Let me...


Immatured

Abah texted me tonight, wishing me goodluck for my exam. I replied my gratitude. Then he replied back, saying that he cant sleep. I asked how his day went by. He said it was just another ordinary day for him. Just ordinary. Nothing unusual.

It made me realize. Just how self-centered can I be?

I never took the chance to text my parents. Asking them how their day went by, and if their day were not okay, cheer em up a bit. I’m their only son after all. I called my mom once in a week and that’s about it. Nothing more.

My abah, there is no way I could deny that I’m slowly becoming him. In a good way. Abah likes languages. Abah is romantic in a way. Generous to his nephews and nieces. Will do his best to give happiness to those who matters. Tried to show the world that he’s okay when he’s not.

I love him. Maybe my act doesnt show much but I do. Ego and rudeness comes in my way sometimes. Darah muda as they say, is always hot. My patience and tolerance most of the times is very short. My abah is deaf. I want to talk to him. Like a father and son should. Spend some times together. Because growing up as a kid, I never really been close to him. There’s no such thing as father-son bonding time for us. I belonged in a family of seven siblings. Abah had to give equal amount of attention to his childrens. Being a shy, stupid, naive, fool, my childhood was wasted in stupidity and pointless child’s play. Maybe that’s why I am still immature. It took me many years to finally see a glimpse of what life is all about. I used to just go with the flow, live life by my own instinct. Never think. How foolish. I rarely talk to abah because he cant hear me. Rude. I know. But as I said, my tolerance is short. I’m learning to change. Slowly. It’s hard you know. When you had the chance, you never took it. Now God has took away my abah’s ability to hear. There goes my chance of bonding with him. The man that took care of me my whole life. The man that sacrificed many things just to make sure I can smile. I’ll write more about abah later (maybe) when I have the time.

I hope in the future, I will grow more matured and holds all the responsibilities that I should take. I will take care of my parents in the name of love. Until then, please dont take them away from me, God. Please.

— 1 hour ago
Honey

She called. But her call cannot go through coz he blocked her. Yes. He did. Why? Because no matter how many times he tried to endure the pain, it still hurts like a bitch.

He love her. So much. No one could ever love her as much as he did. That’s what he believe. Yet no matter how hard he tried to be with her, they just cant be together. She has another man. And she love that man more than she would ever love him.

One sided love will never prevail. They’ve tried many times. In the end, it is still the same story. She would go back to her boyfriend, remembering how much she loves him. And he’ll go back being himself. A pathetic, naive, hopeless kid who knows nothing about love other than herself.

She is the definition of love for him. It has always been her. Many names come and go through his heart. Yet her name stays. After all this time, her name was still there.

She was an angel. His angel.

But it’s all in the past now. He needs to move on. He know it is pointless to love someone who doesnt love him back. So he blocked her from his phone, media social and tries to bury away his feelings.

There’s no way an angel would be with a mere human like him.

— 1 day ago
"When I first felt hatred
for myself, I was 11 years old.
It was two weeks before
starting middle school
and I would enter adolescence
with self-doubt and fresh
wounds on the surface
of my premature skin.
As it goes with every new
sudden feeling, I felt alone
in the journey that was
set before me. I’m 21 years
old now and all of those
open wounds have healed
and have become small stories
on my body. Tales that I would
go on to repeat to any newcomer
that recognized scar tissue
in places that could only be
self-inflected. Since then,
looking back on those 10 years
of searching for myself
with the help of sharp objects
that had no say in what might
be best, I have taken those
throbbing experiences
and have turned them into
hope for new wanderers
who may have crossed
the path of darkness before
reaching the field of light.
Still, I look down at my limbs
and see the weakness hiding
beneath new tissue. I can
still hear it calling to me
to open them up one more time.
I cover up my wrists
with my armor and look ahead
to my path, to my not yet
completed journey.
The first time I felt the richness
of self-doubt was when I was
11 years old. Barley old enough
to see the outcome of what
my hands were truly capable of.
10 years of solitude
masked with bandaids
and bracelets and now my skin
is finally able to breathe.
Now I can see that what I was
trying to destroy all along
would be the only thing
that served as my protective
shield. Now I can stretch
my arms outward and show
my once so powerful
self-doubt that it no longer
will be able to reach me."
"My victory lives beneath my skin," - Colleen Brown (via mostlyfiction)
— 2 days ago with 253 notes
A song

Today instead of doing serious revision for my upcoming final exam, I created a song together with my bandmate. Lol.

We’re still learning though. How to write a proper song. This is just an experiment. We’re just playing music for fun.

Music is a beautiful way to express your feelings. In term of expression, sky is the limit.

Use as many metaphor as you wish, be subtle.

Be free✌

— 2 days ago
After all

Well, forget what I wrote last night. I think, birthdays celebration is okay after all. But it takes lots of positive people to make it okay. Plus, the celebrated birthday boy or girl especially must be in positive mood, positive energy and positive mind.


Maybe that’s why birthday celebration is not for me.


I’m a negative.

— 2 days ago
Birth and days

Growing up, my family is not really the kind that celebrates birthdays. Whenever our birthdays are up, we’re just wish happy birthday to each other and that’s about it. Nothing more. I’m cool with that. Really.


But then, as technologies started to progress, people tends to think more of their behaviour in other people’s perspective. They wanted to “blend in” with the societies. So my family members started celebrating it. Buying cakes, wishing each other more merrily now, singing birthday songs. Im okay with that. Totally cool. But I dont really feels like it should be that way.


What are birthdays anyway?


It is the date when you were out of your mother’s womb and born into this world for the first time. Now let me ask you something. Did you climb out of your mom’s womb by yourself? No. Your mom had to push you. Did you not cry and burdens your mom and dad at all that day? No. I dont think you did. Yes. Your mom and dad and all the family members must’ve been so happy to have a new kid. Of course. I’m just saying. You did nothing that are worthy of a celebration when you were born. Your mom. She is the one who should be celebrated. It is the day that she managed to endure the most pain a woman’s body could endure just to deliver you out into this world, and breathe, and grow, and turned into the man that you are now.


I dont really believe in celebrating my birthday. I dont really want anyone to care about celebrating my birthday. It would be nice if they do but it would be nicer if they dont. That way, I could think clearly as I am thinking right now. When people started smiling and praising and wishing you all the best in your new journey of entering a new age in your life, you’ll started to lose grip of the real meaning behind birthdays. Your mom. Celebrate her. Tell her that you appreciate her. Act in a way that shows how much you appreciate her. Love her. As much as she loves you. Dont love any girl more than you love your mother. Please, dear self. Please dont.


One of my dream is to celebrate my birthdays beneath the night sky. Maybe around a camp fire. With those who matters near. Those who are not really getting hype up about wishing me all the good stuff. Let just sit back, enjoy the stars if they were any, and light up some fireworks. Boom, boom. I love fireworks. They’re beautiful. Fireworks made you feel something. I dont know how to put it into words. They just make you went “awwhh” hopelessly.


One day, if I’m lucky enough to separate myself from the norm of societies, that will be the celebration of my birthday. Just chill and enjoy the fireworks.


Well, that’s me. My opinion. Maybe other people had a different kind of opinion. Its cool. I like to wish good and happy wishes to my friends on their birthdays too. Lol.


Maybe I’m not so different than the very society that I loath after all.

— 2 days ago with 1 note
Write

Lets get this thing straight.


I have a lot of thoughts going on my mind. Talking to people is annoying, not to mention opening up to people. There are only a few of people which is lucky enough (lol) to hear me opening up to them. But mostly, I keep it to myself. My thoughts, my silly ideas, my views on life, how blurry my future is. So this tumblr is nothing but a platform or medium for me to spill my thoughts. Tumblr is much simpler than blogging. Just write and move on with your life. I hope there’s no one following me here. Enough with those facebook, twitter and instagram friends and followers. Media social is supposed to let you expressed yourself. But why do you need people to comment on your expression of things and situation? You’re just being you for god’s sake. There’s an illness that will never be cure in our societies. They keep talking. And talks. And talks. And talks. Like they’re better. Most people also likes to show off. “I’m having my fancy dinner tonight. Let me just take a picture to let them know how rich and wonderful my life is”, “I just bought a new phone. Better post a status about it” are some of the examples of how stupid people can be. Somewhere in the future, when I know better, when my life is well organized, with a stable career and family finances, I hope to look back at all of my posts here and think, “Wow, I was that stupid”. Memories. Pictures arent the only thing that could capture them. It’s when you feel a moment, then you keep it safe in your heart, and pour it out to any medium that you like. Any medium that can last forever. Because for memories to be memories, reminiscing is compulsory. Any days in the future, sit back, relax and look at the memories that you’ve made throughout your whole life. Maybe then you’ll realize that life, is beautiful after all.


I say what I want here. I write what I want. I dont really post pretty scenery and beautiful pictures. I just want to express. I just want to write something. Something which is originally from me. From my thoughts. Im a lousy engineering student, never a good cook nor am I handy with tools. I cant create shit.


At least here, I can create. Despite my bad grammar and poor vocabulary, let me write something.


Writing seems to be an exit for those souls of unspoken thoughts in my mind. Let them be free. Let me free them.


Let me write.

— 3 days ago
Pemalas

If you dont get up from your bed, how can you have a life?

If you cant even get out of your room, dont call that a life.

If you are alone, constantly shutting the door of your heart to anyone who tries to get close, that is not a life.

Life is literally the movement of energy, as I remembered the quote.

Hence, life is hardwork.


Urgghhhh. Malasnyaaaaa😞

— 5 days ago