52: Submerged

Somehow,
I find myself in the middle
of the sunken fields of Despair
again.

But I am not stationary.
And I am not alone.
Because the weight of
pent-up tears and
the wrench of
dark undercurrents 

make me sink
faster, deeper

into the overbrimmed
realms of Dysphoria,

the dystopic home of

the rejected,
the tormented,
the dejected,

the fragmented.

Here is where

you will find those
who are in want of 

a teaspoon of Concern,

a big pinch of Gratitude,

a handful of Appreciation,

a morsel of Happiness,

a sprinkle of Hope;

from those whom
they care about the most

(from those who
care about them the least).

Struggling together in
solitude: suffocating in this
sea of hot ever-flowing tears and

sobs of endless desperation from being

souls trapped in lucklustre, unfulfilled lives

still trying to seek someone who understands, to
save us from ourselves. But there is nowhere to go but

Down.

And the lower I go, 

the more I give in

the more I give up

the less I give a fuck 

about the world.
About all this.

Will this go on forever? Will this abruptly end?

Will this just end up being a nightmare,
where I wake up drenched in my own sweat?

And ah, what if I'm able to save myself

But am unable to save the others,

especially those who dragged
me all the way down here?

Do I leave them?
Not an option.

I couldn't

I can't

I won't.


old:

in the middle
of the sunken
fields of
Despair,
the weight of
pent-up tears and
the wrench of
dark undercurrents 

make me sink
faster, deeper

into the overbrimmed
realms of Dysphoria,

the dystopic residence of

the rejected,
the tormented,
the dejected,

the fragmented.

Here is where

you will find those who 

lack and are in want of 

a teaspoon of Concern,

a big pinch of Gratitude,

a handful of Appreciation,

a morsel of Happiness,

a sprinkle of Hope;

from those whom
they care about the most

(from those who
care about them the least).

So I
suffocate in this

sea of tears as the

sighs of desperation from

souls trapped in lucklustre lives

seeking those who can try to understand.

But there seems to be nowhere to go but down.

And the lower I go, 

the more I give in

the more I give up

the less I give a fuck 

about the world.
About all this.

Will this go on forever? Will this abruptly end?

Will this just end up being a nightmare,
where I wake up drenched in my own sweat?

And ah, what if I'm able to save myself

But am unable to save the others,

especially those who dragged
me all the way down here?

Do I leave them?
Not an option.

I couldn't

I can't

I won't.

51: who i really am

from the depths of my soul,

at the bottom of my heart,

inside the core of my mind,

underneath it all, 

i am

afraid of being alone
of being left alone
of being left behind
of being left undone;

afraid of being apart
of being broken apart
of being broken inside
of being broken hearted;

afraid of being unloved
of being eventually unloved
of being eventually ignored
of being eventually forgotten;

afraid of being disappointed
of being predictably disappointed
of being predictably disappointing
of being predictably unneeded.

these 'irrational' fears                    

guide me

          restrict me

                    control me

                              force me

                              to

do the things i do 

think the way i think 

feel the crap i feel.

from the depths of my soul,
           at the bottom of my heart,          

inside the core of my mind, 

          underneath it all,                        

i am

Sca(r)red

50: hard to heart talk

the words
stuttering out
of this vessel containing every cell of my being
are jumbled, just like
how they are in my head
(scrambled),
as i absentmindedly twirl my fingers
around the tassels of my scarf,
my subconscious obviously trying to untangle
the knots
in my covered hair
and in my guarded heart.

these thoughts
have caused me to be
in shambles. i feel enshackled, so i must
apologise in advance if i bore you to death -- i might just
ramble on about all these things
that i was too afraid to say before;
i need to be cautious,
i remind myself:
the things i say can never ever be unsaid.
but to unfeel the things i have felt
is just as hard to stomach.

and so i have decided
that i have no other choice
but to mouth out what has ruffled my feathers
(not just off-late) --
so that you would understand me better.

do you, now?
or will i forever misunderstand
and forever be misunderstood?

25: The Gamble

hearts
are such fragile things,

but
you have to risk
the ache
of losing yours
if you want to
truly
win over
someone else's;

no pain,
no gain.

 ---

 2.12am

to a friend's admirer: 
just confess and get on with life already

23: Sober

when i was 5,
i wanted to be an artist:
i wanted to make beautiful things and figure out
the best way to color a shape
without going beyond the line.

when i was 10,
i wanted to be an astronomer:
i wanted to gaze at the stars in the sky and figure out
exactly
which constellations each of them belong to.

when i was 15,
i wanted to be an engineer:
i wanted to invent awesome things and figure out
how to fix anything
and everything.

when i was 20,
i wanted to be a teacher:
i wanted to inspire people to be better and figure out
ways to capture the attention
of students with different personalities, interests and learning abilities.

but now that i'm this close to being what i wanted to be,
i've learnt that i'm not supposed to
'figure things out'.

all i needed to do is simply say:

"saya yang menurut perintah".


11.54pm

22: It's a Girl/Thing

Silly thing,

Girls can't climb trees
or play with ladybugs
or chase chickens
or arm-wrestle!

Girls must cook things
and do house chores
and be pretty
and just listen!

Silly thing.

12.11am

21: What I was told

ever since i could remember,
i was constantly told that i was
a bit too dark and my body was
a bit too fat and my hair was
a bit too curly and my feet were
a bit too crooked and my voice was
a bit too loud and my smile was
a bit too wide and my demeanor was
a bit too unfeminine and my pronunciations were
a bit too gobbled up and that
nobody
will marry me unless i changed.

bless your hearts
for warning me of how my life will always revolve around the idea of how marriage-material i am,
and
please excuse my insolence in questioning your authority and wisdom
but
i'm a bit Confused:

if i change, there is a chance someone might like me,
but
if i change, is there a chance i will like myself?

11.33pm

18: In the name of development

On my way to Melawati today,
I looked to my left
and saw the once-beautiful trees, uprooted.

I looked at my mom who was driving
and asked her what had happened to the trees.
She said the roads couldn't accommodate
the number of drivers;
our roads needed to be widened,
it's part of development.

On my way back from Melawati,
I looked to my left
and saw the once-glorious hills, flattened.

I looked at the notice on the zinc wall
and read what had happened to the hills.
It said the lowlands couldn't accommodate
the number of families;
our houses needed to be multiplied,
it's part of development.

"LOOK!"

Mom suddenly said, interrupting my thoughts.
I turned to see what she had seen;
and saw the off-late stormy skies, clearing.

I looked at the fluffy white clouds
and the evening sun behind it, glowing summery shades.
It made me wonder: how much time
do we have left before
our heavens disappear,
in the name of development?

---




080312 @ 21:26