’…’you are our daughter and you better do what we want you to do’..  but no matter how long i waited, no matter how i delayed, how i deliberately habitualised it, no one came no one said anything. they, ..she..think i wont listen. do you not trust your own parenting skills? have you not taught me all these years, to notice, to observe, to appreciate… i did. secretly. so how can you expect me not to notice when its missing? they all think im sensible enough. that ill survive this like the last time. that i will attend the next family event with the expected right news and right life…well, cant you see im losing it? 

there are people who contrived up a whole fake terminal illness for attention and to deal with their already existing messed up lives…and then there are people who lay in disbelieving stupor, by a terrible illness, adding more unwanted attention to their already messed up lives..humanity. arent we great? arent we fascinating? two real different individuals, so close to us. maybe they arent so different. faking an illness is an illness itself. the similarity lies beyond their inability to cry for help.

the other world, the accepted functioning reality. it seemed so hard to even breathe in there. initiative. competency. something to prove. something to fight for. achievement. brilliance… Purpose. PURPOSE…function…. MEANING…. for now im looking at it from a distance, like underwater. through a glass tank filled with water where images blurred and swirled. once im released into the world, expect drowning. fatal. i cant even deal with school now, much less a job and all its tangled demands..i dunno whats my vocation. i dunno me.

so how do we know which ones are worth it? i dont know. because they can disappoint. because they have disappoint. but there’s no blame. just disappointment. limitations to every capacity. a lid to every love. inexistent telepathy. how to blame. there isnt any blame nor any grudge. just cant trust. cant depend. learnt sweet words bear no meaning no matter how much we want them to. because pain has a threshold. because you have walked away. and i watched you leave.

there is no number 1 my dear. maybe you are or were. maybe she is or was. but i was never good enough or committed enough to be 1, hence i cant have any 1, anyone… no irony. no paradox. just truthful pun.

plus, i noe im not worth it. i look around at that table after an hour of talking and i think, all this while i was concentrating on myself, on my thoughts and what im letting on…i look at those two faces and i wonder, do i know whats gg on with them? their real feelings, their real conditions, their resentments and concerns… and the facades they were trying to create…when did i become so conceited and negligent?

i am not stupid, but i may be an idiot. i know all reasons are not good reasons. but i enjoy, crave the ability to hurt, then survive, and then heal. looking at it, feeling it, i noe at least my body is still living, functioning, healing. there is still strength. i want the indication. i need the testament. no matter how wrong, how stupid, how irrational, how merepek, how repulsive, detestable.

getting better at keeping things in. stopping the wavering of voice. the eyes have long dried. pulling the plug instead of patiently carry out a proper shut down. because the test for self-worth and validation, the results have not been satisfactory.

creating excuses, justifying the mistakes and bad choices, the release of duties and function. im doing that. exactly that. people can survive this. im just making excuses, believing my weakness, reinventing my weaknesses. wallowing in self-induced failures. need to get out of this. need to try.

as i held that tiny baby in my arms, i hope she has all the comfort she needs. her mom  is a good person. but good people are tested at times, and repercussions can be nasty. i wish you a good life . sweet dimples and sweet smile.

please dont let me go

didnt think this through, obviously… new areas then. dun wanna deal with those …

dun let me go…

the bright orange has lost its purpose.

he knows. im sorry tuk…. i’ll try k.

waxing damn lyricals about this and that is so easy for some people. pretty words to induce pretty feelings. yeah yeah yeah. remind me again to call bull when i hear or read them. never believe them, no matter who says it. no matter what kind of warm fuzzy feelings those fucking words gave me. fuck you all.

slumber comes easy for with sheer exhaustion. that hardly comes with a bed. hate to be the only one awake when everyones has fallen asleep.

today i discovered a yawn can be killed halfway. like as if all that involuntary sucking in of air through the gaping mouth can be halted in mid-yawn. the body is yawning, but the mind can stop it anytime it wants. mind over body…whoa. was menguap-ing dgn so semangatnye when i looked over and caught her expression. that damn look murdered my yawn in its tracks and the next two seconds i was consciously closing my mouth and thinking, “i thought i needed oxygen?”..manage to psyche myself into yawning again to finish its initial task.

had a yawning marathon in the hosp today as i teman her to do her checkup at kk at some ungodly hour. ok not so ungodly. just unmash-ly hour. so much for pretending. i thot i was pretty good at fooling ppl, but exhaustion is smth i never manage to get a grip on and master the techniques to suggest ‘energy and robustness’. when im tired ppl can tell im tired, and today i definitely dun want her to know im tired. she has too many things to deal with today, feeling guilty for for asking me to come at 840 should not be smth she needs to feel. this stupid bitch should seriously plan her sleep, her activities. da tau nak teman orang gi clinic pagi pagi buta, buat keje siang sikit and sleep early la bodoh. ni pandai…postpone everything to last minute pastu sleep late. bodoh bahlul kecidul punye mash. when she said “alamak..penat eh?” im like aaaarrrggghhh. wanted to smack my head against the lift door.

sigh…im pretty lost at what to say to her. when it comes to bodily functions, biology and all that, im really clueless. i think health is smth i always take for granted. true, when im sick i’ll be thinking god is reminding to be bersyukur of my health, my comfort, the ease of me performing day to day tasks without any cumbersomes. i will remind myself as i queue in that damn polyclinic to think about bersyukuring often once im healthy. but with health, comes many other distractions that demand my attention, that i will again forget to bersyukur. but just now, i wasnt the sick one. she was. is.

and that completely despondent expression on her face killed me. (and my yawn). i hate this. i looked at her, she’s so beautiful with her supple skin and curly waves of hair framing her face. her eyes were cast down. i knew she felt imperfect. physically deformed. it shouldnt be this way. she shouldnt feel this way. i dont know how bad the physical pains of going through whatever they do to her in that room, but im sure there are not steambaths. she sat rigid at the edge of that stupid hard plastic chair, bruised i guessed, and im thinking, shudnt there be soft plush cushioned couches in a place like this??? i mean, especially since its that type of clinic…stupid hospital.

all i could do was let her lean on my shoulder as we wait for the doc to call her back. at times liddat i wish i was fleshier. hell, i wish i was this mega lump pillow of goose feathers for her to rest her head. i really dont know whats going on in her mind. i cant even say i know how she feels. i really dont know the words to say that wont sound insensitive. that would not discount the pain she’s feeling inside out. i mean really. what do i know abt this matter? ive never gone through it. i cant say “its ok, you can always try other ways..” fuck…so much for higher education. i still lack the brilliance to advice. to soothe. fffffuuuuuccccccckkkkk..

after, when i was abt to leave her to go to work, i told her not to think abt this until the next appointment. now im thinking maybe thats wrong. maybe she needs to think about health and the other stuff she can be bersyukur about. blessings that she still has. she will physically heal. she will, with time forget about the physical pain that she went through. maybe there will be permanent side effects. but what are these if not divine reminders?…but then again….sigh. i cant even convince myself…

i didnt plan it. i didnt want it. i thought i wouldnt do it again, but i did. im sorry. i still feel it no matter what you say. i dont know how to thank you enough. i dont know how to repay you.

funny how you find relief in expression. all sorts of things were conjured, debated and reorganised in the mind…but somehow it isnt as relieving as expressing them out loud, no matter how incoherent or inexplicable. attention. audience. for some reason there’s relief when someone is listening to your thoughts and conclusions.

watched some random person walking past the bus stop as i sat there wasting time…i observed her as she walked her ‘kangkang’ walk, her mismatched pink baju kurung and blue tudung, her careless swinging of that small plastic bag in her hand. i imagined her characteristics, personality and principles. she is who she is, from her upbringing, conditioning, personal preferences, logic, emotions, experiences and fate…

she is so complex cos she is a product of a myriad of elements and chance. she is so beautiful if studied comprehensively, yet when looked at ONLY from a particular angle, can be the most ugliest thing on this earth.

i think therefore i am? i dont quite agree.

sometimes it takes an innocent kid to lift your mood, and it remains at the peak till you get on that damn bus home when the mood hits the bottom of the trough again.

but really, wish i have a toddler around the house more often, or maybe i should babysit more often…howcome this babysitting part-time job thing tradition so common amongst american teens never hit the asian shores? they are really fantastic depression remedies…but then again, i can imagine screaming my head off or gripping that kid between my thighs and lecturing him back front centre left right in adult language as he drifts in and out of attention, scolding him as if he is my age. it happened before and my aunt always laughed at my attempt at parenting. she said im blind to the my cousin’s age and limitation in comprehension and communication skills. its either i do that or she’ll find him in my washing machine with the lid closed. trust me, there’s enough air in that machine to last him 4 hours. only child babe, only child.

i have a bittersweet relationship with bus no. 3. i love the long journey, small heartland roads and expressway, bends and corners to create that intermittent pauses, the relatively new clean buses operating for that route so the brakes are always smooth and not nausea inducing, the balanced feeling of isolation and proximity with humans, the views which is a good mix of trees, bright lights and ppl…its one of my best bus experience… but the passengers on that bus at night all look neckdeep in ther own shit. troubled souls staring out of the windows, silently cursing and lamenting..its kinda obvious. and when they look at your black face, the response is like “join the club babe, join the club”…i bet most of the passengers wouldnt so much blink or shrug when someone just stood up all delirious and took a knife and slashed his neck..blood squirting and staining the windows and seats and the body fall limp onto that wooden floor… its expected. the mood in the bus is always so sombre and everyone always give each other enough space to drown in their own sorrows. ive seen many persons in that bus tearing, me included.

theres always the angsty teen blasting heavy metal rock or stupid trance music in his ears, the elderly, all wrinkly and age-y waiting for death, the husband who works hard 11 hours everyday and suspects the wife is fucking that bastard he met at the coffeeshop, the spinster who lives with her sister and in constant cold rivalry, the wife/mother with mounting debts and bills, the parent whose son no longer loves her and wishes her dead, the loner who is confused and aimless with no inspiration and excitement in his life…

i dunno where i belong in that imaginary list of characters, but somehow, in its own sordid way, the bus feels like home. its where i shed my facade, shut my logic and…exhale…if im happy, ill be at ease and have that quiet contentment and enjoy the scenery, if im not, ill be lost in my thoughts, torturing myself by replaying all my miseries in my head like a broken recorder…its like a lie detector really. no matter how i fool myself, being in that bus will tell me how i really am. if shit is in season, the bus ride will leave me feeling so fucking crappy (lack of adjective) yet i will still hesitate to alight.

if im a poet, ill probably write lyricals abt bus no 3. but since im not, ill just say, it feels like home.

rarely talk abt the boyfriend. hmm, come to think abt it i did write one entry on him, but i deleted it in one of my blog springcleanings. i think this blog needs a springcleaning soon too. its getting too…dark..

so things were getting out of control and i didnt handle myself well. thats abt a quick summary of the recent past. so now the boyfriend feels fucking guilty for ‘not being there’, for not being ‘my pillar of support’… plus he got a good scolding from a tiny biatch half his size..guess thats quite a hit on his ‘man-ness’..whatever. so now im getting a lot of hugs and hand patting and those sick sympathetic looks from him. firstly, men dun look very good with that “aaaawwww” expression on their face. secondly, now im feeling as if ive put him on a guilt trip. suddenly i have new things, being fed well, read through encouraging smses every damn day, and getting calls frm him with that VERY perceptible concern in his voice, suddenly he’s strapped on that red underwear and be my superman…bradder bradder…get off my case can?? the roof will collapse if it wants to, with or without you. but hell yeah, ill get mad if you are not there when the earthquake happens.

[added at the last minute, cos i dunno how to make it flowww...: which brings me to another failure of mine. im not investing enough in this relationship. im tackling it way too rationally, negating any emotional influence. i love him...i guess. but im not IN love...i dun really know what that means too. when does blind infatuation ends and real love begin. maybe sex will help solve everything. maybe. im banking on that. tapi, sometimes i jealous jugak read blogs entries of my friends talking about their sayangs/ayangs/Bs, with thousands of loving cuddly pictures. i guess i never looked at mine that way. but smth in me keep telling me he is for keeps. the rational me. most of my friends say so. sbdy even said, he is good guy, your guy, even if you dont believe it at this point of time. thanks ah...i noe im slow...]

and its not just him really, though he is the one im having the biggest problem with right now. im suspecting all the friends in the know are doing it. this accomodating attitude…that lilting tone at the end of “heeeEEYYYY mash…”….the sudden attention cos suddenly im miss popular, the flooding of sms inbox/email…(email! EMAIL..seriously W, abit the obvious dun u think? who the fuck email friends nowadays? ok..but love you still) the frequent dates, lunches, outings, surprises. its my fault too. in my attempt to ‘distribute the burden’ and not depend on one person too much, ive talked to way too many ppl. and all these ppl, are playing their roles perfectly. a quick search online will give you tips how to “help a depressed person” right??? like…oooh say…1. encourage expressions of emotions including extreme sorrow, grief, even anger 2. spend time doing enjoyable things together 3. offer to help find a therapist… i noe wad you all are doing. if im not in constant contact, korang takut suddenly i’ll disappear, be reclusive and suddenly you’ll find me at the bottom of some godforsaken flat, all dead and bloody… yes yes thank you. i have lovely friends. and i dont think i can give the same support if the roles were reversed. i say this with utmost honesty. appreciate it. really. but… BUT…i cant believe im gg to have a ‘but’…

i should not fucking complain. its wrong, so sooooo wrong… but so why am i complaining on the inside? is it pride? is it shame? what the fuck is wrong with me? (common question, no?) why cant i graciously accept help and be done with it. why, in my better times, do i look at it with a tiny bit of contempt. because you will only do this when i’m in shits right? will the hugs and holding hands still be there if this hadnt happen? will the constant meet ups be suggested if i hadnt been vulnerable? will that oh so good long talks occur if mash doesnt look like shes gonna burst out crying anytime? seriously dude. im a crybaby. my tears dun need to cause a panic. is it love.. or is it fear then? to protect oneself from that burden of knowing friend/girlfriend who then decide that to end her life…then the blame will be on you too right? the guilt is smth you dont want.. ugh…i noe im being wayyy too harsh…someones sure gonna scold me after this. im gonna get lectures. bring it on. im messed up in the head. ill admit that much. thing is, im waaay too observant for my own good. i notice stuff when times were good too. little stuffs..and i appreciate them, quietly…so when this happens and im seeing all of the ‘luurrrrrvvvvveee’ from various parties, im like rrrriiiiggghhhhttt. i like it. love it. ill admit that sometimes i depend on it. itll make or break the day. but i cant help but doubt it, cos im still me.

love me…dont just pity me… if its only pity, sympathy, empathy and wad not…i suggest you leave. ill pay you back when i can. i noe where to get sympathy. i have an appointment card remember?