Wednesday, 21 September 2016

218 days

The last time I wrote was last year approximately in early January, whining about single life. Things changed since then. It is amazing how a year could make such a different that I no longer the same person I was.

I miss writing, accentuating my true emotions into a melodious form of words and sentences.

Where do I begin?

I have so much to catch up with the Internet and I have a lot on my plate that I don’t know which one to spread first. Let me start with the crucial part of the story with the fact that I am now a married man. I've found the love of my life and immensely in love with her beyond word I could tell.

I do not wish to jump to this part straight away and make it such an anticlimax to anyone, but I need to be honest with my anecdote.

The love of my life besides being my girl, she is also a stage four cancer fighter.

Typing this out is so much easier than having to explain the real deal about my story to anyone. People be (they still do) asking me so many questions when I decided to end my single-hood with a stage four cancer patient as if I was not thinking for myself. Excluded family members, questions coming from mostly friends and acquaintances surpassed stupidity. 

Of course, I learned that I did not have to entertain to almost anyone’s bombardments, and they did not have to validate my choice, but about all I could feel that hurts me the most was; it hurts my wife. 

Everyone deserves to be happy, to live, and that include a cancer patient; my wife. Her illness does not define her and her self-worth. She deserves to be happy as much as anyone, even when it means falling in love at the risk of an uncertain ending in her love story.

I see my wife beyond that, beyond her pain and illness. She is attractive with her undying spirit to live and she is beautiful with her amazing soul. I feel her raw emotions when she speaks goodness of others – of how her eyes light up with pure sincerity when she tells me tales about her life and people that matter. I feel her genuine warmth with the way she describes her life goals – she is the prettiest among any girls I’ve known of. I would marry her, for her characters, for her soul – I thought.

The day I married her was the day I begin my relationship, and that was only a beginning.

Wednesday, 7 January 2015

Speaking of affection

Affection or a gentle feeling of fondness, or liking in universal language is love. I was so embarrassed to spell the word love in the title that I had to pick another word which likely to be similar. Love is not something that I would talk openly, and flaunt my view without concealment as this make me a little shy but, I will try.

I have never been in a relationship and next week exactly on Friday it will be my 24th year anniversary of singlehood surviving without any significant other. My car seat next to me is always empty, my bed habitually lonely, I have no other hand to hold but my own, nobody to love but my books and that magic spell consisting of three words with six letters in it; they don't simply appear in my inbox, totally out of sight, out of mind, evidently.

Do you know where I sit when I am in love?

Next to the group of people who are constantly unfortunate and perpetually live in disappointment. I fall into a category of unrequited love as described by Iris in The Holiday; the cruelest kind that almost kills its victim. When other love stories are about people who fall in love with each other, I fall in love alone. It is truly upsetting to be the victim of one sided affair, cursed of the loved ones, and the walking wounded. Nobody wants to be unhappy and miserable but, some people are unlucky and the glorious tale about love is not for everyone.

Do you know what will happen when I am in love?

I am the demented ones that cannot think straight, the fool that infatuated with poor judgement and at risk of losing himself to love. When I love, I love like I write; deeply and carelessly. I am precisely the male version of Elizabeth Gilbert (the author of Eat Pray Love) when I am in love. When I love, I dive and vanish into the person I love completely. I am the permeable membrane.

You will have every part of me and every molecule of my body, my car, my time, my devotion, my money, my everything. If I love you, I will carry all your pain, I will be responsible for all your happiness, I will protect you from your own insecurity and project upon you all sorts of good qualities, I will give you all this and that, until I get so worn out and consumed that the only way I can recuperate is becoming besotted with someone else. Therefore, to be in love for me is both; a blessing and a curse.

So, where is my love story?

I have none. The continuous heartbreaks of one sided affairs made my love stories into an unceasing tragedies. Despite the bitterness, I am not giving up looking to complete, or to begin one. Turning 24 next week had me hoping for a better way of looking for love. Or maybe, just maybe, I might get lucky.

Footnote: This post is written a week before my birthday which falls on 26th of December.

Sunday, 4 January 2015

Let it be

The same old position before bed, trying to shut my eyes when my mind wanders like it always does when I'm trying to sleep. Admit it, it is nice to have someone wishing you a good night sleep and it does make you sleep better.

Mindlessly going through my iPhone when I know exactly; this empty wish will soon disappear into the thin air. I have no good night wish from anyone.

Let it be.

I don't know why I am so scared of being lonely. I think it is getting pretty tough when I am an adult. Is love all I want to earn, or the idea of love that I crave? Or, in this case; I only want the good night wish before bed so I could sleep better.

When I like you, these good night wishes, night after night, same old same old; they mean the world to me. Every single night, you are becoming the last thing on my mind before I sleep, before I go to bed. Like a drug, it soothes my emotion as if I've just swallow a whole bottle of sleeping pills.

It's crazy how we become so dependent on someone. Like this person takes away the most important part of our body and make our soul restless since then. Your soul functionally addicted to this person, and you are becoming needy, and slowly depleted.

You my dear friend have lost your common sense.

Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Time after time

This year runs too fast; from unemployed to a primary school teacher; my life changed drastically. I felt like I was suffocating most of the time having to cope with so many adulthood obligations. Too many little things have to be taken care of, the sudden need of having to socialize, and make new friends because of work slowly paralyzing my ability to withstand the pressure. My work have shaken my introverted self and everyday was tiring.

Apart from that, I failed to keep in touch with so many people whom I dearly care, have forgotten way too many birthdays, missed a few close friends' wedding, constantly feeling like a walking whale because I skipped running far too many time, and eat everything edible like a pig putting aside all my simple dietary plan which I used to have. Stress was merely a word, it's a religion. Waking up was a struggle. And I started to question my passion by doing this same thing over and over again. I lost my compassionate self at times and cried when it got too severe with emotional burden of being alone at a place where I have no one to rely but myself.

People don't see this, because I hardly open up to anyone. I always have this in mind; for thinking that my problem is too small and insignificant, it cannot be bothered by anyone but myself. I do not want to be looked as a weak twenty-something, who is struggle to make a life. So, smile, laugh, and all my positivity was fake for people around me.

Along the way, when you forget to take care of yourself, and already have no time to care about others, you realize the most brutal fact about living; you will be alone. You will die alone, no one will love you and by the end of the day, you have no one but yourself to love, to care and to look after. You are becoming more realistic about your dream and all the mindless dramas at workplace, at home where people like to throw you in will no longer bother you too much. Your skin is growing thick, and days gone by with you emotionally toughen up.

Am I really changing, or am I growing up? 

It is amazing how fast things changed. A year, a month, a week, a day, an hour, a minute, a second or whatever degree of time, small or big, it can make a difference.

Sunday, 2 November 2014



A year passed, dated back when I deleted everything for reason that was never revealed. I did not regret anything, but I cannot lie; I miss bits and pieces of what I had wrote. The nonsensical rants and emotional outbursts of a confused man in his early twenties surely if were put in perspective would be nostalgic, but that is not the case.

Let me just be honest.

Privacy issue back then was my major concern. My deleted blog was my emotional shelter; an anecdote of my many overflowing meltdowns. I shared, and confessed things that were so close to me and let whomever read. Naive and unprepared I was unaware of people outside the virtual world who wasn't all nice and kind. I was thrown with judgment, and I have no one to blame for what happened but myself.

It was pretty pathetic that I learned the hard way for the fact that cyber bullying exists as one of the sickening viruses in ever growing social networking's radius. I blame myself for not being able to draw that line; between reticence and openness. Public outsmarted me with all the access they had with my stories. I was left defenseless and vulnerable, and found myself literally crying over thinking whatever remarks that were plunked hard right to my face.

Have I ever told you how uncomfortable it is to have people putting expectations on your shoulder, and presuming that you should behave or act upon something in certain ways that they justify to be correct? I obviously let what people say or think about myself get the best out of me.

I was defeated, and it is such a shame that I wasn't tough. And it is really sad when other people's expectations can tempt you to do something you don't really want to do. So much so that they sometimes become your own. I neglected my emotional needs and suppressed my feelings out of these subconscious expectations that accumulated inside of my head.

And today eventually it is coming back to this ultimate reason to start writing again; I just want to start over. Raising from the ashes like a phoenix, rebuild and comeback stronger and smarter. After all, I need to make peace with my past in order to move on. Don't you think so?