The Eye

"Her sentences were icebergs, with the just the tip of her thought coming out her mouth, and the rest kept up in her head, which I was starting to think was more and more beautiful the longer I looked at her."

-Gregory Galloway 

Bite Down, Hard.

Everyday on my way home from campus, I would drive past a billboard for some kind of vitamin for children. The picture is of a mother buttoning her son's blazer from the back, presumably helping the child to get ready for school.
Beside it is a caption: "Which mother doesn't love her child?"
And without fail, I would roll my eyes and sarcastically reply: YOURS.

Lightly, lightly...

"It is dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly, child; lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you're feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them. I was so perposterously serious in those days... lightly, lightly- it's the best advice ever given to me. So throw away your baggage and go forward. there is quicksand all about you, sucking at your feet trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That's why you must walk so lightly. Lightly, my darling."

-Aldous Huxley, Island

The Uses of Sorrow

Someone I once loved gave me

a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand

that this, too, was a gift.

Shit Happens.

The Three Oddest Words

When I pronounce the word Future,

the first syllable already belongs in the past.

When I pronounce the word Silence,

I destroy it.

When I pronounce the word Nothing,

I make something no nonbeing can hold.

-Wislawa Szymborska

One Day

Respite.

I feel sad. Like an extreme kind of sadness. But we left each other on a beautiful note the other day. I saw it in your eyes. But I have this fear inside of me that maybe one day you might not look at me like that again. And it pains me so much to think about it. I can cry just thinking about you. It doesn't even needs to be forced, the tears just flow, pure and clear.
Sometimes I'm so sure. Sometimes I just feel like crumbling into dust. But I'm convinced that I deserve you. I deserve you.  I don't mean to sabotage anybody, I just want to have you.
I want you to be happy, and I want to be the source of your happiness.
I want you to tell them how you really feel and make them understand your situation.
Please. Please. Please.
I need a miracle.
How do you know is someone is meant for you? I realize that I' m young but if you asked me to marry you, I'd say yes in a heartbeat and live knowing that I have a duty and a sense of purpose to fulfill.
Never in my life have I felt this way. I wish there was a way out. Most times, given the direness of our situation, I'd find myself surprisingly calm about it. Is this a good sign? Or is it a bad one? Or is it even a sign at all?
I don't know! I don't know! I don't know!
That's the whole trouble with me, I don't seem to know. I wish I did, though. And I wish the truth favored me this once. Just this once.
Its bubbling inside of me, this feeling, telling me that it could go both ways. But mostly it tells me that it might lean towards me. I hope to God that its true.
I swear, I would do anything to have you. Its not for my own selfish needs, its just that I feel we're just meant to be together and our union would be something beautiful, the stuff of dreams, the kind of pairing people be envious about and try to emulate us (in a good way, of course).
I wish God had Facebook or Twitter or an email address, at the least, so that I know He's received my prayers, that He's answered them or something.
Dear God, I really, really, really, really, really want to marry this guy. Like seriously. Help me, please, for You are the best of helpers and You are the one who responds to those in distress. Amen.

Peace be upon you.

You

I've spent hours contemplating

the words to say to you

but no combination

of twenty-six different letters

could ever accurately capture

even a sliver of what this feeling is.

Well, why should I?

I would apologize for my sadness,
but then I'd have to apologize for my words,
for my heart,
all the thoughts cooped up in my mind,
and for this love that never seems to leave me.

-Author unknown

"Draw me a sheep."

"One day, I watched the sun setting forty-four times," you told me. And a little later, you added: "You know... when one is so terribly sad, one loves sunsets..."

"The day you watched those forty-four sunsets, were you that sad?" I asked.

But the little prince made no reply.

A Shower of Sparks

"Why didn't I learn to treat everything like it was the last time? 

My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future."

"My heart is afraid that it will have to suffer."

"Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself.

And no heart has ever suffered  when it goes in search of its dream."

I just wished I knew. For sure. So that I don't have to wonder anymore.

A Terrible Beauty

O you in folded garments!

Stand (to prayer) by night, but not all night-

Half of it-or a little less,

Or a little more; and recite the Qur'an in slow rhythmic tones.

Soon shall We send down to you a weighty Message.

Truly the rising by night is most potent for (governing) the soul, 

and most suitable for (framing) the Word (of Prayer and Praise).

True, there is by day prolonged occupation with manifold engagements:

But keep in remembrance the name of your Lord and devote yourself whole-heartedly.

(He is) Lord of the East and West: there is no god but He:

take Him therefore (your) Disposer of Affairs.

And have patience with what they say, and leave them with noble (dignity).

And leave Me (alone to deal with) those in possession of the good things of life,

who (yet) deny the Truth; 

and bear with them a little while.

A Thousand.

From your lips to God's ears.

Grass Stains and Mugshots

Sometimes all you need is for someone to believe in your dreams when the times get rough. Someone who will agree with you, no matter how illogical your fantasies get. Someone who is a dreamer, just like you. Someone who will hold your hand and stand beside you as the currents try to pull you under. Someone who tells you that everything is not alright, but stays with you until things become well again. Someone who can watch you cry and still look at you in the same way. Someone who gives you words of encouragement when everyone else is a bundle of negativity that either intentionally or unintentionally brings you down.

Don't leave me tongue-tied

Don't wave no goodbyes

P.S.: Dear Fazirah, you need to get your ass back from India ASAP!

Lady Mary Crawley

"I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing.

Words are the source of misunderstandings."

Bitter Heart

And suddenly I feel as though everything is crashing down on me. Why is today so hard? Why is it so hard to believe today? Too many vulgar thoughts, too many useless and foul imaginations being concocted by mind. It's driving me nuts and literally giving me a headache. I can't even sleep properly at night because of this nagging reverberation in my skull.
I wish I just knew that this is going to be in my favor, so that I didn't have to worry about anything anymore. I wish she would just disappear from our lives; so that everything would return to normal and we could just pick up where we left off like nothing ever happened. Tell her to marry someone else and move to another universe. I mean it.
I feel like crying myself numb until everything becomes okay again.

Emergency Sadness Kit

I don't want to drift off. I don't want to float away. I want to stay anchored, moored to one place. I don't mean that I want to repeat the same damned things day in, day out, but I don't mind structure either. Having a change in routine would be nice once in a while. Reading Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood upon Ray's advice is something I don't regret. I'm not even half-way through the book, but as far as I can tell, it's a damn good read. I can actually identify with all the characters of the book with the living, breathing people I know in real life. How does one get so deep? How does one be able to identify and describe human emotion so intricately without being sucked into the void which the fictional characters are thrust? How does life get so complicated? I mean, some drama is fine but to live a soap opera? I wouldn't be able to handle that kind of pressure, although my life is tainted with some form of melodrama.
I have come to realize that I am slowly developing a fear of re-reading novels that I've finished. I wonder why. This is a phobia that would prove to be a pain in the ass because it would, in a way, deprive me of the small pleasures I derive from a separate world I dive into everytime I lose myself within the pages of a book. I never used to have this sickness. As a matter of fact, I've read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire exactly twelve times without getting tired of it. But given recent developments, I doubt that I would bring myself to turn the front cover of the book in a very long time, or even worse, ever at all. I sincerely hope that this is just a minor setback. All this psychological bullshit is just too much for me.
Please, I need an escape; I need release. So help me God.

Incapacicated by Default

Every child is born with a pair of wings; wings that enable them to fly and ride on the currents of life. With those wings, a child is able to do anything and he believes so too, with solid, undivided conviction that no dream is unreachable, no obstacle too big, no task impossible. Belief is the key. So pure, young and innocent, a child is not yet tainted with the worries of the world.
Unfortunately, the path to adulthood is full of thorns and brambles. Before you know it, the child is fed with copious amounts of poison that  would influence his thinking and mentality. Slowly, little by little, the child starts believing these lies and begins to limit himself, killing the inborn magic that is inherent within his being. Gradually, the magic is covered, layer by layer, until the child does not feel it anymore. And as he grows older, he forgets altogether that he was once someone who believed in miracles and endless possibilities. This process is the clipping of a child's wings. Now where is the justice in that? To be taken for a fool and duped into believing that he is something he's not, unworthy, undeserving, impossible. Pure injustice. To the adults who take the upper hand and lie to these gullible souls, don't you feel ashamed of yourselves?
"You haven't lived until you've gone out into the real world, and the world is a big bad place..."
How can you bring yourselves to say that? Is your life that screwed up that everybody else should be doomed to the same fate? No. Our worlds are what we make of it. We decide to some extent what happens in out lives. We may not control every aspect, but in most things, our say matters.
Life is not a prison. Life is what you want it to be, what you make it to be, formed by your beliefs and thoughts, materialized through your will and actions. Nothing is impossible. Possible and impossible are mere concepts conceived by the human mind. And a pathetic notion at that. Never limit yourself. No matter how big and crazy and improbable a goal might be, never doubt. Believe. Believe. Believe. You see, because when there is hope, there is faith and when there is faith, miracles can occur.

Keep Calm and Kill Them All.

Wow. A few minutes 'til a whole month since I've posted on my beloved blog. That's what life changing news does to you. Screws you over but puts things in perspective, in a brutal-demented-twisted way.
Only the faithless lose hope. Only the faithless lose hope.
"Faith will get you everywhere. Just you wait."  -Abby Larsson
Deep.
So I changed my profile picture on Facebook and voila! I got the reaction I wanted. SCORE! Praise the Lord.
Only the faithless lose hope.

Intertwined: Maktub.

Am I the only one who thinks it's funny that people tell you to fight for what you believe in , but when the time comes and that there is actually something that you believe is worth fighting for, the same people hold you down and tell you sheepishly: well, maybe it was not meant to be.
Come on, now! Isn't that double standards? Put yourself in my shoes. If you wanted something so bad and suddenly it was taken away from you, wouldn't you stand up and put up a fight? Or would you just let it slip away from you and take it for granted that it was all for the best? How about seeing that unforeseen obstacle as a challenge and doing everything within your jusrisdiction to get it back?
They say that your fate is set in stone. It may very well be, but the catch is that no one knows what is already written down for us, what is in store, what the future holds. This is where destiny plays its role. This is where we take over.
Who are they to tell you that something is not for you? Who are they to decree that you are not good enough for something? Who are they to sit there and judge you? Do they have power over your life, over what's happening? Do they truly have power to stop you from receiving what is rightfully yours? No. They may have a say by crushing your spirit and slowing you down in the process, but what is meant to be in your possession, cannot be withheld for long. Reality is, they are no better than us. When the time comes and they face the same struggles, trust me, they will be singing a different tune.
It doesn't matter, what they all have to say. You have showed me the way, and it is You who owns the heavens and the earth and everything in between. It is You whom I answer to and to You whom I ask from. You are All-Hearing, All-Knowing, All-Responding.

What Allah out of His Mercy does bestow on mankind there is none can withhold,

what He does withhold, none can grant, apart from Him:

and He is Exalted in Power, Full of Wisdom.

The du'a is the most powerful weapon a Muslim can wield. And this is exactly how a believer takes charge of his destiny. In the light of that, he is supposed to choose what is good for him. In Arabic, the word 'good' is derived from the letters kha ya ra'. And these are the same letters that make up the word ikhtiar, or to choose. Through du'a, a Muslim has the power to change his destiny by asking for what he deems fit for himself and by putting faith in his Lord, believing that his prayers will be answered.

And I have chosen. I am a slave who believes in her Lord, in His Mercy and Bounty; who is assured that her prayers are not unheard. If it was truly meant to be, no matter how hard it rains on my parade, eventually the sun will reveal itself in due course. I truly believe that in the end, what was rightfully mine in the first place would conveniently find its way to land on my lap.

Verily, You are He that hears prayers!

I wish that people would get this stupid perception out of their heads: that if a thing is bad for you but you want it anyway, and if you prayed and asked for it so hard and finally it was given to you, something bad is in store for you.

What kind of bullshit is that? That is such a garbage ideology that anybody thinking about it should be arrested and charged with blasphemy. Seriously, people! You say you believe in God; that He is Loving, Merciful and Kind. But do you really believe? If He was all that, do you think He would actually give you something that was bad for you? Hell-to-the-NO! If something was bad for you, He would make a detour and replace it with something even better than your expectation, not be a psycho-freak and sabotage you! Heck, that's what humans do!

If you get the thing you want so badly after being riddled with obstacles and a whole load of blood, sweat and tears, then rest assured that it was always meant to be yours and that it was just a matter of time, plus a little effort and perseverance.

 Beware the prayer of the oppressed!

 Beware the prayer of the oppressed!

 Beware the prayer of the oppressed!

Verily, it is He who answers the prayers of the oppressed.

Don't tell me you believe in God if you doubt His miracles. If He could change Moses' cane into a snake, part the sea so that the believers could escape the clutches of the Pharaoh and cut the moon in half for Prophet Muhammad; compared to that, how big is your wish? How small? How meager? How simple and insignificant? How attainable? Miracles happen everyday if only you opened your eyes, let your heart believe and be thankful.

Then which of the favors of your Lord will you deny?

Filthy Little Hearts

You just can't help yourself, can you? Even when I clearly said no. Even when I told you outright that this time we were over for real, that I was backing out and never coming back. You just don't get it, do you? I chose to leave. It was my decision. Respect it.
Lying is not a trait I value in anyone, let alone a friend. So let me make this absolutely clear to you: I AM NOT INTERESTED IN HAVING ANY CONTACT WITH YOU WHATSOEVER. PERIOD.
Yes, once upon a time I loved you with all my heart, lived and breathed for you but not anymore, bro. All you ever did was cause me pain and made me cry. You caused me to lose my self-esteem, my dignity and self-respect. You caused me to lose my smile. You ruined me. It hurt me everyday, knowing that I wasn't good enough in your eyes. I cried myself to sleep almost every night and at every opportunity I got when no one was looking. For years, I lived in your shadow. Eventually I forgot how it felt like to be happy, how it was to smile. That's changed. Today, I am a stronger and slightly wiser person. I don't think I'd fall for the same old tricks so easily again.
I don't hate you, I never did. I was angry and frustrated. Disappointed that I wasn't worth the truth. I just don't care anymore.

Shame on you if you fool me once, shame on me if you fool me twice.

So you can go ahead and sing me Gotye's Somebody That I Used To Know (because it's so appropriate for our situation) until your voice gets hoarse and your lungs give out, I am not going to reply your text. And I dedicate this song to you.

I'm done. So go away.

My Diamonds

"There were things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him.

So I buried them, and let them hurt me."

Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Oh, what the hell she says I just can't win for losing

And she lays back down

Man, there are so many times I don't know what I'm doing

Like I don't know now

By the light of the moon she rubs her eyes

Says it's funny how the night can make you blind

I can just imagine

And I don't know what I'm supposed to do

But if she feels bad, then I do too

So I let her be

And she says...

Ooh, I can take no more

Her tears like diamonds on the floor

And her diamonds bring me down

'Cos I can't help her now

She's down in it

She tried her best

And now she can't win

It's hard

To see them on the ground

Her diamonds falling down

Way down

When she sits down and stares into the distance

And it takes all night

And I know I can break her concentration

But it don't feel right

By the light of the moon she rubs her eyes

Sits down on the bed and starts to cry

And there is something less about her

And I don't know what I'm supposed to do

So I sit down and I cry too

But don't let her see

She shuts out the night

And tries to close her eyes

If she can find daylight

Then she'll be alright

She'll be alright

Just not tonight

Look Away, Separate Ways

For a moment there,
I saw an ounce of promise in you.
But you weren't strong enough
to follow through on that.

I just hope, for your sake,
that you one day find it again;
That you manage to brush away
the rubble in your head
and find a way
to love, and be loved.

It's something you've been without for far too long.

Author unknown

Slit Wrists

"You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have a say in who hurts you."

-John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

Chipped Tea Cups

Where do you run to escape from yourself?

I'm sure you've heard the expression that when you desire something, the universe conspires in your favor to get you what you want. Or something to that effect. More or less. Let me just tell you that I think that that claim is utter bullshit.
Based on my diligent observation, what happens is the exact opposite. And it's a vicious cycle. What's worse is that problems surface one after the other as though premeditated by some unseen hand, dragging you down into bottomless vortex that throws you around on your way down.
So what do you do?

Where you gonna go? Salvation is here.

Scissors & Silk

Today is Tuesday in Malaysia. 5 days to go until the start of the semester. And slowly things are starting to unravel. It's just one of those days where uneasy feelings are accumulated and it just simmers and curdles in your chest, leaving you with a sick pit of nothingness in your stomach. I feel like I'm holding on to a tattered cloth flying in the wind and at any moment the cloth will  be rendered asunder, leaving me to succumb to the pull of gravity and ultimately to my death.
I hope to God that you're not a liar. Please don't be. Please. I've been hurt before and I know what it feels like to not be able to put your trust in somebody that you so desperately want to, above all else in the world. That pedestal of yours that I'd built is fragile. It could crumble at any moment. One false move and it will shatter into a million pieces that will simply refuse to fit back together. I'd lose all respect for you. That is the truth.
I'm serious. Please.
Only time will tell, she said. Get to know him first.
If he's a liar, why should I bother even sticking around?
You don't know for sure.
All I know is, if I ever get to the bottom of this, I don't think I'll be able to trust anyone ever again. This could be history literally repeating itself.
Anyways. Overthinking and -analyzing are not the only things I did during the semester break. For the first time ever, I did work! Like actual, physical work. Well, not so physical but physical (for me!) nonetheless. I helped out my aunt to sell cookies and cakes at a bazaar at the Shah Alam State Mosque recently. Mishaps aplenty but in all, a job well done I daresay. I deserve a pat on the back for my efforts. Definitely a milestone for me. Me, a person who can't even handle her own change and fumbles at the cashier when paying bills; yes, I HANDLED THE CASH REGISTER FOR THE WHOLE TWO-AND-A-HALF DAYS!!! I know right, big deal. Daunting, but I survived to tell the tale.

 Some of the stuff I sold at the stall.

 

Proud to say that that wasn't the only thing I did during the two weeks. I also volunteered to teach some Somalian kids near Gombak. An awesome experience indeed. I had a great time. When handling children, there's always drama to be expected. Good drama.



My small class: Bishal, Amin, me and Naja.



Amin, 6.



 

Naja, 4.


 

Bishal, 5.


 

Bishal and Amin working hard on their masks during the creativity session.




Bishal, hard at work.




A green cat for Amin.




Naveena's group.


 

Liyana and her charges.




Amin and his finished mask.



Bishal and his masterpiece.



Growlll!!

 

Catwoman.



Would I do it again? Hell yes. Worth all the bickering, tears, head-knocking, biscuit-stealing and even losing my beloved eraser.

Bullet-proof

Everything is fine and everything will be fine.
I wish I didn't have so much time on my hands. One minute I'm happy and in the next second I'm feel down and out. I wish I could turn off the overthinking button in my head.
Everything is fine and everything will be fine.
The exam results turn out to be okay, the holidays will be over and done with in a jiffy.
Everything is fine and everything will be fine.
We ended the semester on a high. Things had turned out better than expected. It's not possible for someone to completely forget what happened to him- or herself over the course of a month, right? Especially if it was a good memory.
Fastforward to the 25th of June already!

THIS.

Nutella x de!

There was definitely a reaction. Most definitely. A double-take.
SCORE!!
Yes. That's a good sign. I just hope it's enough to last me three weeks.

"Be realistic," he told me.

I am useless when I'm happy. Happiness makes me content and contentment makes me lax. Laxness leads to unproductivity. Meaning, less thinking about anything and everything, and lesser blogposts. Eloquency in writing is bestowed on me when I'm in a state of sadness. In speech, eloquency is achieved when I'm angry. Really, when I'm angry, my ideas become chrystal clear and I give a stellar performance in expressing my feelings and thoughts. Sadness has the same effect on me. I wonder why.
I'd just like to point out that before I die, I would love to be as wise and full of wisdom and philosophically-apt just like Paulo Coelho. Every word that comes out of the man's mouth is laced with magic, I tell you. And they make such perfect sense that you would find no better way to express those phrases. How does one become so graceful in thought? Does it come naturally or is it environmentally induced? I have so many ideas bursting from my mind that I keep silent about them most of the time. And when someone comes along and tells me about his/her brilliant plan, I keep thinking to myself, I thought about the exact same thing a few days ago. Why didn't I say it out loud? 
What if my silence makes me fall short of achieving great things? What if it deprives me of exploring my fortunes? I know I'm good for something, but I keep feeling as though I'm not good enough for the big time. I'm able to grasp complicated and elaborate philosophical ideas in a heartbeat, that's more than what most people can take credit for. I just wished I had more guts to let people in on my ideas. But I don't trust myself. That would prove fatal in the long run.
So my nieces and nephews are here for the holidays. A bunch of peculiar brats if I ever saw one. And they're adolescents, mind you. So it's awkward that we're almost the same age but have nothing to talk about. I don't know wether I should continue feigning indifference or... or... I dunno, feigning indifference?
I hope that you're thinking about me, now that you're in another country, back where you came from, in the comfort of your own home, surrounded by friends and family. Be safe. I hope that both time and distance turn out to be kind to me. Psychological studies suggest that when you can't stop thinking about someone, it's likely because they're thinking about you as well. I know it sounds like a whole load of bullshit but hey, a girl can hope. Right?

Gah!

Nine days til my last paper. Nine days of unproductivity. Followed by three weeks of more nothingness. Boy, this already feels like forever.

By the Hospital Bed

So we went to visit you at the hospital. Never in a million years would I have imagined that I'd do something as drastic as visiting my crush, someone whom I've never talked to, someone whom I'd steal glances from at the cafe and look away. Never. Ever. Like ever, ever, ever, ever.
But that's what I did, my friend and I. After tossing the idea around and having second thoughts and cold feet and experiencing uncomfortable knots in my tummy, finally I decided to pluck the courage to face you. Let me tell you that it was no walk in the park. According to the wisdom of my mother, we should leave early to avoid the jam and hopefully go in and come out undetected by your circle of friends who might be dropping in on you for the day. Apparently we miscalculated and arrived an hour early before visiting hours. That didn't help one bit. My nerves were pushed into overdrive.
To pass the time we bought you a balloon, sat at a waiting area and talked about all the possible ways this meeting would go and laughed a little too loud for all the pent up nervousness we were feeling. Or at least, the nervousness I was feeling. After prayers we were just in time to see that the first batch of visitors disappear into the elevators, off to the various floors to visit their sick friends or family members.
My heart was beating fit to burst. In the elevator, I couldn't feel my knees. This is it, I kept thinking, do or die.
TING!
The doors of the elevator slid open. I was panicking. I told my friend that there was still time to go back. She told me not to be stupid. Right, I shouldn't be stupid. This was a golden opportunity to finally get a breakthrough after months of just exchanging glances and looking away and smiling silently to ourselves and being afraid of saying hi.
As I walked through the ward, I think my brain just shut down. Panic is a weird thing. After passing doors of sick people lying in bed, we finally chanced upon a sleeping body curled up with his back facing us. That person had visitors. She tugged at my sleeve hard, a wild look on her face.
"That's him."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I know his friend, the one sitting on the left."
Oh. For a second I thought she could identify you by your ass. You have a cute ass, by the way. Just thought I should point it out.
We walked back down the hall and my panic level still didn't cease. Your friend came up to us.
"Are you here to see him? He's asleep. I'll wake him up. Wait for a while."
As we waited at the sitting area, I felt my heart leap to my throat as your friend waltzed in and announced that you'd woken up.
Walking down the hallway to your bed, I panicked more than ever. I pulled her to the side and started freaking out as silently as I could. I guess it took a while and that made you poke your head from the side to see what was going on. When you saw us, your forehead creased. I know what it must have looked like to you: My stalkers have successfully stalked me to this hospital and they know that I am helpless and vulnerable. Lol. I know. It was either that or you were like: My God, what are they doing here? They're not even my friends. How did they find out about what happened?
What we did was bold. I know. But sometimes irrationality is mistaken for boldness.
As I sat down, I noticed that your friends still hung around and that my friend was still standing, hovering by the chair, a dopey smile on her lips. What the hell is she doing, I thought desperately and prayed silently that she'd come to her senses and sit her ass down.
And the first question you thought of asking us was whose friends were we and how did we find out. Great. FML. For the record, I told the truth when I said that we found out from your friend who is a Facebook friend of ours from his status. At least we didn't come off as two psychopaths that have nothing better to do than monitor your daily activies based on updates from a social networking site.
Conversation from then on took a less awkward tone although she interacted with you more compared to me. As expected, most of the time, I sat in my chair like a fool in all my awkwardness that seems to come naturally around you.
You look extremely cute up close. My Baby Dinosaur. My Baby T-rex, clad in green and looking weak and defenseless, hugging his kees to his chest and trying his level best to hide his shyness. Beyond adorable. And extremely soft-spoken too. I had an impulse to hug you and never let go, to shield you from all the bad in the world and protect you from harm.
The one thing that made my existence feel worth while that day was the look on your face as I turned to leave. You were still staring at your knees as I picked up my bag and got ready to go, examining the balloon wedged in between you kneecaps like it was the most interesting invention in the history of mankind. She walked a head of me and didn't turn back, heading straight for the doors.
It'll be three weeks before I see you again. I looked back. One last time. You looked up from your knees and looked me straight in the eyes, a look of pure happiness. A stark contrast from the weak young man I just had a conversation with. It was beautiful.

I hope you enjoy your balloon and think of me whenever you hold it. Get well soon, my dear.

A Few Good Men

The Baby Dinosaur is in the hospital. My Baby Dinosaur. So sad. In the Intensive Care Unit, to be exact. Of all the bloody things to transpire before the final exam, this is the worst. Totally unexpected. Caught me off-guard. Leptospirosis, they said.
The curse of the final exam, that's what it is. The last time around, Enigma fell victim to the jinx with a broken leg.
But this is serious. More serious than a broken leg. A matter of life and death. I hope to God you're okay. That you get better, that everything falls rightly into place, that everything gets back to normal. May Allah protect you and watch over you.
When I heard the news, everything felt so surreal. There was a strange buzzing in my ears. My emotions were akin to water in a basin swirling in a downward spiral after someone pulled the plug. All noise and empty notions.
Get well soon. I'm worried sick. Beyond sick. I'm worried. Just plain worried.
Oh God please. Get us through this. Amen.

The T-rex Walk

Oh. Umm... I didn't see you today. Not exacly bummed out but bummed out anyway.
You're not that cute, you know. But there's something about you. For what it's worth, you're perfect to my eyes. Your yummy shoulders and cute ass and mess of curly hair. Your smile. And the effortless way you take off your kopiah. And that walk of yours, like you roam the earth. Oh Lord.
My aunt said that you know that that person is The One when everything falls right into place; no forcing, no trying too hard, no hopelessness. It'll be like a shoe, fitting perfectly, without fuss, just nice and comfortable.
I want you to miss me.
I may not be all that but I can make you happy. Marry me.

Emotional Enigma

I'm jealous. There. I said it. I'm jealous.
I know I don't own you and maybe you'll just remain a stranger that I see during lunch at the cafe but I'm jealous, okay? Right now my emotions are a mess. I want you so bad but I know that it'll only be a dream. None of my expectations ever materializes into reality. All that's left inside of me is a vortex of feelings that I don't even have the strength to attend to.
I know, I never learn. I'm such a fucktard. So what do I do now?

Like the Insides of a Rainbow Cake

For what it's worth, I like what's transpired over these past few days. I haven't felt weightless in a long time. Yes, this is what it feels like: weightless. And yes, by my standards, three years is a miserably long time.
I've never felt this way towards a boy. Never. My feelings usually eat me up inside whenever I like someone, dragging me down like an anchor and making me more depressed than happy most of the time. This is different. Different feels good.
I want to see you. All day, everyday. I want you to look my way and grin sheepishly. I want you to tell your friends about my existence. I want you to be. Just be.
Shit, I'm happy. And when I'm happy, I don't make a whole lot of sense. Maybe if I see you again tomorrow I'd lose my mind completely. Not such a bad thing, if you think about it.
The happy days are here. I hope you stay a while.

Directions to the Asylum

Hi. It's me again. The one with the heart problems. Well, to be fair I'm not literally suffering from a cardiac disease or anything but, my heart causes emotional turmoil for me on a daily basis so yeah, I think that qualifies.
My stupid heart never fails to surprise me. Everyday a new twist in its very own demented saga. I thought I had it figured out; how I'd react to certain stimuli and etc. But turns out my heart has other ideas, as it always does. I suspect my heart schemes a lot during its free time. Without me knowing, I might add.
So. Umm... There's this guy. (There always is! WTF?!) Another one. A new one to ramble about. This is beyond me.
Suddenly I'm feeling tremendous amounts of happiness because of this particular person. Good news is, I'm not overthinking anymore. It's like I'm almost not scared that we won't work out, that I'm ready to face any possiblity that's going to come my way. I'm almost thinking that we might actually be something. Together. Maybe. I feel such a good vibe surrounding us. Perhaps I'm dreaming.
Hope is becoming increasingly abundant in my vocabulary and general daily activities again. An improvement by a mile. And even better news: you know I exist! You actually know that I am another living creature that happens to dwell on planet Earth just like yourself. Oh, the euphoria!
I might be high. My hormones are bonkers. Don't be too happy, my dear emotionally-challenged heart. We could be revisiting depression soon. I wouldn't get my hopes up too much, only to be let down yet again, if I were me. Hmmmph. Everyone leaves, what makes you think he would be an exception?
Sorry, still too hyper to be bogged down by negativity. It's the shoulders, I tell you! It's always the shoulders. What kind of sorcery is this?! I hope I see you again tomorrow so that I can steal illegal glances. You're surprisingly cooperative. Response is the key. It will either make or break something.
You should wear your checkered shirt everyday, all the goddamn time so that it accentuates your broad (to-die-for) shoulders and all your lumberjack glory which gets me excited for no apparent reason. COME AT ME, BRO!
I'll see you then.

Pre-emptive Emptiness

There's a large vortex right in the middle of my stomach, entirely vacuum. My heart is still beating but to tell you the truth, that's all it ever does these days. I just want to be happy, okay? To taste how it feels again, to actually remember experiencing it. To make sure that it was't just a distant figment of my imagination. Happiness. Ironic how meaningless and elusive it is. I just feel like crying until I lose my mind completely.

 And just how depressing is that?

There and Back

Nine days just flew out the window. It's only the second day back to college and I feel my suicidal tendencies resurface again. My fault. Should've at least done some research about my assignments during the mid semester break. But noooo, I decided to wallow in my messed up emotions. It sucks being a girl. Involuntarily thrust on an emotional roller coaster ride that never seems to end. No explanations given or required.
Now I'm stuck on my computer, typing endlessly and praying that somehow I make sense to my lecturer. Losing sleep, feeling short tempered, depressed because of all the impossible deadlines due and having countless episodes as my brain goes into overdrive for all the unnecessary overthinking I'm doing.
Another six weeks before this semester comes to an end. Fastforward please!

A Dream That is Us

Illusions, delusions and no solutions. How do I say this? My heart has betrayed me yet again. Worthless little thing. The mid semester holidays are here and all my time is devoted to my thoughts of you. I fucking miss you.
This is sick. You don't even know I exist on the face of this God-forsaken planet. And it's not my right, but I miss you. Maybe you'll remember me when we meet again. Maybe you won't. Which one would hurt more? Or hurt less? One thing's for sure though, either option would be hurtful. And that's not even a word. Is it?
Is it weird? To fall for a smile and to hold on to a memory. To want something so bad but being terrified to hold it in your hands. To want a change without doing anything. To want to be brave but being frightened of the outcome. To want to take charge but desperately lacking in courage; unable to move a muscle, let a lone breathe.
You'll come back in two months. Maybe the campus would prove itself to be larger than life and maybe we'll never cross paths ever again. But I know I'd still look for you in every face that I come across just hoping and wishing that maybe, just maybe you'd be doing the same too. Maybe we could prove everyone wrong. Maybe everything would work out exactly the way I want it to be.
This time around it's different. I want you but I'm scared to let you in. Last time around, I'd have crushes on so many guys and yet at the end of the day still want to go back to that one person. Knowing that he'd be there to fall back on. But now he's not there anymore. I kicked him out. First love or no, I cater for what's in my best interests. He wasn't worth it. I won't be able to go back to my comfort place because it no longer exists. You are the first person, since ever, that I'm letting in wholeheartedly. He's ruined me, and I've been subconsciously afraid to go out into the world again. Now I'm completely unarmed and vulnerable. My guard is down. I wish you'd step up. I really do.
Even if it doesn't work out, it would be okay. I've been there once, doesn't mean I won't get out again.
I'm talking as though there's nothing left for me. Not a spectre of hope. But there is, isn't there? Nothing is set in stone yet. The future hasn't been written in ink; only in the sand by the shore. When the waves come crashing in, the future will be wiped out again. A clean slate. The secret is to be careful when making decisions in the present because those very decisions determine the future. Overthinking and worrying only serve to steal my happiness away by insinuating evil and despair.
For seven weeks I've tried to keep my feelings in check. I should never be left to my own devices and with tonnes of free time. It'll only lead to my favorite pastime of overthinking.
I am done with my graceless heart, tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart. Cause I like to keep my issues drawn, it's always darkest before the dawn.
What do I do? I know what I want. I want to have a face-to-face coversation with you and learn more about you, not just relying on secondhand references from friends. And none of that online chatting rubbish either. Too impersonal for me. I saw you online the other day and my heart almost leapt out of my throat. I wonder how would you react if you knew it was that girl that you keep stealing glances at and act awkwardly around from History class that was on your chat list. I wonder how you would react if you knew if it was me.
My mother is closing in on my little secret. I've fallen for you and I've fallen hard. She knows. It's becoming increasingly impossible to act aloof about it anymore. Dear God, just this once I want everything to work out in my favor. Please. Pretty please, with swirled cream and a dusting of cinnamon powder on top. Amen.

The Wait

I keep thinking: you just don't know.

The Sun and the Night

By the Sun and his (glorious) splendour;

By the Moon as she follows him;

By the Day as it shows up (the Sun's) glory;

By the Night as it conceals it;

By the Firmament and its (wonderful) structure;

By the Earth and its (wide) expanse:

By the Soul, and the proportion and order given to it;

And its enlightenment as to its wrong and its right;-

Truly he succeeds that purifies it,

And he fails that corrupts it!

By the Night as it conceals (the light);

By the day as it appears in glory;

By (the mystery of) the creation of male and female-

Verily, (the ends) you strive for are diverse.

Where Are You?

According to Greek mythology,

humans were originally created with four arms,

four legs and a head with two faces.

Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate beings,

condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.

Plato, The Symposium

What Laura Said

A knock on the door.
She scrambles off the bed to unlock it.
Her mother walks in, carrying a pile of neatly folded clothes. Fresh off the clothesline. The flowey scent wafts up to greet her nostrils.
"Why do you have that expression on your face? You only had that look when you used to text your ex-boyfriend. Wait, are you Google-ing him?" Incredulation and a slight hint of amusement creeps into the voice of the older woman.
"Eww." Genuine disgust on the part of the daughter. "It's the new guy," she answers, turning her attention back to her cellphone.
Her mother moves to the closet, arranging the clothes in the drawers for a while. She turns to face her daughter.
"You really like him, don't you?"
Silence.

The Act of Crowd-combing

From day one I talked about getting out
But not forgetting about
How my worst fears are letting out
He said, "Why put a new address
On the same old loneliness?
When breathing just passes the time
Until we all just get old and die
Now talking's just a waste of breath
And living's just a waste of death
So why put a new address
On the same old loneliness
And this is you and me
And me and you
Until we've got nothing left!"

Brush Strokes

I made your day and you made mine.

A Sprinkle of Gunpowder

I wish you didn't abuse your power. It's bad enough that you have a huge field of jurisdiction over me, I just don't need you breathing down my neck like a trigger-happy dragon all the freaking time. I'm old enough to know where I stand, what is expected of me, to make my own decisions, make my own mistakes, to live my own dreams. I understand where you're coming from, but you have to let me go.
You make me so frustrated sometimes. So very frustrated. I'm not a child anymore. I know my bounds. I know I'm not perfect, filled with endless short-comings in fact. But trust me. All you have to do is trust me. Your problem is you don't know what you have and therefore you're not thankful. Compared to the other kids outside, you could say I'm heaven-sent. Truly.
Stop making up feeble lies which I can see right through with my naked eyes. Those methods ran out of fashion a long time ago. How does one take control of one's destiny when there are so many external factors at work, just hampering the process every step of the way?
You are my stumbling block. I can be free. I can smell the ocean and all the joy it brings from where I am but I'm locked up in a cage, unable to feast my eyes on my true calling. Yes, you've let me make most of my decisions on my own. Most. How about the rest? A child has to grow up at some point of their lives. I'm twenty, for heaven's sake. When will my time come, pray tell? When you die? That's not sarcasm or vengeange talking, just raw frustration and disappointment.
Sometimes the things you say hurt me more than what my ego allows me to show. A small, simple and insignificant thing can ruin me for weeks. It may mean absolutely nothing to you but to me, it's like a stray bullet that punctures a vital organ and leaves the wound stinging for a very long time. And after that I watch my every move, thinking what you said will come true. And in more often times than not, it does. A curse, which dogs me and never leaves me in peace.
I hurt you because you hurt me. I hurt you because I want you to feel how I've been hurting. I hurt you so I can see you hurting. I hurt you so that you know that I'm hurt by you.
You have your dreams for me, and so do I. In the long run, my dreams matter more because I'm the one who is going to live my life, not you. Let me be. For God's sake, let me be!
You place all these inconceivable rules on me and say this was what it was like growing up. Look at me. Look at me! Do I look like I care? You are not me and I am not you. We're two very different people. Vastly different. I could turn you over in heartbeat, without remorse. Don't test me. I'll be cordial so long as you are.
Don't provoke me. Why can't you understand that I hate being provoked? I act civilized enough throughout the time. What motivates you to provoke me? Is it because you like starting fights? Like being in one? Like seeing me mad? Like being mad? Like taking out your frustrations on me? WHAT IS IT?
When I react, don't play dumb. Defend yourself. There is nothing more pathetic than not following through on something that you started. If you know your arguments are paper-thin, why dig your own grave in the first place? Better to shut up than meddle in things that are not within your paygrade.
Don't shy away from responsibilty when it's your fault. Calling me a liar will only aggravate your situation. You're a letdown in your own right. You're holding me back in more ways than you know. Stop playing God. Sometimes I feel like strangling you until I feel your larynx crush beneath the force of my fingers.
Two decades on this planet and where have I gone? No where. Limited by you. Even if I had my own life, I wouldn't be surprised if you tried to exert your influence over me. Let me go. Let me scrape my knees and stumble into puddles. Let me do what I want.
For me, happiness means pleasing you, waiting for your approval. I'm not free. Not truly free. No one is, but I feel all the more restricted, thanks to you. I don't want to live like that. To please everyone. To be their golden child. To never screw up. To be their beacon of hope. I know what I want. And I'll get what I want someday. You just have to let me take my time and weigh my options. You're supposed to be there to facilitate my journey, not complicate it. When I need you, I'll holler. If I don't, that means I'm fine. How many times to I have to tell you that so that you finally understand? I'm not going to die but you're killing me.
Go away. Just go. Right now I need space. Telling you is wrong, not telling you is wrong. Either way, nothing is right.
I think I may need a punching bag to vent all my frustrations on it. Pulverize it into a pulp and not feel guilty. Gahhhh! I just feel like bellowing at you until you get the message. I'm a disappointment, I get it. But so are you. So are you.

When Muppets Ruled

I remember hearing these songs during childhood. Nostalgia. Those were the days. The essence of innocence still pure and untarnished, when "Shut up!" was the rudest (EVER) thing to say to a person. That purity is lost. Long gone, swept by the winds made by the hands of time. I miss the 90s and I'll be bold enough to say that the children of that decade were the last generation that actually mattered and made sense. Children nowadays.... well, let's not go there.
P.S: Dear future children, please don't put me to shame or else I'll have no option but to put you up for adoption. I'm sure your father would understand.



Oh So Intricate

Pitiful is the person who is afraid of taking risks. Perhaps this person will never be dissappointed or disillusioned; perhaps she won't suffer the way people do when they have a dream to follow. But when that person looks back - and at some point everyone looks back - she will hear her heart saying, 'What have you done with the miracles that God planted in your days? What have you done with the talents God bestowed on you? You buried yourself in a cave because you were fearful of losing those talents. So this is your heritage: the certainty that you wasted your life.'
Pitiful are the people who must realize this. Because when they are finally able to believe in miracles, their life's magic moments will have passed them by.

 Paulo Coelho

When he went blundering back to God,
His songs half written, his work half done,
Who knows what path his bruised feet trod,
What hills of peace or pain he won?

I hope God smiled and took his hand,
And said, "Poor truant, passionate fool!
Life's book is hard to understand:
Why couldst thou not remain at school?"

Charles Hanson Towne

Pondering Paradise

What should I be feeling at this point of time? Guilt? Happiness? Sadness? Relief? Or a concoction of all the listed emotions? Truth is, I'm happy. I don't feel bogged down by that bundle of sadness that was greying my days anymore. A good improvement.
An aunt passed away yesterday. And as I watched her lying on the floor wrapped in the dismal white cloth that was customary, I flashed back to that October morning when my father was doing the same. One final act to be performed on this earth, to lie there cold and unmoving, as relatives, family and friends paid their last respects. Some with tears streaming down their cheeks, some visibly shaking as they try hard not to succumb to their sorrow, some stoic-faced as if gazing upon a dead body was not their cup of tea but they were forced to do it anyway.
Seeing her for the last time yesterday brought tears to my eyes and I realized that after nearly four months since his passing, I haven't really let my father go.
Is it weird or just plain hypocritical of me to say this? He was never a part of my life. Never. Only a small and insignificant portion. I met him only a handful of times in a year, always a few scant hours with awkward exchanges.
I knew this all along but I was ashamed of admitting it. But who was I ashamed of really? My Mommy? My friends? My family? My Mama? The people who knew I was adopted? Myself mostly. For not being there, for not stepping up, for being timid and useless, for being awkward in all the wrong situations and times, for being scared of responsibility. And where did that get me? No where. All I have to show that I made it is a bucket full of regret. All those times during the first semester of my degree spent with an ominous storm cloud over my head, telling everybody I was sad but I didn't know why, was because I missed my father.
Why though? Even as I'm typing this out my tears are threatening to spill from my eyes. Why can't I just let it go? I never expected his death to affect me profoundly. I always imagined that if one of my biological parents passed, I wouldn't be surprised if I became cold and detached, not caring one way or another.
How wrong that assumption turned out to be. Crying in the backseat of the car as silently as possible as my aunt drove us to the house where we'd recite prayers for my deceased and hoping that when we reached my red eyes would not betray my emotions to anyone.
Death. The final stage of the mortal existence. It is supposed to close a chapter, but more questions spring up, only to start another one. Why do we get so attached to people? Why is it when people die, we cry? Why can't we just live on forever? Why can't losing someone be painless? Why why why.
It's over and done, but the heartache lives on inside.
No matter. Remembrance of the dead will be done but life goes on nonetheless. The happy days are here and a new adventure begins in a week's time. Youth should not be wasted easily. Why nots to replace whys. Optimism and hope reign. In the mean time, I hope this fever, flu and sore throat would go away. Urgh.

Irish Surnames

I have a vanilla-flavored muffin stashed in my bag. I stuffed my face with copious amounts of gelato in the evening, had a nice nap, popped in and out of shopping malls, downed a a bottle of Vanilla Coke and currently in the process of enlightening my intellect with matters concerning the universe.
For the first time in a very sinfully long time, I feel content. And I have an intrinsic feeling that the happy days are here. And stay they will for a long tenure. Worries are shed and hope becomes a familiar face again. One way to describe this feeling is like being bouyed by this layer of inexplicable comfort, the wind on my back, the sun in my face.
The thing about being happy is it makes me lax. It sucks my creative juices into this unforgiving vortex, never to see the light of day again. Revel in the intoxication. There is no shame in it.

Hakuna matata... it means no worries for the rest of your days. It's a problem-free philosophy, hakuna matata. 

Good one, boys.

Whatever it is, I'm grateful to be alive. And I'm also grateful of the fact that my baby is still alive too, and that everything worked out just fine. No matter what's happened or what will happen, I love you. Yes, I do.

Certainty With an Un- Prefix

I remember seeing Fish the other day at the Main Auditorium. He was standing at the counter, waiting to collect his book voucher. I noticed that he looked at me for a fraction of a second, as though he wanted to tell me something. Possibly something important. Then that look faded away. No, I decided. No, I won't let myself dwell on it. What was the use? There was no proof to substantiate my facts. Well played, Fish. I underestimated you. Clearly, I was wrong. At that given moment I didn't mouth a single word to anyone because I sincerely thought I was imagining things. No one would have believed me anyway. They'd only say I was attributing a thing to something that was nonexistent. Why would Fish ever open his mouth in front of me? No reason. So kept it to myself, I did. Turns out my eyes weren't playing tricks on me after all. Apprehension blossomed rampantly within the pits of my stomach, like a seed of dread being planted at the bottom of my heart which grew into storm clouds that darkened my day. What if something like this happened in another situation and I was too blind to notice or say anything to anyone in fear that they'd shut me out, only to regret the consequences? Still, in this situation, I simply cannot find solace in knowing that I have the privilege to say, "I told you so."

Are you sad?
Yes, we may never get another chance. And maybe I'll never find out.

So... it's roughly about 18 weeks, right?
Yeah, of hell.

Do you think he'll still remember you by then?
I highly doubt he will.

You're attached, aren't you?
Sort of.

And that's bad?
Yes, most definitely.

So what are you going to do?
I haven't the slightest idea.

But, in a way, this is what you wanted, no?
Well, yes but he didn't have to bust his leg and take the semester off.

You said you saw Fish and his reaction, why not say something to someone?
And be branded delusional? They'd only say I was seeing things that weren't there because I like him.

You should have trusted your instincts.
Are you kidding me? It's the most unreliable thing after the wretched heart.

But it was right anyway.
Sheer dumb luck.

What are you thinking about right now?
Katy Perry's The One That Got Away.

What made you like him?
There's no way to describe it.

Maybe you should go with what your heart says?
Like I said, the heart is the most unreliable thing ever invented. I could never trust it with my life.

But you were right when you felt something was wrong.
So? It doesn't change anything.

Admit it, you have an uncanny ability of knowing when something doesn't feel right.
I do but never mistake it as a gift. It's a curse.

Define WMD.
Hope.

Do you think you're in the process of repeating the same mistake?
I'll never know if I don't try.

Look at the bright side.
I need a miracle. 18 weeks is too long a time.

Maybe you'll find someone new.
Maybe. Maybe not. I hope so, though. But even if I did, I doubt I'll ever recover fully.

Do you hate your life?
Don't ask.

Do you miss being happy?
How do you miss something you can't remember?

Do you think life is unfair?
Honestly, no.

What do you wish for?
To be happy.

But you know that having feelings for someone has a potentiality of leading to heartache and heartbreak?
Yes, I am aware.

And?
I just haven't mastered my heart yet.

Do you hate your heart?
Yes. Ironically, with all my heart.

So what will you do with it?
Rip it out of my chest, chop it into pieces, burn it and feed it to the hounds of hell.

Really?
Literally.

Do you think you're in too deep?
Yes. It's perposterous.

What do you want right now?
To feel calm and contented.

How do you feel now? In a general sense.
Like there's absolutely nothing to look forward to in life. Nothing truly excites me or makes my blood rush to my head and leaves me giddy.

Do you need a hug?
Yes, I do.

From?
Enigma.

Maybe things will look up. Maybe things will work out.
When, pray tell?

You'll find someone, don't worry. Someone who'll accept you and love you and appreciate you and make you happy.
Well he's taking a mighty long time now, isn't he? Idiot.

Misery is your best friend?
For life.

Are you jealous that everyone else is happy?
Yes. I'd be lying if I said no. And I'm scared that my time won't ever come.

What are you doing?
Over-thinking, what else am I fit for?

You should stop doing that.
Breaking the habit is hard to do.

But you're so young.
I know.

What's the rush?
I don't know.

He's not yours.
I know. And I have no right to feel this way.

Does he even know you exist?
I guess not. I can't say for sure. Maybe I imagined everything.

But he smiled at you.
I bet he forgot 5 seconds later.

Does he know your name?
I don't know. Maybe not.

Why didn't you do anything when he gave you signals?
Idiocy at work.

But you hoped?
I did. I'm so stupid.

What now?
Have a good cry and wish it all away. But that wouldn't change a single thing.

Would being defiant help?
Probably not.

Then face the facts, damn you!
Dealing with a heart that I didn't break, he said.

How about taking chances?
Terrified.

What would you like him to know?
That I could make him happy, if I had the chance.

Maybe you should talk to him.
I want to. Badly. To his face.

Bold.
It's a suicide mission.

Do you think he likes you?
A mere fantasy.

But you wouldn't know if you didn't try.
Opportunity eludes me still.

I wish you luck.
I'll be needing every ounce I can get.

So what happens next semester?
Keep my options open. I can't afford to get hurt again.

But you'd still hope for him?
Depends.

PS: I hope they don't kill Murtagh because that would only aggravate the situation.