24/08/2014

I wonder how life was like before life.

How I was formed in my mother. How tiny I was. How fragile I was; how my parents took special care of me before I was born, how my big brother might have loved me before he even saw me.

I wonder how my family was like, while I was forming inside of her. How my grandmother and father and big brother might have put their ears to her stomach, trying to listen to my voice. Have they ever promised themselves to continue listening to me, even after I was born?

What was it like to learn how to walk? How to talk? My whole life I was on my feet, I've forgotten how it must have been like to struggle on limbs of my own. How it must have been like to use my vocal chords for the first time.

Everything I did back then must have cost a lot of pain. Whatever I was doing or feeling for the first time; it must have been unusual to a fragile being like I was. Maybe that's why I kept crying.

How did my mother ever teach me the things I know today? What was it like to have no idea what a colour is? Who taught me that the sky would always be blue?

It's strange to imagine life in a different way. To imagine myself not knowing the things I know now; not doing the things I do now; not loving the things I love now.

Bliss without pain is a book without stories; a world where you don't cry or feel hurt sounds appealing, but can you imagine not knowing what pain is?

Maybe nobody taught me anything that I know now. Maybe all they did was show me the world, and from there I took my own steps. From there, I took liking in my own favourite things and decided what was beautiful and what was not.

Imagine a place where people told you what to love.
Maybe you are living in there right now.

Maybe I am considered lucky to love things that others don't.
Because it's a reminder that I grew up seeing the world through my own eyes, and not through others'.

A person can truly be called an inspiration if she makes others want to see the world through her eyes.
I want to be one, to make people want to imagine the world I see it. But I also want everyone to learn to see things their own way.

I wish I could be a warm flame to the people I love, and also a spreading wildfire to everyone else, to ignite the spark to discover things their own way.

If I died tomorrow

If I died tomorrow, leave my shelves dusty
Silverfish among the pages so murky
Calendar untouched, on the very month
I would have turned twenty-one

If I died tomorrow, leave my bed undone
Don't forget the way I loved the sun
Don't pick up the photographs that fall
After sticking hopelessly on my wall

If I died tomorrow, let my other half
Have the diary from the year of rough
Let him have the photo of a girl
Black, white, never touched the world

If I died tomorrow, give him space
And time to slowly erase my face
Let him know he has friends around
Help him find a girl, maybe a rebound

If I died tomorrow, don't let them pretend
Lie that they were even my friend
Trying to find a photo from 2 or 5 years ago
Fabricating a long-lost friendship just for show

If I died tomorrow, what would have been
The song that I was listening to on repeat?
What would have been the paperback
That came falling out of my ripped slingbag?
What would have been the graphic t-shirt
That would be dragged along the dirt?
What would have been the last tweet, text, call
The other half, the grandma, if any at all?

Does this justify my lack of fashion

On the very rare occasions where I feel like wearing something other than jeans, I have this unusual thought: what if an apocalypse were to break out today? I'd want to be in something easy to run in, aka my usual jeans and sneakers. 

I know it's fucking weird, but seriously the last thing I want is to be in panic and survival situations in a dress/skirt and sandals or something. Fucking nope. It's also why I sometimes get anxious on days I have to wear baju kurung. I'd be dead way quicker if I were in one when a zombie outbreak were to happen. 

That's also the reason why I wish I had perfect eyesight. No I don't want to have to run about during an apocalypse in glasses. What if I lose them? I'd be fucking blind as a Zubat and that makes me feel so handicapped. And contact lens solution, where would you get them in such a time??? Not that I'd have time to put them on if danger came when I was sleeping or shit, right???

Maybe I'm just making excuses for how I'm too lazy to make effort to dress up, despite complaining how I'm not as pretty or fashionable as all those other girls. I don't know about them but I wouldn't want to be wearing wedges or flared skirts that could get caught easily or sleeveless tops which would show armpit hair after not shaving for a long time. (not that I'd ever survive so long) 

If my blog posts aren't depressing or full of complaints as usual, it just means you're here on the other side of my brain.

Wish I could be normal

Here's what I like to do: I like to read. I like spending hours in a library or a bookstore. I like to go for walks on my own. I like to take long bus rides on a double decker. I like listening to slow songs. I like to stop and squat to pet a cat whenever I see one.

Here's what I don't want to do: I don't want to buy or wear nice clothes. I don't want to explore the world. I don't want to take airplanes. I don't want to attend concerts. I don't want to ever sleep if it's possible just to avoid dreams.

Here's the thing: the things I don't want to do is what everyone else does. I feel so odd. I wish I could fit in, but I don't want to change. I like the things that I like, even if it guarantees solitary days for me. But sometimes... Sometimes I don't want to be solitary.

Still remember this story that our Maths teacher told us in Sec 5; how this guy poked every single part of his body and everywhere hurt. How he'd gone to the doctor and was told that the pain was not in his entire body, but his finger. Moral of the story--to know the source of the problem.

I know I'm the problem, but what do I do to solve it? I'm not sure. Wish I could be normal without sacrificing my love for books and fascination with trains; without forcing myself to put on make-up or listen to the songs that everyone else is listening to.