look at me now.

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.