back in 2010, about three days before the start of Ramadan, someone told me; "on the first day of Ramadan it's a must for the whole family to break fast together. my parents are always working but they'll always make the effort to come home and have dinner with us."
i'd said in a small voice; "that's your parents." he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and said; "if only your brothers and parents are like mine."
well, too bad they are not.
i've been itching to write about my past Ramadans since this year's started, but i'd made a pact not to write anymore. well screw that stupid promise; i'm gonna write now, about how i'd spent my fasting months in the past years, the memories which stand out, be they memorable or unpleasant.
i had my first Ramadan of secondary school in 2008. Ramadan sat nicely in the whole of September, which included my 13th birthday. my then girl best friends had laid a surprise for me and on my special day, word had gotten around.
i was made to wait at the back of this restaurant at a shopping mall near my sec school; a usual haunt for us back then. they made me wait, and about one and a half hour later or so they still hadn't turned up.
my closest best friend was there for me though. she was the one making contact with the masterminds of this whole plan. she mentioned something about them still having not been released from their cca.
in the end i decided to head home; they obviously werent going to show up. the best friend who was with me had gotten me a card and i'd appreciated it. but i still couldnt help feeling sad when i got home and thought about it.
to make things worse, my elder brother was shut in his room when i got home, and my younger brother was not home too. i couldnt remember where was he really but all i remembered was the emptiness that greeted me on that day. on my 13th birthday.
as silly as i was, all i could do was sit on the edge of my bed and cry my eyes out. oh yes! now i remember where my mom, little brother, and granny were. they were down at the CC, holding up the stall which Mama had set up.
there i was at the edge of my bed when i received a phone call from the mastermind best friends. they told me to come down. it took me a long time to get off my ass, but eventually i did.
the structure of this particular CC has a little tower in the middle of the open space, and they had laid out a bag in the middle; it had my name on it and there was a song playing from their phones, which i was in love with then.
i took the bag and held it to my chest, and i started crying again. the masterminds revealed themselves and started laughing at me, telling me to relax and stop crying. one of them even exclaimed, "batal puasa sey kau nangis sampai gitu!"
it was embarrassing as hell, but that was a great first birthday of secondary school.
came 2009. well... i dont remember anything significant from this year so i shall move on to 2010.
i remember that my dad was mad at me during the few days that revolved around first day of Ramadan. and it slipped my mind that fasting month was here because nobody told me. i had a feast at noon of the first day.
my mom was working a lot. and my dad, well, he always have been. Mama was always the one who got together the meals for my brothers and i. on the days she werent, i'd be the one responsible. because i was a girl.
i remember so clearly, that particular day. as usual Mama was at work; she had called me to tell me so and could i prepare something for my brothers in her place? well i couldnt say no. it was about half an hour to break fast time so i got to work.
now i'm not sure if' i've told you this before but my elder brother has a very strange diet. he does not eat rice; not a single grain. he has particular preferences and otherwise towards food.
all the 18 years of my life, i'd only seen him eaten rice when i was a little kid. that was the era when he was still using his plastic plate with the ABC's around it. i swear that was the very last time i saw him eat rice.
as we both grew up, he started eating weird food. he only ate fast food, and maggi noodles. Mom makes me fry these stupid little popcorn chickens for him, or hash browns, or whatever fried food which is to his preference.
i swear if you know my elder brother the way our little one and i do,...... no words can describe it.
well i made him his food, followed by my little brother's. i was expecting the three of us to eat together at the dining table but nope. there was the living room, which stole the union from my brothers and i.
im not sure why but i cried while i was eating my own food, alone at the dining table. after i ate, i took a shower and, feeling upset, went out into the cold night to take a walk.
i walked from my house, along the roads, all the way to the other side of Pasir Ris. it was damn cold, this i remember; i was wearing bermudas but at least i had on a hoodie which pockets i stuffed my hands into.
that was the start to my love for walking; it was temporary but it kept me going for a while there.
2010 was also the year which i went to the bazaar at Geylang with my mom a lot. and she always told me how glad she was to have a little daughter who was so willing to follow her to places.
came 2011. i was going home straight after school a lot during Ramadan, and i always went to sleep when i reached home. as usual there'd be nobody home, and i'd turn off my bedroom lights and crash into bed, without caring whether my bedroom door was closed or not.
i remember the last time i looked at the clock was about 4pm. the next thing i knew, i woke up to complete darkness, and when i looked at my phone, it was 11pm. i'd slept for a good 7 hours!
i got out of my room, and my parents were shocked to see me. they'd been calling me non-stop wondering where i was, when all along i was right in my bedroom.
the first thing my mom screamed at me: "you never go tuition is it?!"
the first thing my dad screamed at me: "darling you sleep you never buka puasa is it?"
well there was no food left so my dad took the liberty to cook me maggi noodles. i was still in a state of shock, wondering what the hell happened before my blackout. the last thing i'd been doing was social studies.
and that was the latest time i had my buka; 4 hours after the designated time.
2012 was a lonely year, but i'd spent the first day of Ramadan eating with my mother and brothers at the dining table. dad was working, but he came home and apologised for having not being able to join us. i forgave him like i always did.
the night before though, i'd heard my parents talking among themselves about my state in school. i remember earlier that same day, my mother mentioned something abt asking my friends over during our open house for hari raya.
she was referring to the mastermind best friends i was talking about earlier, as well as the best friend who had accompanied me beforehand. as i'd mentioned in my last post, i had left these friends when 2012 started, so when my mom told me to ask them over, i shook my head.
she asked me why, and since when was i not friends with them? well, i also grew a lot more quiet than i usually was last year, and i never told her anything.
that night, the night before Ramadan; i was heading to the kitchen when i heard my parents talking in hushed tones. i knew these tones of theirs; they were talking about something important, something that a kid like me was not supposed to know but wanted to know.
so i listened. and i realised they were talking about me.
my dad mentioned the name of the boy who had left me heartbroken. my mom told him about how she figured out that i wasnt friends with my girl best friends anymore. they even mentioned my discipline master's name, about how they were constantly texting him to check on me.
i felt one of them make a move and i ran back to my room, closing the door behind me.
after that day they still didnt talk to me. i could imagine they were just assuming that whatever they were told from others was true; that they wouldnt ask for my side of the story because their own daughter was not a trustworthy source.
i kept all the more quiet during the whole of Ramadan.
one ordinary evening a few days before Syawal, i was alone in my room as usual when my mom called out to me. at this point of time the house was busy, Mom with her cookies and the men with their cleaning.
i made my way to the kitchen to where she was, and she said my cousin had came to see me. my dad's elder sister's youngest daughter. my best friend from the family since forever.
when i saw her i felt sad yet joyful. i wanted to laugh, i wanted to cry. she saw my piercings and, stunned, pointed to my earlobe as an asking for an explaination. that was when i started to break down.
i started off giving a choked laughter, and then the tears just spilled out from my eyes. i mentioned being all the more sad that she was never there for me and she apologised by saying she was busy with her poly life.
she gave me a long hug before she left, and it just made me cry all the more.
the day before Syawal finally came.
my brothers were doing their own things and my mother was out working. dad had taken a day off to do some spring-cleaning, and i was on my laptop when he started complaining that i was a useless daughter.
i didnt take his words to heart; all i took notice of was that nobody was helping him do the housework. i asked him if he needed me to help with anything; i had cleaned my own room the day before.
"no need ah, no need. i can do everything myself." he had said. he wouldnt stop pushing away my help but he also wouldnt stop complaining about nobody helping him after that.
in the end i exclaimed, "then why not you let me help you with something?"
he stopped doing his work and said, "you did not have to raise your voice."
"i did not raise my voice." this was a slightly raised voice.
"you raise your voice some more!" his voice was a lot more raised than his previous.
i got up, picked up my laptop and stomped off to my room, closing my door behind me. my window was open and the wind blew, closing my bedroom door with a loud bang.
i let it be, and laid my laptop on my desk when my dad barged in. "why did you slam the door? you didnt have to slam the door.", giving a hard slap across my face after each sentence.
"it's the wind, what the hell!" i had screamed, though my voice was shaking.
"where got wind! you dont come and bullshit with me got wind!" two more slaps to my face.
"stop hitting me!" my last scream, and my dad stared at me for a second with this look in his eyes before he walked out of my room, closing the door with a slam.
the next day, it was hari raya, and i watched my elder brother kneel down on his knees in front of my dad to ask for forgiveness. as he moved to kneel in front of mom, i knelt down in front of my dad.
"this girl," my dad had said as i was getting on my knees, "the child who breaks my heart the most."
i took his hand in both of mine and kissed it, as he said, "you know when Daddy scolds you it's for your own good... Daddy beats you because Daddy loves you."
he says it every year but i still couldnt help the tears that gathered in my eyes. i smiled, and moved on to kneel down in front of my mom next.
this year, 2013; it's my first year celebrating Ramadan in my aunt's place; and hopefully Syawal too. i know my parents are still my parents but i'm still not gonna give in to them after all they'd done to me the past seven months and beyond.
with the many siblings that my father has, they're bound to ask lots of questions if they turn up with just their two sons for Syawal this year. what could my dad say? with the ego the size of a rock blocking his path, he wouldnt dare tell them that he kicked me out of the house.
and my mom's face too. she cares about that more than anything. both my parents are so egoistic. you cant blame me for having received both their genes.
i'd been whatsapping my little brother, and he said that Mom is planning to bring me shopping for hari raya clothes. and she recently transferred some money into my bank account; it's obviously her route of making me join them for first day of syawal to my dad's side family gathering.
i absolutely refuse. they cant do this to me. for seven months they had shunned me just like that; i had to work to feed myself, to buy my school books, to bring me to and fro on the MRT.
you cant expect me to go back to them just like that after the past half a year. they'd neglected me all this while; they cant just expect me to succumb to them again. i'm not gonna be a dummy, just to represent the fifth member of the family to display for my dad's parents and many siblings.
i absolutely refuse to be part of that family until they admit their action to the relatives.
if worse comes to worse i'll have to go m.i.a during hari raya period. shall talk about this when the time comes. for now, i'll just continue doing what i must, and that is to focus on my studies.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Half a year past.
a coward is someone who says something but is too afraid to do it. who complains about something but does nothing to change it. so what do you call someone who is doing her best in something but still afraid that one day it will all be gone?
i don't want to lose you. not to your past, not to your future. everyday i do my best to make you happy, yet at the same time; everyday i am afraid that i will still lose you.
what if you meet someone better than me? what if she was prettier, and smarter, and less stubborn, a better writer? what if she was like me but a lot better? you'd compare me to her. you'd think i've dimmed.
or what if you meet someone who is broken like me? what if there is someone who is shattered, and a lot more lonelier than me? what if she's in love with you? you'd think she needs you more than i do. you'd think i'm already strong enough on my own and that i'd be fine without you.
i'm not sure which is worse; losing you to someone better than me, or to someone you think is more broken that i am.
what if in the future my face gets scarred terribly and you dont even want to look at me anymore? you first noticed me for my looks. you'd leave me if my face is no longer what you fell for, or if i'm old, or fatter. my youth is not forever, and so isn't your attraction towards my face.
meanwhile, each time i look at photos of us, i'm not sure whether that girl is really who i am or not. and when i look at you, i don't believe you are mine.
i'd think of you. i'd think of the things you had ever done for me. the things we ever did together. i can never be convinced that those memories are really mine; i can never believe that there's someone like you in this world who loves me so much.
we've been together half a year now, and we've already gone through so much. when you kiss me right before we part, people around us would judge and call us a young couple, simply infatuated with puppy love. but they didnt know the heartaches and pain and all that we've been through, during and before our relationship.
people out there don't know my whole story, yet they judge me and refuse my existence. yet you who know everything i'd ever done in the past, accept me in the blink of an eye.
the best gift to represent our meeting is a bouquet of daphne and meadow saffron; "my best days are over". and "i would not have you otherwise". i wouldnt have met you if i hadnt been in my terrible state.
really. no words can describe how much I love you. i can't imagine us apart, and i can't imagine you being alone again. i can't imagine you without me.
and again; i don't know how you found me, but i'm glad you did.
we had a heart to heart talk last night, and i spilled out everything to you. i'm glad to have gotten it off my chest and upon your listening ears. you assured me, and i believed you.
but here i am, still afraid that one more slip-up and you'll be gone like that.
it's been half a year, but my feelings for you are stronger than ever.
on the day i first saw you, it was love at first sight. i couldnt get my eyes off you. i couldnt speak. it was the first time i felt so nervous being around a guy. i was nervous, but i was also comfortable talking to you.
we watched airplanes, we told stories about ourselves, we laughed, we held each other's hands in ours, we ran in the rain, we wrapped our arms around each other.
i'm still gonna continue doing my best to treat you right. i'll keep letting you annoy me, i'll keep going on dates with you, i'll keep running in the rain with you, i'll keep holding your hand, i'll keep kissing you, and i'll keep hugging you.
because although we've already done that at the beginning of our relationship, it is what keeps us going. i'd like you to stay with me for as long as you can. and i'd like to stay with you til the day i die.
Monday, July 15, 2013
My comeback.
the only one in this world who can discriminate me for my writing is me.
for over a decade i have been writing.
when i was as young as Primary 2, i wrote this mystery story about a pair of twin girls, inspired by the Mary-Kate and Ashley series i was so in love with. i had my close friend read it, and i've forgotten how the topic came about but one of my classmates had told our form teacher about it.
i remember the way he had said, "ya! she write the chapter 1, so nice!"
our form teacher made me lend her this book, and after she returned it to me she told me i had the talent of writing. she made me her English rep, and i was so careful not to ever screw up in the subject.
i started writing in a diary. my first diary came from the year 2003, when i was 8. it didnt have a passcode and my elder brother would read it when i wasnt around, the sneaky little fox.
he would laugh at the things i wrote, about the boys i had crushes on, about the silly fights with my girl best friends. and about my dreams.
my earlier diaries were filled with ambitions. i had wanted to be everything and anything i set eyes on. i wanted to be a fashion designer. i wanted to be an artist. a model! a teacher! a singer! and at one point of time i also wanted to be a lawyer although i didnt know what it meant.
but it was ironic. there i was, writing about these dreams and wondering which one would i be, when the one real ambition i actually had was right under my nose.
in 2004, i wrote these little magazines for my then class, in the form of exercise books with drawings of a certain classmate on the cover of each issue.
i must admit, for a little 9-year-old, those covers i had designed were actually not that bad, with its title on the top and article headings splattered around underneath.
i also put together some coloured paper, stapled them together and wrote stories on them, making it look like a little story book. i made a ton of those, and everyone was reading them.
i had that moment of popularity for that; my classmates would gather around me in between classes and ask for a new book for them to read. they'd pass them around when they were done, and they'd discuss my stories more than discuss about homework.
of course, eventually our form teacher came over and demanded, "just what is it that everyone keeps going to you about?" she snatched one of those coloured books, glimpsed through it, and said, "no more bringing this to class. such a distraction!"
i was a rebellious kid already back then, and i still brought them to class. we all secretly read them, even during this teacher's class [which was English, ironically], until one day she caught one of us and confiscated my whole stack of handmade storybooks.
that was the end of that. but of course; it didnt deter me from this hobby of mine.
in 2005 our form teacher made us write journals. came a week which had "ambitions" as the journal topic, and i wrote that i wanted to be a writer.
this teacher had a method of giving us stickers as a reward for us to collect into a template, and the more we receive the bigger our reward.
i never had many of those stickers, because i was always not passing up my homework, especially Maths [she was our Maths and English teacher]. everyone would be getting two or three for passing up on time or for doing a great job, but i never got any because even if i did the homework, i'd be late.
well, this journal was my comeback. i got two stickers for every entry, and for that particular ambitions entry, i had gotten three. and an additional three for an excerpt i had written, extracted from one of those storybooks of mine.
and guess what? my form teacher even read aloud my entry to the class. i still remember the way she had announced, "she wants to be a writer." i remember so clearly the smile on her face and her tone of disbelief, as if she couldnt believe that a kid like me had such an ambition.
word got around for a bit, and people made fun of me for wanting to be something as silly as a writer. i ignored them and just did what i could. i hated Maths, but i did my best for English classes.
however, i had a new hobby in 2006 and 2007. i discovered anime and i started reading mangas instead of books. i drew comics instead of write. i gained popularity in my classes for this too, everyone coming to me to look at me draw or asking to borrow the sketchbook i had drawn in.
came secondary school. my blog was a few months old, then known as spark-s-furawar.blogspot.com. i wrote about the daily happenings, about what happened in class everyday. i had many readers then, and everyone else also had blogs.
it was in mid-2009 that the internet at my house started having problems. for the next two years i only managed to blog when there was a computer that had internet connection.
in the meantime, i wrote poems. i wrote plenty each week to represent what i was going through at the time. my diary entries were shallow, just daily happenings but the poems i wrote, as silly as they were, represented my feelings a lot more.
it was only in late 2010 when my aunt and uncle presented me with my own laptop and even got me the broadband thingamajic. it was the period where i was heartbroken after the first kiss episode. i started blogging again, and i wrote about my heartache in the privacy of my bedroom.
my dad got me a little camera in February of 2011. with this camera i started to record little moments i went through. it grew into a class thing, and i made videos of the daily happenings in class 4/2.
we won the Cheering Competition in 2011, a major event in our school. it was what started our fun times and bonds and memories. these memories were captured on my camera and i editted [though my skills were amateur] the footage into daily videos.
in August 2011 i got a better camera to record videos. it wasnt the best but it was more to preference when i was recording. i recorded 4/2's PE lessons the most, when we would all be playing soccer together and just slacking with one another. i loved my classmates.
i wanted to make music videos. i had lots of ideas for every other song i listened to, which related to my life, but i never had the time or resources to make them. the only one i had ever gotten to making was Soul Full Solace, a simple 2minute video about having courage to get up and walk away/move on.
i'd gotten two of my girl best friends to be my models, and i was ordering them around, like a director. of course, they had their turns bossing me around too. it was, after all, all in the name of fun.
that was when i found another hobby: video-making.
i continued blogging at the same time. even as time passed by and everyone started shutting down or deleting or simply neglecting their blogs, i continued in mine. i changed my URL a ton of times, the last before my current one being holyfiretruck.blogspot.com.
that was late 2011, when i was already with that boy whom i'd had a crush on for two years. i decided to change my link one more time when 2012 came, and i decided that it'd be its name for the rest of its life.
this boy had once given me a notebook with "the color black" written on it, and he bought me a bottle of Minyak Kapak for the headaches i was constantly getting; directly translated as 'axe oil'.
from these two gifts he had presented me, i changed my blog URL to 109blackaxes.blogspot.com. 109 was a moniker i'd been using since 2009, and i cant remember the story behind it.
he left me a few days after, but my blog remained as 109blackaxes. up to this day.
during the period when i was getting suspended from class everyday, in 2012, i still continued to write. i wrote instead of doing my work in class. i blogged instead of doing my homework. that year may have been the loneliest year of my life but i had my words to accompany and protect me.
one particular day, i was sitting outside the general office when my classmate came up to me. he told me that the HOD for English subject had came to class and praised the compo i had written during our Mid-Year exam.
my classmate quoted the HOD; "she said it was 'one of the best 5NA compos' she had ever read."
it made my day. i was in bliss. we never talked but whenever she passed me by outside the HOD office she'd give me a little smile and i couldnt help but return it.
i did my O Levels. 2013 came and during the Poly open houses period, i went to check out anything to do with media or film. there were no courses that catered especially to my writing but i didnt mind if i could be a journalist or a filmmaker.
i thought about the things i had done in the past decade. i'd drawn comics, i'd written poems, i'd made videos, i'd directed a music video. although i tried doing so many things, it all came down to one thing. i had a passion for telling stories.
whether they were my real-life events, or made up stories, or real stories that i wanted others to know, i liked to tell stories.
i found a course in Singapore Poly called "Creative Writing for TV & New Media". when i saw that i immediately told myself i HAVE to get into that course. a few days before the release of our O Levels results, i told myself i'd die on the spot if i dont get a distinction for my English.
fast forward to the moment when my sec 5 form teacher called out my name. it was the day we receive our results. i sat down on the chair opposite her, and she had a smile on her face. she was my English teacher, and she announced, "congratulations E'indah you were my ONLY student who got a distinction for English!!"
my eyes lit up. but she turned off the lights in my eyes by saying, "but i'm sorry it's just an A2." she smiled apologetically before passing me my results slip.
i sat in a corner while my ex girl best friends talked among one another. the HOD who was chasing me for my MCs/my English teacher for the first half of sec 5 came up to me and held out his hand. "congratulations for your distinction in English."
i shook his hand, but he broke my heart by saying, "but too bad, i was really expecting an A1 from you."
i tried to apply for that course under JAE. but i couldnt. i only had 5 subjects, because i dropped art, and i'd failed my Humanities by getting a D7 grade.
i tried applying for media courses, but i was not eligible. my heart was broken. i couldnt stop blaming my parents. i couldnt stop thinking of the time my mom locked me out of the house for the few days right before my Social Studies paper. i kept thinking everyone else took away my dreams from me.
i got into where i am right now; Electronic and Computer Engineering. it was far from what i wanted but i couldnt apply for anything to my desire. i only applied for it because of the year 2 option that was to do with media communications, or smth like that.
the HOD of English who had praised my compo back in secondary school was a regular customer at where i am working. she remembered me, which i was sure for my writing, because we had never communicated about anything else.
one day, she asked me; "what course are you in?" it was a question i'd learnt to dread. i told her in a small voice; an engineering course.
she looked disappointed. and then she said, "that is so not you. you should have gone somewhere else. your writing is so good."
i didnt answer. she continued; "maybe there'd be some newspaper cca or something in your new school? you should join that. just don't stop writing. you have such a rare gift."
writing is indeed. it's a gift, but gifts are never blessings all the time. i've never met another writer who is on par with me. it's a blessing that i am unique, but it's a curse that nobody in this society will ever appreciate writing.
it felt like i was not fated to write. i've hated Maths since i was a kid, yet here i am. i'm always waking up in the mornings, angry at God for putting me in Engineering instead of thanking Him for letting me wake up for a new day to continue following my dreams.
i told myself i wanted to stop writing forever because the idea of being an Engineer was getting into my head. i wanted to start loving Maths. and the only way for me to do that was to quit writing. after all, right now my future depends on my Maths. because i am an Engineering student.
like i'd said; if you were to get stuck on an island for three years, would you rather be trapped with someone you love or someone you hate? i'd say i'd rather someone i hate; so that i can use the time to learn to love them.
but a week after my last post, i couldnt take it anymore. i was going insane from not writing or blogging. i was going insane with all that maths and programming that were jammed in my head.
at the same time, everyone else was telling me about how much they liked my writing. they were people who loved me, and they were people i love; but that just made me all the more lack the confidence that my writing was good. after all, what else could they say?
i still cant deny that this pause from writing did me more good than i expected. when i skipped classes on Thursday, i did my programming. if i still had been blogging i wouldnt have learnt about loops.
and instead of keeping quiet and ranting about people's comments on my blog and diary, i stood up for myself, against a handful of people in my life.
i wrote this post today because i wanted to tell you my relationship with writing. what made me started it, what made me go back to it again and again.
but right now, i have to learn how to juggle the best friend and the classmate. the best friend is someone who has been with you for over a decade, and you always go to her when you need her and have personal problems.
the classmate is the one you need in school. the one who contributes significantly to your grades. you cant talk to your best friend over the phone while you are doing homework with your classmate. your best friend is still in your life, but not all the time anymore.
fine. i wont be quitting writing/blogging. i'm still here. just that i need to cut down on it. it may be my passion, but it is not my current necessity.
i'll ace Engineering, and then i'll move on to Media/Film if God is willing. i'm not giving up on my writing, and i never will; but for now, i have to keep it aside. because Maths is calling me.
thank you for reading.
for over a decade i have been writing.
when i was as young as Primary 2, i wrote this mystery story about a pair of twin girls, inspired by the Mary-Kate and Ashley series i was so in love with. i had my close friend read it, and i've forgotten how the topic came about but one of my classmates had told our form teacher about it.
i remember the way he had said, "ya! she write the chapter 1, so nice!"
our form teacher made me lend her this book, and after she returned it to me she told me i had the talent of writing. she made me her English rep, and i was so careful not to ever screw up in the subject.
i started writing in a diary. my first diary came from the year 2003, when i was 8. it didnt have a passcode and my elder brother would read it when i wasnt around, the sneaky little fox.
he would laugh at the things i wrote, about the boys i had crushes on, about the silly fights with my girl best friends. and about my dreams.
my earlier diaries were filled with ambitions. i had wanted to be everything and anything i set eyes on. i wanted to be a fashion designer. i wanted to be an artist. a model! a teacher! a singer! and at one point of time i also wanted to be a lawyer although i didnt know what it meant.
but it was ironic. there i was, writing about these dreams and wondering which one would i be, when the one real ambition i actually had was right under my nose.
in 2004, i wrote these little magazines for my then class, in the form of exercise books with drawings of a certain classmate on the cover of each issue.
i must admit, for a little 9-year-old, those covers i had designed were actually not that bad, with its title on the top and article headings splattered around underneath.
i also put together some coloured paper, stapled them together and wrote stories on them, making it look like a little story book. i made a ton of those, and everyone was reading them.
i had that moment of popularity for that; my classmates would gather around me in between classes and ask for a new book for them to read. they'd pass them around when they were done, and they'd discuss my stories more than discuss about homework.
of course, eventually our form teacher came over and demanded, "just what is it that everyone keeps going to you about?" she snatched one of those coloured books, glimpsed through it, and said, "no more bringing this to class. such a distraction!"
i was a rebellious kid already back then, and i still brought them to class. we all secretly read them, even during this teacher's class [which was English, ironically], until one day she caught one of us and confiscated my whole stack of handmade storybooks.
that was the end of that. but of course; it didnt deter me from this hobby of mine.
in 2005 our form teacher made us write journals. came a week which had "ambitions" as the journal topic, and i wrote that i wanted to be a writer.
this teacher had a method of giving us stickers as a reward for us to collect into a template, and the more we receive the bigger our reward.
i never had many of those stickers, because i was always not passing up my homework, especially Maths [she was our Maths and English teacher]. everyone would be getting two or three for passing up on time or for doing a great job, but i never got any because even if i did the homework, i'd be late.
well, this journal was my comeback. i got two stickers for every entry, and for that particular ambitions entry, i had gotten three. and an additional three for an excerpt i had written, extracted from one of those storybooks of mine.
and guess what? my form teacher even read aloud my entry to the class. i still remember the way she had announced, "she wants to be a writer." i remember so clearly the smile on her face and her tone of disbelief, as if she couldnt believe that a kid like me had such an ambition.
word got around for a bit, and people made fun of me for wanting to be something as silly as a writer. i ignored them and just did what i could. i hated Maths, but i did my best for English classes.
however, i had a new hobby in 2006 and 2007. i discovered anime and i started reading mangas instead of books. i drew comics instead of write. i gained popularity in my classes for this too, everyone coming to me to look at me draw or asking to borrow the sketchbook i had drawn in.
came secondary school. my blog was a few months old, then known as spark-s-furawar.blogspot.com. i wrote about the daily happenings, about what happened in class everyday. i had many readers then, and everyone else also had blogs.
it was in mid-2009 that the internet at my house started having problems. for the next two years i only managed to blog when there was a computer that had internet connection.
in the meantime, i wrote poems. i wrote plenty each week to represent what i was going through at the time. my diary entries were shallow, just daily happenings but the poems i wrote, as silly as they were, represented my feelings a lot more.
it was only in late 2010 when my aunt and uncle presented me with my own laptop and even got me the broadband thingamajic. it was the period where i was heartbroken after the first kiss episode. i started blogging again, and i wrote about my heartache in the privacy of my bedroom.
my dad got me a little camera in February of 2011. with this camera i started to record little moments i went through. it grew into a class thing, and i made videos of the daily happenings in class 4/2.
we won the Cheering Competition in 2011, a major event in our school. it was what started our fun times and bonds and memories. these memories were captured on my camera and i editted [though my skills were amateur] the footage into daily videos.
in August 2011 i got a better camera to record videos. it wasnt the best but it was more to preference when i was recording. i recorded 4/2's PE lessons the most, when we would all be playing soccer together and just slacking with one another. i loved my classmates.
i wanted to make music videos. i had lots of ideas for every other song i listened to, which related to my life, but i never had the time or resources to make them. the only one i had ever gotten to making was Soul Full Solace, a simple 2minute video about having courage to get up and walk away/move on.
i'd gotten two of my girl best friends to be my models, and i was ordering them around, like a director. of course, they had their turns bossing me around too. it was, after all, all in the name of fun.
that was when i found another hobby: video-making.
i continued blogging at the same time. even as time passed by and everyone started shutting down or deleting or simply neglecting their blogs, i continued in mine. i changed my URL a ton of times, the last before my current one being holyfiretruck.blogspot.com.
that was late 2011, when i was already with that boy whom i'd had a crush on for two years. i decided to change my link one more time when 2012 came, and i decided that it'd be its name for the rest of its life.
this boy had once given me a notebook with "the color black" written on it, and he bought me a bottle of Minyak Kapak for the headaches i was constantly getting; directly translated as 'axe oil'.
from these two gifts he had presented me, i changed my blog URL to 109blackaxes.blogspot.com. 109 was a moniker i'd been using since 2009, and i cant remember the story behind it.
he left me a few days after, but my blog remained as 109blackaxes. up to this day.
one particular day, i was sitting outside the general office when my classmate came up to me. he told me that the HOD for English subject had came to class and praised the compo i had written during our Mid-Year exam.
my classmate quoted the HOD; "she said it was 'one of the best 5NA compos' she had ever read."
it made my day. i was in bliss. we never talked but whenever she passed me by outside the HOD office she'd give me a little smile and i couldnt help but return it.
i did my O Levels. 2013 came and during the Poly open houses period, i went to check out anything to do with media or film. there were no courses that catered especially to my writing but i didnt mind if i could be a journalist or a filmmaker.
i thought about the things i had done in the past decade. i'd drawn comics, i'd written poems, i'd made videos, i'd directed a music video. although i tried doing so many things, it all came down to one thing. i had a passion for telling stories.
whether they were my real-life events, or made up stories, or real stories that i wanted others to know, i liked to tell stories.
i found a course in Singapore Poly called "Creative Writing for TV & New Media". when i saw that i immediately told myself i HAVE to get into that course. a few days before the release of our O Levels results, i told myself i'd die on the spot if i dont get a distinction for my English.
fast forward to the moment when my sec 5 form teacher called out my name. it was the day we receive our results. i sat down on the chair opposite her, and she had a smile on her face. she was my English teacher, and she announced, "congratulations E'indah you were my ONLY student who got a distinction for English!!"
my eyes lit up. but she turned off the lights in my eyes by saying, "but i'm sorry it's just an A2." she smiled apologetically before passing me my results slip.
i sat in a corner while my ex girl best friends talked among one another. the HOD who was chasing me for my MCs/my English teacher for the first half of sec 5 came up to me and held out his hand. "congratulations for your distinction in English."
i shook his hand, but he broke my heart by saying, "but too bad, i was really expecting an A1 from you."
i tried to apply for that course under JAE. but i couldnt. i only had 5 subjects, because i dropped art, and i'd failed my Humanities by getting a D7 grade.
i tried applying for media courses, but i was not eligible. my heart was broken. i couldnt stop blaming my parents. i couldnt stop thinking of the time my mom locked me out of the house for the few days right before my Social Studies paper. i kept thinking everyone else took away my dreams from me.
i got into where i am right now; Electronic and Computer Engineering. it was far from what i wanted but i couldnt apply for anything to my desire. i only applied for it because of the year 2 option that was to do with media communications, or smth like that.
the HOD of English who had praised my compo back in secondary school was a regular customer at where i am working. she remembered me, which i was sure for my writing, because we had never communicated about anything else.
one day, she asked me; "what course are you in?" it was a question i'd learnt to dread. i told her in a small voice; an engineering course.
she looked disappointed. and then she said, "that is so not you. you should have gone somewhere else. your writing is so good."
i didnt answer. she continued; "maybe there'd be some newspaper cca or something in your new school? you should join that. just don't stop writing. you have such a rare gift."
writing is indeed. it's a gift, but gifts are never blessings all the time. i've never met another writer who is on par with me. it's a blessing that i am unique, but it's a curse that nobody in this society will ever appreciate writing.
it felt like i was not fated to write. i've hated Maths since i was a kid, yet here i am. i'm always waking up in the mornings, angry at God for putting me in Engineering instead of thanking Him for letting me wake up for a new day to continue following my dreams.
i told myself i wanted to stop writing forever because the idea of being an Engineer was getting into my head. i wanted to start loving Maths. and the only way for me to do that was to quit writing. after all, right now my future depends on my Maths. because i am an Engineering student.
like i'd said; if you were to get stuck on an island for three years, would you rather be trapped with someone you love or someone you hate? i'd say i'd rather someone i hate; so that i can use the time to learn to love them.
but a week after my last post, i couldnt take it anymore. i was going insane from not writing or blogging. i was going insane with all that maths and programming that were jammed in my head.
at the same time, everyone else was telling me about how much they liked my writing. they were people who loved me, and they were people i love; but that just made me all the more lack the confidence that my writing was good. after all, what else could they say?
i still cant deny that this pause from writing did me more good than i expected. when i skipped classes on Thursday, i did my programming. if i still had been blogging i wouldnt have learnt about loops.
and instead of keeping quiet and ranting about people's comments on my blog and diary, i stood up for myself, against a handful of people in my life.
i wrote this post today because i wanted to tell you my relationship with writing. what made me started it, what made me go back to it again and again.
but right now, i have to learn how to juggle the best friend and the classmate. the best friend is someone who has been with you for over a decade, and you always go to her when you need her and have personal problems.
the classmate is the one you need in school. the one who contributes significantly to your grades. you cant talk to your best friend over the phone while you are doing homework with your classmate. your best friend is still in your life, but not all the time anymore.
fine. i wont be quitting writing/blogging. i'm still here. just that i need to cut down on it. it may be my passion, but it is not my current necessity.
i'll ace Engineering, and then i'll move on to Media/Film if God is willing. i'm not giving up on my writing, and i never will; but for now, i have to keep it aside. because Maths is calling me.
thank you for reading.
Friday, July 05, 2013
My last post.
the year is 2009, and a boy entered my field of vision.
at first i thought he was cute, til i got to know him better, and i grew to like him more. but he only noticed me a year after, and even then he only regarded me as nothing more than a little sister.
i liked his comfort, and he was the one who gave me my first hug and forehead kiss in such a long time. we were never together, but he gave me so many of those.
at that time my brother and Mother were going out together a lot, while my elder one kept himself shut in his bedroom as much as he could. granny had moved out to my aunt's place earlier that year, and Dad was, as always, busy with work.
you couldn't blame me. if i ever met my 2009 and 2010 selves, i would stroke their hair and tell them, "it's alright, i know how you feel. what you are doing isn't wrong."
he never knew my feelings for him, because i thought there was no need to; he already loved me even without knowing how i felt about him.
or maybe he never loved me at all.
we shared our first kiss in October 2010. it was sensational and it gave me a tingly feeling even days after. who wouldnt feel so blissed, having kissed their crush of one year?
our first kiss was the last straw. i decided that i had to tell him how i felt about him. i was so confident he would accept me, because he wouldnt have kissed me if he didnt like me, would he? i really thought we could finally be together the way i wanted us to be.
he avoided and ignored me after i told him. and a week later, i found out he had a girlfriend. a girl who was not me.
came 2011.
i did my N Levels, and once again i was all alone at "home", when who texted me but none other than him. we met at where we used to hang out, where we used to lie down under the evening sky and talk about everything beneath it.
we passed by where we had our first kiss, but neither of us said a word.
it was a November night. the night sky settled on us, the sound of the waves crashing being the only sound, his aura the only presence i could feel. and when i turned to face him, he was the only thing i could see.
he leant it, and we kissed. our second kiss, a year after our first. with a half smile he whispered, "be my girlfriend?"
2012.
it was the first day of my sec 5 year, and it had been two months since we got together; my crush of two years and i. just a few weeks before 2012 started, i was unsure of whether i should go to sec 5 or not.
i was Normal Acad while he, Normal Tech. he told me he'd take it if he had the chance, which he didnt. i got his point; he also told me he'd be there for me if i needed him, because he knew i was still not confident about doing my O Levels.
i believed him. and there i was, in class 5/1, partly under his persuasion.
a week after i started for the fifth time in my sec school, he started in his new one. he had less time for me, but i didnt mind. i just managed to spend more time with my seven girlfriends. the last time we watched a movie at the cinemas together was I Not Naughty.
about two weeks after he'd started his tertiary education, he left me. i still dont know why because he kept switching his reasons; first he said i was too immature, and then he said he didnt have time for me, and then he said i just wasnt up to his parents' expectations.
it didnt matter shit to me. all i knew was that he left.
there was an accompanying conflict regarding my blog, which i wont elaborate about, and my ex English teacher was there. she told him; "you know E'indah has always been good in her writing. maybe she used it wrongly this time but she's always been a good writer. "
he looked at me and he said, "yes, i know that. i know she's a very good writer."
that was the last time he looked so proud of me.
he turned on his heels, and he walked away, without once turning back. that was the last time i ever saw him, up to this day.
i stopped blogging after that. the whole incident hit me hard. it stabbed me in my chest and pulled my heart out. a dozen times i told myself i would move on, a dozen times i surrendered my tears to the memories.
i wrote him a dozen letters and i drew a dozen pictures of the him that i knew. i kept thinking he would come back again like he did but of course. he didnt.
to add to my misery, i decided to leave my best friends. all seven of them. i didnt know what logic i had and what was i thinking.
and i suppose that's when everything went downhill. with my best friends, i had people to eat with during recess. i had them to ask questions whenever i didnt understand a maths piece of shit. i had people to look forward to meeting every day in school.
without them, i didnt go to the canteen during recess. i lost a good deal of weight last year. without them, i didnt have anyone to clear my doubts for me, and if i got stuck at a question i wouldnt ask anyone; i'd just sleep.
well, that was IF i even went to school. you couldnt blame me; school felt like Hell without friends. you'd think everyone was looking at you. this was what i meant when i said best friends are important for your school days.
my discipline master would chase me for my MCs for the days i was absent. well i never had that shit, because i wasnt really sick, so i had to be suspended from class til i gave an excuse letter. i sat outside the HOD office nearly everyday.
most of my subject teachers were HODs, and everyday they'd pass me by and give me things to do and revise on my own. i didnt like it. i wanted them to not give a single shit about me.
"what's happening to you E'indah?" my Humanities teacher once asked me. "i'm so tired but i really dont want to give up on you."
"just give up on me." i'd said to her. "why should you put effort on me when im clearly not making any effort myself?"
she stared at me for a moment before saying quietly, "you know i really feel like giving you one tight slap across your face right now for saying that."
the only subject i gave a shit about was English. i wrote a lot during my suspension days, and i wrote compos which remained unsubmitted to my English teacher.
the discipline master was my English teacher, but he was rarely in class because he had cases to attend to. well he had an assistant, who took over the class when he couldnt make it himself.
this assistant, who is another teacher, was one of the reasons why i looked forward to coming to school.
she was the one who read my writing the most. she read my compos and my writing book, this book that we had to write in every Wednesday and Friday morning. whatever i wrote, she read; including a sadist little note she caught me writing during her lesson.
she called me after class and she said, "you're angry. you are angry at the world. why are you so angry at the world E'indah?" i kept quiet.
she told me she had something she'd like me to do. since i liked writing, i was to write in a journal for her. things i'd want her to know, things i couldnt write in my compos, things i'd want to tell someone but have nobody to.
it was her way of making me come to school. with that journal, i'd look forward to having someone read what i wrote and the only way that would happen is if i went to school and passed it to her.
i heeded her instructions. i went on another solitary escapade to Smiggle and i got myself a pink notebook with a panda on it. when i got to my room, i sat down, and i wrote.
however, i disappointed her. the next school day after i'd written my first entry, i decided not to go school. i woke up, shut down my alarm, decided "ok i'm not going school" and that was it. i went back to sleep.
i was expecting the enemy to invade my territory any second; in this case, my parents were gonna bang their way through to my bedroom and scream at me to go to school.
they knew i hated school but they didnt understand why. all they could think of was that i was losing interest in my studies. which was not true at all but i didnt give a shit what they thought.
i was prepared for my parents' thrashing, but i still got shocked and pissed when my dad literally dragged me out of bed.
i showered without a word, but i was still hell bent on not going school that day, and i took my time to get ready. my dad got frustrated i suppose; and when i was in the middle of slowly tying my hair, he came in and yelled at me to stop doing it on purpose.
i ignored him and continued tying my hair. i always sat on the floor in front of my full length wardrobe mirror while doing so.
my dad decided he'd had enough, and he pulled me to get up. i went against him, with all my strength, trying to get out of his grip. he ended up dragging me across the floor, and i grabbed on to my open wardrobe door.
i wasnt going to let go of that door even if my arms broke, and apparently my dad wasnt going to let go of me either. he pulled and dragged me across the floor, and nope. my arms didnt break. but the door did.
there was the crack of it coming off its hinges, and only when it dropped onto the floor of the living room did my dad let go of me. my mom saw everything and started crying. her sobbing was the only thing i could hear as all of us stared at the door lying on the floor.
my dad started hitting me again and again, and all i could do was hold up my arms in an attempt to shield myself. i remember yelling non-stop; "i hate you! i hate you! i hate you i fucking hate you!!"
he only screamed back at me; "so what? SO WHAT!? I HATE YOU ALSO LAH!"
i reached school an hour after morning assembly, with an aching and bruised body, with snot and blood all over my uniform sleeves.
well who greeted me at the HOD office was none other than my English teacher's assistant. she cheerfully called my name and asked, "so how? have you written for me?"
i slowly took out the notebook and passed it to her, and she exclaimed, "pink again!" and when she opened and saw that i had written in pink ink, she laughed, "oh you've got to be kidding me!"
i looked forward to giving it to her everyday so she could read, and i looked forward to reading her responses.
and she was the only one who noticed my sleeve. "is that blood?" she'd asked.
i nodded. "i had a nose bleed."
and she nodded in acceptance.
i never cut my wrists. and i told myself never to do so. those scars were not easy to hide. and out there, people who cut their wrists always got heavily judged for being "attention seeking". in a hot country like mine, the shoulders were the best place to slash because you don't have to cover the cuts with long sleeves.
you couldnt blame me. i was alone. my parents hated me, my elder brother was too busy with his outside stuff to give a shit about his little sister. and my younger brother was too young, and i could imagine he was scared when he heard my fights with my parents.
when i was younger, i used to sleep with my granny. during the weekends she'd sleep at my aunt's place to help with some things, and i'd sleep in my parents' room with them and my younger brother.
there was once when he and i woke up in the middle of the night to hear my parents fighting. and when i say fight, i mean fight. my dad was hitting my mom and he kept hold of her to keep her down and screamed for her to admit something.
he was referring to what my mom told me not to tell him. my mom was with another man outside, and she brought me to see him. they werent acting like normal friends, and when she told me not to tell my dad, i couldnt help but go against her.
it was 3 in the morning and my mom was crying under the hold of my dad, at the foot of the bed. my little brother was awake too and he looked at me with his bright eyes and i held him close. we pretended to be asleep. and the next thing we knew, it was morning.
i knew how scared my brother was. and so was i.
from then on i was a lot closer to my dad than i was with my mom. and you couldnt blame me. and i was with my younger bro a lot too. my elder brother had his society to please.
came September of 2012. my 17th birthday had passed; nobody came to save me. i was still asleep under the waters, when a hand jerked me awake and held out to me.
my sec 5 class had their own little cliques. this particular girl had never talked to me before, at least not a proper conversation. but that day when we got back our prelims results, i'd gotten the highest in class for English again. she approached me and asked how i got so good in the subject.
she invited me to study with her, and believe it or not i was so happy. i had butterflies in my tummy and i was so excited til i went to my mom and i told her "Mommy. i'm going out to study with a friend. a FRIEND!" she didnt give a shit but i was so excited i didnt care.
that was when i started going for recess. her friends had invited me to eat with them, and i was more than happy to join them although i was really shy.
school days were nearly over, and i'd spent my last two weeks of the school year with my classmates. although i still didnt hang out with my girlfriends, things were getting better.
i did my O Levels. and came December of 2012. the class chalet.
by this time, i was not talking with my parents at all. i was staying with my aunt on and off, and my classmates meant the world to me again.
you couldnt blame me. i didnt like being "home" alone. it was the period where i stayed awake every night and only slept at 7 in the morning. it'd be the first time i wouldnt be staying up alone, and i didnt think my parents would give a shit anyway. we werent on talking terms.
so i stayed at the chalet with my classmates. i did leave earlier with the intention of heading back, but i decided to gallivant, and i ended up back at the chalet at 1 in the morning.
and that was the last time i ever stayed up til the morning.
i bonded with a classmate of mine through out this period. he was a best friend of mine, who was there for me again and again no matter how many times i pushed him away.
i got back to my house at 10 in the morning, and i thought of getting a shower but i fell onto my bed and straightway went to sleep. i woke up to the sound of my door banging; it was noon, and it was my dad.
i had locked my bedroom door, because i knew he was gonna thrash at me in my sleep if i didnt. i opened the door, and he straightway slapped me across the face. the impact pushed me a little back, but before i had time to steady myself, he gave me a few more blows.
i landed on my bed and i told him to stop, and he did. he spilled his heart out to me but i couldnt focus on his words. i was curled up, still recovering from the hits and there were tears all over my face.
all i remembered was; "i think your aunt can take care of yourself better than i can. when i got you that cheap camera with my hard-earned money, she got you a better camera. you obviously love her more than you love me."
i didnt deny anything. even if i did love everyone at Guillemard more than Pasir Ris, it wasnt because she always got me things. it was because everyone at Pasir Ris didnt show me the right kind of care.
my dad told me to pack my things and to get out. it wasnt the first time he asked me to go to my aunt's place, but this one seemed serious. he took my house keys and my Nike shoes, saying, "you dont deserve to keep anything that i'd ever bought for you."
looking to the back of my wardrobe, i found a pair of black shoes. they were broken and collecting dust, but they still fit. i left the house with my dad telling my brothers never to make contact with me ever again.
my aunt and granny welcomed me with open arms. my granny listened to my version of what happened, and she and my aunt understood my wanting to stay at the chalet. they understood.
that was the last time i saw my dad.
until now i have no regrets that the class chalet is the reason why i'm even staying in my aunt's place.
however it still didnt cease my insignificance to my classmates. i rarely met my classmates in person but whenever i spilled my heart out on the Whatsapp group, nobody replied me. whenever i said something, nobody regarded me.
it was only after i left that everyone thought of me. i was shown the conversation they had after i'd left and it upset me. i cried every time i thought about it; the reason why i'm even living here is because i decided to spend the time with them.
time went on. and those classmates were replaced with other people from all over the country; gathered together as ECE 1A1.
i wanted to start anew. i wanted so badly for everyone to accept me. at that time i had scars, and i covered them with my long sleeves. i was too afraid to even roll them up because i knew they were not gonna accept me.
but they did. everyone was different, and i liked all of them. i was happy with them, and i showed it. it seemed like a good start to my poly life, and i thought it was gonna be fine.
i got too close with one of them in particular, and i really liked this friend a lot. but i dragged him into my mess again and again, and i forced myself to take care of him, despite the fact that i was nobody. he couldnt take it i guess. he couldnt breathe, and who else was suffocating him but a nobody. me.
and i realised my mistake. i focused too much on my friendship with him that i didnt mix with the rest. his every action affected me so greatly; he was a best friend and he was like my brother.
but he got too close to me, and i told him all my stories; the knowledge of my past being the link between the both of us. thats why i didnt want to let this friend go.
maybe the past still affected me. maybe i was too emotional. or maybe they just started to see my true colours and that they thought i was weird.
and here we are again, i am where i am now. one thing is for sure; writing may have saved me but writing also killed me just as much.
i've never told my story in one shot. there are a thousand more details i've left out but this is all there is i have for now. i could think of more things to add here once i've published this but it doesnt matter.
this is the outline of my story, and everything that i am or everything that i have now is a link to what i once was and had.
you couldn't blame me. if i ever met my 2009 and 2010 selves, i would stroke their hair and tell them, "it's alright, i know how you feel. what you are doing isn't wrong."
he never knew my feelings for him, because i thought there was no need to; he already loved me even without knowing how i felt about him.
or maybe he never loved me at all.
we shared our first kiss in October 2010. it was sensational and it gave me a tingly feeling even days after. who wouldnt feel so blissed, having kissed their crush of one year?
our first kiss was the last straw. i decided that i had to tell him how i felt about him. i was so confident he would accept me, because he wouldnt have kissed me if he didnt like me, would he? i really thought we could finally be together the way i wanted us to be.
he avoided and ignored me after i told him. and a week later, i found out he had a girlfriend. a girl who was not me.
came 2011.
i did my N Levels, and once again i was all alone at "home", when who texted me but none other than him. we met at where we used to hang out, where we used to lie down under the evening sky and talk about everything beneath it.
we passed by where we had our first kiss, but neither of us said a word.
it was a November night. the night sky settled on us, the sound of the waves crashing being the only sound, his aura the only presence i could feel. and when i turned to face him, he was the only thing i could see.
he leant it, and we kissed. our second kiss, a year after our first. with a half smile he whispered, "be my girlfriend?"
2012.
it was the first day of my sec 5 year, and it had been two months since we got together; my crush of two years and i. just a few weeks before 2012 started, i was unsure of whether i should go to sec 5 or not.
i was Normal Acad while he, Normal Tech. he told me he'd take it if he had the chance, which he didnt. i got his point; he also told me he'd be there for me if i needed him, because he knew i was still not confident about doing my O Levels.
i believed him. and there i was, in class 5/1, partly under his persuasion.
a week after i started for the fifth time in my sec school, he started in his new one. he had less time for me, but i didnt mind. i just managed to spend more time with my seven girlfriends. the last time we watched a movie at the cinemas together was I Not Naughty.
about two weeks after he'd started his tertiary education, he left me. i still dont know why because he kept switching his reasons; first he said i was too immature, and then he said he didnt have time for me, and then he said i just wasnt up to his parents' expectations.
it didnt matter shit to me. all i knew was that he left.
there was an accompanying conflict regarding my blog, which i wont elaborate about, and my ex English teacher was there. she told him; "you know E'indah has always been good in her writing. maybe she used it wrongly this time but she's always been a good writer. "
he looked at me and he said, "yes, i know that. i know she's a very good writer."
that was the last time he looked so proud of me.
he turned on his heels, and he walked away, without once turning back. that was the last time i ever saw him, up to this day.
i stopped blogging after that. the whole incident hit me hard. it stabbed me in my chest and pulled my heart out. a dozen times i told myself i would move on, a dozen times i surrendered my tears to the memories.
i wrote him a dozen letters and i drew a dozen pictures of the him that i knew. i kept thinking he would come back again like he did but of course. he didnt.
to add to my misery, i decided to leave my best friends. all seven of them. i didnt know what logic i had and what was i thinking.
and i suppose that's when everything went downhill. with my best friends, i had people to eat with during recess. i had them to ask questions whenever i didnt understand a maths piece of shit. i had people to look forward to meeting every day in school.
without them, i didnt go to the canteen during recess. i lost a good deal of weight last year. without them, i didnt have anyone to clear my doubts for me, and if i got stuck at a question i wouldnt ask anyone; i'd just sleep.
well, that was IF i even went to school. you couldnt blame me; school felt like Hell without friends. you'd think everyone was looking at you. this was what i meant when i said best friends are important for your school days.
my discipline master would chase me for my MCs for the days i was absent. well i never had that shit, because i wasnt really sick, so i had to be suspended from class til i gave an excuse letter. i sat outside the HOD office nearly everyday.
most of my subject teachers were HODs, and everyday they'd pass me by and give me things to do and revise on my own. i didnt like it. i wanted them to not give a single shit about me.
"what's happening to you E'indah?" my Humanities teacher once asked me. "i'm so tired but i really dont want to give up on you."
"just give up on me." i'd said to her. "why should you put effort on me when im clearly not making any effort myself?"
she stared at me for a moment before saying quietly, "you know i really feel like giving you one tight slap across your face right now for saying that."
the only subject i gave a shit about was English. i wrote a lot during my suspension days, and i wrote compos which remained unsubmitted to my English teacher.
the discipline master was my English teacher, but he was rarely in class because he had cases to attend to. well he had an assistant, who took over the class when he couldnt make it himself.
this assistant, who is another teacher, was one of the reasons why i looked forward to coming to school.
she was the one who read my writing the most. she read my compos and my writing book, this book that we had to write in every Wednesday and Friday morning. whatever i wrote, she read; including a sadist little note she caught me writing during her lesson.
she called me after class and she said, "you're angry. you are angry at the world. why are you so angry at the world E'indah?" i kept quiet.
she told me she had something she'd like me to do. since i liked writing, i was to write in a journal for her. things i'd want her to know, things i couldnt write in my compos, things i'd want to tell someone but have nobody to.
it was her way of making me come to school. with that journal, i'd look forward to having someone read what i wrote and the only way that would happen is if i went to school and passed it to her.
i heeded her instructions. i went on another solitary escapade to Smiggle and i got myself a pink notebook with a panda on it. when i got to my room, i sat down, and i wrote.
however, i disappointed her. the next school day after i'd written my first entry, i decided not to go school. i woke up, shut down my alarm, decided "ok i'm not going school" and that was it. i went back to sleep.
i was expecting the enemy to invade my territory any second; in this case, my parents were gonna bang their way through to my bedroom and scream at me to go to school.
they knew i hated school but they didnt understand why. all they could think of was that i was losing interest in my studies. which was not true at all but i didnt give a shit what they thought.
i was prepared for my parents' thrashing, but i still got shocked and pissed when my dad literally dragged me out of bed.
i showered without a word, but i was still hell bent on not going school that day, and i took my time to get ready. my dad got frustrated i suppose; and when i was in the middle of slowly tying my hair, he came in and yelled at me to stop doing it on purpose.
i ignored him and continued tying my hair. i always sat on the floor in front of my full length wardrobe mirror while doing so.
my dad decided he'd had enough, and he pulled me to get up. i went against him, with all my strength, trying to get out of his grip. he ended up dragging me across the floor, and i grabbed on to my open wardrobe door.
i wasnt going to let go of that door even if my arms broke, and apparently my dad wasnt going to let go of me either. he pulled and dragged me across the floor, and nope. my arms didnt break. but the door did.
there was the crack of it coming off its hinges, and only when it dropped onto the floor of the living room did my dad let go of me. my mom saw everything and started crying. her sobbing was the only thing i could hear as all of us stared at the door lying on the floor.
my dad started hitting me again and again, and all i could do was hold up my arms in an attempt to shield myself. i remember yelling non-stop; "i hate you! i hate you! i hate you i fucking hate you!!"
he only screamed back at me; "so what? SO WHAT!? I HATE YOU ALSO LAH!"
i reached school an hour after morning assembly, with an aching and bruised body, with snot and blood all over my uniform sleeves.
well who greeted me at the HOD office was none other than my English teacher's assistant. she cheerfully called my name and asked, "so how? have you written for me?"
i slowly took out the notebook and passed it to her, and she exclaimed, "pink again!" and when she opened and saw that i had written in pink ink, she laughed, "oh you've got to be kidding me!"
i looked forward to giving it to her everyday so she could read, and i looked forward to reading her responses.
and she was the only one who noticed my sleeve. "is that blood?" she'd asked.
i nodded. "i had a nose bleed."
and she nodded in acceptance.
i never cut my wrists. and i told myself never to do so. those scars were not easy to hide. and out there, people who cut their wrists always got heavily judged for being "attention seeking". in a hot country like mine, the shoulders were the best place to slash because you don't have to cover the cuts with long sleeves.
you couldnt blame me. i was alone. my parents hated me, my elder brother was too busy with his outside stuff to give a shit about his little sister. and my younger brother was too young, and i could imagine he was scared when he heard my fights with my parents.
when i was younger, i used to sleep with my granny. during the weekends she'd sleep at my aunt's place to help with some things, and i'd sleep in my parents' room with them and my younger brother.
there was once when he and i woke up in the middle of the night to hear my parents fighting. and when i say fight, i mean fight. my dad was hitting my mom and he kept hold of her to keep her down and screamed for her to admit something.
he was referring to what my mom told me not to tell him. my mom was with another man outside, and she brought me to see him. they werent acting like normal friends, and when she told me not to tell my dad, i couldnt help but go against her.
it was 3 in the morning and my mom was crying under the hold of my dad, at the foot of the bed. my little brother was awake too and he looked at me with his bright eyes and i held him close. we pretended to be asleep. and the next thing we knew, it was morning.
i knew how scared my brother was. and so was i.
from then on i was a lot closer to my dad than i was with my mom. and you couldnt blame me. and i was with my younger bro a lot too. my elder brother had his society to please.
came September of 2012. my 17th birthday had passed; nobody came to save me. i was still asleep under the waters, when a hand jerked me awake and held out to me.
my sec 5 class had their own little cliques. this particular girl had never talked to me before, at least not a proper conversation. but that day when we got back our prelims results, i'd gotten the highest in class for English again. she approached me and asked how i got so good in the subject.
she invited me to study with her, and believe it or not i was so happy. i had butterflies in my tummy and i was so excited til i went to my mom and i told her "Mommy. i'm going out to study with a friend. a FRIEND!" she didnt give a shit but i was so excited i didnt care.
that was when i started going for recess. her friends had invited me to eat with them, and i was more than happy to join them although i was really shy.
school days were nearly over, and i'd spent my last two weeks of the school year with my classmates. although i still didnt hang out with my girlfriends, things were getting better.
i did my O Levels. and came December of 2012. the class chalet.
by this time, i was not talking with my parents at all. i was staying with my aunt on and off, and my classmates meant the world to me again.
you couldnt blame me. i didnt like being "home" alone. it was the period where i stayed awake every night and only slept at 7 in the morning. it'd be the first time i wouldnt be staying up alone, and i didnt think my parents would give a shit anyway. we werent on talking terms.
so i stayed at the chalet with my classmates. i did leave earlier with the intention of heading back, but i decided to gallivant, and i ended up back at the chalet at 1 in the morning.
and that was the last time i ever stayed up til the morning.
i bonded with a classmate of mine through out this period. he was a best friend of mine, who was there for me again and again no matter how many times i pushed him away.
i got back to my house at 10 in the morning, and i thought of getting a shower but i fell onto my bed and straightway went to sleep. i woke up to the sound of my door banging; it was noon, and it was my dad.
i had locked my bedroom door, because i knew he was gonna thrash at me in my sleep if i didnt. i opened the door, and he straightway slapped me across the face. the impact pushed me a little back, but before i had time to steady myself, he gave me a few more blows.
i landed on my bed and i told him to stop, and he did. he spilled his heart out to me but i couldnt focus on his words. i was curled up, still recovering from the hits and there were tears all over my face.
all i remembered was; "i think your aunt can take care of yourself better than i can. when i got you that cheap camera with my hard-earned money, she got you a better camera. you obviously love her more than you love me."
i didnt deny anything. even if i did love everyone at Guillemard more than Pasir Ris, it wasnt because she always got me things. it was because everyone at Pasir Ris didnt show me the right kind of care.
my dad told me to pack my things and to get out. it wasnt the first time he asked me to go to my aunt's place, but this one seemed serious. he took my house keys and my Nike shoes, saying, "you dont deserve to keep anything that i'd ever bought for you."
looking to the back of my wardrobe, i found a pair of black shoes. they were broken and collecting dust, but they still fit. i left the house with my dad telling my brothers never to make contact with me ever again.
my aunt and granny welcomed me with open arms. my granny listened to my version of what happened, and she and my aunt understood my wanting to stay at the chalet. they understood.
that was the last time i saw my dad.
until now i have no regrets that the class chalet is the reason why i'm even staying in my aunt's place.
however it still didnt cease my insignificance to my classmates. i rarely met my classmates in person but whenever i spilled my heart out on the Whatsapp group, nobody replied me. whenever i said something, nobody regarded me.
it was only after i left that everyone thought of me. i was shown the conversation they had after i'd left and it upset me. i cried every time i thought about it; the reason why i'm even living here is because i decided to spend the time with them.
time went on. and those classmates were replaced with other people from all over the country; gathered together as ECE 1A1.
i wanted to start anew. i wanted so badly for everyone to accept me. at that time i had scars, and i covered them with my long sleeves. i was too afraid to even roll them up because i knew they were not gonna accept me.
but they did. everyone was different, and i liked all of them. i was happy with them, and i showed it. it seemed like a good start to my poly life, and i thought it was gonna be fine.
i got too close with one of them in particular, and i really liked this friend a lot. but i dragged him into my mess again and again, and i forced myself to take care of him, despite the fact that i was nobody. he couldnt take it i guess. he couldnt breathe, and who else was suffocating him but a nobody. me.
and i realised my mistake. i focused too much on my friendship with him that i didnt mix with the rest. his every action affected me so greatly; he was a best friend and he was like my brother.
but he got too close to me, and i told him all my stories; the knowledge of my past being the link between the both of us. thats why i didnt want to let this friend go.
maybe the past still affected me. maybe i was too emotional. or maybe they just started to see my true colours and that they thought i was weird.
and here we are again, i am where i am now. one thing is for sure; writing may have saved me but writing also killed me just as much.
i've never told my story in one shot. there are a thousand more details i've left out but this is all there is i have for now. i could think of more things to add here once i've published this but it doesnt matter.
this is the outline of my story, and everything that i am or everything that i have now is a link to what i once was and had.
Tuesday, July 02, 2013
My best friend.
i'm sorry for being an asshole.
i'm sorry for forcing you to take care and concern for me. i'm sorry for dragging you into my life. i'm sorry for pulling you into my mess and smearing my bullshit all over your face.
i'm sorry for annoying you. i'm sorry for trying to make you happy all the time. i'm sorry for making you buy me milk teas and sandwiches whenever i'm saving money.
i'm sorry for going to you whenever i feel alone. i'm sorry for getting upset when you cant meet me or when you have other friends to see. i'm sorry for being moody whenever you said you wanted to go home after school.
i'm sorry for being difficult to cheer up. i'm sorry for giving you one word replies or a mere nod whenever you saw how quiet i was and asked if i was okay.
i'm sorry for making you come to school 3 hours earlier to teach me. i'm sorry for asking you questions about what we learnt the week before.
i'm sorry for being insensitive when i speak. i'm sorry for saying things that hurt you instead of make you laugh. i'm sorry for making fun of you for every move you made or every word you said.
i'm sorry to have made you my best friend of all the people in the classroom. i'm sorry for taking too much care for you. i'm sorry for never being a good listener, i'm sorry for forcing you to quit smoking when you never had the intention.
because i am no one.
i am no one to you.
but you are someone.
you are someone to me.
thank you for being patient with me when i am being an asshole.
thank you for taking care and concern for me on your own accord. thank you for coming into my life. thank you for staying with me when i was messed up and for putting up with my bullshit with a smile on your face.
thank you for entertaining me when i was being annoying. thank you for smiling, even if it was just a bit, when i was trying to make you happy. thank you for spending your money to buy me milk teas and sandwiches.
thank you for welcoming me with open arms whenever i needed someone. thank you for trying to cheer me up over the phone instead when you cant meet me. thank you for giving a goodbye hug as an apology whenever you wanted to go home straight after school.
thank you for still continuing to try to cheer me up even when i was super upset. thank you for asking again and again if i was okay, because at least it showed that you noticed.
thank you for being willing to wake up early to meet me in school and spend the time teaching me. thank you for stopping your game just to answer a question of mine, about something i should have known a week before.
thank you for keeping quiet when i say insensitive things to you, or when i make you sad instead of happy. thank you for making sarcastic comments that make me laugh about the things i say about you.
thank you for calling me your best friend back. thank you for letting me care for you. thank you for listening to me when i needed you. thank you for making me happy for that brief period of time when you controlled yourself from picking up the habit again.
thank you for letting me be someone to you, right to the point where our friendship was over.
it was a great three months. but i messed up. i really liked you a lot and you were the best best friend i ever had. but i guess the tighter i hold something, the sweatier my palms get; you slip away faster as long as i am closer to you.
i'm sorry for forcing you to take care and concern for me. i'm sorry for dragging you into my life. i'm sorry for pulling you into my mess and smearing my bullshit all over your face.
i'm sorry for annoying you. i'm sorry for trying to make you happy all the time. i'm sorry for making you buy me milk teas and sandwiches whenever i'm saving money.
i'm sorry for going to you whenever i feel alone. i'm sorry for getting upset when you cant meet me or when you have other friends to see. i'm sorry for being moody whenever you said you wanted to go home after school.
i'm sorry for being difficult to cheer up. i'm sorry for giving you one word replies or a mere nod whenever you saw how quiet i was and asked if i was okay.
i'm sorry for making you come to school 3 hours earlier to teach me. i'm sorry for asking you questions about what we learnt the week before.
i'm sorry for being insensitive when i speak. i'm sorry for saying things that hurt you instead of make you laugh. i'm sorry for making fun of you for every move you made or every word you said.
i'm sorry to have made you my best friend of all the people in the classroom. i'm sorry for taking too much care for you. i'm sorry for never being a good listener, i'm sorry for forcing you to quit smoking when you never had the intention.
because i am no one.
i am no one to you.
____
but you are someone.
you are someone to me.
thank you for being patient with me when i am being an asshole.
thank you for taking care and concern for me on your own accord. thank you for coming into my life. thank you for staying with me when i was messed up and for putting up with my bullshit with a smile on your face.
thank you for entertaining me when i was being annoying. thank you for smiling, even if it was just a bit, when i was trying to make you happy. thank you for spending your money to buy me milk teas and sandwiches.
thank you for welcoming me with open arms whenever i needed someone. thank you for trying to cheer me up over the phone instead when you cant meet me. thank you for giving a goodbye hug as an apology whenever you wanted to go home straight after school.
thank you for still continuing to try to cheer me up even when i was super upset. thank you for asking again and again if i was okay, because at least it showed that you noticed.
thank you for being willing to wake up early to meet me in school and spend the time teaching me. thank you for stopping your game just to answer a question of mine, about something i should have known a week before.
thank you for keeping quiet when i say insensitive things to you, or when i make you sad instead of happy. thank you for making sarcastic comments that make me laugh about the things i say about you.
thank you for calling me your best friend back. thank you for letting me care for you. thank you for listening to me when i needed you. thank you for making me happy for that brief period of time when you controlled yourself from picking up the habit again.
thank you for letting me be someone to you, right to the point where our friendship was over.
it was a great three months. but i messed up. i really liked you a lot and you were the best best friend i ever had. but i guess the tighter i hold something, the sweatier my palms get; you slip away faster as long as i am closer to you.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Days 4, 5, and 6.
i was busy. forgive me alright? i mistook 2013 for 2001. i thought i had all the time in the world, that's why i decided to start out this 30 Day Challenge. well fine, i lost the challenge okay?
still gonna finish this race by hook or by crook though \o/
Day 4: your favourite Pokemon video game.
i'd say, it's Pokemon Ruby, hands down.
i've loved Generation 1 since, forever but Pokemon Ruby was the best game i had ever played so far.
well first of all it was the first game i played which had better graphics and individual sprites, which made the experience a lot more bearable. secondly it was probably the last generation to have cool Pokemon.
i can't help but enjoy the tense soundtrack that plays when the drought comes on. and i've always preferred the heat to floods; Groudon's disaster was nothing if compared to the heavy rain that would come with Kyogre's awakening.
i've forgotten her name, but Marge was it? the lady from Team Magma. her story was focused on a bit in the comics, and i admired her for what she went through.
not to forget how i've always wanted a Magma hoodie.
Groudon, Kyogre and Rayquaza have always been the best legendary trio ever. Groudon representing the lands, Kyogre the seas, and Rayquaza the ozone layer. don't you feel that your life is complete with these three Pokemon!?
there you have it. Pokemon Ruby may not have been the first game i've ever played; or the game from my early childhood. but i had a lot of fun playing and the joy still lingers in my memories.
Day 5: The Pokemon you love the most.
Red, dangerous like the fire of a Flareon.
Blue, slow like the water of a Vaporeon.
Pink, quiet like the mind of an Espeon.
Black, the beauty of the moon like an Umbreon.
[this isnt exactly how the poem went but it was something like this.]
you gain this Eeveelution through friendship during nighttimes. back then, i was aquainted with someone i called Black, and our relationship evolved most underneath the moon.
it's been more than a year since i watched him cry in front of me. and i've seen a lot more ever since that night but the memory stays.
he was never there when i needed him. he was like the moon. sometimes he was the crescent, sometimes he was the full moon; but very rarely.
i must say, he did ruin my life in a way. but at that one point of time, Black was the only thing in the world that was keeping me going.
today, i am traumatised when i remember the emotions i had felt when i was with him. and i hate him. but i cant deny that i once loved this person whom i had thought was like an Umbreon.
day 6: what you called your rival.
and speaking of which, when i played Pokemon FireRed, i named my rival none other than Black.
Black, in real life, was someone who kept to himself and was very careful not to speak or do anything which would bring down his pride. he was serious and collected.
but my rival in FireRed was the opposite. he was a snob who threw a tantrum when he couldnt pick his Pokemon first. i had fun with a rival named after Black.
there you have it. just catching up on what i left behind. am waiting for 'Aamir to end work, which is like, one and a half hours more.
still gonna finish this race by hook or by crook though \o/
Day 4: your favourite Pokemon video game.
i'd say, it's Pokemon Ruby, hands down.
i've loved Generation 1 since, forever but Pokemon Ruby was the best game i had ever played so far.
well first of all it was the first game i played which had better graphics and individual sprites, which made the experience a lot more bearable. secondly it was probably the last generation to have cool Pokemon.
i can't help but enjoy the tense soundtrack that plays when the drought comes on. and i've always preferred the heat to floods; Groudon's disaster was nothing if compared to the heavy rain that would come with Kyogre's awakening.
i've forgotten her name, but Marge was it? the lady from Team Magma. her story was focused on a bit in the comics, and i admired her for what she went through.
not to forget how i've always wanted a Magma hoodie.
Groudon, Kyogre and Rayquaza have always been the best legendary trio ever. Groudon representing the lands, Kyogre the seas, and Rayquaza the ozone layer. don't you feel that your life is complete with these three Pokemon!?
there you have it. Pokemon Ruby may not have been the first game i've ever played; or the game from my early childhood. but i had a lot of fun playing and the joy still lingers in my memories.
Day 5: The Pokemon you love the most.
Red, dangerous like the fire of a Flareon.
Blue, slow like the water of a Vaporeon.
Pink, quiet like the mind of an Espeon.
Black, the beauty of the moon like an Umbreon.
[this isnt exactly how the poem went but it was something like this.]
you gain this Eeveelution through friendship during nighttimes. back then, i was aquainted with someone i called Black, and our relationship evolved most underneath the moon.
it's been more than a year since i watched him cry in front of me. and i've seen a lot more ever since that night but the memory stays.
he was never there when i needed him. he was like the moon. sometimes he was the crescent, sometimes he was the full moon; but very rarely.
i must say, he did ruin my life in a way. but at that one point of time, Black was the only thing in the world that was keeping me going.
today, i am traumatised when i remember the emotions i had felt when i was with him. and i hate him. but i cant deny that i once loved this person whom i had thought was like an Umbreon.
day 6: what you called your rival.
and speaking of which, when i played Pokemon FireRed, i named my rival none other than Black.
Black, in real life, was someone who kept to himself and was very careful not to speak or do anything which would bring down his pride. he was serious and collected.
but my rival in FireRed was the opposite. he was a snob who threw a tantrum when he couldnt pick his Pokemon first. i had fun with a rival named after Black.
____
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Back in 2012.
my eyes tear in memory of my hardships.
when i was all alone among the groups of friends, in school, and i felt like i was being judged for every single move i made. if i had been with my seven girl best friends, still, i would have been sheltered at least.
sheltered from the eyes of society, and those people were also sheltered by my concern; i never bothered to give a shit about them.
but when i was alone, i was exposed, and buried by every pair of eyes that laid on me.
that was how i felt in my last year of secondary school. that was my 2012. i was alone, and everyone was watching. the more i hid myself the more i attracted attention.
i felt that way. i realised that best friends are so important for your days in school. they're more important than you think.
they eat with you so you dont starve yourself. they keep you company so you look forward to school. they make you laugh so you dont find yourself crying in class thinking of your problems.
maybe you wouldnt even have any problems at all.
i learnt that in 2012. but i'm here again, in that same state, helpless, hopeless, soundless.
when i was all alone among the groups of friends, in school, and i felt like i was being judged for every single move i made. if i had been with my seven girl best friends, still, i would have been sheltered at least.
sheltered from the eyes of society, and those people were also sheltered by my concern; i never bothered to give a shit about them.
but when i was alone, i was exposed, and buried by every pair of eyes that laid on me.
that was how i felt in my last year of secondary school. that was my 2012. i was alone, and everyone was watching. the more i hid myself the more i attracted attention.
i felt that way. i realised that best friends are so important for your days in school. they're more important than you think.
they eat with you so you dont starve yourself. they keep you company so you look forward to school. they make you laugh so you dont find yourself crying in class thinking of your problems.
maybe you wouldnt even have any problems at all.
i learnt that in 2012. but i'm here again, in that same state, helpless, hopeless, soundless.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
I cheated, and I'm sorry.
Day 3: you favourite starter Pokemon.
[i bet you didn't see this post, and i bet 'Aamir was expecting something else when he read the title. well, i cheated, played with the codes a little and wahlah: a hidden post.]
if you're expecting me to pick one, i can't.
but if you allow me to pick one generation of my favourite starters, i'd say it's Kanto, hands down.
come on, Red and Blue were a huge part of my childhood. i always started a new game whenever i got bored. and i was always rotating around Bulbasaur, Squirtle, and Charmander.
i didnt have any particular favourites. i always let them have their turns getting picked. i loved the three of them equally. and i still do.
back then i didnt bother knowing which Types were effective against which. i always focused on my starter and trained it, til it was stronger than any Pokemon whose type was supposedly effective against it.
my Charmeleon could defeat Misty's Water Pokemon at the second try and my Wartortle could take down all of Erika's Oddish and Vileplumes with no problem.
and i'll have you know that there is absolutely nothing wrong with choosing a Bulbasaur. not only is it adorable but it can defeat that bitch Misty's Water Pokemon okay. think about it.
p.s. i love Misty ok.
[i bet you didn't see this post, and i bet 'Aamir was expecting something else when he read the title. well, i cheated, played with the codes a little and wahlah: a hidden post.]
if you're expecting me to pick one, i can't.
but if you allow me to pick one generation of my favourite starters, i'd say it's Kanto, hands down.
come on, Red and Blue were a huge part of my childhood. i always started a new game whenever i got bored. and i was always rotating around Bulbasaur, Squirtle, and Charmander.
i didnt have any particular favourites. i always let them have their turns getting picked. i loved the three of them equally. and i still do.
back then i didnt bother knowing which Types were effective against which. i always focused on my starter and trained it, til it was stronger than any Pokemon whose type was supposedly effective against it.
my Charmeleon could defeat Misty's Water Pokemon at the second try and my Wartortle could take down all of Erika's Oddish and Vileplumes with no problem.
and i'll have you know that there is absolutely nothing wrong with choosing a Bulbasaur. not only is it adorable but it can defeat that bitch Misty's Water Pokemon okay. think about it.
p.s. i love Misty ok.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Man of Steel with my man of steel.
Day 2: your least favourite Pokemon.
[i regret titling my previous post as the Day's sentence. because i obviously have many other things to blog about for the day too dont i]
Pikachu.
it's the mascot for Pokemon since, like, meh. but then again that's exactly why it's my least favourite Pokemon. i may have a Pikachu hanging on my backpack, and a Pikachu dustcap sleeping on my phone, but that doesnt mean i actually like it.
come on, there are about 650 pokemon in the goddamn world of Pokemon. you'd think there'd be cute Charmander keychains or Sandshrew dustcaps or Mew earpieces but no. Pikachu. [if there are Pokemon merchandise at all]
Pikachu was fine in the beginning of the entire series, back in episode 1 where it was a stubborn and fat little thing. it was adorable then. but it grew skinnier and more attached to Ash and it just didnt seem the same anymore.
i never understood why Team Rocket was so desperate to steal Ash's Pikachu. their effort could have been made to catch their own Pichu and train and evolve it to a stronger Pokemon.
and goddamn it! they have a talking Meowth. that should be far more valuable than the lousy old common electric mouse.
you'd think by now Pikachu would be a strong ass Pokemon, having gone through a thousand battles and training in five different regions. but hell no, he got defeated by a level 5 Snivy in the fifth region it stepped in.
yupp. my least favourite Pokemon is the mascot itself.
so i had a terrible first day of school yesterday, but no matter. met 'Aamir in the evening and that just made the chocolate icing on the durian cake. [in other words, something unpleasant covered by something pleasant] i knew that if a day starts bad it's always gonna end otherwise!
we had dinner at Maccy D, and we made a fool out of ourselves while buying our food. i asked him to go ahead and buy his food first but he wouldnt want to leave me alone.
i needed to take care of my laptop, and he kept insisting on just leaving it there on the table! i couldnt! it's my prized possession, and i paid my hard-earned money for the goddamned thing.
"nenek pesan, jangan tinggalkan laptop sembarang!" i announced.
in the end, i went with him to the counter with my laptop in tow. he whispered fiercely at me [though with a smile on his face], "you're embarrassing me!!"
talked about the silliest little things, laughing when the other is annoyed, as always. and i told him about my bad day, and he stroked my chin every now and then as a way of comfort.
and although we are poor people with a worrying mother [his] and grandmother [mine] waiting at home, we decided to get tickets for the 7:40 show for Man of Steel.
we took these pictures while waiting for the 40 minutes to pass. i find them really adorable! he's adorable. *blush* he's so handsome but he will never be able to see it.
Man of Steel was awesome, though not as much as expected. [never been a fan of science-y movies] 'Aamir and i kept snickering at the stupidest little details of every scene, i couldnt help it!
i held his hand during the times when someone's life was at risk, or when two people were hugging and caressing each other in comfort.
and there we have it. i'd like to write about my bad day too but it's okay. it's all past, and at least 'Aamir made me happy at the end of it all.
like what i've been telling people lately: [you're gonna expect this]
if the sun ever gets blocked by dark and grey clouds when you're swimming, you're gonna have to decide if you want to stay in the pool or get out and go home. i'd tell you to stay. because the clouds are gonna clear and you can enjoy the rest of the day enjoying your swim; and when people ask you how was your swim, you're gonna tell them how much you enjoyed it, without a single mention of the dark clouds that had threatened to rain on you that day.
so i shall now think of a title for this post.
i cant help but name it Man of Steel with my man of steel. because 'Aamir is the strongest man i've ever known, for pushing his way through the walls i built around me, for seeing through me and knowing how lonely i was, for enduring the pain i brought to him.
yupp. aint no man of steel like my man of steel.
[i regret titling my previous post as the Day's sentence. because i obviously have many other things to blog about for the day too dont i]
Pikachu.
it's the mascot for Pokemon since, like, meh. but then again that's exactly why it's my least favourite Pokemon. i may have a Pikachu hanging on my backpack, and a Pikachu dustcap sleeping on my phone, but that doesnt mean i actually like it.
come on, there are about 650 pokemon in the goddamn world of Pokemon. you'd think there'd be cute Charmander keychains or Sandshrew dustcaps or Mew earpieces but no. Pikachu. [if there are Pokemon merchandise at all]
Pikachu was fine in the beginning of the entire series, back in episode 1 where it was a stubborn and fat little thing. it was adorable then. but it grew skinnier and more attached to Ash and it just didnt seem the same anymore.
i never understood why Team Rocket was so desperate to steal Ash's Pikachu. their effort could have been made to catch their own Pichu and train and evolve it to a stronger Pokemon.
and goddamn it! they have a talking Meowth. that should be far more valuable than the lousy old common electric mouse.
you'd think by now Pikachu would be a strong ass Pokemon, having gone through a thousand battles and training in five different regions. but hell no, he got defeated by a level 5 Snivy in the fifth region it stepped in.
yupp. my least favourite Pokemon is the mascot itself.
____
we had dinner at Maccy D, and we made a fool out of ourselves while buying our food. i asked him to go ahead and buy his food first but he wouldnt want to leave me alone.
i needed to take care of my laptop, and he kept insisting on just leaving it there on the table! i couldnt! it's my prized possession, and i paid my hard-earned money for the goddamned thing.
"nenek pesan, jangan tinggalkan laptop sembarang!" i announced.
in the end, i went with him to the counter with my laptop in tow. he whispered fiercely at me [though with a smile on his face], "you're embarrassing me!!"
talked about the silliest little things, laughing when the other is annoyed, as always. and i told him about my bad day, and he stroked my chin every now and then as a way of comfort.
and although we are poor people with a worrying mother [his] and grandmother [mine] waiting at home, we decided to get tickets for the 7:40 show for Man of Steel.
we took these pictures while waiting for the 40 minutes to pass. i find them really adorable! he's adorable. *blush* he's so handsome but he will never be able to see it.
Man of Steel was awesome, though not as much as expected. [never been a fan of science-y movies] 'Aamir and i kept snickering at the stupidest little details of every scene, i couldnt help it!
i held his hand during the times when someone's life was at risk, or when two people were hugging and caressing each other in comfort.
and there we have it. i'd like to write about my bad day too but it's okay. it's all past, and at least 'Aamir made me happy at the end of it all.
like what i've been telling people lately: [you're gonna expect this]
if the sun ever gets blocked by dark and grey clouds when you're swimming, you're gonna have to decide if you want to stay in the pool or get out and go home. i'd tell you to stay. because the clouds are gonna clear and you can enjoy the rest of the day enjoying your swim; and when people ask you how was your swim, you're gonna tell them how much you enjoyed it, without a single mention of the dark clouds that had threatened to rain on you that day.
so i shall now think of a title for this post.
i cant help but name it Man of Steel with my man of steel. because 'Aamir is the strongest man i've ever known, for pushing his way through the walls i built around me, for seeing through me and knowing how lonely i was, for enduring the pain i brought to him.
yupp. aint no man of steel like my man of steel.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Day 1: your favourite Pokemon.
Day 1: your favourite Pokemon.
[my computer cant type that proper e with the slash at the top, my apologies]
a Gardevoir.
i've always liked Psychic-type Pokemon, and when i first saw Gardevoir i thought she was beautiful. the ballgown that sways behind her, the colour combination of green and white, and single eye that pierces through you from beneath her 'hair'.
and how her battle cry complements her looks. her moves, her powers; they were of such an elegance. she was definitely an enchantress.
not only her, but her evolution line was beautiful in each of its own way.
i captured the first female Ralts i see every time i start a new game on Ruby, and i trained her with extra care and dedication, in battles and contests, and she was my best virtual friend.
on another note, if Gardevoir was a human she'd be mature-thinking, loyal, dedicated. the kind of woman who knows if she can look at you and regard you as someone important. once she has decided that she cares for you, she will stick with you through your difficult times, your hardships, alongside your best sides.
she will not know what to say during extremely emotional moments because she knows when your feelings are fragile, but rest assured she will stay with you for comfort until she knows you feel better.
i'm not like that right now, i know, but Gardevoir has always been my favourite Pokemon for so many reasons, and i hope i can follow her example and take care of the people i love the way she cares for who she loves.
and not only day 1 of the 30-day Pokemon challenge, but it's back to day 1 of school. i was looking forward to this day from the very first day of work marathon, but now it seems like it was not even worthwhile.
[my computer cant type that proper e with the slash at the top, my apologies]
a Gardevoir.
i've always liked Psychic-type Pokemon, and when i first saw Gardevoir i thought she was beautiful. the ballgown that sways behind her, the colour combination of green and white, and single eye that pierces through you from beneath her 'hair'.
and how her battle cry complements her looks. her moves, her powers; they were of such an elegance. she was definitely an enchantress.
not only her, but her evolution line was beautiful in each of its own way.
i captured the first female Ralts i see every time i start a new game on Ruby, and i trained her with extra care and dedication, in battles and contests, and she was my best virtual friend.
on another note, if Gardevoir was a human she'd be mature-thinking, loyal, dedicated. the kind of woman who knows if she can look at you and regard you as someone important. once she has decided that she cares for you, she will stick with you through your difficult times, your hardships, alongside your best sides.
she will not know what to say during extremely emotional moments because she knows when your feelings are fragile, but rest assured she will stay with you for comfort until she knows you feel better.
i'm not like that right now, i know, but Gardevoir has always been my favourite Pokemon for so many reasons, and i hope i can follow her example and take care of the people i love the way she cares for who she loves.
____
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Damned haze!
#np radioactive - imagine dragons
i'm waking up, to ash and dust
i wipe my brow and i sweat my rust
i'm breathing in
the chemicals
*chokes*
looking at the haze around me made me scared, yet at the same time excited. both emotions were of the same reason: because it all seemed so different.
i felt like i was out of a movie, or a music video. i could picture myself in the scenery of the smoke, the stillness of my hometown, and the emotions on my face.
i was already tired in the morning, and by the time i got to work, i was dead beat. my working hours had barely started when i already wanted to go home.
instead, i sat down and went through Twitter, and everyone was still talking about the haze. the usual; why wouldnt school holidays extend, PSI levels, and the newest one: animals dying.
cats were dying because their lungs couldnt stand the air, or something that should sound more scientific than that. it was also mentioned that even household cats were at risk if the PSI level went a little too high for the felines to handle.
i scrolled some more and then i saw it: the PSI had hit 400. shushan too texted me that the haze was fucking terrible. at the same time, my fever and migraine reminded my body of their existence, and i started burning up.
at that very second i swear, i swear all i wanted to do was run home and hold my cats in my arms and cry and bawl like a baby. the haze was scaring me so badly.
good thing there were no customers. and then who came but none other than Shushan. the minute i saw her, i smiled but my lips were trembling and i started crying before her.
"eh dont cry eh!" she exclaimed. "you cry because you see cat die ah???" i had to smile when she said that \o/
and then she told me what lady boss had said to her on the day she covered me for when i was sick. she had told Shushan "this girl ah, say only that she can work everyday. then now want to take off. wahlau eh."
and i was like, what the fuck. do i freaking control when i get sick?
i wanted to quit on the spot.
along came a customer, though, who bought a cake for 3 bucks but didnt have small change. she gave me a fifty note, and when i asked if she had smaller change, she didnt.
it wasnt my fault that the cash register didnt have enough ten dollar bucks to give to her as change. business wasnt that good because of the haze.
so i was taking out the wads of two dollar bills from the cash register when she snapped, "oh please i'm not gonna take all that." [and i was like oh please, what a snob.]
[additional info: i didnt like her face at the first glance. you couldnt imagine how much of a snob she really looked. if you took hidung tinggi literally, yeah that's her.]
so i said "well this is all there is." and just like that she placed the cake back on the counter and said, "well okay then i'm not buying anymore."
i answered her a big fat OKAY and attempted to place the cake back to where it was, as i watched her staring at me, from the corner of my eye. she snapped, "eh girl you need to smile ok."
and i tell you, this tone of hers was not a pleasant one. she was practically demanding me, in the same tone you would tell a pervert to stop touching your butt.
i just stared at her. no, with no smile on my face. she looked extremely displeased and she walked away saying one last sentence, "eh this is not the way to treat a customer!"
i would have given her a free cupcake as her trophy for being the most annoying customer ever.
but i swear, if it wasnt for the haze getting to me, i would have responded in a much more polite manner. too bad for her. she was a snob anyway.
trut trut, FINALLY i was dismissed from work and i walked out of the human area, into the haze. i felt much better in the latter, like it was a lot more healthier than being around people. because it really felt so.
i sat on bus 17, peacefully texting on my phone when the woman who was sitting next to me pointed at my screen and said something in chinese. "sorry?" i had said as a prompt for her to repeat in English. but she repeated in chinese, again.
so i said, "wo shi ma lai ren wo bu ker yi jiang hua yi." and she immediately got pissed at me. and i mean pissed as in pissed. she snapped, "may i know what is the time now?" in the same tone you would ask someone to repeat for the tenth time what you didnt hear.
when everything was quiet between me and this stranger again,... guess what? she started humming. and her hums grew louder and louder til it evolved into a song which went on until i could hear it through my earpiece.
all i could do was look out the window and beg from the bottom of my soul that she would stop.
when i finally alighted at my hometown, the view scared me yet again. the haze was thick and it immediately took effect on my eyes.
i caught sight of the one-eyed cat at the carpark and gave her some food [always carried a container of cat food in my backpack]. i was only in deep remorse that i didnt have a damp cloth to moisten her nose with.
i waited til 2 in the morning for 'Aamir to reach home from work, and about ten minutes after he announced he was home, he said he was upset, and he immediately went to sleep with a mere "goodnight."
what a horrible day it was yesterday! all i could think of was #mustbethehaze.
'Aamir and i made up this morning, over Whatsapp, and we were making plans to meet because i ended work at 4 while he was starting at 6. he was gonna fetch me from Pasir Ris!
i didnt want to blog about this actually; about how horrible the haze and its impacts were yesterday. i wanted to talk to my boyfriend instead. but here i am, just finished with my story.
because the best part of this post, is that i was supposed to meet 'Aamir today and i was planning on telling him everything about yesterday.
but we didnt meet because his work was cancelled due to the haze.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Father / Daddy.
my father was the one who always yelled at me. he was the one who always hit me, accused me of wrongs out of nowhere, lacked trust in me, had his expectations, and he was the one who called me 'daughter from hell' when i told him i'd gotten 11 points for my N levels.
my father was the one who took down the photo of me from the wall, leaving an obvious gap in between the frames of my brothers'. he was the one who cleared the countertop of any photos that had my face on it, including the one of me accepting an award from Halimah Yacob.
my father is the one who chased me out of the house, six months ago.
my father is the one who refuses to give me money, who denied his responsibilities of a daughter because he had chased her away.
that was my relationship with my father. and i hated my father.
but when i said i hate my father, i left out the part where i had loved my daddy.
my daddy was the one who always made jokes when i was down. his jokes might have been super lame and super irrelevant but they never failed to make me giggle.
sometimes he goes out of his way to make me smile or laugh, by being silly and not like an adult at all.
he was the one who paid all the bills, and my school fees, and gave me my allowance, yet he was never stingy when i wanted chocolates or a new top.
i would ask Mother to get something for me but she would say no; that is when my daddy comes in and starts gossiping, like an old woman, about how stingy Mother was.
and then he would stroke me on my head and say, "when Daddy get my pay i buy for you k? now Daddy no money already, only have money for your school allowance."
he always opened his wallet and showed me the stack of 2-dollar notes [for my allowance] and laughed it off, like it was an old joke he never got tired of telling.
my daddy was the one who got me my first camera, and my Nike shoes which cost eighty bucks.
last year whenever i refused to go to school, he would beat me til i go. afterwards he'd send me off, although i was still emotional about the beatings, and he'd tell me to take care and study hard.
i'd come back from school to see a ten-dollar note on my desk, and a text from him, saying it was reward for me going to school.
when i read ghost stories, i usually regret when i remembered that i had to sleep alone. i would ask my little brother to sleep in my room with me but he didnt want to.
daddy was the one who asked if i wanted to watch tv in the hall with him, and i did; until i fell asleep. by the time i woke up it was time for school and there was my dad, asleep in front of the tv.
daddy was the one who thanked me whenever i got him cake and presents for his birthdays. he was the one who would kiss me on my forehead every year on mine, and wish me Happy Birthday.
daddy was the one who searched the whole of the west side of Pasir Ris, looking for me, on the night that Mother locked me out of the house.
daddy was the one who did so much for me, and he was the hand i had been holding for seventeen years.
i'd go into my childhood days but there are too many memories with the man i called Daddy.
called.
i dare say, i miss my daddy.
it's the only reason i can think of as to why i'd cried at work earlier, when i listened to the radio DJs talk about Father's Day.
my father was the one who took down the photo of me from the wall, leaving an obvious gap in between the frames of my brothers'. he was the one who cleared the countertop of any photos that had my face on it, including the one of me accepting an award from Halimah Yacob.
my father is the one who chased me out of the house, six months ago.
my father is the one who refuses to give me money, who denied his responsibilities of a daughter because he had chased her away.
that was my relationship with my father. and i hated my father.
but when i said i hate my father, i left out the part where i had loved my daddy.
my daddy was the one who always made jokes when i was down. his jokes might have been super lame and super irrelevant but they never failed to make me giggle.
sometimes he goes out of his way to make me smile or laugh, by being silly and not like an adult at all.
he was the one who paid all the bills, and my school fees, and gave me my allowance, yet he was never stingy when i wanted chocolates or a new top.
i would ask Mother to get something for me but she would say no; that is when my daddy comes in and starts gossiping, like an old woman, about how stingy Mother was.
and then he would stroke me on my head and say, "when Daddy get my pay i buy for you k? now Daddy no money already, only have money for your school allowance."
he always opened his wallet and showed me the stack of 2-dollar notes [for my allowance] and laughed it off, like it was an old joke he never got tired of telling.
my daddy was the one who got me my first camera, and my Nike shoes which cost eighty bucks.
last year whenever i refused to go to school, he would beat me til i go. afterwards he'd send me off, although i was still emotional about the beatings, and he'd tell me to take care and study hard.
i'd come back from school to see a ten-dollar note on my desk, and a text from him, saying it was reward for me going to school.
when i read ghost stories, i usually regret when i remembered that i had to sleep alone. i would ask my little brother to sleep in my room with me but he didnt want to.
daddy was the one who asked if i wanted to watch tv in the hall with him, and i did; until i fell asleep. by the time i woke up it was time for school and there was my dad, asleep in front of the tv.
daddy was the one who thanked me whenever i got him cake and presents for his birthdays. he was the one who would kiss me on my forehead every year on mine, and wish me Happy Birthday.
daddy was the one who searched the whole of the west side of Pasir Ris, looking for me, on the night that Mother locked me out of the house.
daddy was the one who did so much for me, and he was the hand i had been holding for seventeen years.
i'd go into my childhood days but there are too many memories with the man i called Daddy.
called.
i dare say, i miss my daddy.
it's the only reason i can think of as to why i'd cried at work earlier, when i listened to the radio DJs talk about Father's Day.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Don't obey them lists.
i've long had enough of girls posting on Twitter pictures from Tumblr. what annoys me more is most of these pictures consist of lists. lists of things they would want guys to do for them. in other words, their expectations of their boytfriends/potential wooers.
\o/ 'Aamir dont you obey those lists! you're fine the way you are. and no, i do not enjoy most of those things in their lists of things which girls like.
don't buy me flowers.
i've read about how certain types of flowers mean certain things, and you'd probably get a stalk of those representing "hate", "death", or "motherly love".
don't give me surprise visits at work.
i do not want you to see how i really am to my customers. the bullshit attitude i give you everyday is just a fraction of what i give my annoying customers.
don't call me at random times just to tell me 'I love you'.
i may be listening to my music and i do not want you to interrupt by making me remove my earpiece to answer your call.
don't hug me from behind.
i just saw a picture today, of Ju-On holding someone from behind and it's been stuck in my head.
don't play with my hair and compliment how nice it smells.
i probably didnt shampoo it today.
don't appear on my doorstep with mac's at 3am.
i'd have to give you money for a cab back to your home in JB. and that aint cheap.
don't present me a dress in a box and tell me that we've got a date tomorrow night.
you probably didnt ask whether i'd be working or not. and most probably i'd be.
and i dont trust your dress taste, and neither do i have shoes to wear with dresses.
don't make me slow dance under the stars.
...i can't.
but i like you the way you are. i'm not a sweetiepie myself, and i cant do girly stuff for you like cook for you or bake cookies for you but i have my way of showing my love for you.
and i dont expect anything from you either. not any of the above. you have your own style of doing those things, so you dont have to listen to Twitter or Tumblr or what other girls like.
\o/ 'Aamir dont you obey those lists! you're fine the way you are. and no, i do not enjoy most of those things in their lists of things which girls like.
don't buy me flowers.
i've read about how certain types of flowers mean certain things, and you'd probably get a stalk of those representing "hate", "death", or "motherly love".
don't give me surprise visits at work.
i do not want you to see how i really am to my customers. the bullshit attitude i give you everyday is just a fraction of what i give my annoying customers.
don't call me at random times just to tell me 'I love you'.
i may be listening to my music and i do not want you to interrupt by making me remove my earpiece to answer your call.
don't hug me from behind.
i just saw a picture today, of Ju-On holding someone from behind and it's been stuck in my head.
don't play with my hair and compliment how nice it smells.
i probably didnt shampoo it today.
don't appear on my doorstep with mac's at 3am.
i'd have to give you money for a cab back to your home in JB. and that aint cheap.
don't present me a dress in a box and tell me that we've got a date tomorrow night.
you probably didnt ask whether i'd be working or not. and most probably i'd be.
and i dont trust your dress taste, and neither do i have shoes to wear with dresses.
don't make me slow dance under the stars.
...i can't.
____
i have no idea what this whole post was about
and i dont expect anything from you either. not any of the above. you have your own style of doing those things, so you dont have to listen to Twitter or Tumblr or what other girls like.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
5 golden years.
it was supposed to be the six of us, but two of them couldnt make it. one of them lent us a CD of the Japanese version of The Ring, and we laid back at Sabrina's house, watching it while munching on freshly fried popcorn chicken.
that was August 2009.
we were looking over the railings, down to the parade square when i asked Siying, "did you bring the money for later?" her face froze before she said, "oh shit." and we had to go to her house in Tampines before coming back to Pasir Ris to the scent of canadian pizza laid out on the table.
that was August 2010.
"Assalamualaikum," i had announced, and Sabrina was about to reply when she saw the camera in my hand and yelled, "OY!" every single moment was recorded, collected into a montage of all the random things which happened that day. a video which can be relived again and again.
that was June 2011.
they tried to get me to go. Shushan was texting me, pleading me to join them, when the other two had already given up on getting me to go. on that morning i had laid in bed as my phone vibrated again and again, calls and texts from the three of them, but i ignored everyone and resumed wallowing in self pity.
in the end i got up and made my way over, hoodie soaked in the drizzle. i knocked on the door, didnt say anything, and when Sabrina opened the door, she exclaimed my name.
everything had begun, food was laid out, and although i already told them i was dead-set on not turning up, they even had my share on the table.
that was March 2012.
we're supposed to meet at Pasir Ris at 9, but here i am, still in bed, twenty minutes after 8. if it isn't for my cat i would have continued my sleep, i'm so exhausted; but i get up, and rush to have my shower.
i hop onto bus 7 from my home, because Iris told me that bus 70 would take another 20 minutes to arrive. i check my texts and am laughing at what Shushan says; and alas, i miss the stop at Paya Lebar MRT station.
the train i took keeps stopping in the middle of every other station, causing me to be more late than i already am, and there are plenty of buses that go to DTE from the interchange, but they're all late. just my luck.
i don't like being in Pasir ris, but for the sake of our 5th Reunion party, i'm standing tall here in my previous "home"town.
Siying sees me first and grins like she always does. Shushan sees me everyday but her first reaction upon my arrival was, "OHMYGOD, you're so FAT!" i ignore her and go straight to Sabrina, whom i havent seen the longest.
they've collected a whole load of snacks and drinks in their trolley, including strawberry flavoured mogu mogu for me ^_^ we act like little girls, spoilt brats who take what they want and whine when someone says no.
"latecomers must push the trolley!" announces Shushan, so i listen to her. i decide to play with the trolley, pushing myself on it across the aisle. Siying joins in and we're having a hell load of fun when Shushan comes over and decides to finally act her big sister role.
back at Sabby's humble abode; Shushan connects Sab's laptop to the television, and while they're cooking our food, Siying and i take the chance to play Youtube videos.
we watch the Bratz movie, one which i had wanted to watch when it first came, while slurping on our chicken noodles. a meaningful one i must say.
we're deciding what movie to watch next, but Sabrina makes it difficult by telling us that she's watched almost all the movies that's ever existed ]:
so we decide to webcamwhore. and webcamwhore we do and webcamwhores we are! there are about a hundred photos, and we watch them on slide show with Cher Lloyd's Oath playing in the background.
when that's done, Sabrina turns on the graduation song.
as we go on, we remember
all the times we had together
and as our lives change, come whatever
we will still be friends forever.
and we sit aligned in front of the television, song playing, lyrics on screen, as we sing along with all our hearts and souls. it feels so sad, like this is the last, when i know there are gonna be a lot more Reunion parties in the future!
this is June 2013.
and this is 2013. we've gone on separate paths but we're still keeping our friendship because our days together are gold {:
that was August 2009.
____
that was August 2010.
____
that was June 2011.
____
in the end i got up and made my way over, hoodie soaked in the drizzle. i knocked on the door, didnt say anything, and when Sabrina opened the door, she exclaimed my name.
everything had begun, food was laid out, and although i already told them i was dead-set on not turning up, they even had my share on the table.
that was March 2012.
____
i hop onto bus 7 from my home, because Iris told me that bus 70 would take another 20 minutes to arrive. i check my texts and am laughing at what Shushan says; and alas, i miss the stop at Paya Lebar MRT station.
the train i took keeps stopping in the middle of every other station, causing me to be more late than i already am, and there are plenty of buses that go to DTE from the interchange, but they're all late. just my luck.
i don't like being in Pasir ris, but for the sake of our 5th Reunion party, i'm standing tall here in my previous "home"town.
Siying sees me first and grins like she always does. Shushan sees me everyday but her first reaction upon my arrival was, "OHMYGOD, you're so FAT!" i ignore her and go straight to Sabrina, whom i havent seen the longest.
they've collected a whole load of snacks and drinks in their trolley, including strawberry flavoured mogu mogu for me ^_^ we act like little girls, spoilt brats who take what they want and whine when someone says no.
"latecomers must push the trolley!" announces Shushan, so i listen to her. i decide to play with the trolley, pushing myself on it across the aisle. Siying joins in and we're having a hell load of fun when Shushan comes over and decides to finally act her big sister role.
back at Sabby's humble abode; Shushan connects Sab's laptop to the television, and while they're cooking our food, Siying and i take the chance to play Youtube videos.
we watch the Bratz movie, one which i had wanted to watch when it first came, while slurping on our chicken noodles. a meaningful one i must say.
we're deciding what movie to watch next, but Sabrina makes it difficult by telling us that she's watched almost all the movies that's ever existed ]:
so we decide to webcamwhore. and webcamwhore we do and webcamwhores we are! there are about a hundred photos, and we watch them on slide show with Cher Lloyd's Oath playing in the background.
when that's done, Sabrina turns on the graduation song.
as we go on, we remember
all the times we had together
and as our lives change, come whatever
we will still be friends forever.
and we sit aligned in front of the television, song playing, lyrics on screen, as we sing along with all our hearts and souls. it feels so sad, like this is the last, when i know there are gonna be a lot more Reunion parties in the future!
this is June 2013.
and this is 2013. we've gone on separate paths but we're still keeping our friendship because our days together are gold {:
Friday, June 07, 2013
Someone from my childhood.
back when MTV had cool music with just as cool music videos; i would be watching my cartoons but you'd come along and change channels.
i'd throw a tantrum at first, but you ignored me til i eventually watched what you were watching. i liked the hits from then, and this particular one stood out every time its music video played.
i asked you why you never rode on your skateboard like that. i told you she was what i would call a 'tomboy', a word you taught me. we laughed at how her hand stuck out when she was singing, and how funny her face looked at the end of the music video.
those were the days. i never understood the song, but i started watching MTV more with you, waiting for that music video to come on. when it wasn't on television, i would sing with wrong lyrics and you would laugh, frustrating me.
just recently i started listening to the song again, and not only do i understand its lyrics now, but i realise that it actually resembles you.
#np Complicated - Avril Lavigne
i'm not sure when or why you changed. perhaps your society in secondary school got to you, or maybe it was your girlfriend. or maybe it was Mommy's pampering, or the way Daddy seemed to get angry at you all the time.
you never teased me anymore. you hit me and made me cry more often than laugh. we used to laugh about the silliest things but you stopped talking to me completely.
you did become somebody else around everyone else. the elder brother i knew from my childhood was gone; not only in the sense that he went away, but he completely became someone i didn't recognise.
nobody else saw how you and i were in my childhood. and that saddens me. but what saddens me more, is that you and i will never be that way ever again.
some people feel touched when someone who used to be special writes a letter to them. i wrote you many before, slipped under your door on your birthdays. and here i am, about half a year since we've last stayed under the same roof, writing you a blog post.
you are not the type of person who would give a shit about your sister. you are not the type to visit your aunt's house and give your sister any regards.
you had contributed to my childhood but i grew up watching you turn into an asshole. the best part? you were only an asshole in my eyes, because you pretend to be the best to everyone else.
i'd throw a tantrum at first, but you ignored me til i eventually watched what you were watching. i liked the hits from then, and this particular one stood out every time its music video played.
i asked you why you never rode on your skateboard like that. i told you she was what i would call a 'tomboy', a word you taught me. we laughed at how her hand stuck out when she was singing, and how funny her face looked at the end of the music video.
those were the days. i never understood the song, but i started watching MTV more with you, waiting for that music video to come on. when it wasn't on television, i would sing with wrong lyrics and you would laugh, frustrating me.
just recently i started listening to the song again, and not only do i understand its lyrics now, but i realise that it actually resembles you.
#np Complicated - Avril Lavigne
i'm not sure when or why you changed. perhaps your society in secondary school got to you, or maybe it was your girlfriend. or maybe it was Mommy's pampering, or the way Daddy seemed to get angry at you all the time.
you never teased me anymore. you hit me and made me cry more often than laugh. we used to laugh about the silliest things but you stopped talking to me completely.
you did become somebody else around everyone else. the elder brother i knew from my childhood was gone; not only in the sense that he went away, but he completely became someone i didn't recognise.
nobody else saw how you and i were in my childhood. and that saddens me. but what saddens me more, is that you and i will never be that way ever again.
some people feel touched when someone who used to be special writes a letter to them. i wrote you many before, slipped under your door on your birthdays. and here i am, about half a year since we've last stayed under the same roof, writing you a blog post.
you are not the type of person who would give a shit about your sister. you are not the type to visit your aunt's house and give your sister any regards.
you had contributed to my childhood but i grew up watching you turn into an asshole. the best part? you were only an asshole in my eyes, because you pretend to be the best to everyone else.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)