Donuts and Jane

"This city is for strangers, like the sky is for the stars"

2011-09-06T00:24:00.000-07:00

And I notice she's your lover
But she's nowhere near your heart
This city is for strangers
Like the sky is for the stars
I think it's very dangerous
If we do not take what's ours

2011-08-23T08:23:00.000-07:00

I tell my love to wreck it all
Cut out all the ropes and let me fall
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Right in the moment this order's tall
And I told you to be patient
And I told you to be fine
And I told you to be balanced
And I told you to be kind
And now all your love is wasted
And then who the hell was I?

things that annoy me

2011-08-15T00:34:00.000-07:00

1. myself; when i spell things in such a retarded manner

2. microsoft word, when it viscously (and incorrectly) tells me that im spelling things in a retarded manner

ps. cysteine =/= cystine,

pps. aminoacyl is a legitimate term; and so does peptidyl, transferase, disulphide, unstranslated, and a million other scientific words you're telling me im spelling wrong
pps. i spelled "viciously" wrong again, havent i?

pretty little fool

2011-08-07T01:38:00.000-07:00

"I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool--that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool."

80 or so years later and the world doesnt change that much.

I'm going away; I'm going my way

2011-07-29T07:36:00.000-07:00

(Finally it's my time
To be lonely, and lost, unloved and I can't wait )

But he said, "Slow down, slow down
Think it over, we've all got wretched closets
Silly girl, pride kills more than aids
Lately."

I said, "Come on
I've thought it over,
I don't wanna die here,
I have no desire to get married."

things to do in a flight trip that lasts an eternity

2011-07-11T22:10:00.000-07:00

1. read books. too socially awkward to turn on the reading light. makes one looks like being showered upon a spotlight in a dark room of nothingness full of sleeping people. spotlights are bad.

2. waste away.

3. look around imagining the passengers gradually started dancing along to mr. blue sky. wish life is a fugging musical.

4. remember to put passport in jeans pocket ~~so they can recognise your body later~~.

5. waste away.

6. waste away.

7. sleep, despite lumbar spine irritation.

8. diligently plan an eating spree once the plane lands. hunger was inconveniently induced.

9. waste away.

10. repeatedly inverts ankle and flexes knee to prevent stasis in the (probably turbulent) bloodflow in the veins underneath calf muscles (one must not assume that just because one remembers its name before the exam one shall remember it a few days after. no. one is too ~~stupid~~ forgetful for that) primarily because it may cause pulmonary embolism (read: fatal). note how in certain circumstances one's life is better of not knowing how the body works.

11. listens to part of your world. fight the urge to sing along. bad idea.

12. waste away.

13. waste away.

14. waste away.

there is this song i faintly remember that says SUMMER a lot which i desperately want to know the title of now

2011-07-05T11:26:00.000-07:00

it seems irrelevant, foolish, even, to reflect again on something you believe when you were fifteen. simply because almost everybody was foolish at fifteen. because with all the innocent heart existing for mere fifteen years, i believed no person thought probable of being a significant other deserves your tears; and that when you finally finds someone that does, the act of crying is deemed unnecessary. probably because i grow up with the idea of breaking down into tears is the lowest you can put yourself in a certain human-to-human interaction. now i sort of can catch a glimpse of the grain of truth in that.

i have to admit i dreamt of marrying a writer more than once ~~since holden caulfield is fictional and i wouldn't inflict any hint of notice in his eyes even if he is not~~. probably because of the act of forming words itself somehow convinces me, more than any other ways, the reality of an idea or thought. the way everytime i read a stream of consciousness of a male character (of my idea of a good book) i will fall instantly in love with either the character, the narrator, the author, or any two/three of those. no, not in the a-walk-to-remember-because-it says-what-a-girl-wants-to-hear way. but in the most honest account of how he notices things; little things, real things. not just in the romantic sense, but in a wider, more profound sense. and somehow i instantly translate my fascination of the narration towards the author, because only a person who is able to see the world that way would be able to arrange and rearrange words to describe it. and while i agree with the probability of a person still having such worldview without also possessing the wonderful gift of narrating it, as far as i am concerned, it is always better to be sure.

now enough of this romantic shtuff. i shall have a summer full of words, and god i am nearly mildly pleased.

the star maker says, "it ain't so bad" the dream maker's gonna make you mad

2011-04-11T07:57:00.001-07:00

clutters in my head
moved with every motion
i made

and the vast flat green
houses on horizon
when three are too many
a pause

and the vast hemispheric blue
houses on horizon
when three are too many
a pause

and the golden ray in between
from gases burning
minutes of years away
a breath

and the clutters unmoved
by vibrations and screeching
of the railway below
a long long pause
never too long, never enough

a halt and here we are
back to where they started
the clutters in my head
ready to spring again

little bee

2011-04-02T02:37:00.000-07:00

❒ taken

❒ single

✔ waiting for deathly hallows part two.

a dissection manual and atlas

2011-03-25T01:03:00.000-07:00

feelings are peculiar things. i dont know about others’, but mine are. they sway from one to the other with such ease that you don’t know what happens in the middle, and suddenly you get disgusted by your train of thoughts the moment before. like how the night turns pitch dark outside of the building when you get back from school, when you can swear the sun was there two seconds ago. the sad thing is i know all of them were real, and i wonder what good the contradictions could bring. because till now, having this makes me feel like being at the bottom of a swimming pool or whatever, and scream. just so the suffocation would match. just to prove that you can’t really drown without water, no matter how close it felt like inside of your lungs without it.
like having the desperate need to pack some books and energy bars and go to Nowhere and by the next milisecond nothing outside the blanket is safe enough to be. like acknowledging how bad you need that one person to be there regardless of your stupid egoistic ground rules and countless promises to yourself, and by the next systole of your heart you realize you couldn’t do it. because no matter how you look at it, it seems like in the end, all you are going to have, is yourself. and that sometimes you have to stand alone, just to make sure you still can.
and so it runs in a frightening, vicious, unstoppable, will-i-wont-i cycle youd do anything to cease.

i am. i am. i am.

2011-03-07T14:03:00.000-08:00

i wonder if there really is such a thing as diluting oneself in time and space and countless medical books and the same traffic lights you wait for everyday and that one person that makes you forget everything else (like this need to struggle to place the right words in the right place, to be alone, to wander off the streets and looking up to trace those vapour trails against the blue background, to keep at least one feet onto the firm ground, to die in the weekends and woke up, everytime, with such a start) or whether this is just who i am from the very beginning.

to let the words come and go, falling in and out of my head but with such an absurd speed, like little spiders spinding silk threads of webs, building its form, and then there and then a person yelled, the phone rang, the lecture hall echoed with laughter and just like that they're gone, those little intricate fibres of words, until nothing is left. but the sad cause is not that but the small effort i make everyday to retrieve them, it was nothing near struggle, only those occasional recalls when my mind wander off too far while taking a shower. and then the water turns cold and the reminder of the pile of books full of names of what build us, us in the languages ive never understood and again the search was abandoned. the sad thing is, it doesnt pain me anymore. like a am fully aware of myself letting them go and not being bothered by it.

maybe life gets in the way, maybe being alone makes you lose things that remind you of you, maybe this is just the way i am from the very beginning. all i know is i dont want this. this weird fear of if you turn off everything else from the outside, it would be frighteningly silent in your head.

i hate exams that make you feel like youre running a 1000m race

2011-01-24T12:45:00.001-08:00

dear mama,

i miss you so much. i miss everyone. i miss abah and syaza and syahmi. i miss feeling so safe back home. i miss waking up every morning to the sound of the tv, syaza and syahmi arguing, and you cooking. i miss when i arrive home for the holiday breaks by bus at 4 am in the morning and everybody wakes up and we all sleep together in your room. i miss ironing your uniforms to see how good you look the next morning wearing them. i miss us talking. just, talking.

the haploid copy of your chromosomes, your love, and you.

2011-01-13T04:41:00.000-08:00

remember when i scrubbed the floors outside of the house and refuse to go in till 2 am in the morning when we had that fight? the way we fight almost all the time, probably because we're so different, and more likely because to some extent we are just too similar; the emotional outbursts, the sleeping-can-get-rid-of-everything-ing, the writing of emoistic craps. but he is the one man i would always, always unconditionally love.

like the time when the whole family have a holiday in the highlands and we pass through some indigenous people's village. the pressure difference pressing onto our eardrums, the nausea of being in the car for too long, the chilled tropical atmosphere, the mountains and the trees, the sound of the waterfalls, the feeling of being with everyone you have ever needed in your life.

and we saw some of the villagers sitting around on the ground and rocks of what we would probably call the yard of their huts, about more then ten of them, looking like they are; shirtless, burnt skin, clouds of dust rising from the sand around them as the dogs occasionally walk pass them, the naked little children of theirs running around chasing and petting them. all these among the landscape of the green hills, as if their laughter and chatters are meant to echo across the valley to make the colours brighter.

he slowed down the car and said in his admiring tone "GOD, look at them. no cars, no what we call proper houses, not even clean shirts. but look at them laughing. i mean just look at them. so happy,". he's not really that kind that walks around with a smile on his face, but i never saw that big of his smile.

i miss you abah. i really do.

KEEP CALM, CONTINUE LIVING (please).

2010-12-12T13:33:00.000-08:00

sometimes id rather be heartbroken, to go through my days with such bitterness and determination to make myself stronger. there is purpose. and when i walk, i think of starting over, of going somewhere. there is comfort in running away from something that hurt you, there is power in bottled up feelings of needing distractions.

anyone, anyone.

2010-11-24T12:18:00.000-08:00

"So do what you must do to find yourself
Wear another shoe, paint my shelf"

this is one of those times when id marry a complete stranger if only he says the right words.

work your way out

2010-11-13T00:45:00.000-08:00

i probably should take a ridiculously long hot shower because im getting real edgy and ridiculous, also i need a shower anyway. then maybe start with rearranging the books, thats always the the first thing to do. then the bed sheets. bed sheets, and febreeze. after calling home, preferably. and id pick myself up off the floor if i see some of the pieces lying around along the way. and then maybe microwave last night's dinner. and yes of course, disinfectants. because seeing those dust particles floating about when the light is dim annoys the hell out of me. this might take the whole day, and i may not find any time left for the playground, but whatever.

if i feel a bit more like myself, i might call someone up, anyone, to tell her/him im doing fine.

i hope itd be an okay day. i hope itd be okay- period.

"since feelings first" doesnt apply to me

2010-10-21T10:44:00.000-07:00

For some reason a person that has tried so hard to be able to trust herself enough to be just as independent and detached, calm and composed, forgets. To realize that temporary bliss would not be able to compensate to the constant dependency upon any other human being, especially emotionally. If you could only understand how frustrating that can be.

I am meant to find myself, alone. It’s not something I can afford being distracted from.

This dependency must stop. Now, syarah.

Anyhoo, WHY IS HERE i.e. negara panjajah SO FREAKING COLD UYKFKTDKGGTFKVKTKHKGV! )X

Oh, the state of elation that this unison of hearts achieved
I had seen, I had touched, I had tasted and I truly believed

That the light of my life
Would tear a hole right through each cloud that scudded by
Just to beam on you and I

Love is only a feeling
Drifting away
When I'm in your arms I start believing
It's here to stay
But love is only a feeling
Anyway, anyway

Love is only a feeling
Drifting away
And we've got to stop ourselves believing
It's here to stay
'Cause love is only a feeling
Anyway

stop emoing, start living. hi metabolism!

coconut shells (time is contagious)

2010-09-13T12:48:00.000-07:00

Its funny how all those times it seems like all I wanted to know is if youre still alive. And all I ever wanted for you to do is to beg for forgiveness at my feet and admit how very wrong you were, and acknowledge how im the way I am because of you. And all I wanted for you to say is that you want to start over, right back to the beginning, just for the chance for me to say hellno. I was feeling pretty smart.

But knowing youre still alive was not as dramatic as I expected it to be. And just the word sorry made me realize it was nothing, and okay, I don’t mind really. And I am the way I am because I chose to be so, and Im happy with what I have chosen. And if I were given a thousand times to start over I would let them pass, and if I even have to do it no matter what, id make it through exactly how it has happened. Because now all I want to do is find new songs to listen to, new books to like, be a superdupergood doctor and/or astronaut and daughter and sister and friend and win a nobel prize or start a war and conquer the earth and nearby planets and kill zombies and hellyeah have an awesome life.

I wish you well. Now be gone. :)

There are other things in life

2010-09-02T21:25:00.000-07:00

Like sitting down with a book and mug of hot chocolate quietly, entirely alone, entirely at ease

Like saying I love you to your little sister

Like proper goodbyes

Like being complete retards with your friends, effortlessly reminding you how small the latest muddle in your head has seemed

Like learning about the solar system

Like being a child

Like googling places, determined to be everywhere

Like smiling

Like knowing there are bigger things ahead of you

Like waking up in the middle of the night and going back to sleep next to your mum

Like holding the universe together

Sometimes, I forget.

Memento mori

2010-09-01T21:52:00.000-07:00

I tried all these years to set myself right; to see things as they are, to (at least try my best to) know what I want, stand on my own feet, live and breathe by my own thoughts. Cherish the ones that care, identify the ones that matter. I tried to distract myself from illusions through life, and little by little life became my focus and illusions became the distractions. No there are no brilliant sparks or heroes in my sky, but I manage everyday, and it’s real.

So you cant simply come and sing about fairytales and happy endings and expect them to register around the hardened wall around me. These things takes time love, these things take backbones.

But just when some cracks formed on the wall and my one foot lifted off the ground, your song halted. And I cant find the steady ground anymore. And here I am, feeble again.

scream me a song, eat the tears up

2010-07-27T21:33:00.000-07:00

I wish Ive read every letter that you’ve read; listened to every syllable that you’ve heard; saw every hint of colour of vision that blows your mind; understand every nuance of truth/lie/knowledge/whateveritispeoplecallit that you’ve known. And, and always say what I meant to say. And be, for the first time, somehow right for you. But we both know even THAT would not be enough, and that this is all there is.

5:18 p.m. July 21, 2010

you know somethings wrong with you when you leave two months to pass by being charmingly unproductive, unless if you count contributing inflows to Kimberly-Clark for the amount of kleenex thats being used. suck it up syarahafiqah, youre better than this.

folding chair

2010-07-18T00:30:00.000-07:00

There is a reason that kept some people to live in the woods or by a small backyard with creeping vines with a small well with cool spring water, or a small house in the middle of a rice field. The same reason that kept someone to choose to live in a tiny apartment in the middle of a big city, in love. Maybe you and them or most people don’t understand, but there is still that reason.

and this is when i say i miss everyone i.e. m08c freaks.

suck it up, smile.

2010-07-08T22:05:00.000-07:00

She knows sometimes she says nonsensical unnecessary things. She searched through the words in her head, arranged and rearranged them, repeat some and switched the places. She read it again and again and revised and rearranged and rearranged. But the words were still all ugly, feeble, confusing, and she looked at them in awe.

And then she said them; not for you to understand, nor did she ever expect you to. She said them because I swear she would explode if she didnt.

like listening to the beatles the first time

2010-06-29T23:24:00.000-07:00

she has heard you told that story a few times before, all in the same way. but if she doesnt tell, you wouldnt know. and she gets to hear it again, and possibly again. and god was it such a happy thought.

the tissue papers will drain the ink, if i may.

2010-06-29T23:00:00.000-07:00

problem is, they mean differently to everybody and no ones ever wrong.

problem is, things are too confusing when you think, too much when you speak, too little when you know, too ugly when you understand, and too sad when you write.

problem is, there is no one to blame for anything. so everyone gets the wrong people who points at all the wrong directions.

problem is, nobody knows what they want so they started to want everything.

problem is, nobody remembers anything so they forget everything.

problem is, even when i/you/we/they/he/she/it say(s) i/you/we/they/he/she/it know(s), i/you/we/they/he/she/it do(es)'nt.

problem is, i write you ambiguous things too general to be valid and too specific to relate to.

problem is, thats not the point

2010-06-03T02:56:00.000-07:00

thats not the ~~fucking~~ freaking point. GOD.

shiny magazines

2010-05-30T09:12:00.000-07:00

You take the news. You take those TV news or the newspaper articles or those pretty shiny magazines. And I swear fictional books seem more real to me than anything else.

At least they speak the truth about their subjects. That if a character gulped down the milk he did gulp it down. Not sipping or drinking or anything. At least in fictional books when someone do something, they tell us the truth, not the exaggerated or understated version of it.

Interior

2010-05-07T02:03:00.000-07:00

Her mind lives in a quiet room,
A narrow room, and tall,
With pretty lamps to quench the gloom
And mottoes on the wall.

There all the things are waxen neat
And set in decorous lines;
And there are posies, round and sweet,
And little, straightened vines.

Her mind lives tidily, apart
From cold and noise and pain,
And bolts the door against her heart,
Out wailing in the rain.

Dorothy Parker

i guess the most reckless thing to do right now is letting anyone in, but whatever.

sweet and low

2010-04-25T01:16:00.000-07:00

no ones giving up quite yet weve got, too much to lose.

one thing about walls is, youd crash into it right after you finish building it

2010-04-16T23:41:00.000-07:00

could be, my veins are filled with gasoline; dramatic, indescribable, all over the place.
but youre not made of fireworks
you cant burn me down, the way you cant make me shine.
you cant make me all sparkly.
you cant even make me glow.

hell, you cant even see the connection.

dettol

2010-04-03T21:23:00.000-07:00

You were right in front of me. But already, you were a memory. Standing there, I could reach out to you. Fake a smile; crack a joke, eyes gleaming with “it’s fine”, “it’s okay”. But I looked down and write down those little things instead; the details that I overanalyzed, again and again. Intricacies people would never want to read. I wrote every word like I miss every second of it. And then you were gone, just like that. I looked up, still drenched with the vivid images, when you flew away. And all I could do, was try to sit still.

those times

2010-04-02T20:53:00.000-07:00

The times when the right amount of light beaming upon the bed, the comforter, the sound of the moving fan, a deep breath, could make your insides smile. The times a while before we are pleading for more. The times when the greener grass on the other sides, existed unnoticed. Those times.

clueless piece of shite

2010-04-01T02:00:00.000-07:00

Its not cruelty that kill us all. Its not selfishness, conflicts, self-doubts, chances and probabilities, recklessness, imperfections, emotions, pathogens, toxic, rain or the sun.
It’s not knowing.
Clueless as a piece of crap.

The way we feed on each others’ insecurities.
The way we throw that glances that scream everything, everything, everything is because of you;
is you.
The way the silence burns inside of our mouths on the skin of our tongue
Like a language.
The way we repeat those words
One after another
One after another
One after another
Until it becomes the truth, or until we are not sure if it is
Or until the whole world is singing along.
It’s not much because of selfishness, but of
In the end,
all you have is yourself.

maybe

2010-03-29T20:59:00.000-07:00

what she has wondered all along, is why the things she wrote doesnt really give a clue of the craps she's going through in her painfully monotonous life. people write to tell. but half of the mess that was typed in, or scribbled on in the middle of some chemistry class (focus drifting, flying, slipping away) makes no sense to anyone really. makes no sense to her, sometimes. so she started to try to slip in some senses in those words she so urgently jot down, saying "relate, relate, relate. be comprehend-able.". but it doesnt feel right. it feels, bounded, restricted, until nothing was even worth running to grab a pen for.

maybe those words are not meant for just her. maybe, maybe, however nonsensical those scattered sentences are, somehow, someone, i, you, we, they, he, she can find some to recount to. maybe not. not that she'll ever stop.

she talks in contradictions

2010-03-16T07:13:00.000-07:00

when you put 'details in the fabric' on repeat

2010-03-13T07:56:00.000-08:00

it means you have to get a life. or get off the bed and stop rotting away. or stop reading the same book over and over again just because the LOVE OF YOUR LIFE WTH likes that book. so my ~~love~~ life is lousy.

in an ideal world id marry an architect or some freaking boring guy with royal blood and settle down, and there would be no more wars and illness and id quit my job as a doctor because doctor would be a painfully boring career without patients, and travel around the world and write books people never never going to read and have some nice kids whose id lock up in a huge private library and teach them to write and read myself and wed learn two thousand new languages and start up a rock and roll band or something. okay, maybe a band without the kids. but kids are cute so. i wish i am sixteen. i feel so freakishly OLD ~~and depressed~~.

thats why i hate it when mama starts to get me to sit down and talk about The Future.

you are a story i cant seem to stop telling

2010-02-27T23:50:00.000-08:00

In a parallel universe, where different choices are made, we’d go to the same college we nearly went into. On weekends youd lean awkwardly against the lamp post and id mock your strange posture as I walk down the road. And wed walk to get some nice food at the cafeteria and I never get over how tall you are standing next to me. We’d argue about whether or not my chemical romance is overrated and laugh at each other’s faces. We’d talk about all the things we ever wanted to be, about how you’d be in the sky and id be in books. And we’d be best friends because we hate the rest of the world. We’d live like that forever.

But in this one, I’d just do my things, and you’d do yours. We went to separate schools and forget things about each other, each every day. One day I’d tend to the ills, and you’d tend to airplanes. We’d both be on the ground, solid and alive. And I meet people and have many friends, and so do you. And if we’d ever meet again, we’d smile and say we’d known each other, and it’d be beautiful. We’ll change and grow up, and die and leave families and friends behind.

Until then, whatever.

image by ~harebrained

yes, i would like to broadcast that ive suffered every minute of today

2010-02-24T04:22:00.000-08:00

thanks for .

happy birthday.

you dont grunt when people ask you questions, you speak.

2010-02-20T09:18:00.000-08:00

Remember when ~~you were the boat and I was the sea, and together we float so delicately~~ we fed on each other's insecurities like two filthy leeches and by the time we finished we were swelled with too much confidence that we were too numb to notice how or when we burst, hearts inside out? I do.

okay, so

2010-02-14T07:09:00.000-08:00

i know it seems like sometimes i care, and sometimes i dont. but that doesnt mean i dont care. it means that sometimes i care, and sometimes i dont. ~~live with that.~~ :)

image by dear-ambellina

oh, pilot can you make this last?

2010-02-06T01:03:00.000-08:00

what is it again that you want to be?. i never said what i want to be. yeah?. yeah. you laughed. what then?. oh, i dunnoe. dont give me the i dunnoe shit. what you wanna be? married to a filthy rich bump with royal blood or something. write stories people wont want to read. i mean the cheesy what-i-want-to-be-when-i-grow-up stuff. oh, a doctor. maybe. it was the first thing that came up on my mind. no way, you just gonna do that for money. what the hell? no. you laughed. but you like to write. yea, and i will. i wouldnt read any of your excessively emotive books. we'll see.

i wanted you to know. that i loved the way you laugh. ~~i want(ed) to hold you high and steal your pain away~~

sometimes life goes on and people keep forgetting things. like where you put the used tissue paper. like when you shouldve been home. like the chorus of your once favourite song. like the fact that bombs won't bring love, only more blood and morbid stories. like words can kill. like how adults are evil. its like even when you tried so hard to keep remembering things, youd forget something along the way anyway. like how she keeps reminding herself on how you look like, how you walk, how your eyes shine and how your hair fell out in its helplessly messy way. how you talk and (hardly) smile and drop your things when you get too nervous. but every single time it feels like she is trying a bit too hard. and every time she doubts more and more of the truthfulness of the facts she has believed for so long. and then as natural as the milk white clouds scudding by, she forgets. but some things stay. like what she wants to be when she "grows up".

what if i didnt forget passion like you did?

p/s : fiction.

don't call people stupid, stupid

2010-02-01T05:28:00.000-08:00

i think it's about time to stop the nonsense. i think im better off on my own. i think people should stop giving labels to what they feel. i think if people ask "how are you feeling right now?" we should just ~~stab the moron repeatedly~~ punch them in the face. because the truth is people don't really feel "happy" or "sad" or "angry". they just want to give what they are feeling something to call so it'd not be that scary anymore.

the feeling of sleeping on the fresh laundry on a cloudy sunday afternoon.
the feeling of not knowing enough words
the feeling of searching for the right word
the feeling of trying too hard
the feeling of listening to the rain when your chest hurts for not crying
the feeling of writing incomplete mixed up words and phrases
the feeling of everyone you knew changing
the feeling of not fitting into clothes
the feeling of watching a little sister growing up
the feeling of waking up too early in the morning not knowing what to do
the feeling of eating toast with hazelnut spread when it rains
the feeling of trying to catch one's eyes when s/he looks away
the feeling of watching little kids running
the feeling of hearing the forgotten favourite song on the radio at night
the feeling of being wrong
the feeling of standing in a crowd
the feeling of having to curse at nice people
the feeling of not knowing where someone is
the feeling of thinking it is okay when it is not
the feeling of expecting a simple cheap stupid reply text
the feeling of not getting the stupid reply
the feeling of getting older
the feeling of forgetting the words of your favourite song
the feeling of eating too much chocolate or chocolate milk or ice cream
the feeling of seeing dirt rising when dusting the window panes
the feeling of not knowing what is happening
the feeling of looking around a tidied and sanitized room
the feeling of wanting to start over
the feeling of being home
the feeling of being home when everyone falls asleep in front of the tv
the feeling of missing people from high school
the feeling of having too much thoughts that they tangle and scatter around
the feeling of not having any thoughts at all.

hi. im syarah and i think id just say "im okay" or "im not okay" or "i dont know" instead of killing people and go to jail or being perceived as violent or something :)

nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love

2010-01-24T08:12:00.000-08:00

"gosh, she's so dumb," I rolled my eyes before fixing them again on then screen, caught between the sensation to laugh and sigh ~~or cry~~.

"haha, by right she is," Lily said. We laughed while eating more of the nasi lemak.

"I mean he's her friend. who the hell falls for her own freaking friend?" I was quite surprised my eyeballs didn't fall off for rolling them so much.

"woa, emo much? she's a girl, syarah. and sixteen, everyone's dumb at sixteen,"

Point taken. I was sixteen. I was dumb.

But you never really tell me anything.

Anyway, my point is, after all these IB shitties I swear I'd eat up all my EE/IA/WorldLit/ToK/WhatNot drafts. ALL OF THEM! Grrr...

p/s : except for the fact that you are still the same moron, im quite glad youre still alive. [18th January 2010]

screw interviews, eat waffles :)

2010-01-07T04:01:00.000-08:00

Dear you,

No im not going to start on the nauseating You are a part of me or I don’t know who id be if I hadn’t met you, but there you go. But as big as a jerk as yourself, I am somewhat thankful I knew you years ago. Cause otherwise I am most likely not being introduced to the best (book and) quote to live for. For now, at least. And oh oh, I’m sorry I’m quoting your favourite part. =P

"I thought what I'd do was, I'd pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes. That way I wouldn't have to have any goddam stupid useless conversations with anybody. If anybody wanted to tell me something, they'd have to write it on a piece of paper and shove it over to me.” -The Catcher in The Rye, somewhere in the last chapter or second last chapter or similar.

I could then only imagine how my medical interview would be like. In that clammy cold room with such a completely awkward and suffocating atmosphere, I’d stare blankly into the interviewer(s)'s eyes. I’d just smile, and pretend I am not at all nervous or anything. I’d just smile and wait when one of them took a piece of paper from the edge of the table, take out her/his expensive-looking black pen and begin scratching some craps on the paper. She/he would then hand out, with the most polite expression, the paper to me. I’d just smile. I mean I’d just smile and pretend I am not at all nervous or anything. I’d gracefully (composed as hell) unfold the paper, trying to make sense of the neat slanted handwriting

Introduce yourself.

And what I’d do, I’d just smile (and yes, pretend I am not at all nervous or anything) and start taking out my three bucks black pen, and oh well

ten feet under and upside down

2010-01-02T23:47:00.000-08:00

HELP

it's 3rd january

that's why don't understand why i feel so bad now that i know it was my idea

2009-12-29T03:06:00.000-08:00

i hereby declare my new most-favourite-pair-of-jeans.

a do-not-have-to-unbutton-to-take-off larger ~~size 11 instead of 9~~ jeans. so that itd make me feel better about myself.

...

sigh

i thought a normal human being would feel better changing to a smaller favourite pair of jeans

but then again that's it

NORMAL.

which reminds me i have to recall since when do i become such a (typical ~~clingy attention seeking~~ whatnot) girl

gedik la syarah!

~~go kill yourself man~~

feminist kunun.

say "don't hold yourself like that, you'd hurt your knees"

2009-12-25T19:16:00.000-08:00

and i'd fall in love instantly

no kidding.

are there volcanoes on the martian surface?

2009-12-20T22:04:00.000-08:00

I know what i should do. I should start preparing for my (freaking) medical interview. I should start continuing my unspeakable struggle with my extended essay draft, which has been abandoned for about a thousand years. I should flip through my statistics portfolio, and start planning for the second part. I should maybe start with my second written task. Or at least I should stop feeling sorry for myself and start rummaging my handbag for a bar of snickers i have lost about half of a year ago.

You see.

I have this book. It's called MEDICAL SCHOOL INTERVIEW ("A practical guide to help you to get that place at Medical School. Over 150 questions analysed"), written by some consultant surgeon or communication consultant or something. It's supposed to like, save you tremendous amount of time and prepare you for a better psychoanalytical interview sessions. Only that, it makes me feel even depressed than I naturally am. Have anyone ever told you they have a framework structure for interviews? It's called "TAGS" framework. You know, like SWOT analysis in business, only you are supposed to form this TAGS framework inside of your head within a few seconds while the evil looking psychoanalysing interviewer is staring at you, your sweat glands secreting gallons and gallons of fluids like that hippo i saw at the zoo, only, well, you're not at the zoo, but in a cold frosty clammy awkward interview room.

Anyway.

So I was working to the full capacity of my neurons and of my emotional health allow me to read through the questions. They have like, this little boxes showing you examples of an "ineffective" answer and another box to show you the "effective" one. If I didn't feel like puking while reading the "effective" boxes or notice that all my spontaneous answers are somewhat similar of the "rubbish-you-would-never-get-a-place-at-a-medical-school-this-way" boxes answers, I would never acquire myself the most important fact about myself, something I should have discovered since kindergarten or earlier; I was born to screw interviews.

All my life I never wish to be anyone else. Well unless you count Mulan at the age of twelve and a (secret) superhero(ine) at the age of six. I am profoundly happy with who I am, no matter how sucky or untalented or miserable myself is. But now I know what I really want. I want to be a doctor. I really, really, really, sincerely want to be a doctor. This is quite recent. The moment I step trough the open gates of the wretched world of kmbot, I have no idea what to become of me. I was seriously against (and rather cynical about) the "passion of being a doctor, helping people to reduce sufferings, yadaa yadaa..." Now it's taking it's toll on me. Never be too sarcastic on your insight of the world, people, or you'd end up wanting to be the exact thing, against all values as a person you are. I thought they teach you that on Disney channel.

Now I wish I am not me. I wish I am a smart and organised person, and have the ability to charm people with the way I talk, mesmerise them with my intense vocabulary and sentence structures, rich in reliable facts and figures. I wish I really am interested in reading all those scientific and medical articles about cancer cells or telomeres and enzyme telomerase in the chromosomes, or at least have long enough attention span to sustain that interest until the end of the article. I wish i am not so superficial+shallow+whateveryouwannacallit and emotionally-driven. I wish I didn't really feel like fainting and being asked to lie down that time when they let a woman with a miscarriage (blood everywhere) into the emergency room during my hospital attachment. I wish I didn't have nightmares about Stuart Little Jr., Jr.'s intestines the night after his dissection. I wish I didn't betray myself to suddenly want to be a doctor for real. I wish I didn't witness the birth of a beautiful baby boy, wonders and hopes born together with his small mass. I wish I didn't touch his tiny toes and smile at his two minutes existence. I wish I am a Martian. ("Greetings, earthlings!")

Because now, since against most of my nature and intellectual abilities I recently honestly want to be a doctor, I don't even know how to pull myself and my words together to explain or even convince myself why.

My cranberry lip balm stain on my favourite pair of jeans

2009-12-13T08:27:00.000-08:00

It could be when I started folding the picnic mat, as the sky wept mercilessly on the back of my neck. It could be when I sat on the stairs, gazing up the orange glow of the clouds covering my December stars. Or when the sound of the falling rain gets louder and louder, and it breaks my timid heart to just sit there and wait.

Anyway.

In all honesty I am not quite sure when the thoughts started, but it was then when I really was sure I should have just kept the promise that I made for myself. Like the endless waiting for my December fireworks show, the bliss and anxiousness, the hopes and fears, the promises, promises; like waiting for anything at all, like thinking out loud while walking down the hallways, I should be doing it alone. Like going through these two years, I declared to keep it to myself. Stop being such a narcissist, Syarah, no one needs to know what you eat, what you are doing, what you are writing, what you are feeling.

Because just like when the night clouds started to take form and marched gracefully to hide my stars, it bothers just about none other, really. My stars would not fade, that I know of, but the seasons shall change. Because I know myself enough to know that I am not composed and collected enough to lose anything. Anything at all, a sheet of my tissue paper, my hand sanitizer, my (not even favourite) book; my anything, my anyone. I am far too afraid to want anything, I’d just settle for less.

I would not fight for this, I'd just sit back and watch like a coward. No, honey, I'd just let it be.

plants and zombies

2009-12-08T08:22:00.000-08:00

I vowed to sleep at twelve. There is another ten minutes till midnight, so I thought I’d just write. I know what I should do. I should maybe go on reading statistics notes up till it’s time. I should start on my TOK essay; ten minutes is worth brainstorming and structuring, at least. Or I should, I should be cleaning my room for clearance, or reading Chemistry in advance, to avoid the predictable headache later. My essay writing skills in chemistry is a mess, and I have not yet found an effective method for me to systematically arrange what I know into a compact yet complete essay depicting in details my understanding about some ionization energy or something. Whatever.

But I choose to write.

I choose to write because I wanted to. It’s been so long since I do something because I wanted to. It’s always been about the big picture. What would be the consequences, would this destroy a planet within the next galaxy somehow? Chaos theory, my ass. The fact is as confusing a person as I am, I know a few things about myself;

1. Thinking about useful things makes me tired, so do planning things obsessively. I love thinking, and I do that a lot. But I don’t really think about the next political agenda of some country’s stereotypical leader, or on how to stop poverty in the world. Sure, I think about global warming spontaneously, and thinking about people suffering makes me feel sad and depressing and helpless as hell. But I don’t think of that systematically, rationally or something, it’s more to what I feel, not how it affect the structure of society or something.

2. I focus on the details which seem to the rest of the world as unimportant, but miss out very urgent things in everyday life, like the name of the girl I talked and laughed with a while ago, for instance.

3. I hate people. I just do. Every time I’m standing in the crowd I feel lost and I can’t breathe. Not literally, but you get what I mean.

4. I get happy over the simplest things, like the street lamps shining, and depressed over as simple things as well, like the colour of my GodBlessedCalculator. Call me a simpleton, I don’t mind.

This is probably the most direct entry I have ever wrote, but it’s past midnight. So goodnight, you, whoever is bored enough to read this crap till the end. I miss home, and the sound of the television when everyone else is asleep and Syaza’s right next to me, sleeping so soundly and it feels so safe you not need to care about anything.

Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
To be thinking of you
It's the wrong time
For somebody new
It's a small crime
And I've got no excuse

cannonball

2009-12-06T01:11:00.000-08:00

I have not much idea of what I feel right now, much less on what they’re going to be. Either way, don’t change. Because I am so bloody scared. Of you. Of me. I am probably the most bloody coward person alive, but I don’t care. Just don’t change.

It’s pathetic to not get over someone’s attention, but even more to start to get used to somebody else’s.

Me, the attention seeker. Selfish, narcissistic immature me. Go away go away go away. Itoldyousoitoldyousoitoldyouso

FOCUS ON YOUR EXAM, Syarah Afiqah Yusoff. (or perish and take your ridiculous distracting thoughts somewhere else)

You see, that's not exactly the point

2009-12-01T19:06:00.000-08:00

The point is, I am now fully capable of producing artificial emotions and responses, I was even convinced it's okay to let my guard down once in a while. The truth is nothing ever worth letting your guard down. I am not an object to be repaired, and some things are simply not meant to be replaced. Nor reincarnated in another entity.

p/s : I am fine and as calm as a human being can be.
p/p/s : It is depressing to not know enough words to say what you have to say.
p/p/p/s : It's December. This is scary

damn my situation and the games i have to play
with all the things caught in my mind
damn my education i can't find the words to say
with all the things caught in my mind
i don't want to be there when you're coming down
i don't want to be there when you hit the ground

because this is the closest to writing

2009-11-27T04:27:00.000-08:00

Lose You - Pete Yorn

I’m taking a ride off to one side
It is a personal thing.
Where?
When I can’t stand
Up in this cage I’m not regretting.

I don’t need a better thing,
I’d settle for less,
It’s another thing for me,
I just have to wander through this world
Alone.

Stop before you fall
Into the hole that I have dug here,
Rest even as you
Are starting to feel the way I used to,
I don’t need a better thing
(Just to sound confused)
Don’t talk about everyone,
I am not amused by you.

I’m gonna lose you,
Yes I’m gonna lose you
If I’m gonna lose you,

I’m gonna lose you,
Yes I’m gonna lose you
If I’m gonna lose you
I’ll lose you now for good

If I have a genie I’d request the whole vocabulary of (at least) Malay and English Language

2009-11-26T20:08:00.001-08:00

Pain is not being able to write when you want to.

The sadness of not knowing enough words to say what you feel

It kills.

Oh my Holden (can't you see)

2009-11-14T18:06:00.000-08:00

Oh my Holden can't you see
how very much like you am I to be?

When "people are objects" like you said they are
exist "to fulfil my social needs"
or when my feelings bottled up inside
get bitter and butter as I breathe them out

Oh my Holden can't you see
How very much like you am I to be?

For I am so afraid of a broken ~~heart~~ pride
I froze it silent deep inside
and all the words I thought and speak
the regrets they have made me weak

Oh my Holden can't you see
how very much like you am I to be?

but I am not you
and you are nothing like me
no matter how composed;
I am still me

So oh my Holden come and see
how I shall grow up being only me.

Note to self

2009-11-07T23:37:00.000-08:00

1. I am composed
2. I am sexist+feminist+whateveryouwannacallit
3. I am a non-conformist
4. I am happy
5. My happiness is independent of any human being
6. I am okay
6. No one push me around (and survived)
7. I am happy
8. I am okay
9. I am happy
10. I am okay
11. Essentially, I don't care

enough said.

Definition of

2009-10-27T04:10:00.000-07:00

shittyday [shĭt'ē·dā] plural : shittydays adj. : shittyday·ish

vulgar slang;

1.

n. A day when the word shitty (see page 176) uttered by the surrounding population pass the frequency threshold of normality.

n. A day when chemistry, statistics and pure mathematics (not in dictionary) are chosen to be placed, subsequently or not, on the timetable of the day.

n. A day when nothing else but sleeping and eating matters.

For all of the above, see ultrashittyday (page 376)

drop the curtain, i'm happy and naïve

2009-10-24T08:37:00.000-07:00

I’ve probably wrote hundreds of stories about this; some in bits and pieces, some as lengthy as a drama series can be. Each of them is a different version of another. Yet it is not the truth that have been altered, it’s the mind of the person that the words originated from. Because lies don’t soothe, even when there is no comfort in truth.

You see.

One thing about high school years is back then, we never listen. Like when he said “stop being so nice” a zillion times you still be helplessly nice. I might call it idiocy. I might call it innocence. I might call it naivety. However the case you know a couple of years later that nice is the worst thing to be. And you laugh as yourself, a bit bitterly. Because a couple of years later you discovered who you was is exactly the kind of genre that you hate. The kind that even in comedy or melodrama, always ends up being the victim. Recklessly pure, pathetically honest.

But I am not going to waste yet another chance of hitting the keyboard just to conform to what he said, nor do I want to start grieving over my own immaturity. Going as far as denying the person I was in the past is somehow too cowardly for me. What I can never comprehend is that, the more I think about it, the crueler you become. Like I said, this is not the usual retell of the story. I would not even bother with the details of the revolting high school drama.

Because you should have some mercy
Because you should excuse the innocence radiated from her face
You should have at least considered her age
Before painting it black,
You should think about the state of her naked heart
Before carving the immaturity away,
You should sense that the sculpture itself is breaking
Before dropping all the wrong lines,
You should note the sound of the smile in her voice

By the name of logic I shouldn’t even be able to recall what happened, let alone still overanalyzing his words. But I find it a useful reflection as I go on. It reminds me of how far I have come. You know while you are watching a stupid drama; you note the girl’s face as she speaks without even trying to compose her frank emotions and you know right away how the ending would be. And it makes you sad, because you know someone in that scene should have some mercy. Someone should excuse the innocence on her face, or the smile in her voice.

It's been years and I am not nice anymore honey, but that doesn’t make you right.

p/s : i think i got the sense beaten out of me about hyun joong/ji hoo/whateverhisrealidentityis when i found out he can't even really play the violin. yet the fact remains that he is somehow an interesting fictional character, in a fictional character kind of way.

p/s/s : the fact that i want to fall-in-love-but-not-get-married to some artistic guy who can play a violin still remains as well. oh let me be a dreamy immature teenager for a while more.

Stargirl

2009-10-09T21:17:00.000-07:00

I might as well invent a theory. Or rebuild an established one. Or refine, or alter or destruct, for that matter. It’s called “never read a high school-ish book just after class in one go up till maghrib because you might get a splitting headache afterwards, and if not, the ridiculous wish to be young and fall in love for the first time again. You might get both. MIGHT."

If I could relive those days; I know that one thing that would never change.

And you might feel sad.

And old.

And ~~confused~~ a whole lot mature.

Now yay to growing up! – back to my sexist+feminist+wutevauwannacallit self.

[you were not my holden caufield]100x

2009-09-26T09:24:00.000-07:00

jd salinger would feel insulted if you were.

anyway. i have no idea why the fact that this is syawal and you would somehow relate. or why i am breaking my not-so-solemn vow.

but i was staring outside the window of the car when everyone else but abah was sleeping and i could see the lightning struck from between the clouds, bringing an instant glow, long enough to fade the surrounding stars. there were three of them. the moon was half-full. anyway that was just when i wonder how we came to be this way. i mean i am just the same. and you are, too. we're just. well. lead different lives. nothing is wrong with that. i mean nothing is wrong with that.

but it annoyed the hell out of me anyway and the song i was listening to was not making it any better. i mean why do things have to make sense a few years after it happened. i mean if i comprehend this earlier it would be more bearable.

so i said i was done stalking like some stupid maniac who couldn't just grow up and get over things. but surprisingly i'm glad i did. ~~stalking~~ viewing those pics, i mean. because it reminds me of how happy you are and that kind of makes me feel less annoyed. i mean it makes me feel better. i mean less annoyed. and it reminds me of what i have ahead and what choice do i have anyway?

i mean nothing is wrong with it. you being happy, that is. nothing wrong at all.

p/s : i just wish a stranger isn't living in my room right now. and sleeping on my bed. not that i consider the place mine or anything. whatever.

sometimes when i was staring at the bird's nest on my classroom window pane just behind the air-conditioner's ventilator, i feel like screaming

2009-09-21T07:39:00.000-07:00

it happens when i caught a glimpse of the little kids playing at the kindergarten yard on my way to classes as well, which is about every morning.

to tell anyone the truth those are the only times when i am obviously myself at school. i call the place school because it feels more or less that way, except for the vital elements that make me feel like myself.

sometimes i wonder when this is going to end, and whether i'll still be me if it ever will. honestly i'm scared. it's not that i never explain it to anyone, i tried. it didn't sound right.

it's like losing oneself, and is completely aware of it, having no idea how to stop it.

don't get this wrong. i feel a whole lot mature. i am a lot more rational and calm and reserved. i like the fact that i can hold back whatever i am feeling and ignore it. or that i have loads of friends to share my life here with, the whole reason i can bear the days. but sometimes when i look at their faces i can't stop wishing they know me. the real one.

i know i did not just enroll to the place yesterday, but looking back i can swear it happened somewhere along last week.

there. i tried. i wonder where the birdie's nest has gone.

raya.

2009-09-19T08:16:00.000-07:00

The thing is. Sometimes going out for a raya shopping is probably not such a healthy idea for your brain, even after you've just finished your business commentary and it really feels like a zillion years since you last go out on a family (like all really are there, even syaza) outing.

Anyway.

She doesn't have a slightest idea when people starts to annoy her so much. For some reasons as simple as existing. Like she even loathe the fact that she was really sharing oxygen with probably half of the world population which suddenly decided to go out browsing at the same row of shops on the same hour of the day, making the walkaway felt like inside a sardine can. Only warmer. Well she always hated crowds, but the murderous sensation is kind of new.

Like the sight of that girl with tonnes of foundation pasted on every inch of the face as if as that would make it flawless, which might as well be forgivable, if not for that twice the amount of rose red blusher on both of her cheeks.

So she kept walking anyway, contemplating the fact that she was getting all judgmental towards other human beings these days while effectively holding back the urge to vomit to the sight of a middle-aged man blissfully exhaling one kg of cigarette smoke containing the perfect mixture of incompletely burnt toxic waste onto his tiny girl's cute little face. She bet dozens of her lung cells was mutating already.

Stop noticing things so much. Otherwise people starts to annoy you.

This is scary. I liked the times when she was hell ignorant better. At least seeing other homo sapiens doing their normal activities didn't send the chill down her spine.

Nevertheless she loved the fact that her bro (finally) find a samping which he could fit in. Or that they really did have gone out raya shopping together, with no other stupid ib thingies over her head.

Oh well.

HAPPY RAYA EVERYONE.
HAVE AN AWESOME EID MUBARAK THIS YEAR =)

dear you,
happy eid mubarak
have a nice day
~~i miss you~~
i wish you well

no of course u can't help it, honey, it's WHO YOU ARE.

2009-09-13T02:05:00.000-07:00

i've said enough.

you know the scariest thing?

2009-08-27T15:41:00.000-07:00

is when your mum tries to girl-talk you into boyfriends.
and The Future.
and marriage.

Spare me.
When you think the two nights in a row nightmares about giving birth to a pair of twins and being trapped in a half-forced marriage in which you're allowed to tell none of your best friends about by your own future mother-in-law is scary, just think again.

"ma, i don't do bfs"

or maybe i should spit out the fact that I don't need to. Or that you can't even be serious with guys these days (without knowing it late enough he's the jerk-of-the-year and your heart is crashing on the floor, struggling to move on, yadaa yadaa). Been there, done that. Nuh-uh, not pretty.

por favor lahhh. why do everyone seems to be bringing this freaking topic up these days? WE'RE GOD-BLESSED NINETEEN, PEOPLE! There must be much more to life. Like being filthy rich or saving the ozone layer or creating world peace or winning a Nobel prize.

and I'm not even eighteen yet. Yea maybe I'm a feminist. Or sexist, or wutevauwannacallit. Urgh.

Oh sorry did i say bullshite

2009-08-22T22:21:00.001-07:00

I used to be love drunk
But now I’m hung over
Love you forever
Forever is over

One day I'd drive a hybrid and name it Tommy. So this is how it feels to write something non-academic-business-commentary-English-proficiency-test-essay -some-world’s-issue-and-how-it-affects-the-society-stuff again. It feels so good to not care. It feels so good to not bother. It feels good to just be happy over the little things in life. It feels good to just be yourself and don’t give a shit to anything else. It feels good to just try and be it. It felt good to see the real you, honey, and lost interest.

I love looking at the clouds and sometimes talk ridiculously about it. I don’t know much about things. I dislike warm weather and air-conditioners in one brain. I hate dust and sticky hands. I think germs can fly. I have no idea why my favourite colour constantly changes. And I do think being obviously nice is lame. Everytime I drive through the highway and see the billboard with most of my ex-classmates’ faces on it, I miss my early high school. I get confused every now and then. I am a terrible speller and have one centimeter cube volume of vocabulary in my head but i love to write anyway. I laugh when I feel like it. And hell yea, I curse. GOD. Honey, I am not you.

Why bother trying? Bullshit to all that says opposite attracts. There’s a huge gap between being complementary and opposite. And there’s something called dictionary.

I refuse to care about what you may think of me. I am officially exhausted enough to stop creating who I want you to see.

THIS IS ME.

I may not even find my full-laid pristinely defined identity yet, but heck, who cares.

When the internet breaks down while facebooking, it means you just.have.to.finish.your.business.IA.

2009-08-16T19:35:00.000-07:00

The thing is, I smiled truthfully. (enough)

So I have decided to stop being so damn sadistic and pessimistic which I started to be ever since I'm here in kmbot and start being a little bit like my true self, yet clearly it's easier said than done. And I am trying to at least write things in a straight-forward-non-poetic kinda way and i think i'm failing miserably but anyhow.

It's freaking hard to just look forward for the holidays when you have a zillion obstacles ahead. Like for instance an english speaking+written test and a business internal assessmet which was supposed to be hand in 48 hours ago and oh and an english oral presentation that I have no idea when to start structuring the whole thing and english written task which is supposed to be fun to begin with except that I have just HAVE to start with the bms IA first which I ended up facebooking and blogging, and i bet a couple of lab reports would just pop out along the way so HOW IN THE WORLD SHOULD I BE THE HAPPY OPTIMISTIC GIRL I HAVE BEEN TWO WEEKS AGO? (or was it a week? three, maybe. god.)

"I know He would not give me things I can't possibly handle. I'm just figuring out why He trusts me so much"

I guess I'm better off with my old writing style.

three cheers for tyranny, unapologetic apathy.

2009-07-22T05:41:00.000-07:00

For quite some time it seems like I haven’t be able to feel anything. I follow life as I have to be, and be a good girl. Well time passes, even when it seems impossible. Maybe this is growing up. Maybe it’s just me. Being distant, vacant, and indifferent to everything that happens before you always look like it’s the safest thing to do. It’s true, and I can’t do anything to deny that. Calm, composed and self-possessed. It feels like some kind of energy, power, (however different the two are), flowing through your veins as you seem to be able to ignore, even shut your feelings up. But then you mess up.

Because something hits so hard you just have to let it out. You try and you try but nothing ever comes out. Your expressions lifeless, ‘calm’, and for some ridiculous yet unknown reason your tear gland won’t seem to function anymore, sending some sort of message to your chest to start aching like hell. Well pardon my lack of scientific knowledge, as oppose to the fact that I kept telling the world I want to be a doctor one day. I am a young adult; I don’t collapse over some stupid childish reason, I don’t fell apart over some simple longing to escape, I don’t weep over something as plain as reality. But yet why does it feels like something is stuck somewhere, and GOD, why does it hurts not to cry.

Pfffft...

2009-07-15T01:59:00.000-07:00

What if without you pouring out your philosophical insights of the world, I can search for my own?

What if without you defining me, I can create who I want to be?

What if without your lies lifting me up from the ground, I might survive well from the pain of falling down to the truth?

What if without your mundane good lucks, I can go through every single question, every single lesson, every single crisis, or basically every single day?

What if without you lifting a single finger the sun still shine, the sky is still blue, the earth spins, and consequently, the time passes?

What if without you knowing every single thing I do, I can do it perfectly?

What if without you pointing them out, I can still see past my frauds?

What if without you counting on my failures make me live?

What if without you saying I am shaking in my own two shoes, I am not scared?

What if when you’re not there for me, everybody else is?

What if I am not so or gullible or childish or clumsy or even ‘nice’ like you said I am?

What if I am more?

And what if what if what if this is the last post I ever write about you?

And I shall be an optimistic girl who does not get depressed over stupid things in KMBot.

2009-06-27T23:31:00.000-07:00

The world doesn’t revolve around me. I am not the centre of the universe.

I am a child, for as long as I live.

I am a non-conformist; but that's fine.

The world is beautiful; even when there are tears and sadness.
Even when there are hate and anger and betrayal and pain.

There is no rush in growing up. I'll take my time and look around; everybody’s different. Those differences have no power to label us; but the nature to make us who we are.

I am not a writer; I fumble at my lack of vocabulary.

I am not a poet. I hesitate at my ability to create wonderful imageries.

Friendship is such a magnificent thing. It keeps us safe, it keeps our identity.

The sky, the clouds, the sun, the stars when it’s dark, the moon, every single matter which existence create every single elements in this world, is a blessing.

Maturity is a gift, laughter, as cliché as it sounds, is a medicine.

It's a relief to be able to

to live.
to laugh.
to feel.
to breathe.
to learn.
to love.

Of stars and boulevard

2009-06-23T05:53:00.000-07:00

I guess everything in the world would run out one day.

Like if you have a little box full of smiles at the back of your face, and you smile too much for a day for too long of a time, you will run out smiles one day.

Like if you you keep this one space in your head full of dreams and you dream too much, you would be running out of dreams one day.

Like if you have so many words in your head and you write too much, one day you just can't take the words out anymore.

Like if you have that space in your heart specially filled by hurt for someone's words, one day you read what he wrote and can't feel anything anymore.

Like when you depend so much on someone on the exact same day last year, then today you woke up and stand by yourself and it doesn't feel so hard anymore.

Like even when you are hundred and one percent convinced the feelings would exist for as long as you breathe and the memories would stay as clear as a vision, you would be running out of the feelings and the clearity of the visions one day.

And one day, one day, you realize exactly one year has passed and you have run out of that dependency, that feeling, that memory.

And wonder how such things could affect you so much a year ago.

And wonder how naive and deceiving and shallow your perception of love was a year ago.

And wonder if the cloudy visions are even real.

This place is cursed

2009-06-17T09:46:00.000-07:00

I'm okay.

For a while I took a breath and the world paused. I screamed and yawned and read and read and read and smiled and laughed and woke up and jumped at the rising sun. I ran with my classmates along the beach at midnight and talk right beside the crashing tides, moon shining ever so brightly above us. When the glowing neon blue plankton drifted to the shore by the small little waves, and the bubbles caught between my toes as I tried to cup them into my hands; the shining, glowing little spheres, like miniature of globes, only brighter. Like S said, it was surreal. Then for a little while more the fate shed pitiful tears onto me. There were days of exploring, discovering. They said it was a lesson of life. Clichés were repeated, yet characters were revealed. The faces, god, none were familiar. But some were merely significant, so I went through. If there is a mere camp, like a summer cap or motivational camp whatsoever that can bring you an awful lot of heartache, this is it. Heartache of confusion. They said it was life-changing, so hell yea, I’d like to see that. What if, just if, I change? What if I climb out of this bliss of ignorance of mine? What if I open my eyes and start smiling truthfully? What if I stop pretending and demolish the solid walls around me, registering who the people around me really are? So what if, man? SO WHAT? The world is still what it is. It would be crying still. Nothing will practically change if I do. I said I wanted to look at the sky and be happy I am myself. But there I was at the front and lies flowed out of my mouth as natural as the air itself, my non-stop insights towards life I have been so cynical about. But still. That was that.

So why, oh why did things turned out this way? Like I never even left this place. Like I have been here a thousand years earlier, staring at the same place, walking through the same path and feeling the same annoying sensation at the pitch of your stomach; bored, unmoving, monotonous. The world does not pause anymore, it STUCK. Where do all the days go?

You cannot change the past
All you can do is stop dreaming of what might have been and live on with what happened, because whether you like it or not,

they did.

To work hell hard for achievements is an effort. To have fun and grow up along the way, honey, is a skill.

2009-06-06T07:29:00.000-07:00

It's such a shame to leave home this early

[I shall not wallow in self pity.
I shall not wallow in self pity.
I shall not wallow in self pity.
I shall not wallow in self pity.
Thanks L. Love you.]

Yay for myself for being me! no more losing yourself along the way.

Man, look at the sky.

I smell cheese. Blergh.

Oh well

I guess it's okay to be cheesy once in a while.

and so their ruthless scheme to destroy the delicate lung cells of the public remains

2009-06-05T10:13:00.000-07:00

like knowing your favourite love song was actually written about a sandwich.

like seeing the cute guy you've been eyeing ever since you stepped into the crowded public place taking out a cigarette.

like her smiling at the camera, only to have the pain from his words written accross the face.

[stop being freaking depressed, syrh and cherish every second being home]

For I am aware, understood and comprehended the fact that you are smiling, laughing and shining upon your new life;

And realize that I would never wish to take that away from you.

jenoptik

2009-06-04T08:14:00.000-07:00

was the word written on the box on the dark brown shelf.

It's painful not being able to write. There are so many things, so compressed she might as well blow up the whole house. So many thoughts and situations waiting upon being sorted up as realistic, solid, logical.

I'm riped with things to say
the words rot and fall away
If a stupid song could make this right
I'd sing it everyday.

Happy (belated) Nurses' Day

2009-05-16T01:58:00.000-07:00

And I do know "I have a lot in mind" is such a lame excuse.
Yet my super duper awesome mama laughs and thank me anyway.

Well.

My super duper awesome mama who called me a dummy if I say I'll be staying up late for the exam, consequently diverted the topic to "where are we going to shop for our kain baju raya because I need to tempah ours early before the mak cik tukang jahit left us with no baju raya at all".

My super duper mama who knows I am not a maths genius and that I never even like maths, and that I will, however, try hell hard to answer the intricate, psychotic, heartless, you-name-it questions just to show the maths questions that I hate them.

(and that not only maths geeks can get the stupid formulae)

Who told me I have billions, trillions (I dunnoe. Seriously) of brain cells, and I can use them as I please.

Of course.

Not anyone can really get these facts.

Because obviously, they're not my super duper awesome mama.

I have no idea wtf.

2009-05-11T07:02:00.000-07:00

[[I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay I'm okay i'm okay i'm okay]]

Come up to meet you
Tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart

Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Now let's go back to the start

Running in circles
Coming our tails
Heads on the science apart

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Take me back to the start

I was just guessing
Numbers and figures
Pulling the puzzles apart

Questions of science
Science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart

Tell me you love me
Come back to haunt me
Oh when I rush to the start

Oh why and why doesn't it rain???????? FISH YOU AND YOUR STUPID THOUGHTS.

Where I come from people grow up and kill each other off.

2009-04-19T10:43:00.000-07:00

It's a terrible feeling to fear who you've become, yet less in account of not knowing how to define what you was.

"How could I, of all people, dispose of myself without affection?"
"Yet how could I dispose of myself with it?"

Help.

Hold up... hold on... don't be scared
You'll never change what's been and gone
May your smile... Shine on... Don't be scared
Your destiny may keep you warm.

Cos all of the stars are fading away
Just try not to worry you'll see them some day
Take what you need and be on your way
And stop crying your heart out

Get up... Come on... why you scared
You'll never change what been and gone

I love health clinics because they have hand sanitisers everywhere.

2009-03-19T02:12:00.000-07:00

cli‧ché (klē-shā') [countable]
an idea or phrase that has been used so much that it is not effective or does not have any meaning any longer.

“Do not give up”

“You can do it”

“Just hold on”

Please.
Say something so I’d really go back.

Tell me

We’d be having a disco ball in our not so secret room.

Or

We’d shop till we drop dead
and eat pizza in the fitting room.

Or

We’d have our own secret pillowtalk right after an official awkward one.

Or

We’d arrange another sleepover at the airport.

Or

We’d laugh when people glanced at us as we cursed our way off.

Or

We’d eat chocolate and durian 30 cents ice-cream after a brain-cracking IRP session.

Or even

Damn you! We’re fished up in this together.

Please?

T1-84 Plus

2009-03-18T07:16:00.000-07:00

Like feeling the detestation radiated from each other when they refuse to stop adding on yet another task to the to-do list, grumbling yet struggling miserably in the effort to finish it.

Like whining about an unnecessary but compulsory talk to attend to all through lunch in a burning afternoon yet end up, though in the last row, there.

I wonder if it’s hypocrisy. I wonder if it’s helplessness. I wonder if it’s sacrifice. I wonder if it’s insincerity. I wonder if it’s cowardice.

Oh God.

I wonder if I’m disgusted

[[with myself]]

10 reasons why perfectionists annoy the hell out of me.

2009-03-17T01:22:00.000-07:00

1. You just do.

2. The fact that it is so hard to hit you
that the world, though as much as you wish it does, DOESN'T revolve around YOU

3. and it would not end
just because you do not manage to be on top of the class in each and every one of the tests.

4. Most of you happens to love school.
That is against the nature. I love nature.

5. The fact that you are unaware
that there are people in this world who achieve way less you do and still live life gratefully and happily

6. and how meddling with their emotions
by expressing how unsatisfied and distraught you are with your pristine academic record...is not a nice thing to do.

7. The fact that you are also unaware
that there are actually people who achieve MORE and do not go bragging about that in the world wide web.

8. The fact that your words technically mess with my holidays
and there is no more brutal way to violate humanity.

9. Perfectionism is one thing;
kiasu is another.

10. Um, fish you?

I hereby dedicate this entry to my nemesis. I have never (since I ever know how to press the keyboard buttons to post entries on blogs) ever dedicate any entry to any existing human being. So know that by doing this, I am portraying my undivided love towards you. And please, get over yourself so I can live in peace. I cannot bring myself to tolerate such offence to the world's teenage psychology.

[[I love sarcasm.]]

Fish?

2009-03-16T09:57:00.000-07:00

I can't remember when it was good
moments of happiness elude
maybe I just misunderstood

all of the love we left behind
watching the flash backs intertwine
memories I will never find

so I'll love whatever you become
and forget the reckless things we've done
I think our lives have just begun
I think our lives have just begun

and I'll feel my world crumbling,
and I'll I feel my life crumbling
and feel my soul crumbling away
and falling away,
falling away with you

staying awake to chase a dream
tasting the air you're breathing in
I hope I won't forget a thing

promise to hold you close and pray
watching the fantasies decay
nothing will ever stay the same

and all of the love we threw away
and all of the hopes we've cherished fade
making the same mistakes again
making the same mistakes again

and I feel my world crumbling,
and I feel my life crumbling down,
I can feel my soul crumbling away,
and falling away,
falling away with you

all of the love we left behind
watching the flash backs intertwine
memories I will never find
memories I will never find

MUSE.

Fortified Chocolate Malt Food Drink

2009-02-25T19:05:00.000-08:00

She loves the feeling when she's holding her breath while drinking cold choc malt from a straw, especially when it's raining. When she can ignore her protesting nose and focuses on the mild sensation, exactly like it feels when you've finished crying, like your lungs seemed to be filled with water, somewhere between suffocating and breathing. The transition of both, I suppose. The best thing is the feeling would still be there everywhere she drinks it, regardless of how closer to hell the situation would be. Yes, even in the middle of an undecipherable lecture in a dusty puny room.

I, in any literal or logical view, am not making any sense, yet my head have no space whatsoever to comprehend such concern.

She misses home.

She turned to her

2009-02-24T00:13:00.000-08:00

knight of shining armour, and sees a mere boy in aluminium foil.

“What do you like the most about me?” the familiar voice drifted her back to the now. She looked up from the physics textbook and closed it swiftly; the hint of her undivided attention for the question.

“Your hair,” she lied. She stared into the piercing light from the pitch black eyes for a little while before glancing down back to the page.

“Really?” a sheepish smile started to accent the sharp jaw line. He ran his decently formed hands trough his already messy hair. She could almost feel the pleasure radiated from him. Her heart sank, as she felt a sudden sense of smugness.

“Yup,” she uttered her second lie.

**********
It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
yet remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can be faithful
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty.
And if you can source your own life
from GOD’s presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.
It doesn’t interest me if you can be all of the above
Perfectly
I want to know if you are willing to try.

**********

She told none of the truth because she was ready to let go. She was letting go because of your naivety. You are naïve not of your age, but because you have not yet understood. And whether or not for her to wait till the day when you finally grow up is still a question.

Donuts and Jane

2009-02-18T06:38:00.000-08:00

********************************************

"People who are calm and composed are boring"
But "the ones that are driven merely by emotions are unwise".
Between boring and unwise, I cannot bring myself to comprehend the later.
It's like the colour blue. It is not bad, but I do not like the colour.
Being unwise is not necessarily bad, but I do not like it.

********************************************

“The old you wouldn't want to be so feelingless,”

“That was the old me. This is me,”

“It must have been scary to be changing so fast,”

“No, it is scary to think the same for too long. There would be no space to grow up,”

Tapir

2009-01-12T18:58:00.000-08:00

Dear h,

I quit. Just shatter. I couldn't care less.

never force a girl to go back to college when she don't want to cuz she might as well go around writing craps instead of starting on her homework.

2009-01-01T20:14:00.000-08:00

Dear Professor McGonigal,

Firstly, I myself do not have the slightest idea on whether or not this barn owl I stole from the zoo would be able to somehow, miraculously reach Hogwarts. But just in case it does, I do have a few things to say (or write).

I have no intention of criticizing your system of communicating with your fellow students, but I would like to voice out some concerns about how using owl as the medium to inform the students about their enrolment to Hogwarts could be quite problematic. Why I say so, is that there is a possibility the owl may not be able to reach the students. I mean, what if they got killed in the way? Being hit by an aeroplane could be a logical example. This, in case you have not thought about it, could brought out severe consequences. One of many is that the very student, other than being brutally heartbroken and depressed, might end up in a dictated boring muggle college system. She might also not be able to finish her homework and finally, out of unstable mental and emotional state, desperately write a letter to Hogwarts questioning the absence of the arrival of the enrolment letter to her house 6 years ago.

Again I am not insulting the system, but I would like to suggest using FedEx.

Yours Truly,
SlytherinWannaBe

p/s: In case my enrolment letter are still there somewhere in the office, and 17 is a valid age for it, I would gladly like to sit for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests (NEWTs).

WRITER'S NOTE : This is a product of her self denial and failed attempt of a it's-time-to-start-on-my-homework mission, and shouldn't be taken seriously. It is purely absurd, and she did know it. But she wrote it anyway.

I have no idea wtf am i still mourning about.

2008-12-23T21:19:00.000-08:00

You put a scratch on my pride
I'd crush yours.

No, honey, saying it has nothing to do with meaning it

Aw, just because fighting back is not my nature
Doesn't mean I suck at it

Hasn't anyone tell you?

Our story is my piece of fiction
And you are just one of the character.
Your role ends

When my plot twists.

I am unable to give a damn.

2008-12-15T20:41:00.000-08:00

You are
from the world of labels and markers
Lowly and decent humans;
Depressed, boring, nice, special, happy, and good
Divisions sort the hopes and dreams

You tried and succeed
You play to win or loose
Caught to smile and choose

I am
An observer
Seeing innocence fading in every passing being
Perceiving differences
embedded in similar plots and twists of life
Growing up is a governess
A never ending discipline
Nothing as clear

And there they say
A cause happens at the conjunction
Of the worlds
Versions are distant of the two
Yours and mine

There never be air for me in divisions
There never be motives for you in observing

The worlds we live
Clearly swirls
Yet there is no intersect
Never will meet.

you said she was the one. honey you said, you said you were in love.

2008-12-11T20:02:00.000-08:00

The running slowed. She looked away. Her lips were trembling, her eyes burnt. She stared again. And again. Her steps became stiff, drowning with doubt. Contemplating.

Her vision drifted to the path before her. Empty. The burden weighted behind her. Faster, her heart yells. She forced some senses into it, pushing every single joule that was left. The stream of thoughts fit so perfectly, her eyes unsighted by how pristine it is.

Just give it a try. If it was a plan destined to be fulfilled; there is no need of hesitating when the prediction shows. How can it look so average back then? As pointless as it seems, she glanced at the dreams behind, finding something worth saving. She ran faster, determined to face it. Then the purple light shone down so bright it blinded her.

Her steps collapsed. Face down, she breathed. It won’t hurt a bit. It doesn’t. It shouldn’t. She swallowed hard. Between pain and nothing, which would keep more of her sanity? She thought hard. They held her hands, and the vigour seeped into each of her veins. This can’t wait. Not anymore. Between pain and nothing, she chose

nothing.

********************

“oi bangun lar mangkok!!!” the familiar voice rang.

“huh?” her lashes fluttered, allowing a sudden stream of light to enter her retina. Tomorrow is here.

“pehal sembab? Hek eleh, rilek sudeyh, nak emo emo pulak dier…”

********************

With that she got up and wiped the dirt off her sleeve. She laughed. And it didn’t hurt that much anymore.

***end***