Crying Souls

She might have clenched her jaw too hard,

He might have beads of sweat on his forehead,

She might have tears reaching her cheeks

And he might have created a damp pillow from his tears.

These crying souls,

Screaming for help in silence.

We lost our voices and energy

Waiting to sink ourselves in the water.

We waited for the bubbles to resurface

As we let go of everything,

Everything we never had,

And wish to have.

But we wake up,

We smiled our way through,

Dreading every minute of misery

Of living.

I wish we could stop having these clouds of thoughts

But I know it came to stay in us,

As much as I try to flush it away

It clung to me, grow onto me.

It is me, it is us.

HOME

I am left to dust

And before I turned into one,

You came back

And light me up.

Am I a home to you?

You seem to always crawl back
Waiting for me to embrace you
Whenever worries and sadness swallow you.

Do I seem easy to you?

Because it's so easy for you to leave me

And return whenever you need me

After a very long awful silence.

But

How long should I be your home?

Can I finally leave?

The roof is leaking,

The walls are cracking.

The next time you are home, 

There will be no flowers blooming for you

Or bright colours of the walls waiting for you 

Just a dusty dirty old house.

Waiting for you to come back.

Hot Bath

I finally entered the door,

It was knocked,

Calling me.

It's my time to go

After all the cuts and bruises,

I opted for another option

Holier than blood dripping

Hoping the sin is less severe.

Left and right,

What are my chances, really?

I went in,

And boiled myself.

Except I wasn't boiling, 

And that was an exaggeration,

It was the hottest water that was supplied,

Warming me up.

I wanted to see how much heat I could deal,

Skin is pink,

And that is rare

It's a new achievement.

I could feel the heat prickling me

Like heated needles,

Until it stopped

And i got used to the heat.

I wish I have a blade.

Farewell, 2018 and Happy New Year, 2019

First of all, happy new year or as snow would say it, Happy meow year (this does not make sense).

2018 was really a challenging year, it was one of the longest year despite it coming and ending in a swift. It really felt as if I was living in 2018 for two years.

In other words, 2018 was insanely tough. I learnt a lot of things about life, truth and friendship. It sure was tiring, 2019 feels like a year to recover from all that. The funny thing is, apart from getting older (I am old), I didn't feel anything as 2019 approached. I was pretty chill and not excited about it at all because part of me know that getting excited about it is probably a waste of time as things will turn down side again this year like any other year. Happiness is truly uncertain as tests in life drop like bombs.

A little highlight of 2018, I get to know really beautiful people whom I call friends. I was able to differentiate those who doesn't understand the meaning of friend (I reckon them to buy a dictionary) and duh, I met friends, friends who would go miles for me down the rocky road. Thanks to Pagoh (I really do not want to praise Pagoh), I got closer to my course mates, if it was not for Pagoh, I would probably be lone ranger like I was back then in Gombak. Anyways, they are a bunch of sweethearts, really. I am thankful for them, so blessed.

I went through almost three months of internship and met more people. I was pushed to go beyond my comfort zone and I am thankful to my supervisor and her executives for that, for always giving me endless support even when I am dumb.

Two of my siblings got married and yay, I have a new brother and a sister. Not thrill about it at first cause I love my my siblings too much, it was hard letting them go (Clingy, I know. They're equally clingy too). Thanks to my their wedding, I get to practice more of my management skills.

Speaking of that, 2018 is the year I joined loads of programs, I almost died from lack of sleep, being sick and also late night meetings. I was given the chance to co-lead a team and boy, I was blessed with the best team. Our team was somehow supervised by a strict lecturer, who was really strict back then, I was so scared of her that I attended all of her classes but she had taught me a lot by being herself. Thank you for the opportunity, madam. I was also, initially was under a supervisor for my final year project but because I had no progress (there were complications) and probably I was not as committed as the rest, I was let go. She's a really great lecturer, who had shown me so much love (and darn everyone who booked her as well cause you took my supposedly spot, hehe). Although it was not exactly a rejection, I cried for two days and currently, still bitter because I wanted to be under her supervision so bad. Maybe, there's a silver lining.

I went to the hospital once in every two months, knowing the truth about my behaviour and myself. I am glad I know myself better, in a way. I am grateful I have supportive family, especially my parents and my sister who were always there to keep tabs on me, also my friends who reacted as if nothing happens cause, I just need to feel normal and not defined by what is said about me. It was a crazy August 2018, there were a lot of blood, more than usual but I have a lot of people with me. I am fine.

I went travelling pretty frequent in 2018.

Basically, 2018 taught me love, one taught me has taught me a lot, it was truly a year of learning. Through betrayal and beautiful friendships, self-enhancement through programs and events, supportive humans who made me wanting to die less (and slightly guilty of killing myself and omg, don't want to end up in neraka).

2019, what can you offer?

Dead tree

It was a gargantuan tree,
Beautifully blooming with flowers
Tangled all around the overgrown roots
Where children could hide.

The tree was once healthy green,
With spots of pink and yellow from flowers
Sheltering others with care and shade
Where you could hear laughters from families

But now the laughters are replaced by the loud sound of silence,
Carcases of insects and flowers as decorations,
The green tree turned brown and black
Naked without leaves.

Children will have goosebumps seeing the tree
Running from it as if Mr crooked is hiding
Waiting to haunt them
And give them nightmares.

Workers will come slashing the tree
With every slash, liquid pouring out
Where is the hope for this tree?
Nothing to begin with.

An old grandma came,
Painting the leftover barks on the ground
With colourful coloirs
But what is there to save?

Soon, these barks and branches
Will rot amongst the dead flowers
And dry leaves just to be stepped
Like dirt.

I wish there wasn't any tree to begin with

Quiet Sufferings

I used to think, offering help, even if it is rejected, was enough. I would say, I tried to help her and she didn't want it so, she is asking for it. I realized that I was so insensitive for someone who craved for help. It is, unfortunately ironic. 

But now, I'd say, I might understand how she felt. Don't get me wrong, I am blessed with very supportive family and a large group of friends who would tell me that I could talk to them all the time. This made me realized that my surroundings weren't really the problem here. It is me. 

I have to say, I don't love myself. I feel people hating me even if they are close to me. I feel it all the time. As silly as it sounds, the world could be greener without me. My family and friends would have filled their hours with laughter instead of worrying and listening to me. 

"Why didn't you tell me?", "What didn't you call?", or even a simply "are you okay?" can't help me. I feel empty, emotional, strange, angry, numb and confused. I am consumed by my emotions. I love my family and friends, really and I appreciate every bit of their existence but it is like I cannot be fixed. 

I can talk to you normally now, even layer the conversation with a laugh but in the end, I am still me. I got the chance to talk to someone tonight. Honestly, it is awkward to talk to someone on the phone but it was so comforting. As soon as the conversation ends, I am back to being me, I felt the comforting blanket swept away from me and naturally, I began to cry a few tears, my heart ached and I am dying to just sleep.

I wish conversations, be it on the phone, be it with my roommates or sister, never ends. I have to grow up and be independent, but I don't know whether I can make it. I've been alone for a long time and even surrounded by these angels, I still feel lonely. I still couldn't figure myself out. 

I hope I am getting answers tomorrow. 

Thank you and I hope your day is better than mine. 

Mostly contradicting

I pop one pill down my throat, 

Hoping it washes my worries away, 

Whether it is self inflicted or not

Should I swallow more? 

I woke up happy with three hours sleep,

Made some tea and American breakfast, 

Sweat from tea but no worries, 

I'm all motivated. 

When will these thoughts dissappear,

When can I start sleeping

When can my ideas stop coming, 

Should I take something to doze off? 

I love rainy day and cats,

It makes me calm and happy 

And I had nothing to worry about 

As of for now. 

I hate the sun and the heat,

I hate people and people hate me 

I regret every decision and closure 

Can I just dissappear? 

My mind is rolling on things to do,

For tomorrow, in fact today 

I got out of bed and skipped for 600 times, 

Didn't feel hungry and slept after three hours last midnight. 

I was forced to wake up early, 

Can I just read and not get out of bed? 

I don't want to talk to anyone, 

I can really cry if you talk to me. That's how much I don't want it 

I am a riddle and I can't figure myself out.  

Nothing

Stay away,

For I only bring pain,

To those close,

Or unrelated at all.

Can't you see my peeling skin?

Don't you see how my blood is splattering all around?

Can't you feel the sting of my blood?

Piercing you like a claw slowly carving your skin?

That's me

I am a black hole,

Nothing but a destroyer

To everyone

How do we destroy me?

I have a monster buried in me,

Or was it me all along?

Spitting poison through my actions and words.

Once again,

Stay away,

Let me be,

Let me go.

Morning Rant

Strings are attached to my arms and legs,

And my emotion.

My emotions are not mine as I would like to believe so.

But I know it’s not true.

It belongs to no other but me.

Do you think I might have misplaced my voodoo doll?

Because I can’t seem to control my emotions,

Or anything actually.

Why are you letting me breathe?

Quoting one of my favorite song,

Everybody’s changing but I don’t feel the same,

I’m left frozen, aging and obese,

While others bloom and grow into deliriously beautiful flowers.

I’m tired of being stagnant.

I’m tired of being who I am.

I’m just tired of life.

Contradiction

I'm afraid of the dead,

Death and the pain of dying late,

And yet,

I can't wait to be dead.

The religion says no,

But I can't wait to go,

Before I grow,

And face more.

I wish I would crash,

At the roundabout in a dash,

I know it's sounds rash,

But the reality is harsh.

I can't do this anymore

I hate living.

Dear Sally,

Some will say that I indulge myself in fictional world, or in their words "easily influenced" but I'll continue anyways.

Dear Sally Brampton, 

I have finally finished your book. The one about depression, Shoot The Damn Dog: A Memoir of Depression. Halfway through your book, I found out that you lost to depression, you had taken your life away. Before finding the cold hard truth, I peeked through the last page of your story, you said you were happy, that it was your happy ending. I guess, your happy ending is happening, you are free from your depression. 

Just like what I have said before, I wished I have the chance to meet or write to you when you were alive to show my gratitude towards you. Thank you for telling me that I was not alone, thank you for explaining what I was feeling and most importantly, thank you for sharing your journey. Yours had come to an end, mine has not. 

I was quite surprised that you hadn't thought of taking your own life halfway through the book, but of course, it was coming. It was pretty similar to mine. Of course, the thought of it always lingers in my mind until recently, as in these couple of years where I really don't mind if it were to happen. When I drive, I felt like releasing the brake and crash to the car in front, not to die instantly, I don't want death. I just want to feel something. 

Maybe, I don't know at all. I'll be honest, I've been provoking my cat in scratching me and make me bleed, I challenged myself to pain. Recently, I couldn't cry but my heart felt stuffy, as if it was about to burst. I traced thumbtacks above my knee, I didn't see any blood or scratches, I scratched deeper. I felt like crying because I can't see any blobs of blood. I traced again, forming seven lines of pink, it was pretty, the shades of pink. I got frustrated and took two different scissors and tried to bleed again but, damn the scissors for being blunt. Don't worry, it was my first time. I tried scratching myself but that doesn't hurt much, I can't feel a thing. Maybe this was a sign that God gave me to stop. 

I woke up after 12pm, I do not want to start my day. I went to buy a paper knife. It was so difficult pushing the blade out, I felt like crying again. I traced it onto the cuts I made last night, or maybe five hours before waking up. I felt the sharpness slicing my skin, lightly. Yes, it was only a graze, nothing deep. I wouldn't dare. I waited for a few seconds before blobs of blood coming out. I breathed out, felt great and relieved. Later at night, I promised not to do it again. Wait, scratch that, I said I'll try and I did try. I have not been doing it although the urge lingers in my brain. I promised to read the Quran and revised my lecture notes from Umm Hud

I have a spot that I love, I would sit there for hours, listening to songs. One minute, I felt angry, another minute, I felt like crying, another minute, my mind was empty. I watch cars and motorcycle pass by, waiting for the night breeze to hit me. I look up to the moon, wondering if the moon knew what I was feeling. I watched the moon, hidden by series of night clouds, then reappear, the brightest light, it sparks my heart for a few seconds. 

Sally, 

you are right when you said, these days, I find it easy to spot a depressive. The illness is scrawled across them like graffiti. I won't say that I am an expert when it comes to this but it's easier to spot one, even those who are troubled. It got me thinking to what you thought when you went to the Florist and you thought of how people see you normally but not yourself. As I was walking to the cafe of my campus today, I thought of how normal people see me, not that I was insane, although I felt like I was insane. I hated the hot weather, I hated how my skin feel burn from the heat, I hated the sweat forming on my body, I hated how dry the soil is, I hated how dry the grass I stepped on but despite all the hatred, I looked normal. This is stupid but I felt the pain forming above my knee, the cuts I formed as I produce sweat. 

I thought I was getting better, Mid 2017, I felt so suffocated that I didn't mind falling to the road and get hit by the car but as 2017 was approaching, I felt a new energy after crying almost to every episode of Scrubs, Modern Family and The Middle. I was tired of being gloomy and bitter about life, and again, from late 2016 until Mid 2017, I was at my lowest point, I thought. I was tired of isolating myself, and I felt like I needed to break the wall that I created. The sudden wave of energy did boost me to become positive, however the fear remained in me. I was scared of breaking my wall down. I told myself to trust my guts but my brain is telling me to stop because my trust has been broken more than I could remember. Quoting you again, as to whether the depression will come back, it is every depressive’s fear. It might, It might not. I have no way of knowing.   

     I wouldn't lie, I was greatly afraid of my sadness coming back and true enough, it did. I understand my emotion at times, but now, I don't. Just like what you mentioned about depressive, I am somebody who can’t leave her bedroom, somebody who can’t walk across a road to buy a newspaper. I start to cry. I hate crying. I hate these tears that come, unbidden, at any time of day. The thing was, tears were never easy for me. I rarely cry and even if I wanted to, either I cry quietly or I held it in despite the urge to burst into tears. However, the case is different now. I burst into tears as often as breathing, maybe a little exaggeration. 

     There are moments, maybe most of the time where I felt the world is against me. Everybody hates me. Every negative tweet about a person is me, everybody feel burden when they are with me or when they are responsible for me. I blamed myself at times because I felt like I was the root of every problem. I hated it more if I couldn't solve it. You could say that I'm one of those who thinks everyone's world revolved around me. Maybe it's just insecurities. 

      Dear Sally,

If it were up to me, I never want to end this conversation, even if it's one sided. You once said the word 'fine' is forbidden in therapy because it means

      Fucked up,

      Insecurities

      Neurotic

      Emotional. 

     I may not fit all these description to even utter fine. So maybe if someone were to ask me how am I doing, I'll say INE? That was a joke, a bad one.

     Some might claim that I am seeking attention, some may say that I am crying for help or am rebelling. I am to assure you that it wasn't my intention to do so. Words of worry doesn't comfort me, not anymore, or ever was. Again, it's not any of you, it's just me. I happened, I exist. 

     Sally, thank you and I apologize for being I don't know what .

 

Trash

I hate myself

I'm on top of the world

Skin my back,
And create a pair of wings,

The thread might be wet,

But do continue sewing feathers to my skin.

I'll climb up the window,

And walk to the roof

While you hold my wings,

As precious as veils on wedding day. 

Balancing my steps,
As it will be my last,
Similar to a bird,
I'll fly and be free.

They don't understand,
And they can't stand,
never, not in my stan,

Don't fret, I'll leave trails,
In red
From my flesh to remind,
Pieces of me
Quite literally.

They still don't understand.
And they never will.

You can stop reading now

Because this is trash. 

A flower for you

You stretch your fingers,

Handing me a white tablet. 

I swallowed it together with rain water,

Until it sits in my heart.

It lights up my organs,

As it blends in my blood and veins,

Similar to the sun hiding behind clouds,

Or sunflower during nighttime.

The tablet is still glowing,

And growing,

Breaks into seedling,

Before turning into gardens of flowers,

The branches poked out from my skin,

Accepting that I am a pot

Of your energy. 

An effect from your light

And sight. 

Anger in Equation

If force is equal to pressure over area,

I could safely state that you are P,

And I am A.

So, if F here, equals to an immeasurable number. 

A number that represents a calm blue sea,

Or at least once was. 

That turns into a ball of purple liquid,

And later, into a red burning metal. 

Smoothed out by a sandpaper,

Once again, I was heated.

One time, I spark

Two, I produce larger spark

But three? I'll turn into ashes. 

Ashes that floats around in the air,

Resting on your skin,

Leaving mark on your epidermis,

And I'll go deeper if I can.

Oh, and I'll irritate your eyes. 

I'll be collected,

But with one breeze,

I'll haunt you again

When I'm no longer the insignificant ash. 

Fiddles in puddles.

Tap, tap and tap. 

I tapped and fell,

I fell into another world,

Going through fiddles of waves,

Into millions Os,

And out from another puddle,

It's similar to when I played portal,

My head stabilised itself,

After rounds of motion sickness. 

Where am I?

Am I standing?

Or am I sitting?

It was both vague and vivid.

I tapped again,

Into a colourful world,

And again,

Into endless loop of different worlds,

Maybe I am Alice, 

Going into my wonderland. 

Wait, what is happening?

Similar as the feeling of being stuck 

In the elevator with strangers,

Sweaty strangers and limited space. 

I can't breathe. 

I pushed myself out of the elevator,

Going into another door of mystery. 

What was waiting for me?

The door knob was icy cold, 

My eyes were blinded as soon as my foot entered what was behind the door,

Instantly, the floor fell.

The walls crumbled

But I was floating,

Looking into darkness below me. 

That's you,

Or me. 

You hate me, 

I can feel it. 

I can feel your stare,

I feel your silence speaking loudly. 

You love me,

I can feel it,

Fighting for your own justice,

Or mine.

Are we talking about the same person here?

Ok,

Dead now. 

Wake up