look at me now.

Tuesday, 22 December 2015

lights off.

When the low starts to sink, mind's blank,
despite the emotions no longer in your control.

Guess your mum's right, that you're never the opposite of sad,
but you already know that. You have always known that.

You try and try. Each night's the same again.
Everything's clear when you get through, you make yourself believe.

Deeper than suicidal thoughts and the sadness you have no reasons to,
it's nothing. It's nothing. It's never anything.

Just like you.

I get it that nobody does.
I get why things come to pass.
I get that I'll never be who I was.
That I'll never be how I want.


Tuesday, 15 December 2015

september's email.

"I am thinking of and do worry about you"
1 hour's never enough.

Wouldn't know where to start or what to say when I've left out so much of what I wanted to tell. So much has happened but looking at it it's as if nothing had, maybe it was all in my head. Perhaps the feelings I feel inside and emotions I had made it seemed as if so much was going on. Maybe so much had, maybe half of me is in denial. Always am. Somehow thinking of everything makes me feel annoying. It's irritating to believe anything that happened meant something when it feels like you mean nothing. As if by bothering, sinking into these thoughts and all these disappointment or devastations and heartache caused by people is rather selfish, it's no one's fault. I put myself in such a situation, screwing up everything I lay a hand on.

I'm sick, sad and an inconvenience. Should have stayed heartless. Not that it was easy, not that it hurt any less but it was vital, to not make myself believe I have an importance to anyone, to any life. Putting everyone above me and blocking out my feelings, caring to a certain point only and all the rational thinking, made it much bearable. Though it could only last for so long. Shouldn't have been so brave. Everything you've kept inside for years eventually surfaces to punch you right in the throat. You can't hide what's real, whatever that makes you human. This depression has always been all on me. Every deranged thought is my own. Everything bad has been from my rotten excuse for a soul.

Is it that state of mind, before you let go of who you became, what used to be so close to who you were, to become as cold as you wished you weren't but would be in order to get through? It'll be those weeks or months where you stare into space, watch and hear but not listen or comprehend your surroundings. You're alright, fine one second or a few hours- now holding in the urge to cry, wishing you'd die each night, every morning when no one's there, every afternoon/evening before they come home- and then they come home. You're you again, or part of what you kept, for them. You can never shed a tear. No matter how desperate you get with the urge to tell, you can't. You never have.

It's always been just "I feel sad" "I'm sad", like a broken record "why?", you stay silent. It never seems serious enough to be worried about, it never gets any easier to explain. Not that you don't know what's going on in your head, what's it all about inside, it's them. They wouldn't. You know how general it sounds because talking about suicide is unacceptable. You've mentioned it before, you learned never to again. Not everyone knows what it's like to be in this state of mind, you're just 'sad'. It's not always them, sometimes barely or never, it's just your mind's a bit unwell but they don't want to know that, they don't try to understand and you can't blame them. It's difficult to be with someone having them believe they make you this way when you have never been another way even before they came. It doesn't make it any easier to try so hard and still get put aside, and on the days where you fail to, as if you don't already feel bad and worthless enough you get reminded of what you've become.

That you were better before. 

If it were true why'd they let me go, made me go through it all alone. If 'better' meant nobody gave a shit because things were dandy maybe it wasn't as much different as deteriorating, when with you disheveled they're no different. Still I noticed every moment, every second when anyone genuinely cares, noticed, or asked concerned and every time I had to lie because it would break me just as much as it could them. Or every time I tried telling but couldn't, as they let it all pass. It gets to a point where I honestly believe nobody's interested and that maybe nobody should be. I've started restricting again. Comes the overpowering urge to lay and rot, stay in bed, curtains closed, radio on, eyes on the ceiling, moving from your hand to the window to the door and all the shit you kept in your cupboard. Food gets me frantic, the sight of myself gets me nauseous. I don't think I'l ever be able to recover.

I can never be normal, I will never be 12 again. Every year I get a lot older, with less shine in my eyes. Every year's smile's different. Every moment in every photo could have me breaking down when every moment and reason it was taken for, how I felt, where I was in life, every little thing is reminded by it. It gets louder everyday, everything so tempting. Some days it gets so loud, enough for you to get up and make it happen, these thoughts they come more often these days. It's easy to make fun of the suicidal thoughts, just because it's not you, or anyone close enough but to live with it, to restrain yourself from acting on it, is agonising. Every day's a day closer from it happening. Every day's another day of completely losing it. There are still moments where you want all the help you could possibly get, you keep waking up for it, you go on, for everyone you still have, for everything you haven't lost yet but then you relapse. Just another lost cause. 

And everyone thinks you're still there. 


Saturday, 12 December 2015

a little's enough.

Walking around, talking, laughing, sharing inside jokes, living in it, I guess this is it. This is all that I have and maybe all that I would ever, until it's gone. It's not much but it's more than enough. I might never get out of this, I don't think I have to. This is not my safe house, there is no peace of mind but I'm nowhere now remember? Half up the sky but chained to the ground, I'm always in the middle. A start that has no end, or maybe too many. Still, this is all that's left and it's okay because just like everything else that went, it can all be gone in a blink of an eye. So would I.


Wednesday, 9 December 2015

lighter shade of black.

I think that maybe you're just eager to be someone else. You're sick of what you are now, what you see, what you know. Aiming to change certain things completely, or so you thought. I think you're sick and tired, you want to play. You want to act. You want to pretend. I think you're taking way too many steps back, just to stay here. You're retreating, you're losing.

You just want to lose touch with who you are again, you want to forget. You're giving up in order to live through each day. So contradictory, so familiar, so so sad. I'm sorry for the things I couldn't undo and all I'm about to do.

This time,
I can't save you.


Tuesday, 8 December 2015


Think it's time to tell someone but I don't want to, and every person I've told it to is trusted not to. From my legs to my stomach to my throat and my head, I'm failing. Every day now every night, whenever I can, whenever I do, now so frequently and constant it's frightful. I'm going back to my cave. I'm going home to nowhere.

I don't want to be saved,
I just want to sleep, I just want to leave.


The signs are clearer now, everything makes sense.
Some days I think I'm dying without believing it.
But knowing the fact that I might over what I keep on doing.

Sunday, 6 December 2015

opened eyes closed heart.

I think I heard my heartbreaking.
I think I saw it shattered to the floor.
However, I didn't. It hadn't.
Another crack. It's gone.

A gift of feeling, and these feelings.
A blessing and a curse.
I knew it in the core of my heart.
I knew it was time to part.

Empty seats. My emptied mind.
I did it alone again this time.
Reasons reasons they all give me a reason.
Time to cut it off, let it go. Reasons aren't excuses.
It has always been obvious.
Now stop making excuses.

Jangan pulang.
Dah tiada ruang.


Friday, 4 December 2015


Been 2 weeks or less now.

To think of all the effort and work I've done for myself going to waste over just these few days is, absolutely astonishing. Congratulations, months then lost, now weeks lost once more. It shows on my face, skin, eyes, body, throat, voice, digestive system, heartbeat. My hair's falling out, my head's elsewhere, it's getting exhausting each day past 8 and days are pointless.

It's back now. Weeks or months maybe I can't quite remember much at all nowadays, it was dreading the pain of it; what an inconvenience I thought, remembering the soreness, the stench. Now it's the irrational fear of ignoring the urge and what it would do to me, oblivious to what it really does with me acting upon it. That's the thing about bad habits, it dies hard. Easy to quit with enough will power, long enough you'll loath to ever begin again yet once you do, you're not in it to stop. Going back and forth, back and forth back and forth, thinking you'll get better, thinking it'll fade away, leave your mind to rest in peace but then comes relapse.

You're back to where you begin.
Secretly here now, to stay.


Thursday, 3 December 2015

lost lose loss.

Hours later to find out I lose a bit more.

Feels like things are going to get drastic this time but I wouldn't know.
Am I losing everyone I've held so tight to or are they losing me?
Sometimes you look back or read back but I don't. I see it as it is and it breaks me.
I don't think about it. But I'm starting to feel the distance. Pulled back, behind.
Although the urge is there, I can't quite exactly cry about it. That shit is old.


Wednesday, 2 December 2015

it could be wrong.

1.12 am
Sometimes you meet the one that's right for you, but he isn't right for you. You keep falling for the wrong ones, giving each one the chance to ruin you. Sometimes you wish instead, that the one you're in love with was right, but you're not the one for him. It's funny, funny that it hurts. One day it won't, just like every other person that came and went. Now nothing.

But sometimes it gets you thinking, maybe you were too. Nothing at all to them. Then you remind yourself some people aren't worth it while some can't see how much you are. Some people don't love you enough or never really had while some loves you, they're just not in love with you. Then there are the slightly odd kind, ones that loves you, so much, yet know themselves or you enough to know that they don't deserve that. Thinking they don't deserve you. Sometimes they want you so bad but that's not enough for them.

In the end, you tell yourself if their words were true, feelings genuine, despite the fear and insecurities, they would choose you over and over again. You're a risk they're willing to take because nothing overpowers the fear of losing you. It's not the same terror as to being afraid of losing someone who doesn't love you, it's the sort of fear of losing someone who genuinely does. The way you do.

Everyone's taught to let go and throw out the things they have no use for, as if they've never known what it's all about. You're left with less and less pieces of you, of the person you knew you were. Yet you're self taught to accept things, to have faith, to believe in Him. Keep it positive despite all negativity. That for a pessimist you've become rather optimistic.

Excuses aren't reasons. People let go for a reason. People walk away for a reason. Then again I've always hear people telling me where there's a will, there's a way. That if you want it you go get it, work for it, earn it. If you let things slip so easily, it mustn't have meant as much as you claim it does. New lesson, if they keep pushing you away, they don't want you there. So move along even if it still feels wrong.

And it still feels wrong.


Tuesday, 1 December 2015

it rules, still.

Pink. Yellow. A bit of noodles. Some Spice.
Legs trembling. Head's spinning. You got it on your feet.
Two mirrors. Butt naked. Hatred for your reflection.

The bones won't convince you, your face does.
The stomach, the thighs, your cheeks.
No numbers, no scales, just your mind telling you how it is.

I wish you'd stop controlling me.
I wish you'd stop controlling me.
I wish you'd stop controlling me.
I wish youfuforujf nfkewjfn



Maybe one day there will be an Omar, just for me. Someone that might not exactly be like me or would understand completely but love me, the way Omar does Lisa. Maybe one day I'll be someone's Lisa. Better yet I'll be me and whoever that person might be, they'll be them. Our own story, our own ways.

Maybe one day I might just get to meet and be with someone who would actually love me. That one day I don't have to make myself believe people's promises to stay but leave. Or maybe it just doesn't happen to people like me, maybe not to only me.

I am not Lisa. There's no Omar.
I'm just that distant memory.
The one you let go for someone else to find.


Monday, 30 November 2015

holding back.

I would have said so much and a bunch more. So many things unspoken, so many feelings kept. I've never mind the part where I've to swallow every of my pride, just these days, fear has build up inside of me more than ego could possibly have had.

Always so petrified, reminding myself of where being daring has gotten me the last time. I felt myself as annoying, left embarrassed. Rather inane I suppose. Feeling exposed, as if everybody knew I was the girl who tried so hard to the point where it made me seemed desperate for the sake of someone who no longer loved me the same.

I can take joy in whatever I'm given as long as I keep my hopes down. I've got to always remind myself of where I stand now. That it only happens when it happens. That whatever I get is all I'll ever get, before the next time I've to let go of it all again.

It's kind of heartbreaking, wanting to tell someone how you feel, how you still feel, how it always has been but can't. This time, so genuinely afraid that if you do, if you ever try to, you're going to drive them away again. How you can't afford to do that. You can't tell how people feel about you when they were the one who left. So whatever you feel for them, doesn't matter.

When whatever you would do for them would never make a difference. However much love you still have for them wouldn't change a thing. Whatever you could possibly say in hopes to change how things are is nothing more but pointless. So you sit back in the corner and get yourself together, knowing you might never get this close to him again.


Sunday, 29 November 2015

till that day.


You'll always be my favourite, until someone else makes you theirs.
Then, then is when I back off. Thats my cue to move on.


still the one.

You noticed you forgot to breathe again, just like the first time. You take joy in that smile, overwhelmed by that face and that vibe. Speaking as if it's the first time you've ever exchanged words but similar to the old times. You still get excited, with scorpions in your stomach, but tamer. You've been here before. You know what it's all about. When to do this or say that, knowing it too well like the back of your hand. It boggles you, how as silent it could get or awkward it might feel, it's always going to be at a comfortable pace, as if you have always been here. Some people feels like home, with them it's so right even if it could be wrong. Though my home isn't mine no more.

What is it when you've seen everything yet still want more? Knowing all the bad or every way for it to get worse yet still choose to be here? Knowing you're nothing more, no one special but holds on despite it all. As if it's still okay to let him see you cry. As if you never tried to move on, as if you still believe he might just come back again some day ringing your house bell, knocking on the door, deciding to stay. Never been as happy to be able to make anyone feel right. Even if I'm not to them. I've never wanted to make anyone feel so special, never have I met anyone whose happiness means so much to me. I've never been so in love.

With someone who doesn't feel the same way.

Until today.


snaps back to reality.

When the high wears off, the joy stops as you realise,
he's not mine to hold. He's no longer mine anymore.

It cracks a bit more doesn't it?
Now falling to the floor isn't it?

But you don't really mind, you pretend that it's fine.
Because you've been waiting all this while, nothing really beats that smile.

You want to know if he's okay. Check up just to make sure he's alright.
You'd do anything for this guy. You'd do anything for that shine in his eyes.

Then the day ends right?
Time to exchange your goodbyes.

Few days after, you pass through things reminding you of him.
Stories and things to share, but you're too scared to even say-

Well you think about where to start right?
How and when too, yet left without a clue.

It's funny how you still want to be with him, in love with him.
Letting it all go reminded that, he's no longer yours anymore.


Thursday, 12 November 2015


I found little notes I wrote meant for you or about you here.
I got lost. I lost you. I've no idea what to do.

Tuesday, 10 November 2015

daddy never says.

You'll noticed every look your dad gives out to the guys you bring home to him, full of doubt. He knows. Even if he doesn't, his assumptions are only to shelter you from the sound of heartbreak he hears echoing in his head before it could get the chance to happen. To every start, he thinks of the ending. The aftermath, he thinks of you. If you don't have a father, one you would know of, the one you think never loves you, it could be a brother, your mother, a best friend or in fact somebody you used to know. Either way, someone has been watching over you, so carefully, with angst and enough love to let you go on your own but stay to when you decide to come back home.

He never thought you how to love. He has never been more afraid to. Yet everything he has done for you, in his head no one could possibly do. He might not know you the way you want him to but he knows you well enough to know the kind of man you deserve to be with. Lived long enough to know the kind of boys that would come around speaking of the love they know nothing of. Babygirl I would save you from every chance of heartbreak I sense would occur if only you would listen. Haplessly, I've always been the one to be on my own. Risk and chances I never knew I took until it goes haywire. Until it finally backfires.

I wasn't taught to be weak, incapable of letting myself become so fragile, vulnerable, frail, no matter how deep I've gotten involved with something. It can shake me, try break me and cut me into a million pieces, I am taught to pick every fragment left found and glue gun it back together. The amount of times I have given up just to get back up seems humorous to me. It never ends until you let it I suppose. Still I hope my dad knows, that it is not his fault, it is mine. That everything I've gotten myself into and everyone I gave my house key to was my choice despite everything I have been thought and all that I have learned. Every mistake is mine to be responsible for.

That whatever happens, I am still here somewhere deep inside of me, I am present.
Regardless of how I may look, talk or feel, the spark in me hasn't died completely.
That he has never done anything wrong. I'm fine, ayah. Jangan risau.


Friday, 6 November 2015

one target, a hundred holes.

I thought it mattered to people,
the way it matters so much to me.

Thinking we were different.
Believing you could've been.

Not mad and not as wretched. I'd mention what it is but it's the kind of pathetic that gets all the lesson from the past laughing at me, as if I've never learned. Another lesson. Another lesson. Another lesson. Another lesson I sometimes get tired of learning. Answers, causes, all I wish to ever get to know on some occasions. It's still amazing to me how things work. How life flows.

Must have been something I did or said. Must have been me the way it always has been. I've never learned to stop blaming myself, over anyone who has left. I talk too much talk too little, share everything, I don't share enough, I'm emotionally vacant, I'm too damn depress all the time, I love with all I've got, I don't love at all, I get too ambitious, I have no plans for the future, I hold on too tight, I barely have a grip; I'm either too much or too little never just quite enough. Everyone's different but everyone's the same. Everyone wants to come around just to go away.

While I keep every photo every letter every bit of memory everything inside of me but myself. I get to be the one to have everything except for the one thing I want most. And it's okay. Life happens. Everybody tells me they'll never have a change in feelings but people change each day. While I'm just another person who hasn't gotten that chance to be the person who gets to say goodbye. I'm the one with the feelings that stuck by all the time. I don't call the shots, I received the bullets.

I've never loved anyone the way I love you,
you more than anyone else knows.
I wish it lasted for you. Still, thank you.


the same.

Everything so calm.
Every thought a bore.
Every conversation's the same.

Music's a bit off.
Bedtime's no longer my call.
I'm uninterested with it all.

I guess it's this again.
This phase, when nothing is the same.


Saturday, 31 October 2015

new girl.

She gets jealous but not as much as I would.
She has a life of her own, she doesn't cling on to you.
She gets hurt but she'll keep it to herself the way I didn't.
She'll make friends with yours because the world is tiny but with me it's suffocating.
She'll be able to joke around with your guy friends the way I couldn't.
You can take her anywhere you wish, she's a social butterfly.
She doesn't get anxious or insecure, so confident with the kind of curves I never owned.
Never touched a cigarette, always stays in school, she goes by the rules.

Her head's always up, her life together; books, plans, the kind of future I don't think I'll have.
She doesn't worry you, harm herself, cause a fight, stay up all night.
Your mum's going to love her, she'll glow from the kind of aura I lack.
She'll laugh at your jokes and get your stomach churning from hers.
She wouldn't blow up your phone each time you ignore her.
Or ever gets desperate enough to go to one of your friends just to ask about you.
She's not going to cry all the time or keep you up at night.
She's more sane than I'll ever be. She doesn't get sad at the most inconvenient sudden timing over petty sometimes irrelevant things or wants you to stay and understand when she does.

She doesn't have to ask you for anything, you'll do it willingly.
God, you'll adore her as though she's the most magical being you've ever laid eyes on,
in such a way that everything falls right into place the moment she became yours.
Days rather void without her presence. The moon doesn't shine without her goodnight.
You wake up with her on your mind, go through your days missing her all the time.
With her you'll never feel even a pinch of guilt, her ways won't annoy you,
your heart it blooms at every sight of her every single time.

She'll be the one. The one you'll never let go of.
The one who understands and loves you more.
This girl you don't find being flawless or perfect,
you don't believe she's all that you ever wanted,
because you know she is. She's everything.

I hope she enjoys your stories as much as I do and go gaga over all your selfies.
I hope she stays true to only you because that's all I would ever do.
I hope you find her when things get rough because she's the only one you trust.
I hope she knows exactly what to do when things don't go the way it's been planned,
that she'll never leave you for a so-called better man.
I hope she makes you happy. Happier than I'll ever be able to.

Because I still love you.


Tuesday, 27 October 2015

5 o'clock in the morning.

Still awake, I heard movements outside my bedroom door. Thinking it was someone else till I heard a cough. Without any hesitation that alone made me rush to open the door. Kesian abang, demam. It's still too early to wake up, let alone walk all the way upstairs in his condition. His temperature blazing. Went down to accompany and help him a bit to pack up for tomorrow. I feel useful for a moment. One of the reasons I don't mind staying up or not being able to sleep in this case. Yknow, in case anybody needs me. Even if they don't exactly do, at least I'm there. It's nice to be there.

Writing this I suddenly feel so alone. It's that kind of sadness again, the one where you don't sleep yet despise having to wake up isn't it? It hits you in the day and at 3am. I thought I wouldn't come to this again. Plans plans plans nothing more. Dad says smile more, it's the only daughter he knows. It's getting fearful, for every moment he realises I'm slowly slipping away doesn't it? Timing never stays on my side.

I have two shirts on, one being the warmest sweatshirt I've own,
Yet I'm still bloody cold.


Monday, 26 October 2015

"Jangan tinggalkan I"
"I tak tinggalkan you"
"Jangan tinggalkan I. Please"
"Tak I tak tinggalkan you"


Ask me if I'm okay the way you used to. Tell me that you care because you do. Hold me close at night knowing what I'll do. Tuck me in tonight so I could sleep by your side. Let me drown in the things we used to be, let me live a little for once. The sun shines the moon glistens, we've never been more happier than this.

Or maybe it was just me.
Being the happiest I've ever been.


no longer ri.

Guess no one's ever there anymore. Not in favour of anyone to be, just thought at least someone would understand. Aware of how everything else or anything at all is by far more important than the voices in my head. I don't hide as much as I used to here, but the more I don't, the more I do with everyone else. It's so beautiful isn't it, how the universe works, but better without me. It doesn't matter what anyone thinks, my mind tends to disagree. I digest what I see, I've gotten irrational and anxious, insecure and paranoid. Often on the verge of breaking down, I wonder how I build up the strength to still stand this strong, for this long. I loathe the thought of being weak and in despair. I am more than this, to me. I am capable of being on my own I've done this before. I am able to wake up everyday swallow everything whole just to get through. I have blocked it all out.

But god it is so hard to be stuck in between getting my life together and completely relapsing. It has been months and whatever people see that makes it look better, isn't. I'm covered by masks over masks, whatever I throw out is replaced by something new, something old, something of both or none at all. I have lost sight of myself and nothing functions the way it used to. There is this chaotic explosion that goes on and off and on and off in my head deteriorating my logical mind. I suffocate over my own presence feeling as if someone has clipped my nose and shut my mouth with socks to my throat stuck in my lungs, forgetting my capability to breathe, I can't cry, my hands they tingle from the urge to punch something, claw someone, flip a table, hit myself, I scream and shout, outside I stay silent. I chug in everything.

I'm more than enlighten of how my condition is mind boggling to some turning them to a dead end as it gets difficult and worrying each day. I can't tell you what it is or how it came to be. I can't explain too far back and whatever that's new won't make much sense to anyone of you. Everyday I go through the same bloody pathetic irritating battle with myself and everyone thinks it's okay because I don't drag anyone into this the way they assume I do. I try so hard and as futile as it looks, I try every day I decide to push myself together to even wake up to wash my face the least and eat so no one would have to care much, that as perturbed as how I have been living my life makes them feel, they are unaware of almost 99% of what I have to go through.

I can't enjoy life nor have I given myself the chance to recover from anything, to just sleep it all away and mourn to better days. My head aches from the feelings and thoughts and emotions I despise feeling. My throat burns from every word and tear I couldn't let out. You don't understand how it's like to force yourself to live each day on the days you'd rather be dead. I dread letting anyone in too deep to know too much and get attached to the point it would break their hearts to know because it devastates me to be the reason. I get my words wrong. My thoughts, how I act, they're all wrong. The sudden urge to jump in front of fast traffic or harm myself in any way is wrong. I am wrong and wrong and wrong and all of my confidence has shrink into the size of the love I have for myself that as much as I want to pick myself up I am unable. I no longer think I'd want to.

People think I throw my whole life away for the fun of it. Thinking I don't care, that I have it easy. I'm ungrateful. I'm lazy. I could do it if I really want to. They push and they shove, they talk about all the things they know nothing of and walk out the door once it seems enough. Because I'm no longer good enough. I never planned to be the person I am today with the state of mind I am in. Always felt like I never belonged but never was rotten from the start. I don't enjoy the look of disappointment in my dad's face and how it changes with worries over worries and the thought of money people have wasted on me. I don't find it funny at all to purposely act and do all the things I've done that has gotten me here merely to spite anyone. These thoughts, these everything. The sudden urge to throw myself out the window, the sudden spirit to get myself back up and live healthily to suddenly feeling the need to burn my lungs the next couple of minutes. You don't get to choose.

More alone these past few days, weeks and months like everyone's slipping away. Everyone's leaving and I'm left behind. No one's ever there anymore or really wants to be. I feel left out and forgotten, not that it matters. Not that I want anyone to remember. I'm exhausted from constantly choosing to go on. I just want to go. I've done this before.


Sunday, 25 October 2015

hear me once.

I feel like he doesn't listen when I tell him that I love him. As if he doesn't feel what I feel when I do. As if I don't know what love is or the kind I'm talking about, the one I feel so strongly of for him. Feeling like it's swept under the carpet the moment it's said. I love you, he replies back although some days I can no longer feel it or see it in the way he treats me or the things he says and how he says it. Like it is said because I've said it instead of because he meant it. That petrifies me, thinking one day it would no longer be there. Everything crumbled the day he said he loves me less. Less is the start of none and the end of more. I never wanted to let go.

I find it the hardest to be with someone who is unsure of you or where they should put you in their life. That as much as you want to hold on, you know in some ways they've already let go, you're grasping onto nothing and they say nothing ever lasts. I dread this nothing would. Should have known and gone the day I saw not even a spark in his eyes as mine still glistens looking into his. But I wanted to believe he still loved me more, so badly, I never stopped trying. Or believing.


singgah selalu.

"I kan ada"
"I sentiasa ada dengan you"
"You ada I"
"I ada je dengan you"

Tapi you dah takda.


Saturday, 24 October 2015

salah sendiri.

Sejujurnya, saya penat. Saya mahu tidur sehingga segala-galanya lesap ke galaksi lain nun jauh sana. Saya mahu tidur selama lamanya jikalau boleh, lupakan sahaja apa yang ada siapa yang pergi, tinggalkan semuanya kasi mati. Saya mahu pergi jauh jauh, sejauh mana orang tidak dapat mencari, di situlah saya hendak pergi. Saya mahu pulang. Saya mahu pergi. Saya mahu masa terhenti bagi memberitahu saya sama ada jauh lagi perjalanan ini kerana saya sudah mahu berhenti. Hanya buat seketika saya mahu rehat. Sebelum, akhirnya saya pilih untuk pergi.

Maafkan saya semua.
Saya tidak mampu bertabah lagi.


Wednesday, 21 October 2015

2 years 4 months 23 days.

"I suka berangan pasal kita" reassured me every time it was said.
I couldn't read anything else without wondering how it could end this way again.
"8 months down, forever to go."

Go back to the day he asked if I didn't trust him and I stayed silent. Thing is I did, I always have regardless of the amount of times it would disappoint. I didn't trust me I said. I had teared up trying to explain as he held me close and said he loves me. I just thought I didn't want to do it, so I wouldn't ruin it. I wouldn't ruin him. It wasn't him, it's me I'm afraid of. God knows how much I love him. Go back to when I was able to make him happy. It's amazing isn't it how special you can feel by how someone longs your presence. Everything anyone ever said of him I ignored, I took in the good, I have the best. Every promise I made was reflected on before it was said. Every word I've ever said I meant.

I'm not exactly mad at him in any way. Like the haze, with me he can't quite see ahead. Or that even with his goals set, I have him anchored down to where he doesn't want to be because either he doesn't want to leave or somehow I won't let him. Clingy and obsessed, sometimes a bit psycho but I wouldn't put a limit to anyone's dream. Do what you do go do you, just remember what's important to you, what really matters at the end of the day, who's waiting at the back of the door. Even if I wanted to I wouldn't try discourage him. I know who and what's first in priority lane. I understand the responsibilities, I just thought I'd be a part of it. All the way through. I don't ask for every second of the day even if I've mentioned it. I'd be happy people even remember. After all that we've been through and I got through for us, for him, I hate to think he grew out of me. 

Maybe 4 years from now, I'd still be the one for him. Or he'd come around earlier. I'm starting to think as much as it were true, it became a lie at one point. You know when you love someone too much but is unable to do anything about it, it leaves you distress enough that you lay in bed all day, lose sleep each night, thinking about it takes away your appetite. I don't do that anymore, I've come to reach that phase where I feel nothing again. There was once a time where he thought I didn't care anymore or that I changed. I never did, it was him. I don't blame him though. Things happen. I never cared less about him, I just want to keep him happy. I don't expect for any drastic changes coming from him still, I'm fully aware of where I stand.

Still I love him with every piece of myself that I have left whether or not he is flawed or wronged. That I am still in love with him the way I was, how I always have been. That it's okay if he isn't.

We promised- but who knows, maybe one day? I'm kind of tired of talking about him, knowing my name no longer slides out of his mouth ever since the last time he saw me. I'm exhausted from thinking about him, the way I used to; making sense of the situation without putting any blame on him or too much on myself. Convincing myself it's just the circumstances we're in that it isn't what it looks like. Thing is, I wouldn't know if it's exactly how it looks like. If everything is as it is. That there's no hidden message no signs, that everything's burned down.

I stop thinking of the kind of person he needs or the kind of person I know I could be for him. I'm not going to plead or make a fool out of myself trying as if my anxieties aren't real. I'm not going to imagine him coming back for me. I'm sort of done with that. As if he doesn't already know how I feel about him or how much we mean to me. That he has always known where to find me so he could always find me. It's not like he doesn't know he's the only one I've got left and wish to still have. You have no idea how much pride it takes to swallow to be so desperate. Whatever he wants in life he would go through hell to get, though I've come to terms that I'm just the journey, not the destination. It's alright. I guess.

I harap you okay, in every way.
I sayang you.


all's changed.

I'd think no one's going to be the way he was with me and that I'm never going to be with them, the way I was with him. As apprehensive as I get, I've always felt the sort of calmness and safety in his embrace I've never felt with anyone else. Some moments fall awkward, with the silence of all the words I have stuck like a lump in my throat but I've got a feeling that's how it's always been with everyone I've ever got together with. It's the hardest to tell the truth, or to talk about what I feel to the people that means most to me. It gets people thinking I don't trust them enough or they aren't right for me. But I've told him everything when I'm not talking. I left out nothing, not even the darkest secret or stories I'd never mentioned to anyone else no matter how close. I try put the words in my head out for him so maybe he'd hear me better, but it never goes the way I plan it to. I know.

I can't tell how he's been or if he thinks about me as constantly as I do when it comes to him. I wouldn't know if thoughts of me and the stupid things I do crosses his mind sometimes it leaves him with the urge to talk to me. I wouldn't be able to tell if he's building something with someone new or if he's completely gotten over me. He's always been good at keeping it all bottled up. I wouldn't know if he ever told anyone about it. I've always wish I was the one he'd tell all his worries to. I don't always react the way he wants me to but I pay attention. There's a million reasons I assume or make up in my head of why he had to go. Bad, good, funny, unknown, contradictory in some ways, depends.

I'm no longer 16 too. I get it, things so intense now, so serious somehow. I don't know if he checks up on me or if he worries, I just know he's not one to ask around about me. I can't quite figure out what makes him think distancing himself would make things any better for me, as if I was never alone before he came. He wants me to find myself again as he builds up his character, reach his goals and we'll meet again halfway as the same old couple once so in love, but different, I'll make myself think. Things might finally fall the way he has always thought it would. That he's finally staying. Although I never wanted it that way. I've always stayed to stay, from the bottom to the end not go back to before it all began. Hoping to be with him on the days where it gets difficult, when he thinks he's no use of being here, that things aren't working out for him, when it seems impossible for him to stand back up from every of his fall.

I don't think about it, what he takes me as or how he sees me through his eyes this time. I don't think of how wrong it is that he went away or the promises and everything else that's left unfinished, cracked, broken, behind. I don't blame him or myself the way I did. I have no answers for the things happening. I'm lost for even thoughts. My mind's never not in an argument with the facts I gather. Nothing makes sense because everything eventually does. It's all a blur. I lose sleep but I no longer cry the way I did, I don't overthink things. All so he wouldn't feel the guilt. Everytime I'm about to, I think of how he'd feel, putting myself in his shoes. Sometimes I get it, although unsure.

I'm not mad or sad about it, rather heartbroken in the most delicate way there is to be. The quiet kind, similar to meeting someone who once filled up your day, in a mall or on the street, smiling at them as they look away the second they lay their eyes on you. Empty, nothing, yet it gets you grinning to yourself thinking about how nice that was to get to see him again. He looks great, he's fine, you're happy for him, you hope he's alright. Later you think of every incredible moment you shared or had and think "yeah". He never calls or says hi and you don't anymore too, this time feeling like you're genuinely a fly, buzzing around his head, what an annoyance you are. So you fly away thinking of how he'd only talk to you if you make the first move but you can't so you don't.

Trying to find the words for this but I'm leaving things blank. This writing feels fragmentary. I don't have much to say. It's all nothing now. I'm sorry you had to go. Maybe one day you'd ask about me or call, see me again over your own will or think of me as home. Who knows I'd mean enough to you for you to stay or you'll remember me the way I never forgot you. I've always believed we'll get through, I would want to. Though at the time being, I'm emotionally and mentally drained, I'm physically exhausted and every morning aches the same. Letting you go,

I hope you find me.
click to continue reading-


Tuesday, 20 October 2015

unseen signals.

I don't weep over losing him or pretend he'd come back this time. I don't refresh my dm thinking I'd see an unread message from him. I don't willingly stalk him to see who he's talking to or look through photos of him on my phone. I don't go on instagram or wechat to see if there's anything new. I don't think about what he'd think when I post a photo or how much I do. I avoid tweeting anything the minute I see his name on my tl. I put my phone away awhile until it seems safe to speak up my mind. I don't say hi or tell him about the things I saw or went through that reminds me of him or have the guts and heart to read back the things he wrote for me. 

Even so, I have the urge to ask. I check from time to time to see if he's still alive. When I do find myself on his profile I'd make sure to scroll from the left side saving myself from accidentally favouriting anything. I pay attention to his retweets, for signs I'm not getting or his well being. I wake up still hoping for something from him each time I check my phone despite knowing there would be none. I strain myself to take care thinking he'd worry if I don't, at least he knows it's not guilt I'm trying to inflict. I want him calm. I keep my boundaries when talking to other guys, nothing cheesy as if he was still mine. I talk about him still, I joke around about it, like it's fine, like it doesn't hurt me. I wake up each day, I get through. 

I wonder how he's doing, in every way. I'd ask but it's always the same lie. I'd talk to him but he wouldn't even really reply. I try not bother. He needs space I'd think. He wants to focus, I would make myself believe, whether or not he could. Some days I tell myself he's trying to move on, so I plan not to make it hard for him. I'd want to be everything he wants and need even if it means not being a part of anything at all. I just want him to be happy if how things are makes him. I would try as hard as I did but I no longer think I should. Never yet exhausted from dealing with him or sick of seeming desperate if that's what love is, as long as I still get to have him around. Regardless of so, I can't bear to think that I'm the only one who feels so. I can't keep telling myself that he wants me to stick around, waiting for me to make a move, too afraid to even talk or that his ego pulls him back from it.

All I know is that, it could mean nothing at all. I'm not full of myself enough to think that he's still in love with me the way I am with him. I don't have my head high enough to have it be in the clouds. I might have already lost him entirely, I wouldn't know. Maybe I've got to let go. I thought I would never have to again. Guess I was wrong.



Bending over, this seems a bit familiar. Tiles smothered in what you last swallowed. Not enough yet, pump pump, your stomachs empty. You know it's not enough yet. There's some left in it, it's stuck. Get out get out, you go in deeper, it gets loud. Stop. This is enough. Tomorrow I'll starve.


Sunday, 18 October 2015

dark spots.

I woke up with the kind of ache I had the first few days he left. So intense, so repulsing. Another morning woken up from dreams of him. I put myself in a place where I involuntarily went back in time for a moment, without moving even an inch from the state of mind I was in. Forget the past, now I have him, I read. I haven't really cried in awhile. It's that numb-feel-nothing-but-everything-yet-flat-phase. However came by a tear drop, sliding its ass down my cheek. I thought "fuck", but my memory went back to everything he left behind. Flashback to when I cried the first time I read this, contented with so much joy and overwhelmed. Now a tiny bit once more over a nostalgic feel of sadness and loss. I remember the photos I took of everything I got with the intentions of writing it down here, just so he knows how I cherish it all. I never got the chance to but I have the chance to write this now.

Still drowned in a daze, I'm unable to decide or figure out how to feel about it all or what my mind is thinking about that I know nothing of. I'm not quite myself these days but I'm doing well I'll make myself believe. I think I'm great at that, "doing well". I've always been great at putting up a show, disconnecting with everything. How can people tell that you're isolating if you've always been on your own? Some moments I am no one. It's that phase again right, the one everyone puts me through? Or is it just me.


it goes both ways.

15/10/15 - 2.49 pm

You expect just as much from the people you don't love, once you're with them. You expect them to be there when you come back and be merry as if you've never left. You expect them to not hurt over the bullshit you say or do and god forbid them to blame you. You expect them to wait for you, while you go run around trying all things new with anyone else. You expect them to forgive you, give you another chance, take you in again, because oh, you love them. Sort of. 

You expect them to ask you to stay more than you've ever gave any reason for them to. You expect them to say goodnight I love you, and that I still do the next morning because they really do despite you running off the night before. You expect them to support you be happy for you and they are, even if they're no longer the reason for it as you expect them to be okay when you're away not even asking throughly of how they were when you weren't there. You expect them to accept the fact that you don't love them anymore. That it's not the same no more.

You expect them to move on. To find someone new. To be happier without you. You expect them to let go of all the things they went through with you, everything they cherished, every moment they savour, each promises they held on to, every crack in their heart and every part of them that they gave out to you whole heartedly, just because

you don't love them anymore, not in that way.


Tuesday, 13 October 2015

no difference to prove.

It's a shame to hear anyone expressing their love towards me, so sure of how they know nothing of what they're getting into. Compelling them to realise how they don't, that they only think they do whilst actually having the littlest hope to how maybe, just maybe they genuinely do. Every person who has convinced me to believe otherwise, is bound to leave me with more or less the same kind of excuse I've gotten in the past on why it isn't possible any longer for them to be with me. That the love in everyone I've been with, for me, fades eventually. That no matter how surprisingly hard I try or get better and change for my own good and us, at the end of the day no one's going to stick around. And nobody wants to.

I'd feel lied to or betrayed but it no longer works that way. The fact is people change, and these feelings, maybe they were never there or sincere from the beginning of it all, maybe it has always meant to be just a phase or so real and genuine only to a certain extent, not any longer. It's no one's fault, no fingers are needed to point it out. These guys I tend to meet, they don't know that. I didn't give my 150% to see you walk away. I'm no pit stop, no rebound, no tool, but it always feels like that's all I'll ever be until someone finds better. Someone who's worth it to them, that makes them happy enough they want it to last and actually try working it out. Somebody they subconsciously change themselves for, to the better. They always find better.

I hate thinking "This time it's different"
I hate thinking "This guy, he really loves me"
I hate thinking "He wants to stay. He's going to"
I hate thinking "He's the one."
And god I hate how everything ends to "I'm no one."

I'm never anyone's end. Just one they put to an end.
- It's always somebody else.


Wednesday, 7 October 2015

the same but better although worse.

This is no type of alcohol, it's mineral water.
There's no cigarettes, I'm chewing gum.
No panadols miss, there's cereal in my mouth.

You binge you starve
You exercise while sleep deprived
Fat fat skin fat fat
But they feel bones
They see the smile you're losing 
Those dark circles escalating
Your soul exposed
The emptiness swallowing you whole
It's swallowing you whole
Swallowing you whole I said
Run I said
Save yourself
Stay afloat
Swim away

I begged please,

Just stay.

And you, on the outside looking in
And you on the inside desperately grasping whatever there is that's left,
that is there to cling on, to remember, hold on to ; 
a motive, a purpose, a significance.
But nothing's left. Nothing's there. Not even you.

Tell me, how do you cope with that?


Monday, 5 October 2015

live a little.

There's no need for fear. 
No one's afraid of the consequences. 
Don't let them win. Hold on a little longer ri.


Saturday, 3 October 2015

that exception.

You can choose to run away from anyone at all, everyone if you please except one. Yourself. No matter how much you hate the person you are, you've got to live with it, accept it, embrace it.

I guess once this hits you, it starts making sense how you can't expect to love anyone unconditionally when you aren't able to even accept yourself as a person, as a living being in need of the care, attention, love and affection that you give out to others. We've heard of that saying, that question, of how could you expect it to be possible for anyone to love you when you can't?

Then again, somebody does, even when they hate every single bone in their body and all that makes them who they are today, somebody loves you. There's always someone who does. There's always that one person who is capable of so much love for everyone else except themselves, accept them.

Or not.


easier to lie than not.

When people ask, I tell them:
I want to get married.

I love how people react, sometimes surprised sometimes disappointed. As if I just threw my whole life away. As if I have potential. I say it for fun, just to spite someone maybe, who knows? I don't think about it. Actually I do, I just always find myself at a dead end. It's just an excuse, who wants to get married? Not me any longer. Not me at the moment. Not at all a dream. Not ever in my dreams.

I don't care what anyone else says, with me everyone goes. One way or another, sooner or later. You're either not enough or too good for someone. That's not all, you're also sad all the time and no one wants that. Nobody wants that. At least not when it's me.


kalau takdir.

I've always known. With everyone, 
I've known from the beginning. 
It was never what if, it's always been-
ready or not it will come. So it comes.

The last time, it went, with the strong belief of how it's meant to be, it came again. This time boggled with two potential endings, it's a "maybe one day" or a "this time for good".

And so it goes.
For now, like the last time.
Like the only, like the first.
Or the last.

You'd be lucky enough to encounter the kind of people who sees all your flaws, looks past your mistakes, and accept all the crooked, broken parts of who you've become. Someone who finds you worth their time, effort, or care. They're going to find the beauty in you and see the good, because that's what matters; the person you are now, to them.

If you're lucky enough, these kind of people, walks into your life to remain there. They exist to stay as a part of your life, not just a lesson, or a phase, but sometimes that's all they're ought to be. So you let go. You let them all go.


Tuesday, 29 September 2015

have a little faith.

The relationship I have with my hair is no different than what I have with people. No matter how hard I take care of it, with what I've become and the person I am today, in some ways have made it rather futile. I lose so much each day, sometimes more than I could possibly lose myself. I would think, at least I have myself, but I don't.

I believe that no matter how bad or rotten you think you are, He would always be there without you realising despite the amount of times you've forgotten about Him or left Him behind. When all is fine and dandy, He is to thank for, other than the people He lets me have for awhile in life. Of all the things I let go of, the one thing I can never afford to lose is my faith.

I'm not much to fight for and I am not the best person to hang around or have at the moment but although I don't deserve it I hope everyone I've burdened or hurt would forgive me if I've wronged. I'll never know when it'll be the last time or when I'll get another chance. Forgive me for the days I can no longer go on.


Thursday, 24 September 2015

"for better or worse."

With what I've become now, it gets me thinking if maybe I was more sane, normal, more like the other girls I know and less like me, someone might just keep me around. However I'm just one of those girls you fall in love with, not stay in love with. Guessing no one ever loved me or eventually nobody wants to or could.

I get it a lot, people telling me how lucky I am and I wouldn't deny it myself. I get to be with amazing people regardless of however it ends. Everybody's always so splendid in the beginning aren't they? I love how artificial people can get but also how genuine some are but when they stop, I no longer get surprise anymore. If only that meant it would hurt any less. As amazing as things are and as lucky and blessed I get, it seems like with me everything is a play. Temporary; waiting for an end; a bow, a charming smile and a wave goodbye. Curtains closing, show's over. The end.

"You deserve better." The amount of abhorrence I have for that sentence sometimes. "Better" never happens. "Better" is what people choose to become not wait to. It never sticks with me. "Better" comes, "better" gets to know you, "better" treats you better, "better" sees you all fucked up, "better" leaves. "Better" finds "better" and you're never better. No one's going to be better for you no matter how hard you try to be the best for them.


Wednesday, 23 September 2015


"Kenapa dengan mata, bengkak. Menangis?"

forgotten insight.

It goes like this, but not quite?

Remember that no matter what happens, whoever you are or have become today that makes anyone think you've changed, is not your fault. Don't beat yourself up for it. Don't ever beat yourself up for it. Not everyone is going to understand your condition although you know so well of what they've been through, how they are and how it is for them. You can't expect anyone to be able to fathom the state you are in, but if they really want to, you could always give them an insight of it. It's when they don't, that you have to be stronger. Stay strong. Know that no matter how shitty it gets, there would always, always be someone to catch you when you fall, even if it's the people you least expect it to be. -abang


Tuesday, 22 September 2015

action, and cut.

Everybody loves so much in the beginning. Yet it's not like the movies;

Where he would stare at you, looking into your eyes as if he sees through your soul and it's the most horrible yet magnificent thing he has ever discovered. She's not going to be at your doorstep waiting for you to come out, just to apologise for the things she's said or how she has hurt you. He's not going to take you in when you are broken scattered all over the place. She isn't going to tell you how you are everything to her, that no one could compare or how you are one of the most beautiful masterpiece she has ever encountered, complicated yet enchanting. He isn't going to meet your parents and tell his about you, sweep you off your feet, ask for your hand in marriage. She isn't going to comfort you the way you would her at her lowest, she isn't going to stay when things are hard, or let you know how you're worth the pain and this too shall pass, that we'll get better. He isn't going to have you as the only one in his heart, adore you the way adam adored eve and his heart all cozy and warm yet a living hell full of love for you and the thought of you leaving him one day. She isn't going to care you didn't eat yesterday, she's not going to ask how your day was or if you're okay. He's not going to hug you so tight like it's the last time each time, and she's not going to kiss you goodbye.

But I would. You'd get your cinderella scene, you'd be prince charming and I'd be everything else you need. But you don't need me. It's a funny story really.


Sunday, 20 September 2015

no, this time not tea.

With no clue of my age at the moment, what year it is and who I am. I no longer know what it's like to not be this way or how it felt when nothing mattered as much as it does now and how every sickness has it cure. I keep tumbling down back again before I even get the chance to fully pick myself up, I can't feel my own presence except for the wandering thoughts that play me like a broken record; the same thing, the same feel, the agony. 

However I hope you love me for the person I am today, because I don't. I've been trying to be the girl everybody used to adore, the one you fell in love with, the child my parents were proud of having and the person I thought I'd never ruin. I make it the hardest for myself and it affects everyone else, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for every sadness, disappointment and anger I feel. I'm sorry for every inconvenience I've caused, also for being weak and boneless, fragile and broken. I have tried but to even get a grasp of the person I was seems rather futile after all I have made myself go through. Regardless of it all I would understand if you don't, when I myself can't.

On the bad days, if you're still there, willingly, I hope you remember the good times, the moments you cherished the most with me, how you might miss me but not quite favour what you now see and it's alright. I don't too. Remember every memory left when I was it all; when the world was mine in spite of the fact that it was shredding me apart. You'll remember the loving, cheerful even when in grief, and confident self I was but no more. When everything falls apart and not even a fragment of me is left, imagine me

drinking a mug of hot chocolate.
This used to be my favourite before I forgot.



I just think that, I love so much.

To be too in love
Too everything
Too nothing
Too inadequate 
Too much
Too little
Too in love
Too in love
Too desperately in love

And no one's going to love me back the same way but I am blessed to even be loved and it's okay if you don't or if you do. It's okay that it's not and when it is. It's okay not to try, it's okay to go, it's okay to ignore, it's okay to leave me alone because I am okay. I'm always okay for everyone. It's okay that you used to hate the people who makes me sad and whenever I'm down because happiness is all you want for me but some days, nowadays, you get tired of trying. I get too much to handle and it's okay. It's okay because I'll always still be here and as tired as I get I'm still going to try, I'm going to be with you. I'm going to love you. With every piece I have left and every bit that used to love myself just as much, I love you more.

And it's okay, if you don't.


a fragment of memory.

Me and my quirky ways and this stereotypical man boy, what a quirk of fate, having to be together. It's the little things along the way. The eating habits, the oddness there is to some of the things he does and how he acts, the silly things he does that gets you laughing, the look and sense of humour that gets you stumbling. 

The consideration and care he has for you, that mcd thing going on, thinking about it gets you reminded of the first time you met. It was all on him. What a sweetheart, first ever gentleman I've met, for a boy. My boy, man, well my everything under the sun. 

You'd think he's the right one by how it didn't ache the first time you said goodbye (like a sign that maybe this won't hurt the same), contented, you were, miraculously sure this time about whatever it is that this would become to be. At the end of the few months down this road each goodbye aches a bit more, like a hole drilled deeper in your chest; still the right one to you, but to fall so deeply now, makes it all harder. 

I've never dread a farewell so hard, I abhor watching him walk another way but I take a glimpse of it each time. No, I stare, I watch until I'm sure enough he's gone. I still can't get over the urge to chase after him each time I do. Seems almost impossible not to be left feeling empty. I find it amazing how things work, no matter how much it's going to hurt. Just like leaving home, him gone gets me homesick. I feel so much love each time it comes to mind or every minute I get to look at him, when it could all be taken away in a blink of an eye. It's not safe is it to love absolutely everything that comes with him around. But I utterly adore him, and I find it hard to adore anyone at all.


Wednesday, 16 September 2015

every first is an end.

Do you ever just go back to the first time, and the first date loving what you remember and now, asking what went wrong? Maybe nothing did, after everything you put each other through and the effort to make it work, nothing has been. Everything works the way it's supposed to. It happened, still happening. It was meant to. Wrong is when it stops, when one takes a step back and runs to where it all begun, but without you. Wrong is when someone falls out of love because they forget you. However after everything, when it happens, it gets right again. Just now with a different story, of how it was never meant to be.


Monday, 14 September 2015

knock me for a loop.

Paper wet, writing smudged, eyes both red, with hands wrapped around a blue plush once own by a kid you know, your body curled to a fetus position, cold. The images in your mind are of the one you let loose by holding on too tight. Did it happen again?

Goodnight, to everyone else.
I love you, I spilled out to him.
In silence, stays silent. He sleeps.
It's me again wasn't it?


Sunday, 13 September 2015


I saw a photo of him sitting next to one of his girl friends, wishing that was me. It wasn't the first thought. He was the first thing and person I noticed the minute I saw that photo, I thought god, even without trying as always, so flawless. He has the cutest stupid smile/smirk. More amusing than stupid really. Is it just me or was he the only one who stood out? He seems to be the only one glowing.

I came across another photo awhile ago. I was in a bad state then yet still, well enough to be aware of how goddamn handsome he looks to me. Something different, I couldn't quite put a finger on it but maybe just maybe, a bit more maturity in his face I see. My star's starting to look a tinsy bit older. Adorable. In the most unstable uncomfortable moment, I'm invaded by thoughts so petty and pathetic, the self pity disgusts me.

If I finally have the strength to become weak enough to self destruct, I hope I demolish whatever proof of my existence in anyone's life. I hope to shut down everything or leave few but very little pieces of me around, for awhile, if I lasts. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to be consumed by thoughts of whatever that comes when my body's in disarray as my mind disheveled by unrealistic logic I self create. I don't want to ache at every thought I would have of him. I don't want to know.

I wouldn't want to care of how much you no longer find me attractive over the body I've put to waste, how unappetising I would get, how every touch comes along with fear, how there are better and how you'd turn to catch a second glimpse of anyone who has what I used to own. I don't want to know who makes you feel safe if I no longer do, who keeps you comfortable because I am unable to the way I would, who cheers you up while I am too sad and heavy to lift you up and how the view of anyone else widens your eyes as you might cringe to the looks of me.

I don't want to know who you'd drool over looking at or who catches your attention now that I don't, who you're going to follow next because you find her rad or anything enough to make you feel like she's worth that kind of interest of yours. I don't want to see how big her boobs or ass is or how flawless her skin and smile could get. I wouldn't want to think of the girls you're going to talk to who blows guys away with their charms only because they see you for what you are on the outside and how kind you are, but they don't know you and I don't want them to but they might because girls are satanic, they're leaches I'd burn them with my cigarettes. And god those beautiful ones, on the inside out, these kinds will get you hooked I'd fear you fall for them instead on the long run but I wouldn't care. I don't want to.

I don't want to think of the girls or women in your dreams, be it day or night, whatever that gets your imagination running. I don't want to feel the pain of not being seen as how you used to look at me. I don't want to think of you leaving because I got mad, jealous, insecure, weak, and fragile. I don't want to know if you'd leave and think or make myself believe you would come back if you do. I don't want to know how you did out of fear. I don't want to learn of how I am incapable of not driving the ones I cherish the most away. I don't want to think about how others would tell you how much you deserve better and you could easily achieve that. I don't want to know how you would listen to them. I don't want you to leave. I don't want to watch other girls approaching you in ways you once approached me.

I don't want to make you leave pushing you away giving you reasons to, let you slip and see you go. I don't want to get so distress fighting over fixing myself to keep you and letting myself rot but I no longer have the time to do either one before the other and mourn over things before I get better over every thought and irrational fear. However, despite it all, I dread if you don't at all. If you prove me wrong and stay through it all, because as stupid as this would sound after the thoughts that's spit out, I don't deserve you but I love you more.


Wednesday, 9 September 2015

let it be harsh.

Remember the sign you asked for? He gave you that.
Did you listened? No. Did you noticed? Yes.
Did it changed you? No. You changed you, when you changed it.

Don't ask why things are the way it is mind boggled,
when you've thrown every chance you get to fix it.
It hit you right in the face,
and you denied it.


Saturday, 5 September 2015

counting sands.

Why talk about family when the ones you got,
they don't got you.

You got your brother to calm you down, and a mum you would calm down. Who makes it easier for dad when he's breaking, whoever asks if he's crying? Lucky unlucky, we're all of it once. How can we blame people for the things they don't know, that we've never even bothered to talk about? How can we talk about things people fail to understand due to their own unwillingness? How do you mend what's broken, when you're too busy "fixing" what has always been dear? I'll never understand why people bother so much of the things that aren't as essential for their condition, when the little things, that give the biggest impact on your life, are ignored or swept under the carpet on a daily.

A lot on our minds, shoulders heavier each day as we neglect what's crucial or used to be, hands red and blue swollen from holding on too tight, from staying on too long. Words, we misused this, it's our ego, it's our pride, it's our ignorance that impairs how we were. Some parts broken, shattered, lost. We've wrecked it all. Is it time to let go? We wouldn't have ever thought of letting it be. For it to come to that point, is rather devastating. What once was bond has disintegrated. Do we wait for death to do us part, or we've taken it all on our hands inflicting it on ourselves as I don't see life in what we are. We choose who to become, how to act and react, but if nothing changes, is it us who are the problem? They say communication is key.

Though I'm kinda done talking.


Friday, 4 September 2015

bend not break.

No one's going to ask you about last night,
about how it was when they left,
about the tears you let shed because of that.

No one really cares or worries,
you're still alive, you're still breathing,
you wake up in the morning,
to say hello, to talk a lot, to love much more.

No one really needs you the same way,
not dying nor sick enough,
on the hospital bed as you breathe in despair,
to say goodbye, to shut your eyes.

No one's afraid- as petrified as you are of yourself.
Why do you still wake up for them, ri?


Thursday, 3 September 2015

beauty's beast.

I like the idea of each flaw there is.
Although to him, I prefer perfection.

I want to be wonderful, lovely, effortlessly flawless- perfect, to a lot of people, but not the way I do with him. I would never admit, or think I would ever feel such a way to, and for anyone at all. Work for your body, take care of your skin, hair, looks, attitude, everything for him. Despite you being sick. Preposterous and silly I might say, but I can't bear to acknowledge those eyes looking another way as I let myself rot and die so appallingly, when his thoughts and likings matters too much to me. I would never feel this way for anyone, how repulsive of me to put my self worth so low but I am lost and distorted, he's all I got. I just want to be everything to him, acting as if I've never meant anything, to anyone. As if I'm the only kind he has ever seen.

But I am dying.
Inside I am nothing no more.


Monday, 31 August 2015

weak attempt.

Somehow still alive today.
I guess yesterday's attempt was futile & weak.

I shouldn't have had, yet still, I woke up,
for anyone who still cares,
for everyone I still care about.


Sunday, 30 August 2015


Is there a word, for the things you have no words for?

I heard a knock, I recognise that tone. One look at her face, I already know what's going on. Just not what happened. I wake up everyday for her, I follow her around or them around to stop certain things from occurring, or at least, to avoid it from becoming more godawful. Any moment I turn my back away, things collapses. Or so I think, to me. It's none of what should matter to me, at least not in this way as it isn't my responsibility. However I've always been like this, I've always been the one to carry all these feelings and worries. I wish it mattered but nobody ever notices and it doesn't quite bother me anymore as it once did. From one perspective, it would never get any better. It is the way it is, it happens. If I get out of this, I save myself. I might just have a chance of living life the way I should at my age. It's too late for that now. This is a maze you can't get out from, you always get pulled back into it once you've reached the end of it.