look at me now.

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.