He reminds me how to write again

The set of brows compliment the pair of eyes. They are alluring.

The arch of his brows screamed seriousness. It was full of pride that any strangers would consider it as overbearing. It was irritatingly challenging. The pair looked somewhat familiar at a first glance, until his lower face was unmasked—it was totally an unknown face.

The eyes lingered around with no intention to rest. They were looking everywhere and seemed having no absolute point to focus on. They were full of everything chaotic and urgent emotions with nil compassion. There was no moment of interlocking with those pair, not even a slight.

Hours in until the very few minutes to part, the pair of eyes finally lighted up and seemed aware of the surrounding. The set of brows finally relaxed and out of the emotional bound. They were pleasant.

The few seconds stares with full of warmth knocked off the hours of unfriendly gazes—they surely reminded me how to write again.

The last journey

Upon taking a breather to cease the dejection that I retained which could potentially drive me further into a higher level of sadness, I made an attempt to utilize my sight as a tool to divert my attention away in order to compose myself and be additionally stern with my emotion. I refused to weep. 

Looking up, there was no hint of blue, just different shades of grey. It looked like the painter running out of different colours and irrationally baffled by which grey to brush on, thus coming out with at least three would satisfy his bewilderment. 

As if the skies knew the clouds were grieving. By revealing some of its hues, the skies knew that it would disregard the heaviness that the clouds were possessing; therefore, accordingly, the skies gratified what it had to do by staying hidden and let the gloom from the clouds to be vented out unhurriedly. 

All pair of eyes; dampened and concealing the indescribable intense sorrows was on the wooden compartment covered with green fabric painted with the calligraphy of the Almighty’s holy words. The soulless body was finally being escorted out of the mosque and transported into the van. That was, and will always, be the part which unfathomably the hardest for me—the deceased was finally on his last journey to his next home; the grave. 

And that’s when I didn’t even try to halt my tears. I just cried my eyes out.

A paper plane that made a grumpy man happy

The imperfect lines and curves of the letters he produced on the paper shook the desire in him up to keep his intention alive. It would be hard for anyone to read it on a first try, he had to admit. “Well, as long as the meaning is there,” he whispered calmly as if the inanimate objects in the room would agree to offer some cheers. 

He felt like his 5-year-old self who was always fond of the process of folding papers to create out some remarkable paper planes. He felt old as he could not remember which folds would result in a good fly, so he came out with the simplest and threw it out of the rusty window after giving it a powerful blow with the air from his mouth. 

Tailing it with his eyes, cheerfully it flew according to the wind direction. It brought his burden away, he felt easy. Few seconds his eyes were on something else, the next time he knew the plane was already on the ground. It appeared that it had hit someone—a nameless but a familiar face. It would not work if he would just leave the window as the man, the ‘grumpy man’ as the neighbours dubbed him, has already assured about the owner of the plane. Their eyes had interlocked for a brief second. 

He was nervous and totally was not ready to provide a solid defence in case the man would turn up to him and proves him the name he was labelled. Nonetheless, it was not fair to his judgement, because he never really get to acknowledge the rumours he heard of the man. The man seemed like a big guy with baggy wise stories to tell. 

He gulped as the man seen to unfold the paper after picking it up with a struggled motion to balance his body. The man’s legs were strong, he thought. It took him a virtual slap in his mind to validate the scene—the man waved at him and shouted, “I need this. I really need this, a lot. Thank you!” 

Fascinated by the event, he only managed to lift a little bit of the cap on his head as an alternative way to express an acceptance. He could not utter a single word. Unable to sway his eyes away, he kept looking at the man until even his shadow was nowhere to be spotted. He proceeded to take a comfortable seat on his favourite chair, let out a big sigh and acknowledged, for the millionth of times, the truth he wrote on the paper, “Really, nobody said it was easy.”

Where I left off

When was it again? July 24th, 2018. 

More than a year has passed. 

In an attempt to enumerate the flied bumpy rides of times, it was fortunate enough that my mind was wary of the apparent existence of the practicality of what we have now as to satisfy our hunts for responses—internet search engines. Otherwise, I would learn myself quantifying manually by pointing numbers on at least nineteen printed tables showing all the days, weeks, and months of the years. Not to mention of all the struggles I would have to suffer to make certain that I wouldn’t lose count upon any relevant digits to be considered.

It was exactly four hundred and ten days ago, since the aforementioned date.

Staring blankly on the screen disregard of the lights it was exhibiting which literally was blinding my eyes with the vagueness and unfathomable thoughts of my own judgements toward my capability in connecting upon the seemingly unacknowledged of my own hidden powerful triad; my heart, my mind and my fingers. I wondered—how did I do that. How did I even do that.

I tried trailing the traces. It was strenuous as it has turned weak as according to my estimation that it would only take less time to perish. It was a pleasant visit, I was glad as I came in time the hint was partially diminished—I still had the chance to revisit of those little whiles.

I tried reliving the split seconds too. At some points, they were lots like from a strange sphere as they showcased such different complexions. Singly, studied and remarked. Fastening the speckles to one another, surprisingly, bounced me back to the bygone. It took seconds to ultimately unlatch the scepticism. I confirmed—I did that. I really did that.

It was real and pure delight. 

Unravelling the unsettled notions and confusing concerns into an independent individuality and originality; sounds about right.

I think it’s time to pick up—

—where I left off.

The Options

Headache. 

Taking another step ahead, I thought, would completely solve my irrational confusion. In fact, I’m seeing so much more than I heard and imagined. I know my eyes aren't playing tricks with my head because it’s not only in my head. I sensed it and it is there. 

The variations seem pretty burdening. The arguable options I have to decide in order to satisfy the inclination. It has to make sense, and it must match the preferences. If not exactly, but at its maximum, hopefully. 

I need to choose wisely, very wisely.

I grow

There was this unfamiliar feeling that I failed to take fully conscious of its mere existence until I was struck by some intense and detailed reality beats by the differed approximation in my response towards motivational urgency from now and then.

Long time ago, I was an ambitious determination sucker. Working out on solving and repairing that flaw was enjoyable that it had become a habit. I was like a gasoline that only needed a tiny little spark in order to burn big and spread out. And even that, I was the kind of fire that uneasy to be tackled by the strong wind or massive downpour. 

To be good at everything is satisfyingly pleasing. Chasing and hopping around with that extra point in hands undoubtedly grants the permit to feel secured, higher-up and allow us to feel like we belong everywhere.

Perhaps, undergoing different phase of life, did, trigger the unconsciousness of the state of the mind indirectly towards perceptions. Accepting and letting matters to be accepted as the way they are recognized are ecstatically commendable because open-minded peoples are time-worthy and amazingly fun to be around with. 

The thing about being open is that; most of the time, a subject reaches an unsatisfactory halt due to the confusion on deciding the acceptable end to it. All party seems to be right but also wrong. Some other time, the subject not even outstretch to its final close. 

I was somehow afflicted by how unaffected I am now toward being open to positive stimulation that usually never failed to devour me which subsequently intoxicate me to be trapped in that particular phase. I was overwhelmed and jumbled by the changes in me. I mean, it was one of the qualities I have that gratify me.

Looking back at it and after some long deep thoughts, I think I can put the concerns aside as I’m aware of my partial committed to the then habit of accepting everything openly and be affected by it. It’s how selective I can be, as of now, when it’s about motivations.

Of course, it was overwhelming. But at least I know; I actually grow.

Returning

I know this place. 

The scent that the environment gives off is familiar. The atmosphere seems aware of my presence and I thought it’s friendly. I think my trails haven’t been vanished off completely by the thin air.

It’s still in my mind that it once gave me warmth and comfort when I thought that I didn’t own anywhere to bump my body on. Or when it seemed that it’s the best place amongst others to temporarily occupy in. This was once a new place to breathe in. 

I was struggling. Despite the hints of a better comfort, the engulfment by the previous tenderness was still tight. As if it was resisting in letting go, hence the adapting and adjusting that took quite a long time. It’s one thing that I was trying hard to be sensible about my presence in a new place at first, but it’s another thing when I finally didn’t need to be alerted of the distinct environment. I was already used to it.

I couldn’t recall the time when I have diverted to another comfier place and vacate this place deserted. It was instantaneous and unpredicted. It happened abruptly yet willingly. Slowly moving in. No mindful contemplation with unaccompanied back up consideration. Just a heart capacitated with faith on the intention to find a better space to snuggle in.

Although this place was once a place that I had frequently stayed, I’m not going to doubt about the possibility of my failing expectation on the comfort this place has to offer now as compared to then. I know it’s not going to be the same. But I don’t think I just want to turn away either. I have just arrived to this abandoned place that I had once convinced to welcome myself in. I think I can repeat the cycle and start over.

Because I’ve never really left.

The rise and fall

On some days, the skies are all just blue and the clouds seem to be clothed clean without any hint of rebel. Even the sun, that it seems to cheerfully greet the earth upon the start of the day until it vanishes down unwillingly to make way for the moon to take over its obligation. 'Obligation' is quite incorrect in this case, because 'routine' may surpassed the definition of satisfaction upon performing something with whole will. 

The surrounding's condition somehow might complement the state of life of someone, if it happens to be equally in the same horizon. When the days just feel like not the another days. Waking up in the mornings seems to be taking a lot lesser of pushes. Waiting for tomorrows seems to be taking forever that the pressure to end the day as quickly as possible seems to constantly kicking in. Because that's what being at the uppermost point do. Even when the thunder seems to growl, even when the stress from loads of works stacking up without any hint of settling down, even when things seem to be going in the wrong way. Speaking of being in the slightly upper part of state in life. 

Temporarily at ease. People seems to missed out on how being at certain peak reflects the reality of the tendency of falling down. Either way; consciously or unconsciously, descending slowly or dropping low just in one-go are the trickiest part in due to the irregularity of the paths walked toward the peak. The thing about falling is that there will always be something that could be clung on in order to at least diminish the impact of the downturn and strive to fight for the current position. The ground will always be there to serve place for landing and also prepares spot for departing. It is always welcoming and even providing site for stay.

The contradictions of being at top and at bottom, such as being at peak and at rock-bottom. The inclination toward falling by being at the top due to excessive requirement of stability. The comfort that the ground provides of which standing up seems to be just as hard. Easy to fall, hard enough to make up.

For the record—if I were ever to define rise and fall.

The presence

Most of the time, I will be self-consciously engulfed by the thoughts about my presence in this very sphere. It's just a huge blank canvas that I entitled myself to deposit my dormant and constantly filtered crumpled pieces of unsettled notions in my mind. I'm very aware of it.

The curiosity about my own presence in a specific zone may never hurt me even the slightest of that I always just let the thought of it slip away. But the thing about letting things go is they will keep on coming back. Even if it's not, it's just not now.

Maybe the fear to learn the truth is the one that responsible putting us in an ignorance state. As if someone coming at your door that you tell to go away only on their first knock, they didn't even enter. Because we afraid, we will lose to the truth.

But we can't keep on running forever. The truth is, I can't keep on my run. I can barely sense my feet anymore. The sore on my muscles feels denser than before that it makes my head suppressing itself from everything but the agonizing pain. 

I decided that it's time to not only convince and console but also to remind myself that it's okay to open up to the things that I keep on combating against all this time. Even when the judging eyes are hurting, even when the existing ears are not listening, even when the words are cut off and people digress to another topics leaving you feeling unacknowledged.

I was very afraid I would never fit in. Too defeated by the sensational terror-stricken, I lost count on the undesired upshot that may reserve some impacts on the growing thoughts in my head. I can't help but feeling panic thinking my notions being unheard and distorted that I will decide to give up on letting my mind grow. Fret not, I won't. 

Because I'm alive to my presence here.

Another year older

It's just another birthday.

I remember last time I was feeling quite hurt inside rather than relieve for birthday wishes. It's one thing that the fact people forget birthdays and another thing that you actually stay in their mind. But this kinda measurement could be inaccurate since excuses will always be there for you to consider.

It's not the same, as of this year. The feeling is different. It's another occasion to prove the "make yourself busy so that you can forget easily" certainty. We have been busy with the preparation for my sister's engagement these few days. It did force me to push myself away from all the things that I normally spend my most time with. Since it's stuck in my mind and the day was getting nearer, there's no way that I could relax myself and thinking much of another things. It was like a drug that suppress myself from anxieties. And that's how I don't really think of my birthday this year.

To know the number of my age getting bigger each year and the fact that I'm getting 'older' really helps me to open up for many things. Nonetheless, I'm really grateful for all the loves that I don't know how and what to exchange with.

Happy twenty-first birthday, to me.

It was all good

Now that I've come here. There's no point of turning back. Looking back at it, it's safe to say I've outgrown the little compartment that I thought I would never fit in. 

As I was sitting here, with my hands kept on clicking the alphabets and backspacing every undesired letters since the words that I was going to put were just messing around with the little voice inside of me, there was no way that I could solemnly deliver everything of what I have learnt and embraced from 2015. There was just as much as I could remember—and it was all good.

Come to think of it, new year is just a new year. The fact that we, peoples, are celebrating it by re-glam it with new hopes, aspire it with new ambitious holy targets or even re-new everything of the postponed or left-undone aims; is actually patched a serious nuance to it. And I'm very not embarrass to admit that I'm just one of the lots that keeps the new and re-new resolutions up every new years.

I always stick to the real fact that—I've learnt many things. Some were the ones that I've been looking forward to and the others were just happened without my conscience. Although some things were quite hard, it did actually teach me to deal with it disregard of the level of the firmness.

I've learnt to love[accept] peoples that always exhibit the reason why I shouldn't do one; to let people treat me the way they want without consider the kindness that I've thrown at them; to let go of the souls that I love dearly; and most importantly, to show peoples some loves.

This writing is no near to the extravagant and doesn't even contain a very splendid pieces but there's so much to appreciation, remembrance and reminders. So when I decided to go back, I know where I've come from and I know where shall I head up to.

All the hands

Reflected upon my eyes were the gloomy clouds. The morning was quite dark and it did forced me to fight with my struggles upon repulsing on waking up very early in the morning.

It was raining outside. But it was a light one. All of the pathways, the walkways, the stairs and everything unshaded were wet by the drops.

It was just an unfortunate, that as I was on my feet heading towards the ground floor through the stairs, the sole of my shoes failed to grip me tight on my stands. It was slippery.

I thought it was enough for only one slide, but it summed up to be three steps I have skidded. Lucky enough, I didn't trip. I didn't fell. I still could hold on to my balance. It was only my feet.

The best part of the incident was all the hands that offered me their helps. Even the ones that I'm not close with, and the ones that I didn't even know. At least I know—the world is still safe.

Nobody said it was easy

You know the feeling when the end doesn't feel like the end? Because you are too exhausted that you can hardly feel the exact moment that you live in at a time. The effect is still on. I remember it has been a long time since the last time I felt very empowered and highly enthusiastic over the feeling after answering the last paper of exams. And it's not anymore, as of my degree life.

Nobody said it was easy. 

Nothing is easy. 

I rarely say stuff or two about my study, if you realized. But this time, I'm on it. It's not that I want to rant over the fact that I'm having a very hard time to cope up with my study. No. But to state it clearly and honestly; it's not easy. And I'm not comparing my study with others'. 

Talking about comparing the scale of hardness of the things being studied. I would have a hard time to composed myself  with calming and positive thoughts to repress myself from voicing out my reply (which contains hurting elements) to some people's statement that I highly despise. It is something that I have to tell other people about how it triggers my inner other side, that I don't have the guts to show and praise it on the person who makes me feel like punching everyone in the room. 

I don't want to lose people in my circle. Because it's not easy to let them in. I have to protect and preserve the bonds. Losing is not okay.

Maybe it's not them, it's me.

Maybe the way I poured out my feeling has made them feel like I should have known about theirs and I should stop complaining.

Maybe I thought it was okay to express my feeling as I believe it could relieves me.

I remember all the biggest moments relating to this incident—peoples comparing my study to theirs; saying how harder theirs than ours; explaining how my study is way easier. And when one doesn't meet their expectation, they judge and state it out why one shouldn't—"it's easy".

In case you missed it; it hurts to hear all those proud comparison. Now I know how it likes being cruelly stabbed right in the heart, virtually. I'm fragile, even only all those statements could easily cracked me up. Little did I know it would stressed me out even up until the present. Man, it's not easy to remind yourself that you're not stupid.

No one has it easy.

That I hope people wouldn't make it any harder for others.

Nice to meet you, Helen!

I sat alone among the bunch of people along the steep side on the edge of the lake. It was deadly hot and if only I was smarter, I would bring an umbrella. 

I tried to enjoy watching the competitions. I was amazed by the team works of the participants. I couldn't take my eyes off of their custom made jerseys, especially the ones without much of a clichéd design. It's brilliant.

I was aware of the many eyes behind me. I was nearly surrendered by the thought of lonely but I resisted. Being alone sometimes could shatter the level of my confidence, I couldn't help.

As I was struggling to keep myself stay, moment by moment peoples kept on filling up the spaces near me. I felt safe. They tried to keep their distance away from me, and it wasn't a big deal as I understand the fact that we're just strangers.

Time passed by just quick. Halfway through the session, I've already felt comfortable with lone. It was fine, at least. And that's when someone was dare enough to squeeze herself next to me filling up the gap between us. She's got an umbrella and she's just too cool that she's let me hide under the shade of it. We talked for quite sometimes and even sang to some of the upbeat songs played.

It's not that we expected it to be like this.

The beauty of meeting strangers and making friends.

Although we probably would never meet each other again, except by coincidence. At least, I remembered to ask her name before our undesired farewell that we forgot to exchange goodbye.

Parted

The first time I saw you, you were eating some leftovers next to the big black dustbin. And I didn't have the guts to touch or even caress you. I just meowed and looked at you. You were scared but you didn't run away. You were so hungry. But the next day was different.

It's been my habit for every night to go for the water cooler to refill my water bottles up. It's located next to my block, so I have to cross the place that I've met you before I could find the bridge that connects my block to the next block. Little did I know I was searching for you when I didn't see you. So I stepped closer to the place that I saw you, and I found you. You were lying at the corner end. I saw you were looking at me. I tried to call you. To my surprise, you came to me. Irresistibly, I put my hand on you and started caressing you. That's when I noticed you have this big swollen part under your stomach. I observed the way you walk. Either one of your legs is not working well. I checked out the rest of your body, it seemed that you've been beaten up OR fell somewhere OR you just born like that. You're alone tho.

I came to my room thinking what could I do, since you're friggin' stuck in my head. I told my roommate about you and my plan. She's so supportive that I could cry. It's funny that I have to think many times, whilst what I wanna do is a good thing; I don't know what sadder than this. I made a step anyway.

I have to wait for three days. I was so happy that the beginning of it has already showed some lights. For three days, I tried to supply you with milk and some food. I remember the time I made you some milk, you drank like there's no tomorrow. It must have been long since the last time you've parted from your mother.

The day has came, which is today. I tried to spend my last time with you by patting and caressing you as much as I could. I even tried to find a box for you. And the awaited call has came. So I put you in the box that I've found for you and brought you along. Don't worry, I gave you to someone that I trust. She even brought a pretty pink cage to place you. The time I saw her eyes when she sees how suffer you are with your condition, it convinced me that I gave you to the right hands. Plus, she asked me nothing, nothing, but to catch you.

I believe you're now maybe lingering around and familiarizing yourself with your new home. You even have many friends, right? It's your new family. I hope you're doing well there.

Long live, dear kitty. Don't forget me ah. I always love you, remember.

September 25, 2015

I have liked you since

Remember when you had me knocking at your door but you pretended to hear nothing? I kept leaving and coming for you. It was funny that you didn't know I could look you from the tiny part of the glass wall that failed to be covered fully by the solid-coloured wrappers. For your information, I saw you, and you just sit there dumbly.

I always had a hard time every time I tried to think what mood you would be in on the days I had to see you. I would feel scared for the rest of the time with you when you're not in the good one, because you would drag everyone to be knocked off by your anger.

Once, there was a girl begging for whatever it had to do with you. You pitched your voice high and convinced her that you could do nothing about it. The girl must be very hurt as she said she wanted no one but you. But, you pushed her out. Yet, you still had me at your explanations.

You set up everything as if other's voice doesn't matter. You seemed doesn't care about the hows, as long as the goal you've been aiming could be achieved. I thought it was very selfish of you to ignore the reasoning behind their doubts on the hows. Yet, you fixed the durations for the validity, so that they had to do it for whatever it takes. I hated you since.

It was an exciting day. I had let myself enjoying the pleasant vibes of the beach with you and the others. But first, you had to nag. Until then you were okay to release me and the others out of the unshaded spot, it was very hot. Much minutes later, someone was excitingly calling you for when he thought he saw something that you ever explained us on. You seemed furious. You seemed very pissed with what I could infer as worry. I thought I saw another part of you, I hated you less since.

It was the day. I didn't know if I could ever see you again. I wished I could do the best for the very last time with you. You seemed very pleased for the rest of the time of that day. You said nothing but words of an indication of approval. It was very nice of you. 

Remember when you said you really appreciate the efforts?—

—I have liked you since.

A good one

"Make a good one."

"Sure."

♣

"I thought you heard me."

"I heard you."

♣

"This is the worst."

"You said make a good one."

"You did think this is a good one?"

"A good one doesn't always mean euphoric."