October 9th, 2011.
Okay? Okay? I’m not okay. Know what’s not okay? I freaking miss you, you not-Chuck-Bass-handsome not-multi-language not-sensitive not-gentleman not-everything bamboo-eating animal. And I hate this feeling. I hate you, I hate your voice, I hate your texts, I hate missing you, I hate everything about you. I hate, hate, hate.
I’m a Muslim.
How do you think I fight that damn feeling?
It’s not like in Korean dramas where I can get all sappy and run to your house or some crazy things like that.
I thought I came back to my senses. I thought I sorted out that feelings issue and just treasure our friendship. I have no idea why it came back and I have no idea how to not think about you. Why am I not returning your texts? Because I don’t want to think about you, you urgh urgh urgh. It’s none of your fault but somehow I really feel like cursing you. I really feel like punching and kicking you for existing.
Dah cakap dari awal, puan kejam lagi keji.
Rasa sliced gila babas. Rasa macam daging, ikan, sayur kena slice.
Rasa betrayed. Entah. Mungkin bukan. Something else yang similar, perhaps.
Rasa macam all these whiles sikit punya kamceng ni semua pasal encik nak tebus rasa bersalah ke? Sebab tu?
Rasa macam penat. Penat sebab punyalah kaw-kaw puan simbah hati dengan clorox bagi samak all those memories while we were younger. Punyalah kaw-kaw sental ingatan bagi hilang semua benda yang encik cakap time encik tengah tak betul. Benda yang puan sendiri rasa encik tak ingat dan tak perlulah encik ingat. Punyalah kaw-kaw puan sumbat hati ni dengan Quran campur rock campur grunge campur punk time tengah ayan just to let go of my feelings.
Rasa macam encik yang kejam dulu in the first place. No, actually encik ego. Encik ada wall yang sangat tinggi dan kebal. This is not a jiwang karat novel. You ain’t the hero and I ain’t the heroine. Ingat kalau puan tahu dengan cara yang unexpected dan surprising macam tu, puan nak mengalirkan air mata terharu ke? Nope. This ain’t a jiwang karat novel. I’m hurt. I feel sakit hati. All my efforts were for what?
I lived everyday for that eleven months thinking we’re nothing but ashes.
I live now, thinking everyday that we’re nothing but best friends. No, I don’t want more from you - don’t get me wrong. I live everyday dengan rasa, good, hari ni aku berjaya padam sikit lagi, sikit lagi whatever feelings I have for him.
And efforts tu untuk apa?
For somebody who loves me back when I don’t know it?
For somebody who builds walls and guards his feelings like an android?
For somebody who knows I work damn hard with that crazy Law course so I can get a scholarship and go damn far away to forget him, and still act like he knows nothing?
You won’t understand me. And I won’t understand you, too.
But I can’t undo this sakit hati, and your silence just completes the package.
You are unfeeling because what they do to you two years ago.
But I am evil because what you did to me three years ago.
And I’m not sorry I said what I’m not supposed to say.
Suddenly I feel deserving to be kejam lagi keji.
Keeping a secret and respecting the secrets of others, as opposed to prying into them, is a virtue related to self-discipline and sensitivity. Explain what you must, but never give away all of your secrets. Those who freely publicize the secrets of their hearts drag themselves and their nation toward an inevitable downfall.
Explain what you must, but never give away all of your secrets. Those who freely publicize the secrets of their hearts drag themselves and their nation toward an inevitable downfall.
Aku rasa macam serial heartbreaker.
Betul. Tak tipu. Rasa macam bersalah gila. Rasa macam tak guna. Rasa macam… macam…
I’m not anybody, not anyone, but still.
Things I did before I September 2010, they keep on haunting me even long after I’ve walked away.
Sorry; it can’t change things, sorry can’t undo the hurt I’ve caused.
Just because I was heartbroken didn’t give me the license to go around breaking hearts in turn.
Sorry; it won’t make me a better person.
Just because I’ve changed doesn’t mean they can let go.
Sorry; it won’t atone what I’ve done.