Sup3rnality

Hmm.... What do you do when a Taliban Freak of a lecturer cancels your class for the day and you have nothing better to do for the rest of the day???? Answer: Let Fidzy and me loose in One Utama, as you can see...:

Written at 7.52pm, 15th April 2004

I’ve taken your dagger
Didn’t you notice?
The one you use to cut hearts out
The one you use to steal
Well, you will steal hearts no more.
Instead, with it I’ll pierce my own
And from it I’ll bleed
And maybe then you’ll comprehend
Maybe then you’ll see into my heart
But then, it’ll be too late
I’m already too far-gone
Goodbye, Goodbye
I’m drifting…
You never did see me
Did you?
You just passed me by
But this time
I’ll be the one passing you by
That is, if you’ll ever notice.
So, goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goodb---

"Goodbye To You"-by Michelle Branch

Of all the things I've believed in
I just want to get it over with
Tears form behind my eyes
But I do not cry
Counting the days that pass me by

I've been searching deep down in my soul
Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old
It feels like I'm starting all over again
The last three years were just pretend
And I said,

Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to

I still get lost in your eyes
And it seems that I can't live a day without you
Closing my eyes and you chase my thoughts away
To a place where I am blinded by the light
But it's not right

Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to

And it hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time
I want what's yours and I want what's mine
I want you
But I'm not giving in this time

Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
The one thing that I tried to hold on to

And when the stars fall
I will lie awake
You're my shooting star

It never occurred to me that I could actually love a person like the way I loved him. I mean, I never doubted that I could love, but I’ve always doubted that such a love ever existed. Well, that all changed when I met him. Maybe ‘met’ is the wrong word, since I did first meet him when I was barely 2 years old. What I really mean to say is when I first met him as the guy whom I would later fall so much in love with. It turns out that the boy whom I grew up with as neighbours, the boy who I thought of as my own brother I thought I would never have; is a really nice guy whom I would love more than just a friend. So, given the situations we are put through, sparks flew and well, we got together. I would say that was the best relationship I could ever have. He was one of those kind of people who would go to lengths to make you feel wanted, needed, special. All those things that I never thought I would feel. As clichéd as it sounds, that was how I felt. He was like that, him. Always putting me first. He was my lived dream. Heh, but things aren’t meant to last forever. Well, first of all my dad has always been one who was so fussy about me going out. And then we lived so far away from each other. Eventhough I for one could have endured a long-distance relationship. Really, I could. But him? Well, he said he couldn’t. It was straining apparently. Hence the break up. Bullsh*t.

Enter another girl. He wanted this girl, apparently for a long time. And because he wanted to chase something he wasn’t even sure he would get, he sacrificed our relationship. Well, he didn’t get the girl. She left after their ‘O’ levels. And that left him broken-hearted and alone to face the realization of what he did. He SMSed me late one night. He told me just how much he missed having someone to talk to. That left me even more confused than I already was. According to a very reliable source, He felt stupid for what he did. He regrets it. And that provides me with a slight comfort, knowing he felt a little pain from it all. But when asked whether he would change what he did to me if he was able to turn back time, he said “No”. He said he would have broken up with me eventually cos he felt nothing anymore. Apparently he got bored. And that hurt me. Knowing he just got tired. And that was when I started letting go. I let go of his ghost that I still clung to. The ghost I clung to for over a year. But he should have told me that. He should have just told me there was nothing there anymore and be done with it. After we broke it up, he shouldn’t have taken me for that walk, he shouldn’t have said all those things, all those promises, he shouldn’t have touched me. He should have just stopped and said goodbye and left. He shouldn’t have given me hope. And at least, I would have stopped loving him….

So, it wasn’t about not wanting to tie me down at all. It wasn’t about him wanting to concentrate on his studies first. So this is how it feels to have your heart wrenched out. So that is how a heart is broken.
I’ve waited a long time to know what exactly happened between us. It was all sudden. And without proper explanation. And now that I know, well, I couldn’t decide whether it was better me knowing or not knowing. Knowing all this has made me detached from life, although this will only be for a while. But my heart will take a long time to mend. And not knowing? Well, then I would have spent my entire life pondering “What if-s?”

Don’t judge him by what you just read. I made him the villain out of anger, out of my grief. He really is a nice person but just gone astray. Misguided. He will still stay in my heart no matter what. And believe it or not, I’ll always love him.

Thank you for letting me bleed my heart out. For once I’m actually opening up about this whole thing. And that is a huge relief. I’ve kept my grief in for far too long. And my friends kept in the dark. So there it is. My so–called love life.

Suddenly I know I’m not sleeping…

P/S: The original version of this entry was posted on my Xanga blog and it was protected...I've decided to publicize it here...So, I wish for people involved in this to know that I do not mean to criticize anyone. We are good friends and always will be and there are no hard feelings... This was just me saying things out then when I was still mad... Sorry if I hurt anyone (22nd June 2004)

The following was written in my journal. Title: "Journal" 2.18am, 13th April 2004:

I live on these pages
These white, lined pages
My pen builds my house
Constructing in blue ink
Instead of blueprints
I drink from my thoughts
The thoughts that flow here
Forming a sea of blue
Swirling
Swirling
Swirling
No-one knows me here
No-one hurts me here
I am safe
Between these walls
These book-cover walls
No-one sees me
Only I do
I am lonely
I’m afraid I’ll die alone
Open me, find me
I live between these pages.

I have this uncontrollable urge to NOT sleep at night. Whenever I turn off the lights and try to concentrate on the soft chirping of the crickets outside and the steady whirring of the fan. I have this voice in my head that tells me I'm just wasting my time away just sleeping like this. There's a constant nagging that just tugs my eyelids open , forcing me awake to embrace the night. I am a daughter of the night. Odin's mistress. I slave beneath his watchful eye as he begs my nightly vigil.

So here I am, here I lie writing. With the dim sliver of light illuminating these white pages. My hand swaying to the rhythm and shape of my words. My two other roommates are sleeping soundly, ignorant to the deafening silence that threatens to punish me should I fall into slumber.

There are no thoughts to ponder this night. No questions prodding my restless mind. This disturbs me, not being able to let my thoughts wander into the forest of my mind and emerge triumphant with an answer. No, tonight is not the night. My mind is empty from all thoughts.

The quietness outside my college room seems to call me. Beckoning me to walk underneath the stars and bathe in the moonbeams. I have longed to set myself free under the night's sky and roam. But not tonight. Tonight would be one more of those long, sleepless nights.

Tonight is also one of those nights. The kind of night when sleep just can’t seem to find you. It’s lost outside, re-occupied with the crickets and the twinkling stars. Time abandons you to the stillness and the silence. And all I have for company is the soft whirring of the fan, supplying me with a gentle breeze, breaking my concentration every once in a while.

I had my Arabic Language exam today, and despite all the confidence I had that it was going to be sort of easy, I was proved. It was tough. I mean, the questions were easy, understandable; but I can’t get the answers to come out right. All I can do now is hope that whatever answer I did put on paper was enough to get me at least a C.

I just finished watching Sylvia, an autobiographical movie of the poet, Sylvia Plath. About her life and death. And truth be told, the movie does little to portray the art of her words, her solemn morbidity. She is made a demented person, detached from life and incessantly paranoid. Her pain is made as though it was called for, as though she deserved it. Why summon pain? There is too much of it as it is in this world. And it is a crime of how cruel irony can be. It is her pain that fuels her inspiration, hence Ariel. “Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well”, Plath claims at the beginning of the story, foreshadowing of what is to come. And again irony bleeds bitter, when the art of death consumes art herself, along with all her unspoken words.

It is silent here. That’s one thing I hate about Seremban. The nights are dead. As though you expect to find a mysterious shadow lurking everywhere you look outside your bedroom window. The feeling of sudden loneliness threatens to envelope you at times like these. Swirling around you, looking for an opening; awaiting a slight bleed of emotion so it could seep into your veins. I try to keep my expression placid, trying to fool them in to returning into the night. And then maybe I could find peace with myself.

Tonight is one of those sleepless nights when you just feel like doing something constructive and yet there is nothing to do to fill up the time. So here I am instead, a pagan to the computer and the solace it offers in its anonymity; the knowledge that no-one knows who you are, and words remain as just words. Nothing more, nothing less. There is no person to judge, no specimen to be inspected under a microscope. There are no expressions to read.

I used to be a slave to the pages of my journal. My faithful journal all bound in a yellowish-gold wrapping paper that serves as a vessel for my written thoughts, opinions, musings and such. And how time has changed, from the musty paper of my journal, I’ve moved on to this screen that displays the inner me, where my soul is splayed out by the constant tapping of my fingers on the keyboard, producing words to match the thoughts in my head.

Things around me have been changing fast. It’s amazing how fast things can evolve in the time span of less than a year. In within these few months, I‘ve turned from a contented schoolgirl to an angst-y college girl. In a few months I’ve left the monotony of routine for an unpredictable life. I’ve left my home for a living space which is supposed to pass off as a home and yet feels so hollow, soulless, empty… And I am no longer the person people used to know.

People ask me whether I am still me. Yes, I still am. My name is still the same. I look the same. And yet my essence is like a reflection in a puddle of water. It’s the reflection of the same thing, the same being and yet, inconsistent. The reflection muddled up by the constant sloshing of the water. Sometimes it’s clear. Sometimes nothing more but a jumble of colours. I am that reflection in that puddle. Ever-changing. My soul flits from emotion to emotion. You may not see it in my face, because it will never show. But you can see it in my eyes; the windows of everyone’s soul. I think my eyes have become older than they should be. Worn out by the troubles I see in my mind’s eye. But then again, who exactly have ever seen into my eyes? I look away after a moment too long of eye contact. That is a weakness of mine. There lies all my sensitivity. There is where my soul resides. And there is so much to hide.

Of course I am still me. What am I if I am not the girl you made your friend, your confidante, your advocate? Who would I be if I do not answer to the name I was given? Maybe somewhere deep in me I am broken, but at least the body that encases my soul still is in one piece. If at all, I may have been wizened by experiences, aged by sadness, or perhaps jaded by hardships. But that does not make me a stranger. Nor does it make me an intruder in the new life you have forged. I AM still me. Am I not entitled to change as you have?

Do not be afraid. This vessel still very much bears the person you have all come to know. It still bears all the secrets, all the information you have filled me with in all those years of me living. The only difference is that my soul pretty much hovers in the space between reality and fantasy. Finding comfort nor able to run away from neither.

So here I shall end my soul baring, the bleeding of my heart. What you make of it is your choice alone. I am here but to deliver, just for the brief comfort. I have no right over your judgment. But I am a person. One who feels. So think what you want, but these feelings are mine, and mine alone; ergo whatever you think of me is your opinion, good or bad. But you will never begin to fathom the enigma of my life.

-LinZy-

“Mystery” 2.31am, 4th April 2004, Seremban

I am but a conundrum
Unsolved, unfathomable
A living enigma searching for a solution
Anticipating a resolution
That is nowhere in sight
So here I stand awaiting a patient traveler
Who will stop and take the time to comprehend
To absorb me into his veins
And spit out the answer to my heart
To my soul
And maybe to his too
Enough to make him stay
Or take me with him
To his destination
To a destiny
And maybe
Just maybe
We could build another mystery.