Sunday, 21 July 2019

Which way is the heaven?

If there is only one thing you can tell me, what will it be?

I looked at her, and then I shook my head no. "Nothing," I said.  "Nothing," I repeated.

She gave me a faint smile, "anything at all?" Her eyes were beaming with hopes.

"I want all these to end." Under my breath, I mumbled. 

"I'm sorry?" She raised her left eyebrow, "I'm sorry I couldn't hear you. Can you please say it louder?"

My chest felt like bursting. I couldn't breathe properly. Only now, I realized that I have been sobbing loudly for a while. Ms. Adams took me to the teachers' office. She hugged tightly. Tears are still running down my cheek as though they are in some kind of race. "Do you want to tell me anything?" Ms. Adams began checking the bruise marks on both my arms. 

What do I know about the world, and how cruel can it be?

"I don't want to go home." My voice cracked. 

I think Ms. Adams knew what happened that she gave me one big hug. I have never felt safer than I am today.

After all, I am just a five-year-old who is yet to explore the world.

I could not remember what happened next because suddenly everything went all blurry. I could not see Ms. Adams anymore. I heard voices, loud but nothing that I could comprehend.


"Stay with me, okay?" I nodded as I tried to open my eyes. "Hamza, stay with me." 

The sound of ambulance's siren is everywhere, everything became louder, and my head started to hurt. By this time, I don't know what happened. The last thing I remembered was running away from my house, mom was bleeding. I escaped the house and ran into my teacher in front of Costco, two blocks from my house.



I woke up with bandages wrapping my right arm and my head. My body felt all sore. The room is too bright; I thought I'm blind. "Mom?" From where I sit, I can see a woman in a white gown staring at me, in a loving way that I felt welcomed. "Mom, it's me." Mom approaches, and now I can see her vivid and clear. Mom sat next to me and rubbed my bandaged head. "How are you doing?"

"Were you in pain?" I asked mom. She shook her head, "not anymore." She looked completely healed.

"Mom, I'm scared." I grabbed her arm.

Before Mom could respond, I heard a knock on the door. "Good morning, Hamza." A doctor came into the room with two nurses. I pulled mom's arm, but to my surprise, she is no longer here. I was holding a teddy bear instead. "My name is Dr. Paul."

"How are you now, son?" The doctor sat next to me. The place where mom sat a couple second ago. I looked at the doctor. "I'm hungry."

He laughed a little. "I will ask the nurse to send you your breakfast later, but now I need to see if you are getting better." He took out a stick that looked like an ice cream stick and asked me to open my mouth. I did as told because I want to eat. I am so hungry right now.

"Hamza?" Ms. Adams came into the room. "Oh, thank God you are okay." Ms. Adams is my class teacher. She stood next to the doctor as he checked the chart that was hanging in front of my bed.

"How is he doing?"

"He is getting better, but we need to know more about what happened. The cops are waiting for updates. We have updated his relatives in Malaysia about the incident."


"Ms. Adams, there is something that I want you to know." Dr. Paul looked concern, both of them walked a bit farther yet I can still see them.

"We have informed the psychiatric department about his condition. What we don't understand is that he has a lot of cutting marks on both his thighs. I wonder how a boy that age can do such action."

Ms. Adams covered her mouth with her left hand. I could not hear what they were talking about, but I swear I saw her crying. 

Someone grabbed my hand softly that my I turned by reflex. "It's not okay to peek." Mom said.

I nodded, she always taught me to be a good boy. So I turned away, waiting for the nurse to come with my breakfast.

Thursday, 8 November 2018

Roses

taken from


...but was it really that easy for you to leave? because it wasn't for me. never was and never will be.


By now, I really couldn't figure what I want to write, or why am I writing. Maybe this is the right time I crawl back here and begin again from square one.

Maybe now is the right time for me to talk about how my life should probably go if we never crossed path.

I stopped drinking since the day we met, but that was the very day I started being drunk. I was never myself when we were together, I forgot what is sober. People keep telling me that I've changed, I was in denial.

I used to drink, but never once I thought that drinking and melancholic are my sober. I could have never written any better than when I'm broken.

I was whole when you were here, but now that you left, only holes that I got.

Maybe it is true that now is the right time for me to talk about how my life should probably go if we never crossed path.

You taught me how to love, and how to be strong. But strong has never been the anchor of my life. I am so used to the sadness that breathing underwater is what I really need to stay alive.


But hey, do you still remember the sleepless nights we spent on that bridge over there? The feud, the laugh, the tears, and the hugs. We shared those moments together, I swear at that time, we were living. At that time we weren't just another love story with a sad ending.

Now I'm letting my thoughts pour wild. I let my fingers dance gracefully on this keyboard. If only I can turn back time, I would rather avoid myself from crossing the path you are in. Or I will just embrace our moment together forever.

Five, six, seven or maybe ten shots of expensive wine. And never have I ever felt this sober since the day we met.


Love, was it that easy to let go? If so, why is only pain that I have to endure?


"On your way home, get me the brightest red rose you see." That was mom's final request before her passing, "I won't disappoint you, mom." was what I said.

As time passes, it is time for me to come home again.

The first red rose was the brightest, "maybe there is one brighter than this in front." so I continued. The next one was a little wilt. "I'm getting the best soon, not this one though." as I walked away.

And there was the last rose, but it wasn't red nor was it the brightest. It was white, sadly, it was too white, and it has a different kind of beauty. "This is the last one, but this is not the one." I picked it anyway.

I knocked on the door, mom was there waiting like she always does since I was small.

"Mom, I got a rose for you." Hesitant at first, but I had to.

She smiled, "this is not the one I asked for."

"I found the best, but I thought I could have picked better."

"My dear, we are always blinded by the imperfections in the most perfect thing ever," I remember that vividly, all the words she uttered. I remember everything.

"We always thought we can get a better one when the best is there right in front of us."


Love, I made the mistake twice. I disappoint my mom and let the best rose slipped off my grip.

You were the rose, you are still, the best rose. Until today I can never forgive myself for letting you go.


"But maybe, there will be something nicer in front." I kept promising myself that.



True, there are nicer roses in front, yet all I can feel is the regret for not choosing you.


May I, may I embark the similar path I walked by. May I rewrite the destiny I neglected? Will you still be there when I come?


Some mistakes can't be undone, and I can't have two roses at once.


But I miss you.

Saturday, 22 July 2017

From Your Demon

le owner


It's disappointing and sad, both at once. When your head is overwhelmed with unspoken words.

My vision gets blurry day by day. It'confusing. The unseen wound is painfully excruciating. The silent scream is deafening. Sleepless night, by night.

Hell exists in this world, I swear to God it exists.

In the coldest night. In the darkest hour. In this sad, sad memory I wander. Alone, and honestly so lonely.

People around acted like they know me.
Judging me like they created me.

Truth is, they did create me. They shaped me to somebody they wanted me to be, even when that means I have to put masks on masks to cover my true self. I have to put on the sweetest smile I got, made by the saltiest tears.

It's hard, and life has never been easy.

I told you I gave up on you, on us. It was actually me that I gave up on.
I gave up on myself.

I'm never gonna make you happy. I'm never gonna make you smile, for I don't know what a smile is. And I have no idea what happiness means.


I swear to God when I said "it's not you, it's me." I was being brutally honest.

It wasn't your fault, never is, and never will be.


My sadness is immortal. It can't be killed. No matter how many times we tried, we ain't killing it. We're killing me.


I've always wanted you, but you're an angel who fell in love with a demon.
And I'm the demon, who fell in love with the sweetest, prettiest angel.

I'm the demon, wearing a mask of a monster, who is wearing a mask of a fallen angel, who is pretending to be the most decent person you've ever met.

Sadly, mi amor, life is a constant battle of good and bad.
Heaven and hell aren't one. They are separated, yet they're joined into one, in which we call it, this world.

This heartache is unbearable. The whispers are real. The pain is inevitable.

Tonight I took few sips of liquor, and take a couple puffs of cig.
Tonight I took the blade, and slowly cut it along my thigh.
Tonight I stood on a rooftop, screaming my lungs out.
Tonight I stared at the night sky, it's brighter than my life.

Tonight I took a final glance at your photograph inside my wallet.

Tonight I decided to end this all, make it fast so the pain won't last.

I'm sorry you had to fall in love with a demon.
I should've known where I belong.

I'll be loving you from afar.
Just as how I've been doing so far.

I love you, but I hate myself.
And truly, one can never learn to love others when they don't know how to love themselves.



///


"So let me just give up.
So let me just let go.

Let me just stop trying.
Let me just stop fighting."

-- Katelyn Tarver, You Don't Know