Aku rasa blog aku ni makin lama makin emo.

Ok lepas ni tanak emo-emo lagi. Hahaha.

Dem, esok pekse.

Aaaaaaaaaaa (lari di tepi pantai sambil menutup muka)

Life is a game of o-som

The good thing about being a part time student is that exams don't really stress you out anymore.

The bad thing about being a part time student is that exams don't really stress you out anymore.

This is to you

Wealth may ruin,
Looks may fade too.
Memories remain,
I just want to grow old with you.

Don't ask for apples from the orange seller.

Ego: Oh dear. That was the last apple
AlterEgo: Oh I'm sorry did you want it?
Ego: Oh well, yes, but I didn't realise I wanted it until someone else has sunken his teeth into it and now it's too late. It was right there in front of me. If only I had snatched it up when I had the chance I wouldn't have this aching hunger.
AlterEgo: Good God man, have a bloody orange.

***

Ego: Oh dear. That was the last orange.
AlterAlterEgo: Oh I'm sorry did you want it?
Ego: Oh yes, but I didn't realise I wanted it until someone else has sunken his teeth into it.
AlterAlterEgo: Well, you snooze, you lose!

***

It's as if I'm on a cycle. Everytime I start out something new, this would come up. Make it stop!

Sit up straight.
Take a deep breath.
And clear up your mind.
Breath in.
And out.
Repeat.

Menanti hari esok yang masih ada untuk siapa?

You do not say, if you do not do.
You do not do, if you do not know.
You do not know, if you do not learn.
You do not learn, if you do not listen.
You do not listen, if you do not care.
You do not care
You do not care
You do not care
and that's when you've lost the battle.

One of the things that I used to often do in France but am yet to start doing again in Malaysia is to sit in a park and spend most of the afternoon watching people walking by.

Making stories about them as I watch them walk, jog, run, skip, cycle, jump by.

Asking questions like, where do they live, what do they do for a living, how did they spend dinner last night, what are their favourite books, do they like chocolate ice-cream, how would they sound if they laugh, how were they when they were kids, how would they be when they grow up, where were they coming from, where are they going to, or even, where would they be in 5 years?

But never have I ever approached anyone to actually ask this questions.

Imagine if I did, wouldn't I know more about these people (although with bruises in my eyes for prodding into other people's business) so that I can appreciate them a little bit more rather than judge them in a blink of an eye based merely on their appearance?

How many times have you felt misjudged or misunderstood by others for what you said or what you did, because they did not know nuts about you? Why wouldn't they know anything about you? Because you've never told them. Why have you never told them? Because they've never asked.

When was the last time you've really asked a friend to get to know them better? Sure, some would back away when they're asked questions like that, but some might open up to you and pour her or his heart out. And you'll be amazed by what he or she has to say. And suddenly, this life, with all its complexities, would seem slightly, albeit as little as an amoeba, comprehensible.

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

Sonnet XVII - Pablo Neruda