20200526; Tuesday; 0345

20200616: Tuesday: 2123 quote unquote ---20200526; Tuesday; 0345

I feel so sad. I want to tell someone about my feelings. I want someone to just sit there, listen wholeheartedly. I thought being a good listener would give me something similar in return, the rumour it’s not true though. I don’t have a shoulder to cry on right now. Or is it because I disbelief my own people? I guess I am. Their act may dishearten me, or maybe the insecurities kill my own courage to do so? Idk. Everything seems so vague right now. I thought being busy would distract me, it doesn’t.

One would tell me I should live my life properly, that I should work harder and put more effort.

One said I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, that I should treat myself better and learn to pat my back.

Which one is it?

Am I the laziest? Or do I work the hardest?

I couldn’t stay rooted. I listen so well that I don’t have any side to pick. I want to cry so badly right now. I wish I can just vent out my own despair without having to care about what people think about me. I hope that ranting away on a rooftop with someone who can actually grasp the concept of being extremely self-aware shall pull me out from the infinite realm of jargon of my own limbic system. I’m being barmy, excessively dozy even in the broad daylight, everything on the not-to-do checklist; I ticked every boxes. I lurch to each edge of obscene douane, smirking to the bystanders who would clap to my poor insinuation of grappling the side rope which act as a guide to the track of given belief.

I thought taking away myself from everyone would be a great escape,

I thought putting away all the stacks aside can deviate me from resentful thoughts,

I thought distracting myself with piles of energy could end me up in oblivion,

I was wrong.

The given feelings overthrow everything I thought I had mastered. I obliged to the rules set ever since before I was born, or maybe I thought I did. My own audacity, unyielding since. I am scarcely comprised. I don’t even comprehend my own upper motor neuron hence my lower motor. I thought by memorising the ASIA Scale would be enough, I outlaugh myself this time, always actually. I am angry; at everyone; at myself - most of the time. Well, don’t ask me to hold in because believe me baby, I did it longer than you been alive, you idiot.

Why would lamentations result in salty droplets or red eyes or puffed nose or swollen lacrimal sacs or smothered chest? Why can’t sorrow make flower petals fall instead? Isn’t it prettier? I love flowers by the way, especially roses. I think you can tell by looking at my whole blog, if you’re not having any problems with your sights. Reading up to this passage, I wish I can continue to understand my own liberty to word out my involuntary physical response in future. Are you?

Dear readers if I had any, if one of you; if and only if – though I don’t think it will happen in 10 years time, if one of you, yes you, if you do understand this page and try or maybe not to seek for me, try harder. Because I may avoid you. Irony isn’t it? I want to search for someone who read the same book, speak the same language but when one does appear, I hide. Lol! Apologise! We need to fix it that later in the future. I hope our fate entwins, I hope everything fall into their own place gracefully, I hope the flowers bloom by the time arrive.

Till then, see you soon.

May Allah bless.

Dismissal,

20200610; Wednesday; 0812; online class Human Physiology Dr Wang on waiting list,

It wouldn’t have come to an end if I were to put this, but somehow it did. I thought of writing about positive things but I’ve become gloomy instead. With the sun glimpsing through the raindrops, the crickets coming through their shelter and decided to sing a morning song, the squirrel was jumping on the dewy grass suddenly matched eyes with me, the surface of the harvested paddy field flooded with rainwater ripples, not by the rainfall but by the little fish that were happily clustered their own bellies, how can I not be? Let’s not talk about why we are here, just take a sit back and drown with me. Weeks ago, I was looking through the old staircases that have been wrecking, making hasteful sound each time I crept onto it, when I found old books of mine. And when I say old books, it means books that I don’t read anymore. My kindergarten books, my primary school books, all the fiction and fairytale stories that my mom bought. Well my dad never bought any, he would’ve just gives us money and we can buy any books that we want, if we would talk about case of buying paperbacks.

Anyways, those books took me to a long distance journey of childhood, reminiscence took every bite of energy from my gray matter. I almost fluctuated. Some of it push me to the boundaries, of where I am now, some of it I don’t even remember owning it though my name was carved in the inner part of the skin. Some gave the best values ingrained in me still, were lost and can never be found. I took a heavy breath. Being sentimentally longing to memories is what I least wanted yet it still happens. I guess that comes with age. As the number increases, our central nervous system put on a conspiracy against us and build a new factory of forgotten scenes that made us laugh when it used to be sad, cry when it used to be happy and livid when the history was originally calm and serene. Pathetic, or maybe intriguing.

“Nashrah, can you please just stop being a dramatic old hag and live within future?”

said someone in the mirror, who was sitting on a rocking chair that finally drove her to sleep. As an outlaugh as it is, time has been the most mysterious thing that evades our soul, filling through every knacks and corners of our sulcus, delighted and depressing us simultaneously. I wanted to use the time turner, go back in time and slap that kid in the face, told her to act properly… or maybe just gave her a big hug, a long one, and say ‘You’re doing great,’. I said ‘I wanted’, I’m not having it anymore. I’d rather put an end to everything instead. Shove everything off, shushing everything out and walk away. The worst demeanour but the simplest one.

I want to write more as of now, but I’m not doing it. A successful huge procrastinator I am, undoubtedly. I am still waiting for the internet coverage to crawl into my territory as I’m writing this in the Microsoft Office Word 2016 version. Well, the internet fails me. A little bit shocking as we are now strutting into 21^st century. Future, you tell me *smirk*. I’m about to whine on how unfair online classes have been to me, don’t mention the teachers who yet to have curiosity of our whereabouts and our upbringing, well it isn’t fair! I lived in a jungle, in a cave or maybe under the rock, in the mountains even. Lifeless and contaminated by the ignorance of interaction which has evaded my professional life, I suppose.

When I dearly desperate for the breath of knowledge and gaining everything in order to fill up the life in between, I fell rock bottom. The morning breeze couldn’t pick up anything, they had lost in the vast prominence of hardships, failing, and I, too, have failed. I went to every part of the land in the search of the unseen thing, even despair. What if this has never started? What if this will never end? My persecution, mourning, vulturism, is the one and only me wailing and pleading to cut everything off the ground. I could abolish myself, throw a party and beg for innocence. Or I may slice every skin that never comprehend their own master, disrupting every senses, claiming guilty and sentence for a maxim, a verdict I call it. 

I cannot help but to write, because listening is fatal for everyone around me. I cannot help but to jot down this anguish desire to be heard and perpetuate each blood to run without having any disruption from heavy traffics. You get what you give? That’s bloody unlikely, people tell you many lies and they expect you to believe it, like a toddler whose eyes shone when cinematised with fairy floss and gummy confectionaries. Well, you did. What a fool! My circumstances couldn’t see any road path that leads to where it’s supposed to go. Where is the light at the end of every tunnel? Or I don’t even deserve one?