look at me now.

Saturday, 28 March 2015

the bus.

He had his face buried in his bag pack, exhausted. I wanted to touch the side of his face but I couldn't even bring myself to it. The sudden drastic drop of self worth made him seem like a king to me. I, like a peasant, didn't even dare to say a word if not spoken to. The longer I stared, the more sympathetic I got. Why would such a beautiful person hang around someone like me- I didn't want to think about it. The more glances I took, the more empathetic I became. I felt like a book- maybe some poetic shit was about to happen or something rather tragic, could even be romantic. But I'm not what that is, I'm not a chic flick, some sort of a hopeless romantic or the indie movies found on Sundance. I was simply full of bloody cluttered emotions and feelings. Talk about inconvenience.

All I really saw was him. All I really had in mind was his being. His daily routines. All that he does or is responsible of doing plus the time he finds to talk to me. I thought about how hard working and diligent he is, how he still manages to tend to me assiduously despite how exhausting it can get. While most of what I do if not be pathetic or sad, gets in the way of things and complicate situations causing headaches. It seems like a waste of time to be with me. Here I'm wondering how this full of potential person can make the mistake of giving even the littlest attention and taking interest in me. As much as I wanted to run away from this, I selfishly wanted to still be here with him.

I am undeserving. I convinced myself to believe that I'm nothing but a phase he'd soon get over by time. At the same time praying for it to last, for me to mean so much to one's life instead of the other way around, as it often would be. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to bawl my eyes out. I was already tearing up, bitting my lip as I struggle to straighten it up. When it got too much I'd bit the inside of my cheeks. I'm basically nothing compared to him. I felt so worthless sitting there acting nonchalant. I wanted to cry and hug him so tight I wanted to be by his side forever. I wanted time to stop. Instead I brushed him away, I swept the feeling under this imaginary rug, and taped it down.

It knocks me down so many times; the realisation of how I'm just a screw up ready to mess things up for everyone else. Just "that" girl, another girl, I thought. Not that of whom you can be proud of having. I'm aware of how I'm no longer that person. Far from the kind your mum would like once she gets to know me better. I'm that person who exists just to soon become a distant memory. Always temporary.

I took another glance at him thinking of how rude it was for me to think I would get the chance to. How insulting is it to think I was on that level. He doesn't need me, whether or not he thinks otherwise and I hated how true everything felt or how I couldn't deny a thing. I absolutely despise how much it aches to know that it might as well all be true, how I am all that I believe I am because I know so well how things are with me. But I just so badly want a life more than this, with him and only him. But I am his everything (?)

At the same time nothing.


Sunday, 15 March 2015

5 morning night.

I let him in, with open arms and an open mind. He was different, as in a bit odd in behaviour. He was lively, he was full of spark and enthusiasm, a bit too much for me, as I was too little for him. I wasn't enough I knew. I wasn't what he wanted or needed despite the days I went through with him, the amount of things we shared and I've learned or the fact that I grew, adapting to his way. 

Maybe I talked too little, barely responded the right way, or was too awkward to be with when met. It could have been the way everything I wanted to say were always stuck like a lump in my throat and it made it felt difficult for him, giving the impression that I was hiding so much despite the fact that I gave out so much of me left to him. Maybe the love wasn't enough, he wanted to consume my life. Too many times where my chest would contract a bit too much for each time I try to talk, to be able to live up to being normal, as I knew I wasn't able to. It wasn't my thing to talk.

But I woke up to my phone ringing that Tuesday, at 2 in the morning, running to my room with the doors close to listen to him talk, wondering what was wrong. You don't just call people in the middle of the night, to talk about life, the world or your future to just anyone. For that I thought I was special. He kept me up till 3, it's okay I said, don't worry about school. I slept at 5, woke up at 6 and off to school I went. 

Calls came in frequently after. I wonder if he ever thought about it back then, how I had school and he didn't but I chose him over sleep, because I cared, because I worried. Some days nothing would be spoken of, so he'd sing over the phone. He only wanted a reason to talk to me although he didn't needed any, I would pick up the phone either way. Whatever the time was. Every goodbye felt like he was leaving me forever over the words I lack of exchanging, I knew he would, when he did.

"Call me back.", I did, every single time. When I wasn't able I would find a way to. Every skype session I made happened, despite having school the next day or how tired I was. A no to each time he asked if I were sleepy or wanted to sleep. I would keep myself awake until the minute he wanted to dose off or needed to go. I was there to call or text him whatever he needed to hear whenever things got difficult, whatever condition I was in. 

I lay awake almost each day listening to whatever he had to say. My words were always in a mess when I said it but I meant it. I would make time and find a way to meet him, barely ever the other way around. I stick around through his happier days, stayed by his side comforting him through the shit he encountered and the problems he had to face, I was there. But I wasn't enough.

There were days where he would disappear, days where he didn't answer any of my calls, text, or inbox messages, and I had to wait for him to come around again, telling me things, making me believe, persuading me into staying. He had problems of his own. I never bothered or dare talked much of mine, I wasn't going to let myself get left for being a whiny problematic baggage of a baby.

It was only convenient I would think, but I didn't mind. I didn't mind his insecurities, I didn't mind him coming and going, his indecisiveness, his confusion, or any of what people saw as a flaw or a mistake. I accepted it all and still, I wasn't enough. "You need to be more confident", he'd always say. Little did he knew I could get up and leave without a second thought or a glance back if I wanted to, but didn't.

See, you can let yourself love someone so much and do whatever that's needed to make it last but it would still slip away if it was meant to. I don't think there's anything wrong with spending time with people or falling in love, just watch who you give your heart and invest your time to. Don't let yourself waste away on what you know deep inside is wrong for you. You can do just about anything for anyone, but they could still walk away, put you behind them, and move on without a care about you. Sometimes people don't love you, they just think they do, they might never.


nostalgia trauma.

Get your shit together
I'll do math, I thought.

I never do math. I know this feeling now, what it is, how it was. This fear. No adrenaline rush. But a well compose rhythm of unaccountable uneasiness. Nauseated with sudden melancholy. I think this irrepressible feeling I can't quite put a finger on is rather oppressive. I wish I knew why it is, for it to be easier to explain. Everything from the compilation of the start to the end of things and incidents I never let to heart or refuse to let get to me, all that I've repressed from weighing me down, blasting inside me at once.

I look so calm still.
Everything's placid. But my emotions.


to Him we thank.

I am beyond lucky nevertheless, that my parents are capable of supporting me psychically, and financially. Even if not emotionally, mentally, yet alhamdulillah for what I am able to have or still own for now despite what I've lost or/and couldn't retain.


Tuesday, 10 March 2015


March 10.

Maybe it's all in my head, just like everything else. How much longer should I believe that my head has been in the wrong place with the wrong state of mind for so long, I might never know.

I've been here, now again. I'd claim to be in my own world now, I sometimes would rather have it that way but I'm far from that. Maybe subconsciously trying to push myself into it on purpose when I'm really just struggling to knock some sense into my head of how my feet is getting a bit too high off ground at the moment. My head is barely in the clouds; I'm afraid I might just push myself up. Find me dancing in the rain, hanging myself off a tree. You're either present in reality or is stuck in your own head; a world full of your own fantasy or sick distorted wormhole - but I am in between. I am the wall that separates it both, careful not to let any piece of each intertwine. Sadly I've been in both. All at once, it has consume me without the need for me to move in closer.

It's hard, to keep sane once you've realised you're just a bit out of your head. You worry of what would have never crossed your mind as a kid, anything to not get you locked up or thrown away. Everyone's an arm's reach away but too far gone, you're too far gone. To be next to someone, to live everyday to see their face but know that although they are in your life now, you are not in theirs. You're floating away. They don't notice it in your eyes, or in each of your movements, the way you speak, the stares you give. Nothing is physical enough to make them believe that you're no longer you.

When people walk out, it's as if my life is on pause, for when they come home to me again. Though life goes on for them, despite my absence. I keep everyone so close, but I'm held loosely. I'm not one of them. Sometimes it feels like I can never be.


sleep tight.

What if I tell you, there might not be a tomorrow for me,
instead of the constant "I won't always be around."
or that of " I might not be here when you wake up."

No good morning texts, no how's your day or what you've been up to today- none of what you're used to. What happens next, once you no longer hear from me. Dropping to pure silence, is it me or you that's left lost and bewildered, we'd know then. Might I finally care more about me, than anyone else- maybe. However nothing is as it seems isn't it? It could just be me. No other legitimate enough reason. Things have finally overwhelm me enough to make me not bother to even struggle out of this suffocation. 

With me, there is never a precise verdict, it all depends on what I'm force to do or accept next. It's funny, always is. Not funny ha ha, funny sad. It should be grey, haplessly I don't live with much choices. It's either black, white, or stuck in dull nothingness. Either way I've to make my move sooner or later. I've grown to despise the fact that as life goes on, it drags me along with it. 

You soon forget to notice, how so many doesn't. People don't care that way; they'd never. Maybe it is true, how people are only here, for their own convenience; only when it's beneficial to them. They are not you. You would sacrifice yourself in order to make things bearable for everyone of that you love and purposely make it seem as if you've done nothing but made them suffer or weigh them down superfluously. Every deed you made you left in disguise. Just so maybe it'd be easier for them to leave you as they wish to. You were not much to lose, you would make them believe. At the same time wishing they knew. They never do.

Nobody ever saw right through you. They couldn't read between the lines. They would not have noticed even if it was taped onto their forehead despite the amount of times they've took glances of themselves through a mirror. No one saw any sense in what I've done, my reasons to all the choices I've made or why I live a certain way. In the end it only backfires on me once I change my ways, the moment I start to do things for me. I've been proclaim to be as selfish since god knows when whether or not I did what was right or wrong. No one ever saw the rationality in any of what I do.

I am, just, in fact, another tool.
So what if or would happened I didn't wake up tomorrow?
Nothing. Nothing happens even if so much would. In the end nothing really has. With me, nothing has always been the answer and nothing ever matters, nothing is ever enough so maybe, nothing I will finally become.


Wednesday, 4 March 2015

more than not, he does.

You thought he knew,
that he would love you,
and still loves you,
as much as you know,
he only thinks he does,
but he does.

You would not have known,
if it were to slap you across your face,
of how he grows to as days go by,
despite every reason not to,
just as much as you do,
because you do,
whether or not he does.

Little boy, my baby boy,
a day or two of life alone,
would not have been the same at all,
if it were to be without you.

What if you fall in love with something so deeply, so intensely, it killed. Knowing you died for something you loved, even when it wasn't right- you believe it's better than to live, without real purpose. Haplessly there are times when you would love someone so much, you're to let them go. They might love you so much, they don't anymore. Some things you can never change or decide on, even if you had the choice to. What is, will be.

It's all in your head.


Tuesday, 3 March 2015

it's you.

For each attempt to put it into words,
I do nothing but repeat things inexplicable to describe,
despite the number of times I have tried,
and have failed so pathetically,
for every time I do.

It has always been you.

Maybe, if I were to say it the way I do, before things got out of hand as I slipped away from my own self, I would say it's in his eyes. How it glistens and enlarges with excitement. Maybe it's in the way he holds my hand, how the tighter I held, the firmer his grip would get. Or how I would open my arms for a hug, as I awkwardly call out the action and understandingly he would go in for one, letting me settle into it, almost tranced by the warmth of his embrace- I could stay this way forever. 

Maybe the perturbation by just how little we say, but to feel so close although we're far away. It might be how it feels like home to just be. How each touch felt like my own, without angst, any sense of discomposure or doubt. When every wrong might never be right, opposed to how I would perceived it with anyone before him. Still, instead, every fault or flaw only led me to strive for better, make do with what is given, never complacent, only ever so grateful. Every obstacle, with him, never (to my astonishment), made it felt as if it was nothing but futile. Better or more, I'd want to have and become it all with him.

Must have been all that he envisions, the plans and thoughts he minds to share, it must have won me over. Spellbound by the kindness and presence. Still that isn't it. What if it wasn't much of what's on the surface that made a difference? If maybe, just like most things we've been living denying, it's all from what comes deep within you.

It is how I see who I was, in who he is, and what could be by what I've done and how he's changed. I can't quite say, if it is what it is- my other half as they would call it. However, to have met him, got to know him has convinced me, after everything, that he's not one that I would without doubt, let go at ease. As if it were meant to be, as if it means more than beyond what I am sure of today, I couldn't if I tried. Like the innocence I've misplaced where I would not go back to, he fills in a gap I would not have noticed was present for the longest of time. As real as reality and life could get, he is it all.

It's such a shame, he came at a time where I couldn't have loved with all that I had, be that as it may, despite my full consciousness of my condition, miraculously I still took him in; held him close. A complete stranger I was so eager to keep in spite of every possibility to get screwed over. It's hilarious to me, because it isn't. Yet to regret a thing. Does that hurt? Out of every one I've got with, he is, as cliche as it might sound to any, the first I have loved profoundly, so very dearly he is to me it's preposterous to even me. Feels much like loving yourself for the first time. Though I am not who I was. The world doesn't become greater to me, but I get better, when with him.

If every being, or incidents, I had to put up with or got myself into were the reason that lead me to him, to this, to what I now have, it must have not been so bad after all. Every agony, near death experiences, joy and that of what I have lost, is merely as bad as how it would be to not have him now. Even if it has all turned me to what I am instead of who I am today, and how it leaves me incapable of being better or is more deserving of any wonders of the world, I am glad it gave me the chance to get to share this part of my life with him whether or not this would only be for a little awhile, it's been the most I have made out of my disenchanted self. I wouldn't trade it for the world.