Dear anonymous,

Can I ever justify how I feel now about you now? My thoughts about you is the perfect form of irrationality, I think I am going to go mental very soon in this state, counting it on to your absence. Emotional Dependency, until today I can't help but see that we have ensnared each other with words that we can never mean, this happens when two individuals desperate for love come together, we feed off each other.

Today is the day where I don't care how good it is for us to be apart, because I can no longer deny the flood of emotions overcoming me, your presence has been a phantom limb in my life, cruelly cut off, coolly ignored, but sorely reminded.

Today is also the day when I cannot see how I can be put back together, my missing pieces are like ashes scattered in the ocean. I do not blame you, you are far too dear to me, yet my heart screams the encore of rejection, the words that you told me really seemed like nothing to you, do they not? I am so sorry that I have became so used to you, that I have allowed protective barriers to fall and look how it has made us, when expectations and insecurity act like long fingernails that scratches and pierce the fragility of our relationship, and months ago when the bomb was dropped things had never been the same.

What am I going to do about you? Damn it, I wish I can at least cry, but no tears are coming, but with each thud of my heart the all familiar pain resonates. I can never say that I regretted what we are now, because I never will, you have been the few lights on my dark path and I can only blame myself. How now? How am I going to move on in life when you're gone and out of the picture, without even saying a proper goodbye? How now? When all futile effort of reconciliation that I make is waved off like nothing is wrong with us. And yet things were never the same again, I'm sorry I rushed, I am sorry that I am not a good enough person to be with, I am sorry for my inability and my imperfections. I am sorry, but you never cared enough to give me a chance to apologize.

So many, so many, so many people have walked out on me, I don't know will I ever let anyone in ever again, and the lingering presence of those who are still here, but never cared enough cast a bitter shadow on me. Oh how in the world am I suppose to live anymore? When you have been the last person that I can be myself with and look at what we are now. When you said that you'll try your best to be there, when you said that you'll walk me through this but where are you now when I need you the most and what are you doing now?

I can't do this alone, I just need someone to be constant in my life, to be there, but no one ever was. I know I am asking too much but can you blame me? What more can an outcast like me ask? But I know that words said cannot be taken back, I know and I know, I am broken beyond repair, and no one, not even you would want to play with a broken toy. But I really don't know how to carry on living anymore, you have been my last candle, but now, the wind has come and stolen it's light.

And I am left for death in complete darkness.

有话说不出来

或许你也不知是你.
我真的无心再猜.
爱你,是真的,
可是,对你我都很疼
我应该猜到.
可是我不能转身.
只好静静的看你离开.
历史会一直重演.
早就好学会
如何度过没爱的人生.

珊瑚海
周杰倫

男：
爱拼命云端开始阴霾
悲伤要怎麼平静重来
花的狠笑是种假的
淹没千千的无奈

女：
你用唇语说你要离开　
男：
情不在
合：
他难过无声的留下来
汹涌潮水
一定明白
可是让人湿泪喊

男：转身离开 认真说不出来
女：你有话说不出来

合：海鸟跟鱼相爱 只是一场意外

男：我们的爱 争议一直存在
女：给你的爱 争议一直存在 回不来

男：永久真爱 竟累积成伤害
女：等待经历几次伤害

合：转身离开 分手说不出来
蔚蓝的珊瑚海 错过瞬间苍白

男：当初彼此 不够成熟坦白
女：你有我的 不够成熟坦白 不应该

男：热情不改 笑容隐藏不来
女：你的笑容勉强不来　
合：爱深埋珊瑚海

男：
毁坏的沙雕如何重来
有裂痕的爱怎麼重改
只是一切 结束太快
你说你 无法释怀

女：
悲歌里隐藏什麼期待　
男：
等花儿开

合：我们也已经无心再猜
女：脸上海风　
男：脸上海风
女：咸咸的爱　
男：咸咸的爱
合：嚐不出还有未来

Ridiculous!

Ridiculous #1
'Ethics in teaching' Lecturer professes that if a girl is raped in a 'disco or other so called provocative spots' it's her fault. Cari pasal konon. (trans: Brought it on to herself it seems.)
Ridiculous #2
If a family member rapes a girl and she doesn't report to authorities immediately it means that she 'wants' it too.
Ridiculous #3
A bunch of future teachers nodding up and down as if the lecturer himself is passing on some extremely-valuable-life-altering-information.
Ridiculous #4
I don't even bother justifying the %^&%*^%^$%^& bull shit miss conceptions I hear in this lecture now.

Ridiculous #5
All future teachers are forced required to wear formal everyday. For female students, pakaian hendaklah sopan, tidak ketat dan kemas (trans: dress code: appropriate, not tight, neat) wtf for the life of me I can't figure out what it means.
Ridiculous #6
All the insane walking under the scorching sun in long sleeved shirt and skirt, can't cross longkang(drain), must take one F***ing big round instead. Not to mention the maintenance and price of such clothing. 30 mins of walking = blisters on feet.
Ridiculous#7
We are being treated worse than school children in this horrible place, no basic respect, spoon feed, forced to do all sorts of nonsense. Not to mention the biased-ness unfair treatment. Not encouraged to think, just asked to follow and follow, mindlessly, follow.
Ridiculous#8
Authorities barking up the wrong tree and wasting money, can't they see that the root of the problem with your %$^&%^*^%^ graduates can never be rectified by imposing such pointless dress codes, soft skills assessments, where soft skills itself should already be acquired by the student on his or her own as a HUMAN BEING, not to mention forcing us to take 3 hours weekly English classes so as to 'equip' us for our teaching practical, when some of your lecturers even have problem lecturing in English.

Ridiculous#9
I can't believe that I actually wanted to be in and believed in this place three years ago.
If only I knew, I would run far far away,

Ridiculous#10
Universiti Melaya
Inspirasi Mu,
Bukan aku,
bukan dia,
bukan mereka,
hanya kamu.

I have never been anymore less inspired since stepping into this place.

She

felt life draining out of her, it's a matter of time, before she dies and then she is no more. funny. funny how he stopped her from walking but left her there, under the starless sky, alone. bit by bit her strength drains and her wasting body stood in the cool air, her weakening pulse reminded her that time was not much yet no one notices her life slowly ebbing away from her body. but did it matter to her? it really is tiring trying to explain and expect simple love, not that she will ever have it. life is cruel in that way, it entices you with fake scents of love but never allows you to acquire them, life is cruel when it brings hope close to your face to see your eyes gleam with joy and then put it out just for fun, life is cruel like that, it never gives you real security, instead it feeds you the rubbish of yesterday and the poison of tomorrow. Life is cruel like that. Concrete Angel's dreams made her fly to a place where she is loved. Yet to her that song seem oddly sad, for her dreams lie ripped apart in the hands of the stranger. There is a black hole deep inside of her and daily she feels it expanding, futility, indeed was the nearest place where she can cry out to. Often she wonders whether she will be missed when she is gone, with the breath of death breathing so closely behind her neck, she wonders whether her short fleeting life left anything in your memory, she wonders whether she had left anything but mere empathy amongst the bystanders and witnesses of her brief saga. And she is now damaged beyond repair, like a broken doll in the trash can, tears pool deep inside her heart yet the greater sadness was the inability to cry them out, normal, her life is now on autopilot, until the crash comes, which is very soon, she knows ah she knew, death will be quick in doing what is needed for it has staked it's claim on her life even before she took her first breath. Even before she was abandoned, even before they said those irreversible words, even before the rain and bombardment of pain came down from the open heavens, painful and jolting. Even before her will has stirred her to live, but now has shut down, even before she hold her broken heart and felt the last tears flow down her cheeks, even before she understood finally that she is to stand alone, not even her Creator can now revoke the permanent brokeness in her, believing in this faith has already sucked her completely dry, and what is left now is nothing but the empty void of deep pain and anguish of betrayal and of incomprehension, of fear and of want. Indeed death has staked it's claim upon her fragile strength and the day is coming, quickly come, may it extinguish the final hope inside her being so that pain will be her console, her eternal companion. She stands alone. Alone, wanting the sweet release from believing.

and it was gone.

I sat by you at the seaside, the sadness was over whelming

The knife was in my hand.

Yet to you it was invisible, or maybe it's better for us all to pretend it was not there.

but still the knife was in my hands, a dead weight, my fingers has traced it's cold blade countless times, my knuckles gripped white against it's black handle, as if they were two, and then one.

We both stood at the same time, like a strange dance, we moved in awkward unision. I could not read your expression, my heart yearned to touch you, and have you to hold me. Yet words has lost it's grip on my soul, and it lay gaping, unable to tell.

Just like how I lost my ability to cry.

Without a single sound, we continued the twisted dance, in such synchronised yet foreign way. Your gaze never left me. Yet we knew not each other, neither did we touch. Strange indeed, how our bodies remembered and our hearts did not.

as I step back, I saw, I saw the tinge of hesitation in your eyes, and we walked away, from each other, from us.

You never turned back, I never called out, I could never take another rejection, especially from you. I watched your back, I knew, I knew. You never loved me.

And you were gone.

Nothing can express the waves of anguish and anger pouring over me, the petid mixture has made me embittered. You were gone.

I watched until you were nothing but a small dot at the horizon.

I raised the knife and turned the handle under the sunlight, watching it's blade reflect the broken rays.

Wordlessly, I turned the knife and plunged it into my arm, blood flowed as the sharp blade sliced cleanly into sinew and muscles. I felt no pain, for the hopeless gash you left inside of me has caused the greater grief.

I grind the knife, sawing out of the flesh, up and down, in a trance-like way, the edge of my lips curled into a smile so twisted. At the red puddle, with trembling hands I smeared the blood in to a message you'll never read.

Day light is approaching, I have done my part.

I sat, I waited, for death, for you.

You never kept your promise, at least death kept it's.

Good bye.

Which is better?
To suffer but have you.
Or to suffer without you.
My embittered soul chooses the latter.
You presence has cause me such heartache.
I'm leaving here. Maybe to you I was never there.
and it's okay.

Tremble

Tremble,
but for a brief moment
flickering by
dancing away
it's fragrance lingering.

Tremble,
to hold your palm against palm
sweet silk, smooth, light
wanting.

Tremble
we walk out on each other too often now,
do we not?
So what are we now?

Tell

Voices,
trapped in the bubble of futility.
Mouth,
Quiet, silent, speak not.
Eyes in such faded stance
to weep, oh to wink.

Trapped
in the hostiliy.
The greater harm?
Everyone, self, no one?
Go, leave, plead, stay.
Cry, I can no more.
Torn apart.

Alone.
You're not here when you are.
Alone.
Let me go!
Alone.
Look at me!
Alone.
Don't leave me here!
Alone.
Tell me.
Tell me.
Tell.

Damp

The night whispers is not but a wisp of smoke,
Solemn gray cloud.
Floating,
here again, gone again.

Damp was the end of the unlit cigarette, a thin layer of saliva from the mouth of a young man in baggy pants, one pale hand linking arms with the lithe fairy beside him.
Damp was the face of the old man in florescent vest, sweat glistening on his tanned forehead like drops from heaven, his whistle finding a home between chapped lips.
Damp was the wind screen of the tired cab driver, a few more before calling it a day.

Words exchanged, lighter produced from the driver's pocket. Cheap white plastic, hands clasped in the damp night air, a brief gesture of intimacy shared by an unlikely couple. Dark, calloused hands brought close to smooth fair cheeks, a spark and a puff from tender lips, then another from the absence of the silver whistle. Then they parted.

Damp was the pavement where I stood, rainwater sloshing with the arrival of another cab.
Damp was the air I breathe, saturated by the light shower. Nothing but tendrils of thin, silky tread.
Damp was my cheeks, they say absence makes the heart wonder, but your absence has kept my heart on hold.

Damp was the paper between my fingers, ink smearing and smudging with drops of salty moisture.
Damp was your hand when our fingers intertwined, during a so long ago that seemed like a yesterday. With you, time shrinks and expands.
Damp was your eyes, when they shine with excitement of the unknown. The unknown that you would go, only alone.
Damp was my soul, and it shivers in the chill you left behind.
Damp now, is my jaw, for tears has gathered there forming a pool of unrequited waters.

Damp, it will stay.
I love you.

%&*&(*^%$%^

Codswallop lectures today.

Lecturer 1: Class, do you know whether this example is discrete probability or non-discrete probability. (gestures at PP slide)

Class: Discreeeeeeeeeeeeeete.

Lecturer: Class, why is it discrete?

Class:.......

(Me: Expecting some smart alec or the lecturer to answer)
(ok la the answer: there is a fixed number of outcomes)

Lecturer: (after 5 sec) Class, (it escapes me why most lecturers starts every question with the word class, swt)that is because this example is under the topic discrete probability!!

Me: SWWWT (breathing stops - heart pumps rapidly - faints)

****

Lecturer 2: ok, Kelas (seeeeeee la) apa tu etika? *flashes evil, demented, front teeth*

Me: zohmygoose!! wtfish! %&^%*^(&^%$#%$&%* PFFFFFFFFFFFT! I hate this lecturer so much, I wish she chokes on own teeth and dies.


Lecturer 2: ... kau tau ah?! macam mana orang cina kahwin? HAHAHAHAHAH!!!! *bares front teeth with horrible laughter*

Friend 1: I wish the mic gets stuffed into her own mouth.


Lecturer 2: ... lepas tu aku tengok itu steam boat hanya ada mee dan kambing saje...
AIYOHHHH!!!!! *flaps hands, any faster she can take off and fly*

Friend 2: I wish the screen would fall on her

Lecturer 2: ... mana boleh tak makan nasi ni? ai yaaaaa.... *slaps poor rostrum*

Friend 3: Severe irrevocable error detected, system shut down in 3... 2....

Lecturer 2: Mee..mee...meee.. mee.. mee MEEEE!!!!! Kambing Kambing Kambing KAMBIIIING!!!!!!!! *starts screeching*

Me: computer exploded, human race annihilated.

*plays UM song*
Universiti Malaya
Kebanggaan kita semua...

UM. One word. Sigh.

***
Disclaimer: not all lecturers in my varsity is like this, but then again...

Vexation

*picture from PostSecret.

Vexation, the horror twins of annoyance and worry, this semester, although only after the first week is taxing, tiring, and intolerable.

I don't understand much of what is happening in class, the lecturer might as well be speaking in Greek, the same language for the past few semester. I don't have time to study properly and way too many things are demanding my attention. I can no longer derive any pleasure in my life, in studies, in my family, in campus, in friends, in anything else.

Whats more defeating is that no matter how hard I try it seem not to make a %$#%^$%&*^&* difference. As if someone had made things the way they were, pre-destined, they say.

Feeling very tired trying to care for people, very fed-up of having expectations never met, being told what is expected and it should never do that I slip out of that box of norm. The team at the expense of myself.


Friends that come but never stay, polite and lame remarks exchanged, it's so hard to have friends, that's why I have none, none that are willing to stay. To stay with me at the hardest times, this also comes to show what a lousy friend I am. Alone. alone. alone.

But why should it bother me now really? That I am always second place, I can't and I never did deserve anything better anyway. I must dry my tears and get used to it.

The wounds cut so deep. No one has a clue, when I close my palm and take in all the sharp edges of torn love.

I can't do this anymore.
I don't have anything inside to give anymore.

The wounds cut so, so deep.