Sup3rnality

The coffee call
Riding the bullet train
For the morning paper
Like the fire in the stairwell
Looking for right stage exits
Bedroom firelights dancing
With urgency rising
Cornered shadows dying
For sunlight to yawn louder
They burn butterless toast
With sugar on the side
But then I drink tea instead.

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2011

For the most part, I feel like this girl here, Hazel Tellington. You can find her at Girls With Slingshots.

Minus the fact that she has a major addiction to alcohol, I feel like her sometimes.

English major, works, oh wait, worked for a newspaper, writes and hey, our names are quite similar.

I relate to her once looking for love phase. And yet, at the same time, to how much she is a closet romantic - nonchalant on the outside, an overload of poetry at heart. Oh, and that she is a reluctant pervert - filthy-minded yet living life so (supposedly) prim.

And yes, and that she has a love-hate relationship with her not-so-generous boobs.

Dear Friend,

I apologise, but I could no longer help you carry this burden. This shoulder can no longer bear the weight of these tears. My heavy heart weighs me down so.

I apologise for brushing off your tears when I should be brushing them away. But I have my own to catch, and they're swelling like a river.

I apologise for not helping you pick up the broken pieces of your life, your heart. Because the truth is, I'm still looking for mine.

2am, Saturday night. Or rather, Sunday morning.

Work is done, and so begins my journey home.

What usually is a short, relaxing drive with thoughts of a comfy bed and fluffy pillows turned stormy with thoughts of smiling faces I painfully envy bordering on hate.

Instead of taking a right turn into the junction to take me home, I went straight on. Straight to Uptown Kota Damansara.

The temporary gratification of new purchases serves to console me for a little while.

But back home, alone in bed, left with my thoughts for company; the fight begins again.

A thought:

When it comes to me and you, there are no ifs and maybes.
There is only yes, and the sometimes no.
But mostly yes.
No, always yes.
And yes, there is no one but you.

Grief is a fickle friend. He visits you only when he needs to, then clings to you even though he has overstayed his welcome. I'd rather he never visit at all. And never lets his shadow darken my doorstep ever again.

Asdil broke the news to me this morning. His cousin I have gotten to know over these past two years passed away on Monday morning. She was only 19.

I could not stop this sadness in me, could not stop these tears. Memories of her, even if they are so few, plays over and over. Then the thought of her earrings that I still keep that will never be returned saddens me even more.

How cruel it is, that I've been thinking about her these past few months, wondering how she's been, and meaning to ask Asdil and never remembering to...

Life is such a fragile thing. It comes and goes so easily. So love the people you've been blessed to have in your life, and remember that the latest gadget you've been playing games on is - for all intents and purposes - a phone. Pick it up and call an old friend you've been thinking of. Don't put it off till it's too late.

Dear Anira, I may not be family - perhaps not now, insyaAllah one day - but, I miss you all the same. May Allah grant you peace in the afterlife. Al-Fatihah.

Yesterday I woke up cold, my blanket banished somewhere to the other corner of my bed in the throes of sleep. With my tippy-toes I tugged a corner of the blanket towards me and tucked myself in while the light of the morning peeked shyly between the curtains. My toes curled at the chilliness of the morning, fingers tucking themselves deeper into blankets to blot out the cold.

Then I turned to the empty side of my bed, and on the unslept on pillow next to my head, a picture of Asdil lay face up and smiling at me. It must have fluttered down from its place on the wall, come untacked from the flimsy glue that has held it there for months. The chill I felt faded with the sudden warmth of contentment.

No matter that it was some crazy random happenstance that the picture fell face up with him smiling at me on the empty side of the bed, I love the way he surprises me. And how he can make me smile even when I don't feel like it. And  how he makes me feel warm and loved, even in the coldest of weathers. And I love how he's always there for me, even when he is far away.