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.

 

Book Review - No Longer Human

 

No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai

176 pages | Literary fiction, Japanese lit, classic 

It is a story of Yozo, a male protagonist which felt alienated from the society since he was young. Referring himself as a clown (and once a toad) for acting jovial and funny in order to hide his true self to be able to blend well in society despite his deep anxiety and depression. He was sexually assaulted a few times when he was young and how he kept silence for the realization of favoritism will do him no good. Later in his life, he started to indulge in self-destructive behaviors to ease his suffering.

Wow, this book took me by surprise on how much I actually enjoyed reading it. A whole lot people said this is depressing and I certainly will not deny that as it only gets darker the more you read it. But I only realised how depressing the piece is, when I was in the last quarter of it. The first three quarter felt more to grim rather than depressing. But somehow, I believe, the definition of the word vary for every individual. It always makes me feel uneasy to use the word depressed, depressing or depressive as they carry such a strong meaning. Too heavy to take it lightly. I refuse to say I am in a similar state but I will not deny the fact that how similar Yozo and I, and that it etched my heart. But what mostly fascinates me is the fact that, how this book represents a big part of me, and realizing that, it gives me a false sense of excitement and made me think a whole lot more about a lot of things.

The way he thinks, his thoughts, his perspectives on people and life events, even about how he thought of himself, all felt familiar and normal as everything is far too relatable to me, and how it truly felt like the author wrote this book based on my mind. It felt personal and I don’t see myself recommending this just to anyone.  

I personally do not feel exposed but somehow relieved (?) I think because of the fact how similar Yozo and I, and how his story makes some senses of my life and that, I feel less alone. If one day, someone came to me and ask,

“How sad can you be?”

I will not explain any longer but ask the person if they truly want to know, they can read No Longer Human, and they will get the deeper picture of my usual thoughts. And I bet how later the person will quietly wish to undo the whole thing (read: the question).

I find out that people had been comparing this book with The Stranger in some ways. What a coincidence I think, when I finished reading The Stranger right before I started reading this book. Both may seem similar but different. The first half of The Stranger, I like how routinely Meursault life felt like to me, and how the first half  made me repeat myself, saying in my head, 'this is totally my vibe'  but when the murder took over, I felt rather detached to the character but not the story as a whole. I always feel the connection between the character and myself is somewhat important for me. To make a better sense of things even though not everything has to make sense.

 I personally think it was a good one as it invokes important questions to oneself about humanity, system and society. It makes you asked yourself a whole lot questions that nobody seems to have solid answers. A good book will always make you question and ponder, and questions are always good.

Back to the earlier discussion, the major similarity that I can pinpoint from these 2 books is, how detached Yozo and Meursault from their deep sense of selves. You will get the idea how empty and hollow Meursault as a person, like a released helium balloon whereas no true sense of direction and it was simply out of reach (at least in my opinion). 

On the other hand, what can be explained by my massive connection to Yozo which contributed to the resonance I felt with the character is, how he actually feels very deeply, painfully inferior which makes him to think he not deserved of good things and how that notion led him to believe he doesn’t trust in basic human needs, when in fact he did feel the need of them. And his fragility, and how he is aware yet confused and always laden with questions which led him to wrong notions that seemed to drown him alive. He was far too broken to see, to trace back things. He was made blurry of his past and feelings.

There were a few scenes in the book that really shaken me up but I would love to write about this one particular scene where Yozo was on the brink of breaking and Flatfish and Horiki appeared out of nowhere, speaking and acting unlike their usual selves in intention to save him. And how Horiki’s gentle smile caught him off guard and that, he shattered completely. I was in the situation once and being present at such a critical point of life, you never expect how/what the simplest act like a sincere, gentle smile can do for a person in such state. That’s when I witnessed the rare beauty of allowing humanity to take control of such situations.   

This book is definitely not everyone’s cup of tea and I believe no one would want to read it for fun but you can definitely give it a try if you want some insights of life and on how depressed someone can be, that it mightn’t make any sense to you.  

 

 

 

 

You might wanna skip this

It's 5 in the morning. I think it's been almost a month that I'm back to this messed up sleep cycle of mine which I don't sleep at night, not until the sun rises. I usually spend my night reading, and watching movie/kdrama in between. It's really taking a toll to my mind, I could feel how tired my body is but I just couldn't fall asleep at night anymore. I know I can reset the whole thing to normal again but that's gonna take some time tho. 

It was my birthday few days ago. I felt solemn which was not as bad as how I felt in my past birthdays. I cried myself to sleep after dawn and woke up later in the afternoon. Mom bought me a sponge cake with full of sugary icing on top which was definitely what I craved for. Also some proper home-cooked meals. I wished for that too, a few days before my birthday and God granted the wish, and I felt thankful. 

I also have been craving for those greasy, crunchy fried chicken for my birthday but I think that craving can wait.

I have so much shit in my head and I realise, that also contributes on how I keep losing people I love. We stop talking for some time now and later, all I know, there's no more us. That we, had either faded or simply ended. Instead of stopping them, I let them to walk away. Or maybe I HAD pushed them away a little; with my silence.

It must be so hard for them to understand how twisted I could be. My paranoia, my anxiety, ripened fears, too much overthoughts. 

Marriane from the Normal People and Bu jeong from Lost, you add these two together and you'll get how I feel most of the time. You mightn't want to find out how exactly is that, I'm afraid that's gonna be too much for you to bear. 

And how it seems like my life will end up like Xiaoxiao in Us and Them. Those characters make me felt so heard and how I'm so thankful to the writers for making me feel not so alone in this bottomless chasm when nobody ever gets me. 

Rating Fredrick Backman's Books!

Fredrick Backman aka my top favourite, a must buy writer! 

1) My Grandma Asked Me To Tell You She's Sorry – Reading this, really reminds me of those good old times I spent with my late tokwan and how I wish until now that I read this before the Britt-Marie Was Here! 

2) Britt-Marie Was Here – I remember reading this during Ramadhan in few years back and I loved how Backman tackled on the character that, in real life can seem irritating, plain, or someone that typically people want to avoid, those that people don't really give a shit about. And most importantly, he did it beautifully and really made me feel the importance of appreciating every one of us as an individual. This was my first Fredrick Backman's book! Love love this! 

3) Beartown – I remember picking this up after finishing a series about ice hockey on Netflix. This book isn't just about ice hockey but tackles on rape culture. A very good read! (p/s: I find the miniseries was very underwhelming, ruining my imagination of the characters).

4) Us Against You – This one is the second book from the Beartown trilogy and this one I must say, it's a bit dragging in my opinion. Involved a lot of politics around ice hockey (politics and sports hm) but there were a few scenes that were so screen-worthy. CAN'T WAIT FOR THE FINAL BOOK, THE WINNER THAT WILL BE OUT NEXT YEAR (THE TRANSLATION). I NEED A GOOD ENDING FOR MY BENJI AND LEO. 

5) Things My Son Needs To Know About the World – A memoir, a sort-of a guide, and letters to his first childborn. Reading this, how it struck me that all his books are really some fractions of him as a person. I took a pride on being able to see the some pieces of him in each of book.

6) Anxious People – I LOVE THIS BOOK THE MOST AMONG HIS OTHER BOOKS! I cried so many times and wasn't able to stop because this just hit home, and the ending was hella comforting, like a warm hug your mother gives. For a better experience, read it in late December :) 

The Death of Vivek Oji (A Book Review)

 Henlo.

I nak tulis pasal buku yang I baru je habis baca semalam. I baca buku tu dah lama, I think in august kot, pastu I stopped halfway sebab I simply felt digusted and tricked reading it.

Ni lah bukunya, tak tebal mana pun. Dua ratus empat puluh lima pages.

Teruk sangat buku sampai I guna perkataan disgusted?

It’s a book pasal this boy yang struggle untuk bawak identity dia as a gay boy, lagi-lagi dengan dia punya race yang menolak keras benda ni. Vivek ni African btw. Dorang suka merujuk orang-orang yang macam ni sebenarnya sakit and need help. Haa betul lahtu, kalau pada I, dorang ni sebenarnya confused and benda ni seems like sesuatu yang kau boleh instill dalam kepala, lagi-lagi bila kau dedahkan diri kau dengan surrounding yang menyokong ke arah tu, yang lagilah buat kau mula percaya yang tergolong dalam kalangan mereka.

I jenis bila I baca buku, I nak buku tu boleh bagi something pada i. and for that, bila nak beli buku, I akan make sure I baca reviews betul-betul, so that takdelah jadi isu nak baling buku or bakar buku semata geram.

I rasa proses nak beli buku ni yang macam antara paling lama. A lot of people mentioned yang it’s the book pasal identity, I ingat sebab dia black yang tak diterima dalam masyarakat US ke apa, sebab reviews yang I baca memang tak tunjuk sikit pun buku ni ke arah itu.  

Yang buatkan I lagi disgusted sebab I sebenarnya somewhat dah janji dengan diri sendiri takmau dah baca buku yang ada unsur-unsur gini. It feels sick. Pastu bila baca then turns out pasal tu, nak marah gak la dengan diri sendiri. Itu yang halfway baca, I said no, then I letak tepi. I rasa marah gila sampai shaking, memang rasa nak baling je buku tu kuat-kuat kat dinding tapi I held back, reminded myself yang I bukan jenis baling-baling barang. Then letak dia dalam kotak.

Pastu masalah I, I benci buat kerja separuh-separuh, termasuk reading. Frankly, I ambil masa nak make peace with myself yang it’s okay kalau tak habiskan satu-satu benda, termasuk reading. Benda ni buat I tak senang duduk plus I geram nak tahu kenapa orang cakap buku ni sedih sangat kan. Itu yang semalam bukak kotak and decided untuk habiskan baca.

Kematian Vivek tu jadi tragic sebab dia macam mati gitu ja. And kalau orang cakap dengan baca buku ni akan buat kita lagi empathetic sebab struggle dia untuk menjadi diri dia sendiri dengan tekanan daripada masyarakat, not enough to me. Plus dia mati bukan sebab dibunuh sebab dia bawak identity dia tu pun, so it’s not enough untuk mengatakan it’s empathetic, tapi mungkin sebaliknya.

 

Out of Love (Book Review)

Out of Love by Hazel Hayes

384 pages | Fiction, Contemporary Romance

The story was told in reverse, which used a technique called reverse chronology (I just found out the term too). It started with the couple breaking up and ended at the first time they met. It brings you back to the journey of their shared past, their bittersweet memories together.

As their past unraveled, we could actually pinpoint the bleak sides of their relationship. I mean, it is always easier to see things from the eyes of an outsider. But just like how she said,

“What I fail to figure out is that Theo has issues of his own, maybe not as severe as mine, but enough to make him unstable and ill-equipped to cope with life. We are both wounded in our own way and, like a pair of tectonic plates shifting over time, our wounds will gradually grate against one another’s, causing damage at a glacial pace. Neither one of us will notice until it’s too late.”

 I do not think I am the right one to talk about break ups but, when it happens, it breaks us, slowly or almost instantly. This surely not only applies to romantic relationships, but all kinds of it. Like those friendships that seemed to fade away over time without us actually being able to tell why. We feel desperate to find people to blame before we started mulling over the real causes of it. Or we might fall voluntarily into empty action, the result of being in denial, hopping aimlessly from one person to another, before we reached at one point when we felt we finally had enough with the fakery of our own, and started to own our life back.  

It always requires time for us to heal, especially from those we treasured dearly.

And just like how we are able to fall in love, we too, can fall out of it. (okay, to some degrees, this line surprisingly brings comfort).

We are able to heal, just like how we are able to feel pain.   

I like the author’s writing style, somehow, it really stands out to me. Her language is neatly put which is beautiful and pleasurable to read, yet does not feel awkwardly controlled or rigid. Just like how I prefer it to be.

Some might ask why I read this book in the first place, when the ending is already being disclosed. Other than because of my fondness for sad books, it was actually because I found a short review online, saying, reading this book will help to fill the empty space caused by Normal People. It did stir me up, made me so keen to find out why the person wrote that (it is considerably a big statement to make), even though, deep down, I knew the longing I felt after finishing Normal People could never be recompensed. I would love to write a separate review on Normal People but I am afraid I could never find the right words to say how much I loved it.