184: can nibble

kau bangga

lepas kau pecahkan siling kaca

berdiri tegak di mercu kejayaan

kau bahagia

lupa yang kau pijak segala tulang belakang yang rapuh bawah 

yang kau ratah lapah darah daging, isi tinggalkan kuku

kau bahaya

20250130 1458

kau bangga

pecahkan siling kaca

dengan memijak tetulang

belakang dibawah

kau bahagia

tegak di mercu kejayaan

setelah meratah darah daging

orang disekeliling

kau benar-benar

bahaya

2021-10-15 09.40

150: Sayang

she calls me Sayang
as her love straightjackets me
while the padded walls absorb my screams
and my streams and my dreams
and it seems that she thinks she’s trying
to save me by tugging me tightly
but i’m no barbie in abaya,
nothing but a black sheep in wire
who'd rather crossfire than conspire,
wearing social justice warrior
as a badge of honor.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
dan aku dihidupkan untuk menjadi bonekanya yang
solek-selokanya bak bidadari tanpa bayang-bayang.
tapi sayang, suaraku tak semerdu dayang
rambut tak lebat berikal mayang
lidah tak sehalus tali lelayang
tubuhku tak seramping tiang
senyumku tak semanis angan-angan siang.
.
dia panggil aku Sayang,
tapi diriku dah penat ditayang.
sendiku sakit dihuyung-hayang,
diheret, disentak rentak si juru wayang.
yet even after decades of resistance
i am still struggling to keep a distance
between her scripts for me and my own reality.
.
she calls me Sayang,
and sometimes i wonder
if the word has lost its meaning
because the more she talks to me
the more redundant she makes me feel.
.
she calls me Sayang,
so the saying "marah maknanya sayang"
is really just gaslighting,
isn't it?


2019-04-12 7.20pm
2018-01-30 3.06pm

💜💜💜115: uncyclereduceabuse

The thing about abusive relationships is this:
you don't always end up with scars.

At least, not ones where you are left
beatenupbloody
brokenboned
blackandblue.

He had a way with words.
He was pleasant,
thoughtful,
sweet.

He said I was special.

It started off so well --
calltxtwhatsappskype
timeschedulesdistance
marriagedreamshomes;

He said I was special.

But then special
turned salient.

The grim atmosphere.

The undercurrents.

The addictions.

The dark side.

His past.

The present.
Our future.

What used to make my heart skip a beat
Made me forget how to breathe;
What used to give me butterflies
Gave me sweaty palms and goosebumps.

"If I just did a better job at making him happy, he would be nice again"

The mission to please became an obsession.

And I turned into an addict in denial

just like him.

At one point, I jokeconsoleremind myself,

"Hey, it could be worse.
At least he doesn't hit you."

This made me sober.

I've heard the stories,
I've talked to the women,
I've seen the horrors.

I had to leave.
And I felt free.

I wish everyone else in the same situation has the chanceabilityprivillege
to do the same.

---




The thing about abusive relationships is this:
You don't always end up with scars.

Not beatenupbloody blackandblue brokenbones ones, at least.

For me, it was a classic case of, "I thought only other people go through this."
simply because
"I should have been smarter than to let it happen to myself'"

Now, I'm not sure if it's necessarily about smartness.

Maybe it's smartness intertwined with or messed up when emotions come into the equation. 

Because looking back, it wasn't really obvious when I started feeling trapped.

He had a way with words.
He was pleasant, thoughtful, sweet.

He let me know how much he needed me.

He said I was different.

I'm special.

I lapped it all up.

I guess in retrospect
I should've known better.

But it started off so well --
we did the whole calltxtwhatsappskype
went out some despite timeschedulesdistance
we even had talks of marriagedreamshomes;

Things were pretty good
at first.

It was not long
before other things crept in.

The slow, but sure, 180 turn.

The grim atmosphere.

The undercurrents.

The addictions.

The dark side.

Then, more things became salient.

His past.

The present.
Our future.

But i had to be kindacceptingunderstanding, i kept telling myself.
And so i kept readjusting my bearings to where he was. To what he was.

It took me a while to realise what this actually meant:

that I was adapting myself to him.

I can't be the way I am.

Because I'm not good enough.

But I still had to make him happy.
By hook or by crook, even if it meant I had to be someone else.

And so my feelings, thoughts, and actions started to be (sub)consciously dictated by
how he would feel ifs, 

what he would do ifs, 

what he would say ifs...

And the little things he did that used to give me butterflies started to give me goosebumps...
And the lively calls slowly became more and more one-sided...
And the jokes turned into accusations or insults.

But he wasn't always like this.
He wasn't.
Honest.

And this was the fuel that kept me going.

Because I'm different from all the other girls who left him, you see.

I'm special.

And there's always that voice at the back of my head:
"If I just did a better job at making him happy, he would be nice again"

The mission to please became an obsession.

I didn't realise that it was an impossible one.
And so I turned into an addict in denial

just like him.

It was only when I began to jokeconsoleremind myself,

"Hey, it could be worse.
At least he doesn't hit you."
... that I realised the gravity of this situation.

I've heard the stories,
I've talked to the women,
I've seen the horrors.

I had to leave.

It wasn't easy.

The lashback was painful
The pleas were guilttripping
The callsmessages had to be blocked
but I managed to escape what has been caging me.

And I felt free.

I wish everyone else in the same situation has the chanceabilityprivillege
to do the same.

91: la problématique

'problem is,

i get hooked too easily
and am too slow to let go
i somehow get blown away
and lose sight of the ground
i stand at the very edge
and continue to

Wait -- [ pause > edit > play ]

problem is:

i wish you would
pull me up
hold me down
take me

On -- [ stop > rewind > edit > play ]

the problem is

i need you
out of my head.


27/9/13 @2.11am

87: BittersweeTea

sweet
is my iced wintermelon tea
as i nibble at the gummy bubbles
and the flavored rainbow jellies
-munch
-munch
look outside
-munch
an old woman walks past
-munch
-mun--
her blanket over her arm
---ch
her hair unkempt
-pause
her expression confused
-stare
her clothes disarray
-focus
Homeless?
-assess
Disowned!
-conclude
Disability.
-pause

-munch.

-look down
chatime in my palm
-look out
blanket on her arm
-stop

Gulp.

sweet
is my iced wintermelon tea,
but did it always have
such a bitter aftertaste?

Aug 11 2013

73: of the prerequisites of being alive

today
i was told
to stop worrying
and to start living.

that couldn't possibly be right.

only the living
are capable of worrying,

right?

70: blow job

To think
that being a quarter century old
would help me
endure the mental torture
and the emotional turmoil
of figuring out how to minimise
the blow
of breaking another person's heart.

29/11/12 2pm

66: Mallicious.

i hate walking around aimlessly
i hate wanting without understanding why
i hate trying to find out why i feel so out of place
i hate seeing rows of shops like deja vu on every floor
i hate salespeople with fake smiles and sugarcoated words
i hate being manipulated by people who only care about making profit
i hate hating myself for spending on myself in order to make others feel happy
i hate the sights sounds tastes smells of plastic dreams i'm supposed to be drowning in
i hate seeing people pride themselves with things by the oppressed's blood, sweat and tears;

malls are malicious,
and these are just a few reasons why.

62: All about the dosh

money can buy you a wholesome feast
but not an appetite

money can pay for your under the table degree
but not an ounce of respect


money can get you something to warm your bed
but not to warm your heart


money can afford you flashy cars at the speed of light
but not satisfy the need for speed

money can score people who will blindly take your side
but not true loyalty

money can win over unquestioning voters
but not unquestionable critics

money can land you a lot of luxuries in life
but not a sense of security

money can make your world go round,
but not everyone's.

not everyone's.

61: Some and Others (draft)

when reality seems too hard to take
and fantasy is too easy to make,
there are plenty of ways
to run away:

some stick needles in their flesh,
some need their fix of toxic gases,
some just want to be left alone,
some won't stop swiping for dresses,

some stuff their faces like there's no tomorrow
some simply drink to forget
some like scarring their birthday suit
some live only for their pets

some treat roads as if then own them
some just never stop crying
some beat up others to feel better
some just cannot stop lying

some hang onto people they hate
some just cannot commit
some are in their own little world
some always need another hit

some keep trying to take their own lives
some are afraid to leave their room
some suddenly stop talking completely
some keep preparing for the ultimate doom

some start talking with inanimate things
some keep staring into space
some sniff powdered flakes
some keep failing to find a place
to call their own.

because if where we belong is where our heart is,
then some of us just don't feel like we have a home.

but others keep fighting on,
and many continue to pray
for better days and for better pays,
for sincere 'okays' and heartfelt 'heys';
because there's no reason not to, they say,
cuz things will inevitably go your way
if you chin up and keep your frown at bay;
you'll see the light too, someday.

2012-12-12 3.46am



if where we belong is where our heart is,
then some of us don't really have a home.

but

there are those who fight on anyway
and many others continue to pray:
for better days,
for better pays,
to have winters less grey,
to work less, more play.

there's no reason, they say,
to throw your life away;
things will inevitably go your way.
everything will be okay
if you chin up and keep your frown at bay,
you'll see the light too, someday.

56: into thin air

would they notice, if
i disappeared into thin
air? no, i doubt it.

unworthy of being visible in their eyes.

55: pointblank

What is the point of
having both eyes open when
you choose to be blind?


What is the point of
having a heart and mind when
you keep them confined?

54: i surprise myself sometimes I

he asked, "you really
wanna know?". i freeze, inhale
sharply. do i?

in the car, there's not much you can't see or are able to hear. or do. or hide.

53: Disabled

Sure, she can't see, but

she can read, hear and feel words
from the Beloved.

We can't understand
God's words with our fingertips,
so who's handicapped?

inspired by a blind girl at a tafseer class i sometimes attend. she was sitting in front of me, and was intently listening to the ustaz explaining about the surah we were learning during the session while running her fingers around a seemingly blank page of a thick book. upon closer look, i realised it was a braille quran. 
i have been blessed with the gift of sight, and i can read quranic words anywhere if i wanted to; what's my excuse not to? :(

42: damaged

why?

why are you in such a state?
why are you in so much pain?
why are you so... damaged?

what have you done to yourself?
what has society done to make you this way?
what have we all done to cause us to be like this?

i'm really curious to know why you are the way you are
and i'm also scared to know what you might answer.

35: eid is.

of themed new clothes in treasured family pics,
of toothy cackles against sparkles and fired sticks;

of cash in packets and kissing elderly's hands,
of devouring delicious foods and asking for amends;

of wanting peace and happiness for people the world around,
all of this and infinitely more! but not quite for everyone, i found.

- 21/8/12 4.27pm

27: Unsound (Public Transport People #2)

i can't remember how it started, but

the lady next to me told me that
the lady next to her told her that
she didn't know when to get off.
she was simply told
to get on at kl sentral,
then get off at senawang.

it was her first time on a komuter.

white-haired, deaf, and illiterate,
she only had a bag of clothes
and a torn paper with a scribbled number
without a phone to call it with.

it was her first time on a komuter.

as her petite frame shrinked further into her seat
and her tired, weary eyes repeatedly searched the carriage
perhaps for a familiar face,
perhaps for some kind of miracle,
in the end, the only thing she could do
was wait until she stops at a train station

that she couldn't even read the name of.


last updated: 2016-01-31 7.10pm

---


everytime i think of this old lady, my heart breaks.

---


as i boarded the ktm
the lady next to me told me that
the lady next to her told her that
she wasn't sure where to stop.
she was simply told to
get on at kl sentral, and
get off at senawang,
on a komuter train -- her first time in her life -- without anyone to accompany her.

it seems incomprehensible to me that
she can't hear or say much
(she's quite deaf, you see),
and she can't read much,
(she's quite illiterate, you see),
and she doesn't have a phone
(because let's be realistic here -- it's not like she can hear or talk or read anything on a phone),

and yet here she is,
this teary-eyed white-haired woman in her 70's,
sitting in a moving train she has never been on,
not knowing how to read a route map
(or even how to tell the time),
and frightened and alone and overwhelmed that
she is a deaf and illiterate woman in her 70's
without a definite means to say "I'm here!" to,
and the only thing she could do
was wait for someone to get her when she stops at a station

that she can't even read the name of.

=============

i can't remember how it started, but

the lady next to me told me that
the lady next to her told her that
she wasn't sure where to stop.
she was simply told
(by the son and daughter) to
get on at kl sentral, and
get off at senawang,
on a ktm komuter -- for her first time in her life -- without anyone to accompany her.

it seems incomprehensible to me that
she can't hear or say much
(she's quite deaf, you see),
and she can't read much
(she's quite illiterate, you see),
and she doesn't have a phone
(because COME ON -- it's not like she can hear or talk or read anything on a phone),

and yet here she is,
this teary-eyed white-haired woman in her 70's,
sitting in a moving train she has never been on,
not knowing how to read a route map
(or where 'senawang' even is)
and frightened and alone and overwhelmed because
she is a deaf and illiterate woman in her 70's
who could only wait for someone to get her when she stops at a station

that she can't even read the name of.


8.24pm

---

i can't remember how it started, but

the lady next to me told me that
the lady next to her told her that
she wasn't sure where to stop.
she was simply told
(by her son and daughter) to
get on at kl sentral, and
get off at senawang,
on a ktm komuter -- for the first time in her life -- without anyone to assist her.

it seems incomprehensible to me that
she can't hear or say much
(she's quite deaf, you see),
and she can't read much
(she's quite illiterate, you see),
and she doesn't have a phone
(because LET'S BE REALISTIC -- it's not like she can hear or talk or read anything on a phone),

and yet here she is,
this teary-eyed white-haired woman in her 70's,
sitting in a moving train she has never been on,
without a clue of how to read a route map, and

without any way of saying (to whoever is picking her up) "I'm here!".


sitting next to strangers
who can barely understand her, and
trying to hold back feelings of sadness, fear,
loneliness and how overwhelmed she was
as a deaf and illiterate woman in her 70's
sitting in a moving train with no familiar faces around her
and the only she could do,
was wait for someone to get her when she stops at a train station

that she can't even read the name of.

---


i can't remember how it started, but

the lady next to me told me that
the lady next to her told her that
she wasn't sure where to stop.
she was simply told
(by her son and daughter) to
get on at kl sentral, then
get off at senawang
on a ktm komuter (for the first time in her life -- and without any assistance).

it seems incomprehensible to me that
she can't hear or say much
(she's quite deaf, you see),
and she can't read much
(she's quite illiterate, you see),
and she doesn't have a phone
(because LET'S BE REALISTIC -- it's not like she can hear or talk or read anything on a phone),
and yet here she is, this
white-haired woman in her 70's,
sitting in a vehicle she has never been on,
without a clue of how to read a route map, and
without any way of saying (to whoever was going to pick her up) "I'm here!".

sitting next to those who can
barely understand what she utters,
her watery eyes, reflecting
her fear of uncertainty and abandonment,
look around at the unfamiliar faces
with hope but in vain
because the only thing she could do
was wait for someone to get her when she stops at a train station

that she can't even read the name of.

---

26: Balance (Public Transport People #1)

of all the passengers
on the lrt, he stood out
like a quiet moth
against social butterflies.

wearing
an oversized security guard uniform,
a funny-looking hat,
a slightly faded backpack,
a pair of dusty black loafs and
a sullen expression,

his clumsy hands
held onto the railing as
his frail body
swayed along with the movement of the train.

yet
this dispirited man,
confused or drowning or lost or stuck
in his own world,
still managed to keep his balance
no matter how abruptly the lrt stops.

i wonder what kept him going.

3.08pm

---

i love people-watching, especially on public transports.

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

24: Nature vs Nurture

you always make it seem
like my sole purpose
in life
is to hurt you.

with the way i
walk,
talk,
argue,
and refuse;
the way i
hesitate,
aggravate,
disappoint,
and miss your point (of view).

i do wonder
if your image of me
is not entirely
untrue.

really,
i don't mean to be mean,
but there are times i think
subconsciously,
i do.

12.12am