There was an episode where Ryan leaves OC for Chino because Theresa, his old flame is pregnant with a child (they're very unclear who's the father, so....) and it made me cry so much. Because it (minus the child) reminded me of the time I had to leave London behind. I could relate to it so much. There I was, massaging my mom's legs and tears were streaming in front of me. I can't watch people cry- when Marissa cried onto Ryan's shoulders the tears was beyond stoppable. It just flowed and flowed.
I wish I could go back to London, I wish I could see HIM for one last time. At least Chino isn't that far away... try counting the distance between London and Malaysia. It's very far. Today has been a very emotionally-challenging day. Gosh.
Well, I didn't have the whole chapel-overlooking-the-most-beautiful-view but I danced with him, Carl. It was late at night and it was overlooking the darker, central parts of one of London's mini parks. The music was just soft and distant, we held each other. I miss that. He made me feel so complete, so safe in his long fingers. He made me feel so happy.
The day I left him was one of the saddest parts in my life. The most comforting thing was that it wasn't just a physical relationship. I could just sit down next to him and talk and I'd feel so secure, sure that nothing could harm me as long as I was with him. I still remember, sitting under the black stars in Austria, next to the shimmering lake near the mountains. It was like something out of a movie, a romantic painting. We'd talk for hours.
But it was also exciting, every time he'd just hold my hand or embrace me, and it made me feel like I was on fire, or I was electrified. With him, I never knew what to expect. It all fell into place. It all was perfect. You know how people sometimes feel awkward with someone they like? It wasn't like that at all. We were the perfect jigsaw pieces fitting rightfully into place. He wanted to comb my bush of a hair, and I let him. And I felt wonderful, not scared.
The first time I knew I had to go back to Malaysia it hit my like a powerful tsunami, invading everything of my mind. I wanted to be with him, I thought we were the one. He was my "soulmate", he was my star, my moon, my everything.
I cried into his pillow; he'd sooth me by stroking my back, saying it was okay and held me close. I want that now. I need that now. I need some reassurance, some comfort. I still remember him. The way he'd say "it's okay" and I'd reply "no, it's not". He held me firm, and we stayed like that for a long time. It felt like forever. I can recall the feel of his grey sweater, his soft caress.
"Right now I wish I could follow you to the shores of freedom and no one else"
- Joseph Arthur, Honey And The Moon
Heh. Lately I seem to be writing in long, emotional paragraphs and ending with song lyrics. Oh well.
I'm going to kill Aliaa. I bought her the Franz Ferdinand CD for her birthday. And I wrapped it with so many newspaper (see, poor me, I wrapped it with 3484738678 newspaper and she fecking has it. Sniff). Oh well. She has two Alex Kapranos leaflets just in case she drools on one. She can always use it as a coaster.
Speaking of which, she has got me addicted to Franz Ferdinand (well it started when I called FF weird and then I saw the Dark Of The Matinee video and thought it funny and weird, and asked Aliaa for the song, and she gave DOTM, Michael, Auf Ausche, This Fire, Take Me Out, Jaqueline and Darts Of Pleasure). I'm in <3 with them. Not to mention Alex Kapranos (sp?). He's 29, yayy.
Anyway. We celebrated my little brother's 4th birthday at T.G.I.F. and they have this singing ritual (TGIF's staff, not my brother) where they sing the infamous happy birthday song followed by Queen's We Will Rock You which literally makes you really deaf and the perfect attention of the diners there for at least 10 seconds.
God, his face. He was so excited (it's becoming a tradition to celebrate it there, see! we did it last year and he still remembers it) and kept asking for the "heepee barfdee mansh" and when the staff actually came, he looked so scared. As if they were going to eat him. Seriously.
Asides from the whole Aliaa-now-has-two-Franz-Ferdinand-Album-and-God-I'm-so-broke-right-now-so-she's-better-get-me-Dan-Radcliffe-or-Edward-Norton-for-my-next-birthday saga, my parents are killing me.
I slept in my parents' room (whenever I'm unwell, which I still am) and around 3.30 am in the morning, I woke up to shouting and screaming. They were arguing about how my dad wanted to sleep and he rudely turned away from my mom, and my dad said he was sick.. then the argument went on furthur... my mom said my dad betrayed her trust 3 times... my dad said junee's listening, your daughter is listening now.. my mom just sobbed into her pillow... I feel guilty. I feel awkward. In the end, they make up. They always do. But I know, in the end the cycle will just break again, shatter. My dad's been unemployed for 9 months, so money's quite an issue.
I've been asking for my tuition money (which amounts to RM540.00 now due to some debts) and me, myself have not had pocket money for a month +, because I know my dad's broke and stuff. During the argument, that kept cropping up and my mom argued she's supporting the house, she's tired of working, if she could take a break she would, but she has to support the family. My dad said he'll be back to work next week or the week after...
I felt so guilty this morning as my mom asked how much I needed for tuition and we counted the paper money together. I wish money grew on trees. I didn't ask my mom for money cause I know we're pretty destituite now, and I had to buy some stationary and photocopy some stuff, so I used my own money instead. I'm very broke right now; lucky for me I haven't spent much for the past few months and I've been saving up, so good for me.
My mom lashed out at me because I opened a new carton of milk (there was already one opened). I don't know why i did that; it was blatant the milk carton which was already opened was in front of me. I couldn't get to the unopened milk carton without grabbing the already opened milk carton. My mom got heated up about it; usually I wouldn't waste things, but I guess my mind blanked out. She was spitting poisonous words at me; words I knew, if I hadn't heard them before; would have wounded me, but I guess I'm used to them now. She called me "sial" (which is, I think "the damned child" if roughly translated to english) and a whole load of words.
I don't know, sometimes I feel like forgiving my mom because I <3 her so much and she's literally the pillar of the house, but sometimes she forgets that I'm human too, and I make a lot of mistakes. It seems nowadays I am her target; her punching bag; her release because she knows I won't fight back (I respect my parents, even if they don't respect me. I don't voice back to them unless I feel seriously misunderstood) so it kind of hurts.
I feel like me and my dad are on separate worlds now. I try my best to reach out to him; like yesterday, we were watching Queer Eye For The Straight Guy and we were just laughing around, you know, normalness. But today... I don't know.
I'll be straight and frank. Ever since my grandma passed away I feel like a huge (very, very huge) part of me is lost. I miss her so much; she really is, the figure and epitome of a powerful, strong person. She has endured so much in her life and yet she remains to be such a warm, beautiful person. I don't know how she does that. I shouldn't wonder and ponder why God took her away, but I do.
She's gone, and I feel.. lost. Drifting in the sea. My rescue boat has come and passed, I'm just floating. I miss her so much and if there is anything I could do to bring her back, I would do it. She understood me so much; she didn't try to change me when I did bad things, she just made me realise that I can make the best of it and not do it again, make myself stronger. She fought so much in her life.
I was the first person to approach her bruised corpse when she passed away. My tears was the first one to drip on her face. My fingers was the first to touch the soft hair that flowed behind her head. I was the first one to touch her soft lips. Can't you understand, God, I need her! I can't face next weekend; there'll be a prayer thingy tradition for a hundred days since she passed away. I need her! I still can't accept her death. I still can't see me celebrating the first of hari raya without her. I never got the chance to say goodbye. I never got the chance to tell her that she was everything to me. All I have of her is memories, and the frozen capture of her smiling face at me (that was the last thing she did to me) and her rosary beads (Muslim ones); and a colourful rainbow ring.
She was that; undefined colours. You couldn't define her by one colour; not dark as black; not gloomy as grey; she was everything. She was orange, red, yellow, gold... it is the first time I have felt real pain and a real pang of emotion towards someone close to me; she is the first person to have passed away in me life, and I was getting used to the fact that people around me wasn't going to leave anytime soon. Grandma, I miss you. I love you. Why couldn't God understand that? I feel so lost without her! LOST!
Isn't it strange that God gave people eyes to see, ears to listen, hearts to sense, but I feel translucent. I feel invisible. I feel like a chameleon, sliding in and out of reality. It is only my sanity that keeps me knowing I am still here. Otherwise... in my parent's eyes, I feel flawful. I feel like a mistake. Wasn't it yesterday that my dad got angry at me because I patted him on the back? I know I give people advice and strength, but where is my source?
If this is what pain is, I don't want to feel anymore. I don't want to cry. Because I have been like this for 4 years and I am nothing now.
"Save me.. save me... save me...
I can't make this life alone..
Save me.. save me.. ooh save me..
I'm making it and I'm far from home.."
- Queen, Save Me