the enigma of life.

The truth, in a nutshell, might sound harmless. Of course. It's something definite, a hard undisputed fact that will sooner or later be revealed. It's something people seek, demand and wait for because well, they know it's the only thing real. I, on the other hand, was not a great fan of the truth. I believe I was reluctant to find out the truth about something as I couldn't see why I shouldn't take it for granted. Some things are better left unspoken. I used to believe that the truth is incapable of changing feelings or perspectives, you know, why should it be when we only believe what we want to believe?
The thing is that sometimes this "defense mechanism" of mine can't really save me from those disappointments, regrets and well, heartbreaks. The truth can sometimes hit us right in our insecurities and maybe that's why many people (people like me) prefer something delicate, painless (hopefully) and inoffensive like making up reasons, excuses, fake expectations and all. But what's amazing is that no matter how painful and uncomfortable knowing the truth can cause, deep down in some hidden corner of this complicated mind, I know that the truth is the only thing keeping myself intact. I used to be afraid of knowing the truth, I used to hide myself from the truth, praying hard that it will finally decide to mess with someone else's life, but who am I kidding? I can't always have all the things the way I want it to be, I can't change what's already meant to be, sometimes I can only let go, accept the truth as it is while crossing my finger, hoping that someday, it will all make sense.

day one.

You were there and I was there. I looked deep into your eyes and you looked deep into mine. You did not say a word and neither did I. It was as if we were lost in our own little world. Your lips moved and you asked, “Where do we go from here?” I looked into your dark brown eyes, and with all the petty courage i could muster, i said “It’s wherever you want to go, but without me.” I stood up. One more glance at you. Then I walked away. And in your soft voice, you uttered wearily,“Didn’t you tell me about parallel universe and how exactly alike it is to the universe we are in? Well i wish it exists because if the other me were to meet the other you, i wouldn’t want him to let you go.” I whispered to myself, “I wouldn’t want her to get away either.”
And just like two trains leaving in the night, we were on our separate ways.
taken from parallel universe and perplexities

Redang!

watch me as I whine.

I have always been a sucker for good old memories. You know that feeling when you see something that reminds you of the past? Sometimes when it comes, I could not help but let those feelings in and take over my mind. I think about how I have changed for the past few critical years of my life. The thing is, as I grow "older", those kind of memories and feelings become more and more surreal to me. I know at the back of my mind that those things happened somewhere in the past but there was a point when I actually questioned the existence of those things, you know. Did it actually happen? or was it a dream? 
Maybe it's safe to say now that I have turned into a bitter person. I expect less from people around me, and I came into conclusion that not everyone has to be nice to me. It's me being pathetic, skeptical, or merely giving a self-pity, you name it, but hey, maybe it's me growing up. Maybe people don't really change, you know.. Maybe sometimes we ignore that tiny little part of them that doesn't fit our criteria. We believe what we want to believe, remember? We cling to the piece that we embrace the most, ignoring the other tiny little pieces that we don't want to know. And when those tiny little pieces grow into a huge pile problem, we blame them for changing. Maybe it's part of our defense mechanism, I don't know.. but we can't blame people for showing who they really are, can we?

infinite.

I know for a fact that I have not been updating this blog as frequently as I had been last year, and I know I had been making up excuses and cliché reasons including the one saying that I currently am in my final year and assignment is taking its toll on my time management (oh, like I have one) and my so-called writing skills. I began to utilize lots of thesaurus to find the hopefully most suitable synonym that I don't really understand to replace a simple and really, a more understandable word for my assignments. I'm just glad to say that I'm halfway to the finish line and I just hope I'll stop procrastinating and actually put my mind on the upcoming assignments. "It must have been a really boring life" you would probably say. A selfish part of my brain actually agrees to that statement but my alter ego (yeah, right) tells me to see beyond the pain and stressful life where one day this will all make sense. Positively thinking, I do believe that a certain amount of "bad" things and feelings are essential because what would life be if it's filled only with "pretty" and potentially fake things or feelings? I'd say my life has been perfect, to a certain degree of perfection, of course. They said perfection is subjective, so I can't really explain to you why, but in the midst of the jumbled emotions, life-altering words left unsaid, and all that, I find my self-defined perfection and that's more than enough.
Anyway, I just finished reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower, a brilliant book, I should say. It's about this typical high school life in the eye of a schizophrenic, Charlie. The book is in the form of series of letters written by Charlie to an anonymous recipient. What's remarkable about this book is that the author uses simple wordings that magically capture the idea of what he truly means and in the end, it left me with a deep admiration of how simple things in life do count and just like what Charlie says: "It is now my favorite book of all time, but then again, I always think that until I read another book." 

After the dance, we left in Sam's pickup. Patrick was driving this time. As we were approaching the Fort Pitt Tunnel, Sam asked Patrick to pull to the side of the road. I didn't know what was going on. Sam then climbed in the back of the pickup, wearing nothing but her dance dress. She told Patrick to drive, and he got this smile on his face. I guess they had done this before. Anyway, Patrick started driving really fast, and just before we got to the tunnel, Sam stood up, and the wind turned her dress into ocean waves. When we hit the tunnel, all the sound got scooped up into a vacuum, and it was replaced by a song on the tape player. A beautiful song called "Landslide." When we got out of the tunnel, Sam screamed this really fun scream, and there it was. Downtown. Lights on buildings and everything that makes you wonder. Sam sat down and started laughing. Patrick started laughing. I started laughing.
And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

Again, note to self.

That's the funny thing with growing old. As the years drift by, you began to understand that growing old doesn't always mean growing up. Even when you have reached your so-called legal age, or when you are old enough to make your own decision, you find yourself making the same mistakes again and again. You began to crave for that attention your parents gave when you were small, you wish you had time to sit down and read books -any books, without having to worry about your job or assignments, or you wish you were as free and careless as you were in your teenage years. But you assume realize that you have grown up so you began to fill those gap nonchalantly with things and pseudo emotions. Thinking that you have finally understood your responsibility as an adult, you began to surround yourself with your work, making lots and lots of money, spending weekends doing charts or presentation slides in the coffee shops, shopping for branded clothes and wear them around conceitedly. You find yourself avoiding sunlight while walking to your favorite café during lunchtime as it will burn your skin and cost you another round of check-up with your skin specialist (but that's okay, you'll do a monthly check-up anyway), you apply heavy makeups to cover up your flaws and yet you still feel empty. 

Sometimes we, as adult, fail to understand the real meaning of growing up. We thought by calling ourself legal, we instinctively learn how to be grown ups. We spend our time running errands, chasing higher positions, achieving first-classes, spending money keeping up with the latest technology, and for what? We think our time is too precious to spend it at home, with the ones we truly love, the ones who stay and instead, we pay for those entertainment that doesn't guarantee a long-term contentment, we ignore the fact that we can get them all free, by making times for ourselves, by questioning what we really need, by slowing down our steps and listen to the music they play at the sidewalks, and most importantly, by doing things that make us happy, no matter how insignificant and pointless they might be. 

Have I told you lately?

 

after a while

"After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul and you learn love doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t always mean security. And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t always promises and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and and your eyes ahead with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child. And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight. After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers and you learn that you really can endure, that you really are strong and you really do have worth and you learn and you learn with every good-bye you learn."
- After a while by Veronica A. Shoffstall
ps. I'll be in Medan for a week starting this Saturday. I'll probably spend my days ordering caramel macchiato(s) and doing assignments so If you, by any chance, see me, reading holding a huge pile of journals and articles with a f*cked up face, please do say hi :)  

earliest human memory

I received this question quite a while ago from tumblr but I kinda ignored it as I couldn't really recall what my earliest human memory was. Well, couple of snapshots came into my mind but I think my earliest human memory was that when I was a little, I used to fall asleep in my parent's bed while watching TV. I remember I used to fall asleep holding my mom's hand near my face because she used to apply something that smells like a tea tree oil on her palm, which I find very soothing. And when it's time for them to sleep, my dad, instead of waking me up, would always carry me to my own room and tuck me in bed. They said things you remember the most are things that is close to your heart, and my dad, he was not the kind of person that always finds time to tuck his children in bed, said I love you and kiss them good night so as a kid, the kind of affection I would look forward to was knowing that he voluntarily carries me into my bedroom almost every night. and that's all I can really recall. 

time

"Maybe you can afford to wait. Maybe for you there’s a tomorrow. Maybe for you there’s one thousand tomorrows, or three thousand, or ten, so much time you can bathe in it, roll around it, let it slide like coins through your fingers. So much time you can waste it. But for some of us there’s only today. And the truth is, you never really know."
-Lauren Oliver

free fallin'

Most do not fully see this truth that life is difficult. Instead they moan more or less incessantly, noisily or subtly, about the enormity of their problems, their burdens, and their difficulties as if life were generally easy, 

as if life should be easy.

-excerpted from 'The Road Less Traveled'-

blessed.