The Crushing Pain

 I had a bad dream. A really bad one that it’s hard to distract myself from it.

She died in the dream.

And the dream was more about the life after her demise. As time passed, I saw people slowly started to move on that it confused me. How they were able to do that in a short period of time?

Did I have too many regrets that made it hard for me to simply take even a step outside the endless loop?

I don't have so many regrets but I have big ones. It was the regret of not writing about her often enough, not expressing my love I bear for her well enough, not writing the final letter to her that I’d been intended to write for so long.

Her housemates came and sent back all her belongings in big boxes.

I wasn’t able to cry, the weight of the infelicity felt was too heavy and it was only getting bigger and heavier over time.

Not until the total realization hit me, that she was not going to come back, and how my chance to offer reconciliation to her had simply vanished.

The sadness felt like a truck hit me straight up into my chest. The pain was deep and too painful that it had to stretch further reaching my back. I cried my eyes out, hoping that’d lessen the burden but it only got heavier. 

I howled, as if it could turn back things.

I howled harder and harder until I was snapped back into reality and found out I was not only crying and screaming in my sleep but also in the room of reality. The crushing pain remains until the night came that it forced me to write this down in hope to lessen the pain.

I rasa ni kes sebab I baca my short writing pasal kehilangan semalam, before tidur. Buat naya diri sendiri ja.  

 

The Lost Sea

 I could never see the sea under the same light again. 

Tears In The Crack of Dawn

 Tak silap I masa tu around pukul 5 pagi.

I tersedar lepas dengar suara dia, how the fact that bila dengar ja suara dia yang unusually weak and knackered bercampur mengantuk, laju je air mata I jatuh. Walaupun masatu dia tak habis cakap pun lagi.

I rasa macam kelakar sikit sebab bila ingat balik, I ingat lagi mata I rasa berat nak bukak, (still mengantuk), tapi my senses macam jadi auto high-alert bila dengar ja suara dia. I memang jenis senang terjaga dengan bunyi-bunyi kecil, lagi-lagi suara orang. Bukan senang ya nak reach deep sleep bila macam ni. 

I nangis sebab I rasa sedih gila dengar suara dia. Macam penat yang tak terbayangkan. Penat yang gila-gila yang macam she was barely hanging, yang nothing could beat her up as much as her work. Yang kalau u buat apa je kat dia masa tu, mungkin dia akan biarkan ja. Dengar ja suara dia, terus air mata jatuh macam hujan. Masatu dia first time balik sepanjang dia housemanship.

I dengar dia keluar daripada bilik dia and menapak kat sofa depan bilik dia. Then dia baring sambil biarkan kaki dia dangling kena lantai. Dia tanya abang pukul berapa. Tu yang I dengar suara dia.

Dalam masa tahan nangis daripada buat my body shaking, I was grateful at the same time sebab I menghadap tv and membelakangi dia. At the same time, I jugak rasa silly sebab I was able to cry heavily tapi dalam keadaan mengantuk.

I quietly hope yang I could do something for her daripada menangis ja helplessly. Tapi biasanya, memang tu je la I mampu. Selain berdoa.

Suara dia felt like unusually close to my ears, which antara reason kenapa I nangis rabak. Memang dia a few steps away ja belakang I, tapi kalau nak huraikan konteks penggunaan perkataan ‘close’ tu, I don’t think it was only literal. Atau ada rindu yang terselit? Jkjk.

And it makes me wonder, what makes them choose this path exactly? I cuma mampu doa kebaikan dan kerja keras mereka akan dibalas setimpal oleh Tuhan.

Tiba-tiba I teringat dulu masa kitaorang sekolah rendah. Kitaorang tidur sekali and masatu memang awal lagi kalau nak bangun mandi pergi sekolah pun. I pusing belakang, nampak dia tercungap-cungap macam tengah tak cukup nafas. I memang tahu dia ada asthma and asthma dia teruk jugak dulu. I tengok ja dia macam tu, air mata I terus menitik-nitik banjir. I tengok ja dia sambil nangis tak berenti, pastu dalam keadaan tercungap-cungap tu, dia marah I, suruh berhenti nangis, takut nanti mama babah kat bilik sebelah dengar.

Faham tak kau nak tolong tapi kau tak tahu nak buat apa, and pulak tu orang yang kau treasure, tengok dia macam tu memang bikin berkecai hati. Pastu dia suruh I tidur, cakap dia okay je. I dengan hati yang berat, pusing arah lain and sambung nangis sampai subuh. Bangun pagi, kayuh pergi sekolah dengan mata bengkak lol.

Memoir & Empathy

 This is only my humble opinion but I do think, reading memoirs can teach us how to be more understanding and empathetic in some ways.

Reading the lives of others help me to think that THERE ARE a lot of people with a life that we couldn't relate to but might be possible for us to understand if we really try to. And it always makes me realise that, how there are so many hardships REALLY DO exist beyond our imagination. It’s easy to dismiss what people are going through and what they feel about certain things when you can’t relate to them. I think it’s true that empathy needs understanding and to understand, it requires effort which many of us simply refuse to chip in. Reading other people’s life really makes me think hard and reflect all over.

Reading memoirs help me to reflect on a lot of things in my life and how our hardship doesn’t have to make sense to others for it to be valid. We can seek for validation, sure, but any less validation from others doesn’t contribute in anything. But sure, it might influence how you perceive the issue right after and you will start to question yourself if it’s really okay for this and that, which is bound to happen, but what you really should do is, to take your time to process how certain issues make you feel, take your time to grieve and bounce back stronger. Sweeping things under the rug doesn’t settle them, it needs to be faced head-on.

 And whenever I met someone so inconsiderate, judgy in real life, how I wish I will never turn to be someone like them or simply I wish, I could shove a good memoir in their face, hopefully when they read it, that will help to expand their worldview and the fact that, the world doesn’t just revolve around them.  

If only we pause before we speak.

And I'm currently reading a memoir called Someone's Daughter 

 

Nasi Goreng

10/12/2021 

I realized the fried rice had gone off. I didn’t look away, I kept my eyes fixed to it, simply staring, then letting my mind to drive the course from there. 

There was the image of me, lying down exhausted yet restless for not being able to sleep that night. It was not a new struggle to me. It has been months. The image of me with eyes half-closed, unmoved, simply refusing to, because the fear of any slight movement might catch the attention of my senses and I'd be wide awake again before I knew it. From the sound of the squeaking slippers moving around, I knew there was someone in the kitchen.

The grinding sound of the blender, the image of babah holding to it firmly in one hand, while the other one being put on his waist, then pouring all the content, scrapping out the residue with a metal spoon, directly into the heated wok, resulting to immediate sizzling sound. And not long after, fragrant smell of the sauté followed, invoking each of my senses. I took a guess of what he was making from the sound and scent wafting, to distract myself from the hunger creeping in.

My face broke into a weak, relieved smile over the familiar sound of clatter and fragrant smell. It really has the ability to put me at ease. A complete ease. I could feel a sense of security, serenity bubbling inside me, seeping through my every vein. I felt truly safe, that I thought I was finally able to close my eyes without any worries. It felt like the sound has lulled me to sleep, saying to me, it’s okay for me to sleep now, knowing there's someone who is awake.  

My paranoia really has stolen away my good night sleeps. I feel there’s always someone watching me, or someone will ambush my door and kill me that my blood will be splattered everywhere, or someone will harm me before I had a chance to hide. It sounds stupid or somewhat crazy, I know, that’s why I need to keep checking the lock door, most of the night, to make sure it’s always locked. It's undeniably tiring to be vigilant, anxious for the whole night. Every sound even the subtlest one makes you flinch and your heart skip a beat over it that you immediately freeze. Everything feels like at a high stake when it's simply nothing. 

I know I sound stupid for someone who seems to love being alone but could never fall asleep in her own bed alone at night.

I hate to see the fried rice went unfinished. It felt like his efforts of preparing it from scratch went unappreciated. And the most excruciating part is when I realized that one day I’ll be missing his fried rice, which so far is unbeatable.

I can feel the lump forming in my throat, and the surfacing tears blurring my sight from the thought of it. I tried to cough the thoughts and the sadness away, telling myself you don't know the future. 

                                                                                                                                          

 

We've changed

 

This scene has been stuck in my head for years now. I mean, it’s exactly the same question I've been asking myself every time I reread my favorite books (I don’t reread books, only if I favor them way too much). I feel the need to write this whole thing down so that maybe, I could reconcile with the part of myself that I wronged.

 

I started to notice things I never noticed before, and I remember how the certain parts of the books that piqued my interest before, didn’t seem to interest me at all anymore. And how the things that interest me, seem to change every time I reread it. Every single time. The same question will keep hovering me for days, sometimes weeks or even, ambushed me during unusual hours; why I didn't noticed all of these when the first time I read it. I underlined new lines and looked back on all pages I underlined, and staring confusedly why nothing seems to feel familiar, to the extent I had to guess why I underlined them at the first place. Sometimes I get the vague ideas why but most of the time, I simply don’t.  

 

I always wonder is it the book that have changed? But how come a book can change? It never happened to me to think that it's me that have changed. IT’S ME. Never the inanimate books! When the realization knocked over, I felt embarrassingly stupid, for feeling almost ignorant of myself. All this time, I always feel like I'm still the same person who walked down the building, feeling confused on what to feel for things that happened. Because in the next 13 years, I'm still confused on what to feel for most of the things that happen around me. Wondering if it’s actually okay for me to feel in certain ways, whether I should let certain feelings/emotions flow freely, or hush them away, or simply pretend that I don’t feel them in hope they might retreat when I had given them no attention.  

 

This scene made me think maybe I've changed, which I always refuse to admit for all these years. Maybe I HAVE changed and maybe I should stop saying I’m still the same when I DID change in some ways, even subconsciously, but noticeable enough if I try to look closely. Or maybe because I simply refuse to look through, worried that I will catch the glimpse of it and called defeat. For all I know, my concerns, my worries really have changed. Whether in depth, or simply in context. 

And does it even make sense to feel sad when you started to think/realize that you did actually change? I know this somehow makes sense to some of you or simply don’t. But at least I could assure the anxious me, despite the fact that I’ve changed, some of my big my preferences are still the same until this day. And for that, I feel relieved.

I might have changed but not really that much. (look, it’s still hard to admit). 

But yeah, we’ve changed.

Pengalaman, kalau dia tak mematangkan kau pun, sedikit sebanyak, dia akan mengubah kau. Paling kurang, daripada cara kau berfikir dan penerimaan kau atas satu-satu perkara. Kau nak nafikan apa lagi?  Dan perubahan ni tak semestinya ke depan, ada yang makin terkebelakang. Bergantung.

Explanation yang takde orang tanya: 

Perasaan lelaki tu sebenarnya sama je pada dia dari dulu, tak pernah berubah. Kalau berubah pun, bertambah, tak kurang. Cuma kat sini, bila Dani sedar yang dia pun ada perasaan yang sama, dia baru perasan yang layanan lelaki tu bukan sekadar sayang biasa, ada harapan yang diletakkan. Lelaki mana nak layan kau lebih- lebih kalau dia takde perasaan, dalam layanan tu ada harapan, nampak tak nampak je. Sama ada pura-pura tak nampak atau memang kena ketuk baru nampak. 

Perempuan kalau dia bagi ruang, tu tanda ada harapan. Kalau tak pun, simply sebab dia enjoy the attention. Perempuan ni biasa lambat sikit nak sedar perasaan sebenar dia, so don’t simply take their first word bulat-bulat. Sebab most of the time, they don’t even know what they want because they can be full of uncertainties. They can regret for saying yes, and they can regret for saying no at the same time. 

Dah lah, aku dah merepek jauh ni. 

Selamat tahun baru. Semoga semuanya baik-baik saja.