Dedication

No idea what the hell happened. One minute, I was crying at the side of the road, because I was lost as fuck and my emotions were overwhelming. Lost+emotional=one big mess. The next minute, I woke up with a blocked nose, a burning throat and a super high fever.

The funny thing was, I woke up in my bed at Pasir Ris, when I'm very sure that night I'd been supposed to go back to Paya Lebar. I remember, Jalan Baiduri, or Telok Kurau lorong J or H, I can't recall, that area, I'm very sure it's towards Paya Lebar.

Just did some research, and I've gotten sick because I didn't drink alcohol when I was already super used to it. But you know what? Even if so, even if I don't remember what the hell happened, I definitely did not. Touch. Alcohol. And I will never.

I say I will go one week without it, so I will fucking go one week without it. No matter how sick I get, I'd deal with it. And once my week is up, whatever I deserve, I will fucking get it.

____

Diary entry from 7th October, 2013. 

Yes, I am writing. Writing, not blogging, with the pen my best friend gave me, in the journal my aunt presented me with. Why am I writing? I don't know what else to do. It's so difficult to even talk to you.

Times have changed. Months have passed, and things definitely wouldn't stay the same. Those cliche quotes on Tumblr, always stating the reason why relationships don't work out is because one person stops 'chasing'. I don't mean to push the blame, but in this case, it's definitely you.

In the past, you were always so excited to talk to me. You always found joy in being in a conversation with me, just being silly, and you get worried if I don't reply in three minutes. Not to forget, I'd fall asleep in the middle of talking to you, and I'd wake up to see tons of texts from you.

Now, you'd reach home, end the conversation with "I'm gonna game now." You leave me waiting for you til past midnight, only to tell me "I'm going to sleep now." It's so difficult to talk to you. Even telling you straight out Hey, I wanna talk to you doesn't work anymore. What's happened to you???

I still melt when you look at me. Heck, just a glance from you and I'm already feeling butterflies. I still love daydreaming about you kissing me. I daydream about you all the time at work! The way your eyelashes fall against the hollow of your cheekbones... Yes, I peek at your face when we kiss. I can't resist.

My point is,... I'm still chasing you. I always will, you know. My feelings for you still feel like a crush. There're still so many things I must know about you, so many dates I want to go on with you, so many places to explore with you.

I'm not done chasing you. I wish you'd feel the same.

I'm writing this because there's no other way to let it out. I don't have the chance to even talk with you, and even if I do, you'd just think that all I've written in this entry is bullshit. Like you always do.

I miss you. I miss you in any way possible. I miss your touch; I miss talking to you; I miss who you are, or were, when we first met. I'm sorry if my difficulties have changed you. I'm trying to get you back. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

____

I knew from back then already, that you were losing interest for me. I tried not to let that go further, I thought I tried to get you back. I was on the verge of giving up, but I held on. Did I not try hard enough, I wonder?

You once told me to list the times and things I've done for or sacrificed for you, but honestly if you ask me heads on like that, I can't give you the answers. I do remember my last sacrifice for you, and that is your 17th birthday.

You knew how much I hated birthdays. You knew you hadn't managed to do anything for my 18th, no matter how badly I'd wanted to see you. Yet, on your 17th, I did my best to give you a special birthday, because you had never celebrated your day before.Was that not good enough..?

I tried to be nicer to you, because I did not want to lose you.
Just like how you were so nice to me, because you wanted to gain me.

When you came to me, I was still trying so hard to push everyone away. I didn't want you near me, but you tried your damndest to make me change my mind about that. You were so nice, you tried to cheer me up when I was down. In the end, you won.

If you could melt my heart like that when I didn't want you, why can't I do the same for you now when you don't want me anymore? Is it because you've never had anyone fight for you this way before, like how I never had anyone so determined to break down my walls, the way you did...?

When you say "I don't deserve you", do you mean that you're too good for me, or that I'm too good for you? Because either way, I'd still want you. If you're too good for me, I promise I'd try to be that better person you deserve. If I'm too good for you, I promise I'd try to help you be that better person for me.

I'm sorry I hadn't tried hard enough. I'm sorry I let you lose your interest in me, just like that. But I'm so, so, so, so, so, willing to try, like I've said so many times... I swear, with my parents around me now, I'm gonna be so much better for you. Just let me. I plead.

____

Luke

This special friend, whom I'd met about a year ago now. At that time, I'd only heard of him, stories and tales of the chaos they got themselves into, silly shit that they did which made me laugh, made me want to meet him.

Before I met him I was judging him, I'd thought he was the kind who's open, noisy as hell at first meeting, shit like that. But when we met, he was so shy and awkward, even with a mutual companion between us. I could see him shivering, though at that time I thought it was just the cold.

He was cute too, with his little fang at the side of his mouth when he smiled. Together with his best friend, they were super annoying, and I remember how they purposely held hands to spite me, and how I tried so hard to come between them.

The first time we talked, without having the faggot as our mutual friend, was in April, two days before my first day of school. At that time the two of them were having their bitch fight, quite a horrible one I must say, and I was caught in between.

This one time, I tried to get them to eat pizza with me, without knowing that the other was gonna be present. The faggot came, but his best friend realised my trick, and refused to come because he was there. I was such a failure.

I should have tried harder to patch them up, and I did, but I thought it was a good time to learn more about him. At that time I hadn't had my own best friend, and I was really jealous of their close friendship. I guess that's how my own friendship with this special friend evolved.

Just a few days of conversation and he was already picking on me the way a best friend would. I felt bad that I was stealing someone's best friend when I was supposed to patch them up, but up til now I've no regrets. Because he is an amazing person.

I'd always known about how he really liked all things Science. I tried to make our conversations revolve around such topics, asked him some questions to get him talking. It was a great way to get him talking, and I really liked listening to him go on about what he really liked.

Time passed and our conversations became more random and sillier, talking about all kinds of shit, especially when his best friend was neglecting me. It was nice talking to this friend, and listening to him; I really appreciated how we talked about anything without being afraid of getting judged of the other. And he did tell me he was grateful for the fact that I didn't judge him for anything he said.

September came. His best friend and I had our first breakup, which he had been involved in. Maybe we had gotten a little too much closer than we were supposed to.

Things between the faggot and I were fine again, and I was just randomly playing with his phone when I saw his best friend's texts to him. He mentioned how I was an annoying little prick and that he was thankful that "at least now I don't have to layan that girl anymore".

That really hurt me, I couldn't hide that. All along, I really thought he liked talking to me, that he was grateful to have me because no one else ever listened to him. He really said that, and I really thought that, but I guess I was wrong. I was so angry and from then on I called him nothing but a hypocrite.

One day in October he sent me a long text, explaining that he'd only been saying mean stuff about me so that the faggot wouldn't get the wrong idea about us. Kind of protecting our friendship. I tried to shun it and call it an excuse and remain angry at him, but a larger part of me decided to take it, forgive him, and revert our friendship back to before. Just not closer than the faggot would've liked.

We seldom hung out, but this friend and I developed a real special friendship there. I liked to think the three of us as a happy family, the faggot being the husband and this special friend as our son. Because that's how he was like; I liked how he would always whine to me, or tell me about his fears, or get angry at me when I was having pizza and he was not. He was like a spoilt brat, but a really loveable one. Like how your own son or daughter would be to you.

I was constantly asking him more and more questions about Science, and he was also one of the first few people I'd told I wanted to be an engineer. He talked to me about anything Science, from stars to pumping of blood to some carbon monoxide shit. Because I asked.

And the time this friend and I went town together, as a replacement for the faggot who backed out last minute. How we hunted for the perfect pair of shoes for him, because he had mentioned wanting new shoes, for such a long time, and I was so hell bent on getting those for him.

Once, he mentioned that I was closer to him than his own best friend was, and that I knew him better than he did. I felt terrible for that, I was betraying the faggot, I was making his best friend betray him; but it was nice to know that I meant something to someone.

Every time I had problems with the faggot, I'd try talking to this friend first, because he was after all the one who knows him the best. Sure, most of the time when I'm being sad to him, his response would be annoying, the jokes coming at the absolutely wrong timing.

I'm not sure when he said this, but I remember so fucking clearly how he once said: "If he ever left you, for real, without ever coming back, I promise I'll be the first person to lend you a shoulder to cry on."

I'm not sure if he remembers this, or was it really said in this one simple sentence, maybe it was lines exchanged between us, but hey guess what. He kept the promise. He kept it, he listened to me whine last Monday, he stroked my hair and held me while I cried, he struggled bringing me back to the MRT station while I was tipsy as hell.

That's why, along with this incident, you keeping your promise, I believe you're a good guy. You were an awesome good friend to me, and I know for a fact that you're gonna go further than your best friend, despite having the least experience in love among your group of friends.

I can tell, that when you find someone, you're gonna be a fucking prince who treats her like she's the only person in your eyes. I may not know you before, I may not know you like how your other classmates do, but fuck it I know a good guy when I see one. I'd like to believe that whatever you've told me, your fears and your dreams, are true and sincere, and you mean every fucking thing you've ever said to me, and for that,... I really believe you're gonna be awesome in love someday.

Honestly, a part of me wishes that I can be that girl. It's a tiny crush that I've gotten since that night with you, after my break-up. When I realised how pretty your brown eyes were, and that little fang at the side of your mouth when it's open ajar. You're really handsome you know that, and you're such a loveable character on the inside too. As much as I wish it'd be me, I hope you find someone soon. Someone who loves you as much as you love her, like how you told me you'd wanted.

You don't have to return me the money for your shoes. You deserve to keep the money more than I do, and just take it as a thank you from me. Because, well, thank you. For being a really good friend, for being there when I needed cheering up, for being annoying and making me angry, for being my only hope in moving on.

P.s. a side note: the thing in September makes me realise that he may or may not still be a hypocrite, he may be still bad-mouthing me to the faggot and their other classmates, I don't know, but I'd like to believe not.

One week without drinking!?

Met up with Siying two days ago, probably my last drink til whenever. She challenged me to go one week without drinking a drop of alcohol, and I took it. I'm gonna do it!

But guess what? One day in, and I'm already dying. I went yesterday without that shit, and I think that in itself is a pretty amazing thing. I know that once I'm addicted to something I won't be able to go that long without it, but hey I can do this.

It isn't as easy as it seems though. But I know I gotta stop this shit before it makes an impact on my future blablabla *insert some lecture about the impacts of alcohol here* kay.

So here I am in school, it's programming now but I can't help getting distracted. I've no choice but to take the ring out of my nose in class, so that I can fucking breathe. But I still have to push it back in at other times, because I can't deny I look stupid with it.

[When I say push it in, I mean push it up my nose because it's the only way to hide it. Pull it out is displaying it, if you get what I mean. I can't remove it, because I don't want the hole to close. It cost me twenty bucks kay] [I can hear you say "Siape suruh pierce?" shut up.]

Honestly, I don't know what's in it for me. I don't drink for one week, and then what? What do I get? A chance to get back with you? I wanna hope so, but my brain tells me no. But my heart tells me to just try, because I never know. Sigh. Sigh x1000.

Just a rant. Get back to you soon, I have someone special to write about later.

A source of hope

I found a piece of hope.

When he left, he told me he lost interest in me. I wasn't moving him the way I had before. He'd seen all my tricks, whatever I'd had up my sleeve would be nothing special because he'd seen everything.

Two days after, I had gone back to my old house in Pasir Ris. It was a long year and then some, but I realised I still got along with my parents. The last time I cried to the faggot, he told me I should try to go back to them. I didn't want to, but he told me to just try. Look what I did. I guess it was mainly for him too, thanks to his words.

At first it felt like I was just a guest. A distant relative staying over for a few days. But time went on and I slowly felt like we were friends, just like how it was back in 2011 and beyond.

And then I realised, that you never knew me when I had my family. You never knew me when I was a Pasir Ris girl. You never knew the side of me that had my parents.

I told him this, I told him to give this one more chance because this was a huge piece of hope. With my parents around, I wouldn't be lonely, I wouldn't want to go back late feeling I was neglected at home, I wouldn't be hung up on him over Whatsapp because I would have them to talk to. I would be a different person. And he never knew this person. This side of me.

I'd have outings with my mom to share with you. I'd be gaming with my little brother because he forces me to, and I'd not be bothered when you were too hooked on yours. I'd have a kitchen and oven to cook and bake for you, which I'd never been able to do for you. I would have a bed and a desk, lesser things to complain to you about. I'd have a longer journey back from school, so I would want to hurry back and not ask you to stay longer whenever we go out.

I felt like it was my only hope that I was hanging on, it was a thread, yet it was a thick rope that could pull us up easily. I thought we could try. Just one more time; this time, I have my parents.

I'm sorry, but I just really like being with you. I really like getting irritated by you, and irritating you back in return, and forcing you to go shopping with me til your face is all sulky. I'm sorry that I hadn't managed to make you keep your feelings for me, but I'm so, so, so willing to keep trying for you, to keep working on that.

If you would just say "Ugh, fine", just a simple one like that, I'll be the happiest girl in the world because then I'd have a grandma, my secondary girlfriends, my parents, and you, which is the best family ever!

Alcohol adventures / Holland Village

I guess I'll write one of my alcoholic days each week. Although I can't deny that yes, I've been drinking everyday and yes, I've gone through all kinds of chaos each time. But I'll write about one, because I've nothing else to blog about. My life is empty.

Anyway, here are my Alcohol Adventures, version Monday 20.1.

I came class for freaking Shan, who didn't even turn up. Because he is a betrayer! We ended class about an hour earlier, to see him waiting at the lobby of the first floor checking us all out.

We made our way to his turf, Holland Village, talking about how fucked up my life had been. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this but Shan's also a budding writer, and we talked about the books we wanted to write in the future.

I bought churros, which he didn't really like because they were sweet, and when his friend finally came we made our way to get us some drinks. It was my first time drinking with others, because most of the time it was just a solitary affair.

Drinking with Shan took a lot of trust, as well as drinking with me did for him. I guess you could call it a bonding session. Har. I met a new friend though, but I didn't catch his name apart from the first four letters, Kish. They got beer I think, while I just got my usual 8.4 and Q, which are my current favourite brands.

I've never been to Holland Village before! As much as I didn't want to, [because I was supposed to be angry at the world, har] I couldn't help getting excited having my feet stepping on new land. Now I can colour in one more yellow circle in my MRT map!

So, back to serious business, the three of us found somewhere to sit and just, well, quenched our thirsts. Somehow the main topic fell on me, and I ended up telling my recent story. About my heartbreak and confusion and wanting to rebel and change from who I was supposed to be, just to hide my pain. Sigh.

Of course, after one bottle I was already tipsy as fuck, and the world was already starting to spin. Shan and Kish kept telling me about how I can find someone else, how someone else would accept me, and how he'd be a million times more perfect than my most recent heartbreak.

As everyone knows I'm a stubborn piece of fuck, so I did all I could do disagree and go against his words, tossing arguments to prove otherwise. I got lectured like fuck in return, until I just gave up and flopped to one side.

And then Shan started getting all emotional lecture on me, telling me that I can't be this way forever and that I just have to have faith that things will get better and that the faggot ain't everything, blablabla until I finally allowed to let a few tears slip, as angry as I'd wanted to remain.

They just had one can each, and their tolerance is definitely way higher than mine so I was pretty much wasted already compared to them. They asked me to join them in soccer, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn't help remembering memories associated with soccer.

What's more, I could barely walk straight, what with the alcohol and tears and overwhelming emotion. The strongest presence that was holding me back was myself I suppose, because I just told myself that I don't want to walk!, and just like that I flopped onto whatever wall was nearby.

In the end, my good friend Shan had to carry me. I remember because I was protesting so bad, practically screaming for him to put me down, Put me down you bitch, I can walk straight! but he had me quiet with a simple Shut up. And it didn't seem like he was putting me down anytime anyway.

He did put me down eventually, but I thought that was a great mistake because I remember straightway crashing to the ground and just staying there, curled in a ball, praying for the faggot to come pick me up. Thinking back, that was embarrassing as hell because we were drinking in a part of the housing estate so people would naturally be everywhere.

Still stubborn as hell. Still believing that things will go back to normal, the way it was in 2013, with the same guy, not better, not with another person. Still got lectured like crazy, still stubborn like crazy.

And in the end, I discovered something which made all of Shan's efforts go to waste. If you knew about it you probably wouldn't blame me but it's okay, I shall shoulder all the burden instead, whatever. I got so angry at him, telling him he'd made me feel more like shit instead of better.

I didn't even want to look at him, I didn't even say bye when my bus came. I was sobering up, but I was so angry, so upset, I didn't know where home was, the emotions were so fucking overwhelming it was all I could do not to cry.

Still fighting???

Eight days down. Was it really just one week? It feels like an entire year, decade even. All the tears I had cried, all the anger I had let out, all the bullshit I had gotten myself into. Was all that really in the space and time of one week?

Eight days down since you left, but you were already gone way before that. I thought I tried. I'd always been confused with what you wanted, space or attention, but I'd always tried to give you a dose of both at the right times. I tried not to get angry when you were being a frustrating little bitch, and even when I did, I put away my ego to say sorry.

Did I really not try? Was there really no effort that you saw from me? Did you really see no more reason to have feelings for me anymore?

It's still a shock, I can't deny. For you to just leave with an excuse like that, despite all the effort I had put in. The effort that we put in. You can't forget the things you'd done for me. It's a lot. We both know you've done so much more for me than I have for you, that's why I'd found it difficult to even imagine leaving you. So why...? Ugh.

What about how you had always wanted someone who likes you the way you are? What about how you lack self-esteem but in my eyes you are so fucking perfect? Isn't that what you wanted? And someone who would stay no matter what? Have I not made you happy? Even if I haven't, what if I'm willing to try again? Does effort not touch your heart?

I know I was never perfect to you. How I'm not as religious as you are, how I don't love God as much as you do. How I wasn't understanding and I was short-tempered. What if I'm willing to put away these emotions for you?

Remember how you told me that I have friends now, and that I didn't need you? What if I told you that right now, all the things I wanna share with someone, I still wanna share with you? What if no matter how happy I get I still wanna share all that funny shit with you? Don't you dare tell me I can do that as friends. Don't you dare.

I pierced my nose because you liked to pinch it. Now I can't even touch it because it stings on the inside, but at least I can get my hands off that memory. It hurts to be left behind. You, of all people, should know how I feel about that. That's why I never dared do that to you.

Even when I was so angry, so badly wanted you to fuck off, at the end of the day I'll just go back to you because I could not stand the thought of leaving you. After a while you become a darling again and my feelings will go back to normal. Get it? It's the thought of leaving that is so scary, like you're letting go of a chance. I don't know how you can do it.

Ugh. I don't know okay. I'm really trying. I'm so damn lost without you, so dead, all the colour drained from my face and my life. And one more thing, it's just so damn unfair that you were the one who tackled me first, who made me fall in love with you, only to just leave because you lost interest. It's so goddamned cruel. But you know what? Even if so, I'll forgive you for that. Like I always did.

No matter how beaten up I get I'm still gonna stand and fight for what I want.

Kate

Here's a little something I want to share with you my dear. I read a book, a non-fiction about this girl named Kate. She was so innocent, quiet in school and always burying her nose in a book. So damn innocent.

She fell in love with James, a guy who had been on heroin for some time now. She wanted to stay out of it, but temptation called her into it. James helped her get her first shot of heroin up her arm; and from then on, she was hooked on it.

Months pass and she finally admitted she was a heroin addict. James at this point had gone to rehab and had successfully became clean of the addiction. He stayed with Kate still, trying to help her out of it as well. He failed.

Time went on and James realised he was better off without her. He loved her, but he couldn't stay with her because of her addiction to heroin. He left her, started a new life on his own, while he left her fending for herself, trying to find the money to feed the habit; whether or not she managed to quit the addiction was none of his business.

Don't you think it's really unfair? That he had been the one who had dragged the innocent girl into the addiction, and yet when he managed to escape from it, he left her to the depths of it? Just like what I did to you.

This is my proof that I'd stay. I know I can't return you what I took from you... I don't know what to do with it either. But since I've improved from it, I should help you do so as well since I'm the one who dragged you down. I'm sorry my darling, you can't see it but I really hope my trying is visible.

Just let me

I'm currently staying in Pasir Ris. The place I'd tried to avoid the whole of last year, the place I was supposed to call home, the place I most thought did not deserve such a name.

Why am I here?? I don't know. I don't like waking up to see my old bedroom all around. I don't want to get used to it either. It just feels weird, and not right at all. Maybe I'm here because I am a coward, running away from something once it starts being different.

What was Paya Lebar without my granny and that faggot? What was 'home' when she wasn't sleeping next to me or when his arms were gone from around me? What was life without the old woman who was still strong enough to take care of a worthless child like me, what was life without the cutiepie who made me laugh and swoon so easily?

I can't deny that the faggot is what pulled my life together. How many times have I looked at him whenever he's laughing, telling myself "This is it. The guy I'm in love with." How many times have I been grateful for him, how many times I'd wanted to give up but just could not.

...So cruel of you.I still remember so clearly last October, how you told me you had fallen in love with me: ten months after we got together. It hurt me so bad and I thought maybe this isn't the happiness I desire. But I went on, hoping I could change you, believing you would change yourself. Because faith.

Thinking back, I'm shocked to see you leave just like that. Because you've "lost interest and feelings". I remember, how before we met, you were so lonely and badly needed someone to love and to love you back. You found me. I thought you'd be thankful for that, I thought you'd wanted me for as long as you could, after saying all that to me about how nobody ever liked you for who you are.

Thinking back what your best friend said: about how you only wanted me because of my looks? About how you just wanted to show me off for a while? Even if it's true, you know how I'd shown you who I really am. Even the bad points, which you so readily accept again and again. And vice versa. Why did you let it go to waste just like that? Why couldn't you forget your main reason of coming after me, and just focus on how things have been between us as time passed on? No?

As your other friend, from tertiary, had said: "On the verge of giving up, remember why you held on for so long. " Instead of just accepting the fact that you didn't love me at all why didn't you just remember all the patience you had given me, all the times you wanted to leave but had stayed, because I know you had those moments. Or maybe think of what I've done for you?? Whatever memory we made together?? Because whenever I wanted to give up on you I think of what you've gone through for me and I changed my mind.

You could have given this another chance. I know you're better than that. Like how I always believed in you. It's just so saddening to remember how you always wanted someone, and when you found me, you just got tired of me and ended up dumping me one year later. Those goddamned promises of yours doe.

Just let me try again. It hurts to sit in the sidelines watching my misery unfold when I know I can do better for you. I'm sorry I was not perfect but I'll do better. ...Just let me.

Nothing

So what have I got to talk about? My past few days have been nothing but a wreck. I am the wreck. There's nothing to talk about anymore it seems. I can type properly though! Really fast too! Would you even read this??? I'm nothing but ugly, and drunk, and imperfect, and not worth loving anymore.

Was I really??? I thought I did so much for him. Not the best but my best. Was that not good enough??? I don't understand. I thought everything would be okay. I did all I could. I don't understand. I don't understand.



Luqman has thrown a million more arrows into my heart by making me read the English lyrics of this song.

The hell am I doing here? The hell is he doing? The hell is the reason for him doing this?

I'm not just a wreck, I'm not just shattered, I'm empty. Drunk or not, I still feel dead. Dead. Empty. Just filling up space for nothing. This space could be given to someone more deserving right?

God should take me away soon, stop giving me chances to repent because I'm always disappointed Him. Just take me away when I'm wasted so I'll def go to Hell. Kan???

I deserve being held like this

I'm not sure where to start this story from. The wee hours of yesterday? The first day of the year? Or back to October?

If I start this story from the wee hours of yesterday, you'll know that he had just texted me at 1 in the morning, saying we can't meet or go out anymore, but we can still be together and just text. I saw no point of that, so I ignored him; but the very next morning, 6 hours later, I had to tell him, Please take back whatever you said last night back. All he could say was I was serious about that.

If I start this story from the first day of the year, you'll know that I had not been a bitch to him those days, and before that even, and that I did not do anything wrong and I do not deserve this.

If I start this story from back in October, you'll know that he had suddenly told me, "I think I'm in love with you." "What do you mean?", I had asked; and he had answered, that he had just fallen in love with me and that the whole time before since January, he never had any feelings like that for me. And if I continue the story from this point, you'll know that his most recent reason of dumping me was "I don't have feelings for you anymore." If this does not make him the asshole of this story I don't know what does.

____

He said we were meeting for the last time. I did not get what that meant, but I had hoped I could make him change his mind. I tried to write a letter, but I had lost that skill. My handwriting was in shambles, and I did not know what I was saying so I tossed it aside.

I went up to him with a frown on his face. I did not deserve that. He brought me somewhere we could talk, and once we were seated I just lashed out whatever was on my mind. I did not tell him the story about Kate and James, which would have been a good argument on my side.

I hated how he got up when I wasn't finished talking. I'm not sure when, but at one point when he told me to accept his decision, it was all I could do not to wail. I interlocked his arm with both of mine and kept wailing, "Don't leave, just stay."

"You're making a scene," he said, but I was not. "You're making things difficult for me," but I was not. He was.

"I don't deserve this," I said.

"Nobody does."

I did not understand.

And I still did not understand when he just said he had "lost his feelings" for me. I thought I did my best to make him happy and listen to him and to not pull him further from God anymore. I thought I gave him space and checked on him sometimes and not be a bitch when he made me upset, I thought I did everything I could, why would he suddenly say that?

It was all I could do to persuade him I'll try harder, harder than I ever had if he weren't pleased with my efforts. I was trying not to cry but that was an absolute failure, like my persuasions were. I had to take his bag from him and not return it before he totally snapped.

"Then what the hell did you save me for, what the hell did you make me stop all my habits for?"

"I cleaned you up for someone else to have you, okay?" his voice was raised, but he lowered it in his next sentence. "You deserve someone else, you're so pretty who wouldn't want you?"

"It'll take me long to have someone accept the way I am on the inside, like you did! And I don't want anyone else, I want you!"

"You don't have a choice," he muttered.

"When have I ever had a choice?" was all I could say, because it was true: he never let me have a say in his decisions that involved us, and even with my parents, I never had a choice.

"You are making things hard for me," he kept saying, which I could only answer with "Then just say you'll stay and I won't make it hard for you." I was getting frustrated by the minute, and it was slowly evolving into anger. What happened to the things I had told him? About how you gotta think of what you've ever done for me and vice versa, you can't let that all go to waste.

It was so unfair. So many times, I'd thought of giving up but I'd always given him the chances I thought he deserved, because it was not all about me, it was all about us. What happened to the promises we made? He said he would only stay if he was sure I would, and I definitely did. He was being so unfair, I did not deserve it!

I did not deserve it at all.

When he was gone, I didn't know what to do. I wanted a drink, and I wanted something strong enough to make me forget everything for a while, but I was scared because nobody would take care of me. The despicable side of me told me to call his best friend; so I did. I rang Luke up. I tried to tell him what happened but my voice just went into shambles; he just told me to come to Marsiling.

____

So many places here with memories already. It's gonna be hard for me to travel now, especially in the North, because of the asshole of this story.

I kept repeating to myself: "I don't deserve this."

The clinking sound of the glass bottles in my plastic bag was the only sound accompanying me, as I walked through this tiny field in front of 402, where Luke was waiting. I saw him from afar with his hand raised, so high in the air. I gave a small wave in return.

"What the hell happened?" was the first thing he asked, and I tried not to cry. I said: "He dumped me." "Again?" Luke had to say, but he was right. "It's serious this time." I mumbled.

We sat down on these little benches under a hut, and I tried to say what happened. I told him about what happened between us before, while taking sips of my alcohol; he kept quiet when I was done, but he eventually said, "I'm sorry to say this, but I knew this all along. He did tell me about it, how he had already lost his interest in you for so long now."

All I could say: "I don't deserve this."

All Luke could say, exactly what his best friend said: "Nobody does."

I still did not understand.

Luke said: "It's the way he is. He's super selfish. He just wanted you because what?; you were pretty. He just wanted to show you off and shit. And as usual he loses interest and just dumps you."

"I thought I was special. He never had any of his crushes becoming his girlfriends before, he said that. Why would he do this?"

"He will always be him, he will always put aside girls he doesn't like anymore, after a period of time."

I finished my first bottle.

By this time, Luke and I were talking about other subjects, mainly crap. After a few false alarms of wanting to puke, I was done with my bottles. I tried to let out my feelings, I tried to laugh but there only came out tiny burps. Luke laughed and said I was cute. I just started to cry again because I didn't want him to call me cute.

It was all I could do not to cry. The world started spinning and I could just lower myself down til my head was in his lap. I buried my face in my hair and started groaning, which slowly became wails, and then loud Banshee bawls [as he would call it], calling out the asshole of this story's name.

One of his arms wrapped around me, while he used his other hand to stroke my hair. He tried to coax me, with his shushes, while I kept bawling, occasionally saying his best friend's name. The gesture of comfort from Luke just made me cry harder, I deserved being held like that, but I kept mumbling: "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve this."

"Nobody does."

And I just cried harder.

____

I'm not sure how long we stayed that way, but it was getting late; I could barely get up, my head was throbbing so bad. Luke held out his hand for me, and I held onto it for whatever support I could have. His fingers interlocked with mine and that just made me want to cry some more.

I tried to walk, but I remember seeing messy shots of the floor; I was walking here, and then I was walking there. I was walking forwards, and then I was walking back. My bag slipped off my shoulder, and Luke tried his damndest to help me carry my backpack by both straps so it wouldn't keep falling.

He was the best support ever, I know because I remember everything. Maybe because my tipsy behaviour this time was the worst ever. I felt like I was dancing instead of walking, forward, back, left, and right. I laughed a lot too. Gotta salute Luke for whatever patience he'd had for me.

I saw the ground, spinning, but I could hear what Luke was saying. "No, no, E'indah, this way... Stop going backwards E'indah, there you go..." His tone was so gentle and patient, I wouldn't have believed it was him. I wouldn't have believed the arm around me and the hand in mine were his either.

"I've never had 8.4 percent before!" I remember I kept saying. "My alcohol tolerance is so weak!!" and then I laughed, and Luke just had to keep me entertained.

Because of how I had observed traffic lights at a cross junction, I knew when the red man was turning green, so I tried to cross the street before it did, to show off. All Luke could do was grab me from behind and say, "No no E'indah, not yet kay.", even with that patient tone of his.

We crossed the road with his hand on my backpack, a tight grip, and I remembered how I had held him by his backpack like that when we were crossing roads.

I kept calling him by his best friend's name. This I remember, because when at one point I was about to say Luqman instead, I'd choked back the word and told myself No, this is not Luqman, this is the love of your life, things are okay now.

But you know what? I couldn't be fooled. If I had been drunk like that around 'Aamir, he would have just literally left me like that at the side of the road.

When I looked up I saw Luqman, and his face was so stressed out, I felt so bad for making him do this. Yet at the same time I was glad he was there and not anybody else, and I just, yeah. Cried harder.

Pursue mechanical engineering after this?

I really enjoy programming. I've only played with HTML a little, and I've only done C for one and a half semesters, but I feel like I'm already in love with all these codes shit!

I've been making C programs on my own accord these days, just for the fun of it. Ask any engineering student if they'd make a C program for fun, and they'd most probably say no. [and for all I notice, engineering students everywhere find programming a burden]

If you remember my Thanks for the Smiles of 2013 post, I'd written a little note for everyone who had given me reason to be happy in 2013. Right after tweeting its link, I tweeted to make sure you check it in case it has your name on it.

Thinking about it, it was probably troublesome to search for your name, wasn't it, if you thought my 'categories' didn't help you find your place. That's why I thought I'd make a program for it.

Using my knowledge on switch and cases, I made a program whereby I list up the people I had featured, in alphabetical orders. You find your name, and when you see it, you type in your corresponding number and there would appear my note for you.

It was actually really simple, it just required a lot of copy and paste from my blog post, and a bit of edits here and there with the \n especially, to make the output look neater. I added a loop but I couldn't get my system("cls") to work, so I'd scratched that.

Of course, I could only show it to people via my laptop. I had no idea how to transfer a C file onto anywhere on the net for anyone to see and enter their numbers without having me to hand my laptop over. So far I've only shown it to Shi Hui, Wai Kit and Faiz.

I've had thoughts of learning C++ during my next holidays.

I'd just been thinking about how my mom actually did want me to be a reporter. But I remember her specifying that she wanted me to be a reporter, aka a woman in a shirt and skirt who sits behind a desk and read the news out to the camera in front of her. Even then I still defied her expectations of me.

And then here I am, scratching away whatever dreams I'd had of being in the media field, because I've fallen for something else.

The modules I'm learning here and so much easier than I'd expected; I've realised that I'm smart, but I'm lazy [big fat problem right there]. I used to hate lab, but I had fun during my latest DAELN and EMPTS sessions.

There's a Rapit Transit Technology course in Nitec, adjoined with SMRT, teaching knowledge and skills like maintaining all the systems and railway tracks of the MRT. What's more there're also attachments, so there's opportunity for real-work exposure.

Feels like it's so damn perfect for me, what with my current interest in all these things in MRTs. To think it all started with a fascination for the map; now it evolved into a whole new passion for the industry. [I guess my love for the MRT map and sudden liking towards engineering just fused together]

I've been thinking of getting another diploma in engineering after getting my current course one. Right now I'm in a course for Electronics and Computer, but I've been thinking of pursuing some form of mechanical or railway engineering course afterwards. Another diploma, or a degree maybe. What do you think?

I'm not forcing myself to leave behind writing. I just know it's not for me. Never will be.

Link: why I'm suddenly so determined in engineering

How I'd survive first day of school??

First day of school, eh? I was just doing a bit of reminiscing, remembering the few times I'd had first days of school. Primary, secondary, most recently tertiary. Thinking back, I find it hard to believe that I'd survived all that.

Before I get to my point, I'm just gonna remember my very first day of tertiary. Of course, that was way different than my first day of kindergarten, or primary school, or secondary. In tertiary, I was aware of these things called self-esteem, and judgments.

That first day, I stepped onto the train, and already felt nervous. Being on the train already had an impact, knowing I was in my own clothes, not a uniform, and heading to somewhere called 'school', not just to town or some other place. You bet it felt weird.

There was an existence of self-esteem, and I was even more aware of the fact that I lacked that. It made things hard for me, when I thought of how I looked like. Did I look okay? Would they think I was weird, or ugly? So many thoughts on my mind.

I can't lie to you, nobody can; first days at a new school will always have these thoughts. This lack of self-esteem, this thought that everyone is looking at you and deciding whether you're alright or not to them.

But you know what? Whatever you feel, everyone in your new class will feel it too. Remember you aren't the only new girl there aren't you? Everyone's new, everyone's nervous, everyone is looking at you, as afraid as you are of being looked at.

First day of school, I'd keep low. I wouldn't want to be loud because that will get people avoiding you. I'm not the type to go over and introduce myself first, but you gotta keep a friendly face instead of a frown so people will approach you if you're a shy person.

Surviving first day of school is actually really easy. At least, you can make it easy. And if you can, then the rest of the school year will be a breeze, just slowly open up more, joke around when you can and just, yeah, be yourself, as cliche as it sounds.

But you should know that you would be forced to make friends. There's gonna be ice-breaking and orientation, shit like that, so you don't have to worry.

That's pretty much it: remember that you aren't the only one who's nervous; either go over and talk to someone first or keep a friendly face if you're shy, just so you'll look approachable; and open up slowly. Hope this helps, my ask.fm friend :-)

Thank you for everything

In December, he brought me to have lunch at his school with him; he and I had an argument two days before but he chose to be mature and to put it behind him. He waited for me so we could eat together, even when I was late and he only had an hour's lunch break.

In November, he skipped class to come take care of me when I couldn't get up because of an unusually terrible stomachache; he put aside his ego to buy me menstrual pills and made me eat them in the middle of the way. He bought me hot tea to soothe my stomach; made me laugh to calm my heart.

In October, he immediately knew something was wrong when he laid eyes on me; he listened when I told him about how neglected I'd felt, how he had confused me about what he wanted. He hugged me right there and then, sat me down and made me feel better.

In September, he gave me a chance I did not deserve. I had disappointed him, and even more greatly when I took it out by going back to an old habit. On my 18th birthday, he called me to wish me; I returned the gesture by getting angry that he hadn't made effort to come to Singapore for me. He forgave me.

In August, he brought me to have lunch with his many tertiary classmates; he didn't treat me like I was supposed to be special. He didn't treat me like I was invisible either. Somewhere in between; which was just perfect for me to feel better being there.

In July, I made myself to be trouble when he had invited me to break fast with his secondary classmates. I made them wait for nothing just because I was angry at him; I blamed him for making me not want to attend the gathering, even when it was my fault to have came late.

In June, he made me laugh by making a fool out of himself, and for noticing my little flaws. As usual, he listened to what had made me upset. He watched a movie with me to cheer me up, no matter how late it had gotten.

In May, he let go of my mistake from a month before. It had been unforgivable, and still is, but he decided to drop it and began trusting me again. When I neglected him, he kept quiet; when all the people I thought were my friends ditched me, he didn't hesitate to rush to my side.

In April, I made that mistake. I kept it from him, and when he found out, I was the one who got angry. I put him under stress, but he forgave me and came back again for me. At the end of it, he told me he realised how much I meant to him. I did not deserve such kindness, but he had thought I was worth all of his.

In March, he set aside an entire day for me. He brought me to his turf, the park where he'd cycled, the stadium where he'd jogged. Afterwards, he followed me explore the Northern area of the purple line. He was exhausted, but he kept a straight face the entire day to entertain me and make me happy.

In February, he came over to my workplace to give me a surprise visit; he had came all the way to Pasir Ris from Woodlands, only for 15 minutes before having to go again. I thought he was meeting me again after work; when I'd ended only to find out he wasn't fetching me, and that he was at Woodlands, I got angry at him and did not thank him for the surprise visit. He forgave me.

In January, he found me. He begged me to stop whatever I had gotten myself into in the year before; he tried to persuade me he cared so much for me, that he would never give up on me, even though he just knew me.

And he never did. He never gave up on me since then.

Thank you for everything you have done for me in 2013. Thank you for giving me the chance to do things for you, things I've never done for anyone else. Thank you for forgiving me for all my mistakes in the year, no matter how badly I have hurt you. I'm sorry for my carelessness and lack of gratitude, and for writing so little under your name in my 2013 post.

Coolest trio ever with our knives and shit

It started off innocently. There I was, leaning against 'Aamir while he was drawn into his game. He and his best friend Luqman were engrossed with the PS4, while I sat between them watching. We were in the living room of my own home, as I spotted one of the cats laid down in front of the television.

Soon after 'Aamir and I had gone for a walk downstairs, pass a provision shop where people were gathered. Upon closer inspection we realised most of those people were boys my age, some a little older. No idea why they were gathered, we just moved along.

I'm not sure why, but those guys had caught sight of us and taken a certain unhappiness towards us, judging by the looks they gave. I didn't like it, so I quickly tried to get 'Aamir back home to where Luke was. He gave a slight frown at the direction of the guys but he followed me anyway.

However back home, we realised that there was also a group of boys raiding our home. We were greeted by five of them, probably one or two years older me, with knives in their hands. Luke was nowhere to be found. Of course the first instinct for me and 'Aamir was to get the fuck out of there.

We ran to the eighth floor of the flat, where there was this cement ground of space beside the staircase, sheltered by the floorings of the ninth storey. [you'd get it if you know the layout of my home's flat] We saw the lift coming, and we just suspected it to be the guys from before.

'Aamir told me to stay put and hide, so I did while he ran off. I peeked around the corner, saw that the lift had arrived at the floor and sure enough, it was those hooligans. They didn't notice me, but I saw some running up the stairs, while the rest, down.

When I was sure everything was clear, I ran back down all the way to my own home. It was like a game of block catching, only with knives and hell angry bastards.

After making sure none of them were in my home anymore, I went in to see that all my cats were still safe, though looking shocked. My neighbour crept up on me and told me he had called the police, but I'd had to wait if I needed them; and that way I had to sacrifice 'Aamir. I wasn't gonna do that, so I gave a frown and turned my back on the neighbour.

Back at home, I changed into a comfortable outfit; basically my usual of jeans and my thinnest sweater. I filled my sling bag with knives before hanging it over my shoulder, and slipped on my boots. I passed by the neighbour's house, and he stood in front of his door looking at me, shaking his head.

I checked my phone to see a bunch of missed calls from 'Aamir. There were too a few texts, telling me to hurry up and back him up. I tried calling him but he didn't answer; I took the lift back up to the eighth storey. Making sure no one was outside, I crept to the space beside the stairs, to see blood all over the floor.

I peeked over the railings, to see that some of the guys had gathered about three storeys down; another level which also had that space beside the stairs, where I could overlook from above. I threw knives, killing the three guys which had gathered there.

Done with that, I proceeded to the stairs to go one storey up. I heard something, and got a knife ready in case something jumped at me. I could hear whoever it was just around the corner, and I was prepared to slit his throat before he could have his chance.

I realised it was Luke. We both had knives pointed at the other, along with matching shocked faces. He frowned. "Where the hell is 'Aamir?" he demanded, without lowering his weapon one inch.

I didn't let my guard down either. "Ask yourself. For all we know you could have had something to do with those bastards."

Before I could blink, Luke shot a knife at my direction; he had taken out one of those guys who was creeping up on me. "Would I kill my ally?" he smirked.

"No." I frowned.

I received a call from 'Aamir, and picked up to know that he had ran off to the next block. "I don't see any of them, but I'm pretty sure some of them are still on my trail. There're loads of them..!" he cried.

Luke and I had our turn running to the next block, losing more of our knives on the way killing those people. We reunited with 'Aamir, and gave him a few more of what was left. "Who are those people?" was the first thing he demanded to know. We shrugged.

All three of us now, as we ran back to the block that was raided with the boys. We didn't know who they were, or what they wanted for us, but all we were aware of was that we had to kill them. Even if the only weapons we had were those knives.

We gathered at the fourth floor, the space that resembled a balcony, overlooked from the eighth floor and over the railings at the staircases of the other levels. We made sure we could be seen, yet unreachable by any of their weapons.

Sure enough, very soon the remainder of the gang appeared around us. The three of us stayed in a circle in the middle, keeping one another's backs covered.

When all the bastards [as we had called them] all laid around us blood-soaked and very much dead, the three of us turned to eye one another. We didn't rejoice in our victory; instead, at the same time we took out one last knife, the sharpest we had saved, and pointed at one another's eye; Luke at 'Aamir's, 'Aamir at mine, me at Luke's.

And then I woke up. 

Yes, I am the type to get all kinds of dreams every single time I sleep. I don't know why or how, but I've always had no trouble at all remembering the dreams I had at night. And I'm glad I remember them, because they make great stories.

I thought this one was cool at first, but now that I've written it it just seems funny instead. The three of us being that cool, can you even imagine? It makes me laugh! I CAN'T. [and I swear to you I'm not that fit or good with knives in reality, so fuck me]