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Friday, October 6, 2017

What a mess.

I think people take the ability to just endure a normal day and breathe with ease for granted. Things are not great for me, and if in the process , talking about this is going to put me on a hot seat, I could not care less because I don't even want to be alive anymore .This is going to be a rant post. Don't say I didn't warn you.

*It's a series of wrongs, which at first start of innocent and small, but they pile up, and in conjunction, threaten to topple me over this thin line I'm balancing on.*

I have not been able to fall asleep since I got back from UK, and just when I think I do, there's the vague sounds of  the azan in the background telling me it's the time when other people's days are about to begin. Even on days when I am 'sleeping' , it isn't proper sleep and the slightest sound or light can wake me up. When I DO fall asleep at let's say 6am, I wake up at like 3 pm and conseqently get such little hours of daylight before the day ends and a cycle of un-productivity repeats. If the suggested remedy is to not think , and if it was by some divine grace, that easy, then maybe I would not even go to people with this problem I have in the first place. But it isn't . In fact when I am trying to sleep I am not even thinking about much, it's subconscious.

I have not been to church in over a month, because when I eventually DO fall asleep it's well past 5 am, and I have no energy to wake up at 9 am to go to church, because I would be in a horrible mood, where I feel like stabbing everyone right in the heart even for smiling at me. Honestly, sometimes I feel like it's more about the breakfast before mass than it is about the mass itself. It feels like a task to check off the 'to-do' list, and it makes me angry when people preach about love in the church then the moment they leave it shout profanities at the next driver who tries to enter their lane.

I feel like people wants 'in' on my life when it's good and when  I'm funny and entertaining (which, to be fair, is a lot of times) but when I'm close to throwing in the towel and I'm crumbling, feeling like absolute shit and turning around to find SOMEONE to rely on, there is almost nobody there. It is a strange coincidence that everyone is going through something equally big in their lives to give a shit about me. Which brings me to this memory of someone telling me everyone is too selfish in enjoying their happiness that they do not want to be part of your sadness.

I moved to a new environment to study in to hopefully find some new friends or join clubs. It was a scary decision because I have always enjoyed the comfort and security of a group of friends. The move to the new campus meant I stood alone; yet I wanted to immerse myself in an uncomfortable situation to 'grow'. One month and a dozen acquaintances later, I can say that it's been a month which fell completely short of my expectations because everyone already has their cliques and who I am as a person does not fit into any of these circles. I did not think I wanted to make the mistake of changing who I am just to fit into a group and belong. So I am doing this 'alone' thing, and it's...to put briefly, very, very difficult.

I feel a lot like 'The untalkative bunny' where life carries on in pindrop silence, no matter where I am, be it at home, in school or even amidst people because the mess in my head have no direct solutions. I am in such a state where I am so easily hurt and vulnerable by people's words or actions that there has been a lot of conflict between me and anybody immediate in my life. Hence the best cause of action is to withdraw myself/stay away. There is so much to speak about, conversations which don't even get to pan out because there is nobody who would genuinely appreciate talking about my interests. There is nobody home on mornings, and five-eight hour classes do not exactly give me room to socialise.

I feel like some extremely poor financial decisions have been made and the brunt of the impact is on me. The home is filled with mess stored in the form of storage boxes in the name of being 'tidy' . I have just been trying to sort out mess since I came home. I had asked only for the bare minimal standard of upgrade which I felt would have benefited everyone, instead, I am made to feel like I am 'demanding' , 'unreasonable' and a 'terrorist', who just wants to mess up the order of how things are. There are so many things I feel could be sold, thrown away, weeded out-- but it appears that sitting in mess/disrepair is comfort to other people and I AM UNREASONABLE for suggesting change.

I did not get to have closure with my life abroad because so many things went wrong towards the end, and I was constantly holding it together even when I could not have done so, because any other way would have made the experience even more unpleasant than it was for me. I sensed a lot of hate and discomfort for a place and culture which had thought me what freedom really was. I was restricted from exploring places I wanted to explore on a 'holiday' under the guise of 'safety'. I had no real picture of me even graduating, And it appeared that my graduation was no biggie to the people who came to witness it-- the next immediate concern was whether clothes had been packed accordingly instead. And sadly, closure is not something you get to pluck from mid air. I will have to live with the fact that I was so, fucking alone in my post-graduation celebration while everyone was out with their families just basking in the moment it happened for them.






I don't drive or have a car to practice with. I also do not have a source of income to pay for Grab Cars to go where I want to go, and even if I did, everybody ELSE who I'd like to meet is busy studying/working/dealing with SOME shit. Which, read in line with staying where I stay, and in a house which is empty from morning till late evening, is close to being in prison. Except maybe in prison people speak to each other.

I feel really shitty about my worsening vision. I wish there were something I could do to repair the poor eyesight I have because I hate wearing specs all the time even to just watch the telly at home too. I did not need to do that before. I also don't have the cash to buy contact lenses. Even putting eyedrops is dreadful, like how do I tuck something in my eyeball??! :/

It's only been the first month since studies resumed and the bulk of content is overwhelming. Clearly my consistent study plans are not working out , because with all the other mess that's going on, I could open a book, read about 5 pages and realise I had not absorbed anything at all. 40 percent passing rate and only nine months to get this shit right would translate to yet another dead end.

It appears to be a recurring pattern that I get really close to people then we fade out , and I am not supposed to take it personally. Unfortunately, I have feelings. And I feel everything with so much intensity, especially hurt--, that I feel like ripping my heart out and telling it to behave, and not get so attached to people.


A lot of the hurt can be diluted if I was just a little more comfortable with solitude, which is why I am thinking about how moving back to the KL campus would be to fall on a safety blanket and not deal with the difficult circumstances before me. I need, more than anything, to learn how to embrace the pindrop silence. To dissect my thoughts and dispose of anything toxic . Social media detox, deal with the hurt and not shun it away, To forgive myself for the past. To accept that maybe not everytime it is my fault. Timing and circumstances don't allow for someone to just sit down and get me. And stay. Everyone leaves.


I'm at breaking point. Breaking point.

Monday, June 5, 2017

The last supper.

The anticipation for the feast was vibrant.  At the 5 rows of Hogwarts-esque table, the guests sat. Dressed in their Sunday best, they murmured about how the black, maroon and gold theme resembled that of a palace . They were,undeniably, flattered to be invited to an event of such a grandeur . The room, roughly the size of a football field, housed everyone . Not even one name on the list was left out. In fact, months prior to the feast, she went all out to arrange transport for those from other continents who were constrained financially. It was important to her that everyone she ever knew in her lifetime to be there. Same place, same time.


Then the food was served. The waiters served elegantly in a uniformly white mask .

"DIG IN!" , rang a voice through an intercom . It was, unmistakably, hers.

 Yet nobody found it unsuspecting that she had not made an appearance yet , from the two hours it took everyone to show up and be seated to the time the food actually arrived. They were too distracted by their hunger. At once, their pupils dilated in excitement. It was indeed, a feast fit for a king. With an array of seafood, fresh vegetables, different styles of chicken--baked, stir fried, drenched in sauce, different styles of pastries, curries, and desserts all presented at once.

10 minutes in, it was clear that some guests were experiencing discomfort. More than ten people complained of a sudden tingling sensation stemming from their fingers and toes. Around this point she makes an entrance. And what an entrance it was. In a body con maroon velvet dress, she walked down the staircase to greet everyone, responded with nothing less than a roaring applause and cheers. Half of those present had not seen her in years. The other half who saw her a little more frequently recalled how she had fallen completely below the radar just some months back, withdrawing from all forms of social media and how she had stopped showing up to work. She wore a smirk on her face, as she noticed the confused looks on everyone and watched some guests visibly turn red and sweat. Then, the itching began.

"Just as I thought." the voice rang on the intercom again.

By then, the itching morphed into something worse, --a choking sensation. At this point, some were already on the floor, gripping onto the carpet for dear life. One by one, those who were affected breathed their last breaths. The unaffected ones were too scared to move. They looked at her, startled with how unaffected she was, observing the horrendous chain of events unfolding before her. It was clear that the ambiance had shifted to one of pure panic and terror.

Standing there, she took a couple of seconds before she uttered, in an unbecoming monotone; "There, done and dusted."

With only three days left to live, and millions accumulated in wealth, everything was going according to plan. They had to feel her power, her wrath and, (pardon the pun), a taste of their own medicine.

 Her obsession with knowing who was what , the amount of times she was abandoned by the same people who she imagined would never give up on her-- coupled with her discovery of the short span of time she had to be alive drove her to lunatic ends. The plan had to be completely eradicated of suspicion, and required a mini break from the world. Upon learning of her terminal illness, she worked closely with a team of scientists to concoct a lethal solution which would  kill anyone who was two-faced, spoke ill of her, backstabbing and secretly hated the sight of her. Sure, there were some who she did not expect to see, get affected. But at least now she knew. She knew, and she was content.

..."What are they going to do, kill me?" 





Monday, May 29, 2017

Existential milestone.

For the longest time, my 'mission statement' was to do my parents proud. And I would like to think, to this day, that's what I've managed to do by maintaining my grades to the best of my abilities. But over time I realised, if that comes at the expense of my mental health, I need to sit down and evaluate if it is worth it. Because if I am being honest, my parents never put pressure on me to succeed. It was just my persistence on improving my life's circumstances, and keeping up to some 'brand' I've managed to create  (i.e bold, opinionated, eccentric, cat lady who kept her grades in check) that drove me to the brink of decay.

So that's what coming to Aber was about. Telling myself sometimes it's okay to be less than perfect. And actually believing it. Loving myself. Learning to find a passion and interest which does not revolve around some grade. To learn how to be street smart and adapt from difficult circumstances--not just sit down in shock and wallow in self pity. By learning to travel and opening my mind to the different ways which people live, think, and have different standards of right and wrong, this place has arguably *foofed* some new life into me.

Of all the great things my parents have done for me, giving me an overseas education is what I am most grateful for. I can say with deeper conviction that the law field is where my true passion lies. Today, I can say that I am proud of all I've done for myself. Regardless if it fascinates anyone else. I can say that me, little-miss-play-by-the-rules , did things I did not think I would do, lived life so outside the constraints of a plan, gained weight I worked so hard to lose in the past, .... and survived.

You cannot put a price on something like that.
 It's just a feeling of accomplishment.
 Something like an existential milestone. 

Monday, May 22, 2017

Fake people .

"Look. I don't like you and I don't want to pretend to smile at you or be happy to see you". 
Said nobody ever.

Instead, the more preferred course of action would be to fake. In the name of being 'civil'. It's a pretty clear cut situation.

You do not like someone's instagram profile because they are too self-absorbed, you stop following them! Not subject yourself to further annoyance every time something is posted then laugh about them.

You don't like someone's voice or music? You just stop playing the video! not make an effort to watch the entire thing, intentionally diss and discredit every compliment they receive , or show it around and laugh about it.

You don't like what someone did to you? You tell THEM! instead of the ten other people who did not even know what the matter is, in order to get their vote on your side to support your bigoted opinion and validate it as being right without hearing two sides of the story.

You don't like what someone is wearing because it is too revealing or outrageous by your standards? well plot twist , the clothes are not on YOU ! :) you would not be able to pull it off half as good anyway.

But no.