MARRY ME, CHRISTIAN BALE!!!

I LOVE HIM, AND IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY.

Abra cadabra.
If you don't understand The Prestige, ask me cause I figured it out. HAHAHA.


His cheeks were sunken; his right eyelid covered a mass of black hole, his eyeball was gone underneath. I wished he could have seen my face. I wished he could have seen the sun before the end.

He clutched onto his walking stick as if his life depended on it. He could not move far; he collapsed on the chair behind him, far from us. I think that will be the only chair he will ever sit.

His face resembled my grandfather, only much possessive, older, and more weary. I looked at his tired face and approached him. I bent down to kiss his hand.

Who knows it might be the last.

Only god knows.

Oh god, don’t let it end so fast.

Probably he had never loved me as my grandfather did. Probably he did not even know my name. Probably he had never seen me before.

Seeing his face filled me with deep remorse. When he opened his mouth to speak, I thought I was going to cry. The sadness was hard to win over. Perhaps I sympathised with his inevitable rapid aging, perhaps it was the fact that he was going blind, or perhaps he resembled my grandfather so much.

Good god, I was looking at the face of my grandfather again!

‘When I am gone, promise me you’ll still keep in touch with each other,’ the old man spoke very slowly with his strong Javanese accent. He was going deaf too. He gasped at every word that emanated from his mouth as if it took all the effort in the world to pronounce them. Tears were bursting to come out of my eyes. I could not bear to look at him anymore. And yet I gazed at him thoughtfully, hoping, one day it would be better. That one day death ceased to exist and good men as him lived fearlessly with immortality.

The fear of never seeing him again grasped me with despondency. I don’t care how cliché it is to say that losing someone hurts so much even if you barely knew them. I don’t care how cliché it is to cry and fear for the extinction of a valuable primate. I don’t care how cliché and stupid it is to love someone you don’t know much about.

It suddenly came back to me, the memory of my dying grandfather. Going back, looking at myself standing there beside his bed with hopelessness and the forbidding silence that drowned the murmuring prayers. Standing there like a bewildered audience to watch a spectacle performance, waiting for the angel of death to devour the sacrifice.

I don’t care how cliché it is to say that seeing someone die would be the most horrible thing you would ever see. It was the strangest phenomena ever. It is surreal.

Then I was back in the house, trying hard to move my eyes away from the tired face. I don’t want to go to another funeral; I don’t want to see another weary face. He could walk the last time I saw him. When I was younger, he was vibrant. I thought I was going to die before everyone else.

Perhaps I hate the hopelessness of not being able to save everyone.

Perhaps I do love him because he deserved it more than anyone did.

Perhaps I thought old people did not deserve to die.

I gazed at him hopelessly. It was no use. I wished I could have embraced him and said death would not be so bad. Just days ago he dreamt about the angel of death and he wept in terror. I wished I could have loved him more. I wished he could see again. I wished for many things, but people would have thought I was crazy to make them true. I wished someone else felt the same way.

Depression settled in when it was time to leave him to his deep slumber. I kissed his hand, took his scaly fingers with both my hands, and gave him a reassuring pat. Sometimes I think I am just a disastrous poet who cannot convey her messages. I wished I could have screamed, ‘Hold on and do not ever let go!’ I wished I could have hid him in a safe place where death could not touch him. It was no use anyway.

Who knows it might be the last.

Only god knows.

Oh god, don’t let it end so fast.

And I left. I hoped he would be sitting on that very chair next year when I visit him again.


I'm sorry to tell you that I've changed since my last introduction. For starters, I'm less manic depressive, and secondly, I've been a pathological liar. Well not exactly, I'm just exaggerating. I never tell anyone when I totally despise them. Honestly, they pity you more than any other people who don't even give a shit about you. And no, it doesn't include anyone who's reading this.

I've forgotten what I wanted to say.

...

Oh yes, I recall it now.

People tell me that they find my profiles or blog on the net rather appalling, because I'm not like that in real life. I'm less outspoken or confident, or whatever. I probably don't swear, I look kind of 'decent' sort of thing. I tell them it's my alter ego. Well is it? I'm always like this, always. I bitch quite a lot, and I'm really cruel with words. Just ask my friend Syaza, haha. She like to tell me, 'Rafhana! You're so mean!'

Okay shit someone's coming. Will continue later if you're ever interested.


I think I forgot to add that I opened the door for Naoto and he smiled at me yesterday! Well you know, he's only an eye candy, nothing more.

Eye candies are really awesome. Cause they make you really happy and gay.
Unlike crushes. They make me stressed. Really.

I found this really interesting introduction I made back in June 08. Damn, it's so honest.

Last night my friend and I were discussing about how pathetic the world is generally. I've had racism thrown and me, and other shallow judgements, but that's okay. I was born to lose anyway.

AT YOUR FACE FUCKERS!

It suddenly dawned upon me that it is my job to introduce myself, and it's your job to get to know me before throwing cruel remarks.

First thing I'd say to anyone, I'm cruel. And that is true. I'm cruel because I am brutally honest. I am cruel when setting things right. I care about your happiness more than mine so don't cry when I bitch at you, sissy!

I grew up in an environment where parents whip you for the smallest reasons, and throw you down to the ground when you're just about to stand up. I was taught not to weep, because weeping is a sign of weakness. My mother called me useless, but it was only so I could grow up the way she wanted- strong, possessive and cruel. I don't like people crying, hell fuck off if you do. My methods are vile, I'll throw you down, kick your ass so you'd survive. Because that was the way I was brought up. "Struggle is nature's way of strengthening it," Locke said, and that's my way of doing things. I don't believe in tissue papers to wipe off your tears, git.

My sister says I'm arrogant and have the heart of stone. So what. I fight for my own opinions. I'd die fighting if I have to.

I take on different personas.

Sometimes I'm sweet and kind, sometimes I give hope to those who needs it, sometimes I turn into a grotesque depressed monster. It depends on my mood. Sometimes I can't give a fuck, I turn into anything I want.

I guess I don't know who I am. I don't exist, I'm not real. I might have lived in the 7th century and fought in epic battles, I might have been a dragon who spits out fireballs, and you don't know.

I am what I am for the things that were done to me. I don't feel 16, I feel older, much much older. Some of my friends think that I am wise. I don't know. Maybe I don't see things the way you do.

And I have to admit, I don't have any self-esteem. I don't know how to socialise. I am afraid of people. I've been my own man, my own army, my horse, my sword, my ship. I don't know what friendship is. If it means being friends for a year and then you don't give a fuck about me anymore, then thanks, that must be friendship.

And to conclude that, outside I look decent and nice, inside I'm whatever I can be, and deeper inside where I want you to really nose into my privacy, I'm not really sure and it's your job.

Well how about that.


The MSN status (Away) is so overused. I'm looking at my f-list, and wow, rows of (Away)s. It's not like people care anyway. You put you status as Away, and they still talk to you. What's the point of going online if you're away anyway?

Oh oh, I have the answer. Well maybe, no one knows why. You play games, surf the net, listen to songs and watch people sign in. Exciting isn't it? You have a reason not to reply insignificant fuckwits. Yay, yes, very exciting.

No one talks to me anyway, and I don't know why I'm online. Weird, weird, weird. We've turned into online zombies. No, actually I have a reason. I'm waiting for my sodding Jimi. Where the hell did he fly to? No emails, nothing!

Boys.
=[
Sodding little liars.

I haven't said 'bollocks' in ages.
My favourite swear word.
Bollocks.

Oops, I should stop swearing altogether.

BEELZEBUB HAS A DEVIL PUT ASIDE FOR MEEEEEE, FOR ME, FOR MEEEEEEEE!
Gosh, that was so random. QUEEN!!!


I think I'm addicted to skipping classes. Whoopdefuckingdoo, I skipped Mechanics tutorial and lecture. So I had lunch with the starvation army (i.e the people who's been deprived of lunch at school for a month) , went for Thermofluids lecture and went home. Told people I still needed to 'celebrate'. I'm just tired and sleepy, and can't get anything into my head, so no point really in staying.

Well, I'm home now, sniggering when the thought of everyone else stuck in class with the 'follow me' lecturer. I'm better of learning things on my own.

Yesterday was okay. I mean, really. My aunt's house reeked of cats. I think it's hilarious what comes up as a conversation topic when you've got nothing to say. I've just found out my mum works in the plastic surgery department (nyeheheh, shows how disconnected I am.) and the women talked about breast implants and such lol. You know when muslims die, we've got to remove whatever 'artifical' implants? Like breast implants, susut, and all that stuff. So my aunt said, imagine this 90 year old women all wrinkly with breasts of tip top condition, and having a surgery to remove it. Hahaha, it was funny imagining it. Then my mum goes on saying, 'Hey you know, if you have breast implants, your boobs won't move? The doctor will move you into various positions and your breasts wouldn't move still. And they'd ask me, how do they look? Are they nice?'

Hahahahaha.
So my aunt says, 'If I were you, I would 'dengki'(I don't know what's it called in english. It's like, a bad thing.) I would say, 'eh ehh, no the right one must go up a bit, yeah, the the left one, make it lower... that's it, very nice.' Haha, sekali dah habis, nanti bende dier jadi bengkok, senget. Satu kat atas, satu kat bawah. '
Again, I'm too lazy to translate. Gosh, but it was hilarious. Omg, women.

We went to Mama Ros' house after that. She used to live in the flat behind my grandma's, and my grandma used to babysit her children, so we're like sort of a family, kinda thing. I haven't seen her in ages. She had a stroke, and can't remember stuff, and she's really thin and her hair is all white now. She used to be this plump fierce woman, and I can't see that person anymore. Adib wasn't at home, but Fendi was. Everyone else calls them Abang Adib and Abang Fendi, but I'm just rude since I was born, so they're just Adib and Fendi to me. Haha, I call my older cousins just by their name.

So Fendi goes, 'Semalam best ah! Rumah keling terbakar! Shiok seh, abeh tu Fendi *does the weird fireman action thing* Tapi makcik-makcik sebuk arh... (blah blah) Orang hari raya pakai baju kurung, kite pakai uniform. Ape sajeee lahhhh!'
He's just so animated, and like a kid really. I haven't seen him in ages, so he didn't recognise me. So he got a big shock when he found out that I was the one sitting beside him. lol. Gosh, he was really fun to watch. My mum and aunties are like sisters to him, and they were laughing like shit watching him talk and whispered, 'ultraman'. Cause when he was little he used to tell them some ultraman episodes with that kind of enthusiasm. Oh my god, it was so funny. Turns out, he's going to get engaged next year. I was shocked. Cause he's like, a kid! I mean, he's 24 but he still has his childish enthusiasm. Hard to believe he's that big now.
I used to play with them as a kid. Before my sister was born, I was literally alone. I didn't have any cousins to play with, so they were my playmates. Haha, fun remeniscing the past. My parents used to take us to the zoo, and they were like my brothers. But I was more close to Adib. Okay okay, I bathed with him when I was a kid okay. That was how close we were. Lol. Once our school was on fire, he went all over the school to look for me, only to find out I've gone home. I'm still touched, even to this day. As you get older, probably the 'love' just fades away as you drift further apart. And you think you can try to breach the distance, but you can't. It's just gone forever, no matter how hard both sides hope to rekindle the lost frienship.
That is exactly what is happening to me. I can't connect with my cousins anymore. We've sort of moved on. We've drained our emotional connections and friendship. Everything is lost.

I wish everything was the same. I wish we never grew up; I wish we never got tired of each other. Sigh.

Lol, and the whole time my aunt kept calling me 'pengantin'(bride, in english.)

By 10pm, everyone dispersed and went home. ):

Sadness aside, here are pictures of ze fat and obese me.

ACHTUNG! VERY UGLY!
I'm just trying to gain confidence posting pictures. Bleh.

*cringes*


So the day started of with this accidental Eowyn pose. You know, the Eowyn pose in LOTR in her sheild maiden dress? Forgive my ugly face and fat body.


Me and my sayang. Haha.


Alone, vain and ugly picture. OMG. *cringe*
I want to look normal, not ugly. But still, at least god has given me a face.


Me and my irritating sister. I have this weird relationship with her.
Now, that's not so bad is it? (I mean, my dorky face.)


I intended a contorted expression. I've acheived a distorted ugly one.
Again, trying out various 'act cute' poses.

The End.
Hope you survived the horrendous pic post.

If you haven't figured out already, THAT is the white dress I was talking about.

I'm listening to 'Heart' soundtrack. Help.


I skipped school today. Yes, being really optimistic about today. It'd be good to not be a selfish bastard for once, and realising that the world doesn't revolve around me. When I get bored, I'll entertain myself.

I couldn't sleep last night. The thoughts of hantu/ghosts were playing in my head. I've always wondered why people can't sleep when they get scared, because I always make myself sleep when I'm terrified. Now I've started to become like them, now I understand. I started shaking in bed. I started imagining something poking me. Suddenly the teddy bears looked like blood thirsty monsters. My face was being blown by some magical wind, everything started swirling, and I couldn't breathe. Suddenly it seems terrible to be in the dark.

I confess. I'm utterly terrified of darkness. You never know what's in there, you never know what's going to get you. Death, is darkness. It's the same as being in a pitch black room. The only difference is that death ends absolutely and there's no going back, whereas in a dark room, it is possible to simply turn on the light.

I hope it isn't going to be the same tonight.

Blah, I want to upload pictures. Oh, irony. I mock myself.


I'm so ugly, but that's okay. That boy is my subject of mockery. It seems fun to disturb him. I don't fancy kids.


I guess my sister hates Hari Raya too.
Okay, no. Well she hated the camera and me.


Selamat Hari Raya!

And yesh, I'm going to bitch again. This time, in english.

I declare this whatthefuck 'festival' as the miserable holiday of all holidays. Right now I'm in this study room blogging secretly while the vacuum cleaner is blaring outside(because some stupid kid just broke some glass. AND FUCK YES, the 3rd fucking glass in the fucking history of fucking ever that the same fucktard broke.)

Alhamdulillah puasa is over, I can swear my fucking guts out.

I've never looked forward to this day. It's so miserable, there's no point anticipating it. It's just the start of 'eating normally' again, nothing more.

Know what the day starts of with? Okay well, I'm exhausted, and tired and starved because I only ate a prata for breakfast the previous day, plus, the business econs thing I learnt on monday night is still swirling in my head, screaming, 'equilbrium! quantity demand! shift in curve! get it in your bloody head!' So well, my dad comes in and yells at us to wake up (and I mean, yes, literally YELL rudely.) And I have to drag myself downstairs and queue up for the toilet, while EVERYONE else is sleeping so soundly and their mums and dads don't scream at them. Fucking argh! I'm just standing there seeing how unfair everything is, and compare how my parents treat me and how my aunts and uncles treat their children. Okay fine! Yell all you want, wake everyone up, I don't care. It's finally getting too tired to bother about anything. I'm going to die one day, and it's going to end, so no fucking biggie. We were born to die anyway.

And then yes, after that all we do is sit around waiting for god knows what, and go to the mosque, while everyone else leaves me alone to find my pathetic slipper and I ended up running down the road to catch up with them. And then the mosque people were being so discriminating and gave women the space with no aircon or fan. We're sweltering under our telekongs while the men get the aircon. Then we go home, do nothing, just listen to the adults talk. And all they do is gossip. Wah lao, even if puasa is over, gossiping is still a sin, and is not very nice.

So there's this tradition that we're suppose to ask for forgiveness on Hari Raya, and I find it dreadful. Most of the time I have nothing to say. If I could, I would've said, 'I forgive you for making me hate myself and making me believe I have no use for this world. Forgive me for not being possibly the best human ever. Probably I'm not poor enough to get your sympathy, and probably I'm just too ugly to be looked at. Kthxbye.'

God, I'm so emo.

And then holy fuck, mum goes and give her favorite niece 50 dollars. And helling fucking shitty asshole bloody farkkkk, that's like what she gives us. Oh yeah, if I point that out, she'll ask me to shut up. Man, fucking shit. I just hate it. She actually loves them more than her children even if they don't do anything but sit around with the aircon on 24 hours and doesn't wash plates, or anything. And I slave around most of the time, and I remember having to wash their bloody plates and they ate like 10 times a day, and they're of my age. WTF. And my mum complains of not having enough money, and shit, and my hospital bills are unpaid so the hospital is like demanding us to pay up.

And then mum sleeps, my dad goes watch tv, and everyone stones in front of the tv with this grumpy mood. It's just miserable. So I went upstairs to read a book and just think how miserable this fucking day is.

My cousins are just so anti social, I don't know what to do anymore.

So after that usually in the evening, we finally head back to Singapore, to visit my aunts house. My grandfather is gone for 2 years now, it's sad without him. And there, people interrogate me non stop, just because I'm too stupid to get myself into JC, like it's a big deal.

Go home around 7, and mum rushes to cook some stuff, and she vents her stress on us by shouting. People come, this house become infested with naughty children, glass breaks here and there, pervertic comments from 8 year old boys, the Barbies get raped, and shit happens. So here I am, thinking this post is rather immature.

But fuck who cares. I'm just so tired and emo. So deal.

Selamat Hari Raya everyone. Maaf Zahir & Batin.


In view of Tiara's humble post, I thought I should do the same because it's burning inside of me and I could really relate to what she posted. Haha, sorry tiara.

My malay is really poor, so bear with me. Anyone who wants translation, ask me on msn. Heh.

Okay sekarang aku dah worried tau. Ini subject OC kene buat pw, abeh tu dah la aku kene stick dengan pompan. kalau budak pompan dua tu bagus tak pe lah. Tapi ni, sigh, bahasa ingerris pon tak tau cakap, tenses kucar kacir, dah la semua macam taik. Tak tahan seh. Semue nak harap kan aku buat. Topik, aku cari, abeh tu, ppt semue aku uruskan. initiave semua aku punye. Bacen la. Kau tau CRS yang 1st semester pon aku punye kerja. Satu malam aku tak tido, pasal takde orang nak buat. Babi sial. Yang dapat marks bagus tu pon, aku kasi. Oh man, aku benci seh orang yang rely2 ni. Stupid dan bodoh. Lebih baik aku buat, abeh present sendiri. Dah lah tu aku tak tido satu malam untuk membuat pw yang terrer, abeh ni semua bitch act macam semua tu diaorang yang buat. Ye lah, tu, amek credit untuk semuanya. Kalau sindir sikit nanti nangis, abeh tu tak kawan ngan ako, abeh kesian aku kene pegi break sorang2. Dah lah aku rase macam nak tukar klass diorang punye pasal. Hish. Bacen sial. Ni sekarang dah ade pw, aku macam nak nangis siol. Macam dah nak give up kasi diorang buat sendiri, tapi outcome mesti macam taik. Kalau budak laki dalam grp aku pon bukan nye lebih baik. Diorang pon harap kan kite pompan. Abeh kalau semue harap kan pompan, pompan harapkan aku, abeh mati siol aku ni. Klas aku dah lah macam taik. Dah tak rela aku nak gi skolah hari2. Macam dah meluat tengok semue orang punye muke.

Aku rasa macam dah nak mati ni.


I can't believe Saturday is over. We had to go to Johor to visit my grandparents. Spent the whole day watching things on tv and persuading my father to watch the Last Samurai and trying to convince him that it really is a good movie. And then it was boredom all the way and broke fast with my grandparents (and my mum's mee rebus was really bitter! omg bad me.) Went to the mosque later on with my grandfather, and I wore really thin clothes because I knew it was going to be hot. But hell no, I was flabbergasted to find the mosque to be air conditioned. It was amazing, really. Newly renovated and the ceiling was spectacular and the floors were carpeted and it was actually freezing inside. It was okay, and it was really fast, and the 'imam' was this 19 year old guy. Woot, okay.

I wish my posts could be less monotonuos. Wow, I wish I was better than this.

I don't see the point of anyone sparking a conversation on msn when they've really got nothing to say. They ask you how you're doing when they don't actually want to know. Sometimes, they don't even make any effort of keep a convo going after like 4 sentences. If you're not keen on being any more interesting, then fine, don't even say hello. That's why sometimes, when these 'kind' of people start a convo, I don't bother myself with them. It's such a waste of time, and they make you feel really shitty after that.

I don't like needy people either. They treat you like toilet paper, and clutch on to you as if you're some kind of mother jesus or something. There's really no point in consoling them because they dead anyway. Hey, if you can't help yourself, no one can. You're better of dead. Doomed in hell, I dare say. Well, you know, immature. I can't be their mother all the time. Stupid little fuckers.

Just thank god I'm a lot nicer offline.


(Damn it, this entry was supposed to be up yesterday. But blogger was being such an ass, and it didn't come up. )

I always thought crying like a fucking wuss over nothing was a no-no, until I tried it myself. Surprisingly, I felt better after that. I wish I could cry everyday like no one cares, because letting myself go once in a while is really, being myself. I hate being a fucking wuss. It’s hard to weep. I don’t weep. Only once in a blue moon.

Today was pretty okay. I came to school at 8.30, like an idiot, and spent my time doing nothing at all. It was delightfully unenjoyable. I wish I was smart enough to wake up late and not set the alarm. Listened to them rehearsing, and I thought how cool it would be if I could pick up my guitar and re-learn everything. I totally forgot everything I learnt(not the sec 2 music lessons!)/ self-taught.

When the guys pretended to wrestle, it was hilarious. Really. I haven’t laughed that much in ages.

I think I looked like a fucking clown during the skit. I mean, the lame ugly expressionless disgusting bad clown. More like a nutter, yep. I’m a bastard, so shoot me.

Youtube is a marvellous thing. I don’t really hang around there much; when I go online, I just do nothing and stare at the green screen playing solitaire. It’s such a lonely game, but it’s okay. I’m used to spending my time alone- not that I enjoy any of it. Well, back to you tube. I was looking for Awie (oh you know, fond memories.) and found Search instead. FYI, Amy Search is this man, whom I’ve been in love with since I was born. I think the first thing my dad let me listen as soon as I was born was ‘Isabella’ by Amy. They even let me watch the movie, which I have no recollection on. So aside from hippie Beatles, I grew up listening to Search, Amy and all that malay rock stuff. (Well that explains my soft side towards Awie and such, a lot.)

If I could find this movie, it would be awesome. And somehow I find that devil in the background quite disturbing. I don’t like devils with their tongues sticking out. Haha, and probably because I’ve been singing this song before I could even talk, I’m obsessed with cliché love tragedies.





WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME TODAY?
OR RATHER, EVERYDAY?

I'm so sorry if I appeared aloof. I've been really shitty as a person lately.


Now I don't really have time to go online in the night because I'm going for terawih prayers. Muahaha, finally. Last night was actually the first time I did terawih in a mosque, like whoah. Usually mum drags me into her room for terawihs(and so far I did only twice! kwa kwa kwa[omg, I just said kwa kwa kwa. How melayu can i get?!]...) It was so tiring and hot. I went home all sleepy and groggy and spilled slurpee all over the place in 7-eleven. =[

Well anyways,6 nights left till Hari Raya, so I'm just taking opportunity to do good and redeem myself.

Dad's got no use for his cds in the car and brought them back homeeee. YES. I got him Deep Purple's 'Banana'a few years ago and he hated it like mad and left it to rot inside the car, and now that it's back, I can steal it from him. He lost the casing though, and it's such a pity.

May I reiterate how much I despise going to class? I was on the verge of clawing someone's eyeballs today. And really, I mean, my blood rose up till up *there* and I was so fooking pissed, annoyed and irritated, and was going to yell vulgarities. I said the f-word a couple of times today though, and I'm fasting. That's like a few points deducted from my 'are you going to heaven?' scoresheet. Oh why oh why. Why do I always get to be in sucky 'associations'? (and this doesn't include group 2 gyls. Haha, that was by far, the awesome-st 'group I've been in.)

Is it even possible to change classes? Hell, like I'd ever make new friends there.
So the only solution is to study like mad and do well, and go to DARE. How stupid was I, ranking DARE after DME, eventhough I was well enough to get into DARE. AHHH, fish.


I just bought an outfit for hari raya. It looks like a wedding dress! Haha, I mean, the Malay wedding outfit. It's white and glittery and all. Oh man. My sister said I can recycle it for my wedding like 10 years later. I want to take pictures of it haha. Must wait until 'jalan raya.' Oh man, I look like a bride with a missing partner. Oh gosh. Takpe la, my first white baju in the history of ever.

Ahhh, it looks like my Cik Lin's baju kahwin can?

Okay, stop brooding over it. It's pretty, and that's all that matters.


I don't know. I think school is just depressing. Not that I prefer being at home or outside, all alone. All will pass, and everything will be alright. In the meantime, all I can do is at least 'try' to make things work. God, it's so much easier to get depressed and let things 'unfold' on their own, knowing that nothing good can ever happen just waiting at the sideline. Is it possible to change class? GAH, I hate sitting there like a nut while everyone else around me talks in chinese. Hell, it's so depressing... and lonely. Like I haven't got loneliness burdening me most of the time. =\ I like being around people, just to cover up the disease that's inside. Again, I'm sorry if this entry is jumbled up. It's all up there in my head bursting to get out.

And right now, I'm suddenly grinning to myself. I'm fooking crazy, I knew it.

You know I've been meaning to write and couldn't? I was on the verge of OD-ing and destroying myself. Someone told me to write it all down, and I posted it on my deviantart, had 13 people reading it afterwards. I get possessed when I come up with something, unaware. I think, it's by far, the crappiest thing I've ever written. It sounds like it came from a journal(and is supposed to be.) Critise, worry, read, whatever.

It’s just tonight, that I feel this way. This need to cut myself, to slice open my skin, to taste my own blood. The rusty razor hidden in the little box beckons to me, ‘Come to me now, let the sadness pass.’ But I will not; not tonight. I must pray that I’ll be saved from this mindless game and dangerous hobby. My eyes are dry; I feel my inner pain drumming within the unwelcoming abyss. Right now I’m thinking to myself, let me cut, let me cut, just this once, the last time, I want to slice open my skin. I imagine myself being consumed by my own self-hate, as I succumb to the voices, and they are not of the demons, but my own. As soon as I touch the little box, reality hits my face again, and I push it away.

‘No I will not,’

I promised. But tonight, it’s getting worse, and my promises are becoming empty, and the self-reassurances turning into pathetic lies. I’m thinking of the consequences. I’m thinking of my future in hell. I’m only thinking of going back into the black hole.

Oh would it be good if I could wake up tomorrow with wounds on my arms and meticulous lines on my wrists? Would it be good if I could wake up tomorrow with blood crusts on my clothes? Would it be good if I wake up again in my grave where it is moist?

All this in the name of writing.

All this in the name of writing.

This deadly passion that I have been consumed into. It has been days since I wrote something. It has been days since I last cut. All this in the name of writing. I need to cut my arms to write again. I need to be sucked into the black hole to write again. I want to throw away what possible happiness that I have left in order to put ink onto that paper- all in the name of writing.

It’s just tonight, that I feel this way. I don’t think I can go through this night safely. I see visions of myself swallowing handfuls of that deadly poison, and again, I feel like vomiting. Self-destruction is the key to inner peace. My rusty razor, my rusty razor… come to me now and let this sadness pass- and then would I be able to write again, and make sense of the chaos dominating this inevitable silence.


I honestly don’t understand why the fucking west critises us for being ‘close-minded’ and ‘traditional’. My bad for making msn.co.uk my homepage. Or should I say, I’m lucky enough to be bothered to read uk news. It’s all religion, race, and what the fuck. Should muslim women with veils be sacked?

And then they blame us (‘us’ being muslims like me, hey you.) for being sensitive to critism, not open to change and not open to debate. How dare you judge us when you don’t even know a single thing. You don’t even know what that hijab is for, and you don’t know anything, not even bothering to understand. It’s a choice, it’s not oppression. Now look who’s talking about being ‘narrow’ and ‘not open to debate’.

And what the hell are you doing in these countries, muslim people? Honestly, why not go somewhere better where there is no discrimination? I don’t get why you move to the west, and what the fuck, and get this shit treatment. You honestly enjoy these sick people who don’t understand a thing, spitting at your face?

Oh my god, I just don’t understand it. The world is a screw up.

It’s like the past happening again, during the time of the prophet, when we’re not allowed to practise our religion.

It’s sick, all of this. It’s not even funny anymore.

And I’m not enthusiastic to bitch about it. It’s the holy month, better not to care at all. Prepare for afterlife and heaven, that’s all that I’m aiming for right now.

It's like V for Vendetta happening.


I'm just feeling so blah right now.
Everyone is judging me. Silently saying behind my back, 'right ana, as if you're worth it. go and fucking die, you can't do anything good with your life.'
Again, probably just my imagination. But whatever, hell, I'm sure they are.

I'm addicted to Ramli Sarip's 'Bukan kerna nama.'
I don't listen to malay songs ever. Today is a revolution.

meh.


I put on 'The Hours' soundtrack for inspiration. Depressing music helps me. It didn't come. On my way home, I saw the homeless old lady again, and was inspired. Overcame with lethargicness, I put that idea aside and soon forgot about it. Tried to write something later in the night again, and still, nothing came. All I wrote were a few rubbishy sentences- just bad writing. Tossed the idea aside, and scanned through my working piece(a novel that hasn't got a promising future.) Found it undoubtly shitty and unsatisfactory. Again, I had no inspiration to edit anything.

I have not written in ages. It makes me so queasy and restless.

If I don't cut, I can't write. If I'm not in a black hole, I can't write.
I just feel like cutting right now, so that I can get back to writing.

And I don't know why, I'd like to post a prose that's available on my DA. For inspiration maybe? Hell whatever. I'm just a writer, trying to convey myself.

A Secret by Rafhana

Walking around again, in the empty corridors, walking into the dark and empty rooms, with rolled up sleeves, baring her war wounds. It was not pride, it was not hatred, it was beauty that they possessed that never failed to marvel her. How exquisite, how red and raw, how dead but alive it made her feel. Her eyes were open, but not seeing, she was merely contemplating her fate. Looking at her arms that were scarcely arms anymore, only a messy battlefield, she gazed upon a new light. This was not anger; this was not hate. It was not anything, but it was something. Something that told a story or a life she had wasted, trying to avoid it so desperately. Those war wounds were the marks of her making, her battle with the devil, the pack she made to her master, to vanquish innocence and bliss. It was not anger- it was only sadness. Remarkable sadness that she could not convey through tears, but only in blood. What agony, what a distasteful way to express, how much blood has been spilled.

There was no one at home. The house was empty, abandoned, unlived. It made her happy, for she could walk around bearing her scars. It has been long, since Emily saw her hands. She had hid it away from the world and herself for days. It was so typical of Emily; always keeping secrets, always needing a secret to hide. If there were no longer a secret, she would make a new one. Secrecy led her to this day. Secrets were the only way she could live, for then she would have a reason to live, to defend and hide it away. But today, she was alone. She had a secret she wanted to see.

It was no secret now; she had exposed herself to the emptiness of the house, and she said to the walls, ‘Look, here is my hand, here is my secret. Look at my war wounds; they are like the marks on you.’ Then she stood there in the darkness, beside the window where a ray of light was present. She raised her arm to the light again, to see the damage clearly.

It was amazement at first, then it was admiration for what she had done, and then a moment later it was hatred. It was foolish to be proud of her war wounds. It was foolish to adore them, for they were only sadness and repulsion. And yet, she pranced around, with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, dancing like a graceful swan, her hair tossed in the air as if being blown by some magical wind. How much freedom she felt being so alone, how relieved it was to be able to bare everything. How easy it was, to embrace a secret.

She was spinning too fast, faster, faster, and she dropped down. Now she looked like a broken piece of glass, so deformed and unsightly. Now the light did not shine. Her arms looked like a disgraced masterpiece, and she pondered on the floor for a moment, and opened her eyes, not seeing. What fate is this, she thought, always living with secrets, always wanting a reason to stay alive? Was it not clear to her that the war wounds did not affect her anymore; she was so used to the pain and torture that it was redundant to inflict more? This was the time to die, to die and fade away forever. And the house was empty, alone, forbidding.

It was easy. It was easy keeping secrets. But it was not easy living with them.

There was a knock on the door outside and the footsteps became louder. Quickly she rolled down her sleeves. The secret became a secret again.

---


I guess I was too 'consumed' in my own world; accepted the fact that I'm different, and I'll never be normal. My whole life, all I wanted to do was to be normal. I'm not disabled, deaf or blind. You'd never understand, or at least, I've accepted the fact that not many 'normal' people understand, no matter how hard you try to justify your actions. Why I do certain things, why everyday feels as though I've failed my exams, why I don't form close relationships with people, why I can't make eye contact with anyone. I was in my own community, exiled myself from the world of 'normal' people and come to terms that I'll never be one of them no matter how hard I try to fit in.

Borderline personality disorder.

Someone said we shouldn't self-diagnose, because one day, it'll lead us to believe that we're actually that 'disease'.

So it means if we purge after meals, binge, and vomit out blood, and manage to keep a constant weight... and have been suffering for years, I guess we're not bulimic? Whatever. People self-diagnose because they're scared of doctors. I'm not implying anything. I'm not giving you my diag-nonsense. I'm just saying. You know, just dispersed unfathomable thoughts that you wouldn't understand.

So here we are, in this world we created, thinking we're living in false pretences. Being this fucking clown to fit in when you can't, and smile as though you mean it. Just trying to be this 'strong' person just to appear normal. And then when we're alone, in the dark, and there's no one to perform to, we fall apart and start destroying ourselves. And funny liquid called 'tears' start staining our faces and there we are, helpless and almost dead. And we just get tired of pretending and everyday seems like a burden, breathing becomes a chore. If one day, one day we could just escape and fly to somewhere green and blissful. So here we are thinking, no one understands.

And we don't know, that almost everyone feels the same. Everyone has that mask, everyone acts and looks happy but is dying inside. Maybe not all the time, but there are days that you need to pretend. No one is a fucking clown. Truth is, you're not alone, as I've realised. It's only that no one really talks about it. Because we're constantly living in secrecy, and to expose it, is to fail at life(Again, that is my view on it.)

And so now I'm thinking, don't be stupid, I'm not alone.

Because I'm not lucky enough to possess some kind of a 'special secret best friend', I guess there's just this fucking public blog that I turn to. At least, I know, someone's reading, and it makes my existence more worthwhile. If you read up to this point, thank you for caring, at least.

As for the being 'normal', I guess I'm doing fairly good now. I'm well on my way to 'normal-ness', leaving that old world of mine, rather reluctantly. Change is always a scary experience.



Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net


Okay so The Killers cd won't work on my laptop. =[ Depressing indeed.

I borrowed George Orwell's Nineteen-Eighty-Four from the school's library. It's a pretty good read, and expect politics from George Orwell. We did a passage from the book WAYYYY back in Literature last year(that's not so long ago, but I'm using caps and extra letters to create a dramatic effect, and of course, by adding words inside this bracket, it defeats the purpose, and now you're going to think me lame and no life-y and are probably going to throw rocks at me. Ah, oh well.) It was about rats and how this guy Williams was turned into a rat or was attacked by an angry mob of ratties? Yeah whatever. It's been ages since I saw Mrs Foo. Haha and everytime I think of Mrs Foo, this image of a man being strapped to a bed and huge rats being set upon him and he's being eaten alive as if he's old green cheese, comes to my mind. So anyway, I'm only through the first 3 chapters and I can't say my views on it, cause you never know, 5 chapters later I might go, OMGX ZZZ XX!! DIZ BOOKZZZ SUCKSS HARDCORE YA MOFO XXXXX!11 @i NO GO LIBRARY AfTer dizzz!#.

As pathetic as it sounds, it was fun to type like that (well, with capslock on all the way anyway.)

Naoto lookalike is related to a classmate. OMG. No way. Now it's getting harder to keep a straight face. Man, whatever. I just have to keep in mind that I'm ugly and disgusting, and that ought to keep me sane for a while.

I was seriously pissed on the way home. I'm getting intorably irritable. I was about to smack everyone on the train. 2 people stared at me and I wanted to screw their eyeballs out, and this woman like spread her legs so widely and put her feet in front of mine okay. WTF. I spread my legs wider and put my feet really close to hers, just to see how irritated she'll get. Why are commuters so damn annoying? Walao eh, take the bus can? Or maybe it's just me. I hate litter bugs, I hate irritating commuters, I don't like cranky old people, and it doesn't give them a reason to be mean just because they're old. ARGH, I hate people because most of them are so mean.

and 'spread legs' sound so porntastic. ah, sorry.

Yeah I got home, my 5 year old sis pissed me off totally. Now I'm just super f-pissed off and locked inside my room with Teh Killars. And mum's not going to go to work until Hari Raya, and that means, home will not be a welcoming place in the mean time. I try to keep and open mind and just let her be kind and just let my opinions on her just fade away, and I do that everyday. Forgive and forget; it's over. But no... at 5 she'll start... you know. I can't stand it. But somehow it's getting much easier to just ignore it, and keep the frustration inside. If she nags me or shouts at me, I don't answer, I just ignore. Just... whatever. It's my blasted life, and it's my choice to destroy it.

Up to this point, I can't see my future. Or at least, I can't see what I've envisioned it to be. Bet I'll be the lot of underacheivers. CHOY CHOY, Ramadhan can't say anything anyhow.

There are many things ahead of me. But I feel like a 70-year-old woman who has not grown up already. The world is ending, and I'm slowly decaying into a heap of dust. No one cares, no one loves. There is no time for prayers, no time for repenting. Only resentment and anger for not doing more than what I could've achieved- if only I had taken that opportunity to make a change. Or maybe I did take the chances, but made temporary changes... temporary happiness, permanent despair. Facing the threat of my extinction every single day. Not sleeping in the dark, battling invisible demons that are ever so terrible, battling fear. Not a second since the eye last rested, they are opened once again to see what is beside the bed, behind the door, over my head, what are the sounds? Unanswered questions, silent screams, trepidation- fear. Exhausted of breathing. Exhausted of the incessant boredom.

Everything will be alright.

(I'm starting to sound like Kingshaw.)

I just don't want tonight to be like last night or every other night that I try to keep awake to see my surroundings, making sure no one's watching me.

I do need a life beside writing and nonsensical sketching. It's doing weird things to my head.

YES, jas! If you wanna go gym, tell meeee! It'll let me release my frust, that's for sure.

GRAHHH!



Alright, I have 10 minutes.

Gah, okay so, uhhhh, shit, I have actually nothing good to update about(not that every entry I make here is good in any way.) I've been away from the computer because I've been watching cook shows. I want to bake some cookies and cook Italian food! I want to go spotlight and get new yarn and fabric and make something! Ah, I want to do a lot of things that I'm so not prepared to bust my budget for.

Blah blah. Now that the haza has gone down, I'm going to wake up early for a run before school. I'm kinda needing a gym partner... anyone? Shit, I miss Tiara and going to the gym and the pool. SHIT DAMN IT Tiara, stop being busy.

I hate IDEAS. I loathe it. It needs to be burned and exiled and crucified and whatever rubbish to make it extinct. I was at one stupid drawing for about an hour and it totally wasted my whole night. WTF, die die die!

Grah, mum's here.


If you wait for HIM to come, then how long will you wait? Haha forever? Sometimes you've just got to make things happen. Be outgoing, be spontaneous. If you like someone, go for it! (Yeah right, I'm one big talker. lol. My aussie friend always say that to me - 'go for it! You don't know if you don't try!') I'm just being random really. It's just a thought, only a thought.

Basically, I went out with Jaja yesterday but I'll write about it tommorow and put up lame pictures. Hahaha.

In the meantime...

go ahead and puke seeing my stupid face!




Sooner or later, I've got to accept the fact that my parents aren't fond of talking to me anymore. I'm jealous of people who get to tell their parents about anything under the sun. I'm jealous of people who get to hang around with their mum and discuss things like the stresses in life, for example. I don't have that life, and probably, a lot of other people don't either.


And even though nobody's looking,
she's falling apart.

This is probably one of the most unintelligent blog ever. I add a few personal touches here and there, and well probably too much. Too much that you probably know everything about me. I only don't talk about my past though it's still part of me no matter how hard I try to run away. You don't know anything about my crushes either. Haha, so I'm not totally exposed afterall.

I'm just so fucking tired. I had dragonboat training yesterday and it was really depressing. My whole body is aching and I can't move without experiencing excruciating pain. And mum's really not happy with the training days. She isn't talking to me much anymore. I did 10kg yesterday anyway. yay for me.

I feel so sick every morning that I puke all my 'sahur' and feel really weak throughout the rest of the day. What the hell is wrong with me. I get thirsty around 8am and how am I supposed to endure fasting like this? And worse, there's training. (I don't think I can go anymore though. I don't want to severe my ties with mum.) =[
Fuck.

I'm actually sick of my classmates (not my lecture class though. They're a bundle of joy. *coughs*)

I'm so sick of self-centred people. Hell I'm a great listener. Most of the time I prefer to listen. But I cannot stand selfish, self-obsessed people. I despise them for not being able to grow out of it. Just when I was about to talk about my great weekend or whatever, here they go, 'ya we also. who cares, blah blah blah.' SHUT THE FUCK UP ASSHOLE. I know you're great and fucking cool and your world is full of shit that I'll die to live in, but hey, give me a break wanker. It's not the first time. It's probably the millionth time. 'Hey you know, this happened to...'
'OH YAH, last time...blah blah fucking blah!!!'

GAH. Fuck off. Get a fucking life man, and get therapy. I'm just so fucking sick of it. Oh yeah, the world fucking revolves around you doesn't it? Frankly, I don't actually care if your fucking spider ate your pet crocodile or that you eat cow dung with frog eyes for dinner. It's always the same story. Haven't you figured out we're so sick of it already?

You know what, I need a break. I want to spend time with great people. Not shitting motherfuckers.

After db yesterday I was depressed and was just contemplating. When you're tired, everything is just bursting to get out. And I said to myself, 'right, when I get home, I am going to cry.' It doesn't matter if it's an act of weakness, but I let myself go in the shower. I break things when I'm angry, and when I'm sad, I make sure I make myself angry so I can break things and do shit. God, it feels so much better to just let go like no one's business. Just so many things running in my mind, and I know I'm not even half as bad as other people.

It's just low esteem. That's all. It's only the people I can't click with. It's only my weight. It's only my face. It's only self-hatred. Only that.

I'll be alright.

My boobs are shrinking. Help. I hate it when you lose weight, and it's that sacred area that depletes first.

That's so random, but oh well.

I love you, whoever's reading this.


Exhauste exhauste! (Sheesh come on, give me a break. I'm only trying to speak Italian. Hah.)

School started at 8am and ended at 9.30 pm for me on Mondays. Cause I decided to make something out of my life and took the CIB. OMG guess what JC people? I'm taking econs. WTH. Econs okay. I just don't get it much. the increase in demand will result to an increase in the price, but when the price decreases there is an increase in quantity demand... WTF. I don't even think I'm right there, but whatever.

That Puteri Santubong poked me yesterday. My arm hurts right now. And you know that he doesn't know my name? He calls me 'tudung'. Not that I mind, it's just that I find it ridiculousy funny.

And look! It's 6 in the morning and I'm here blogging. I need therapy. Mum's going to shout at me cause I'm not doing anything religious right now. I'm listening to Arctic Monkeys (<- Thanks Chikka. =D)

Okay I so need to bathe. Farewell fair cruelty!


I managed to escape religious class by sleeping. Yesh, there's no way I'm waking up even if mum shouts at me. Well I didn't think she did.

I don't like going for religious classes. They're reality checks. Like I'm going to die and go to hell. We don't learn anything much there, only constant reminders of what we've learnt before. Mum forces me to go, so I'd just have to agree to disagree. Does it help to know that none of the people I know go madrasah anymore?

During the weekend I was away for PSC camp. I thought it was going to be exciting really. But it turned out to be nothing much, for me at least. I went inside the pool with my jeans and tudung. Hahaha. I think I looked like a nut in there.

I've been having nasty dreams about someone. Haha, paranoid I guess. I've been having the feeling that someone must really hate me. But it didn't turn out that way. Phew.

The nightwalk was just a way to kill time. We had to go through pitch black tunnels in pairs. At first I was a bit scared and held on to Zakiyyah. But it was okay and I thought this whole thing was stupid. I didn't feel a thing, except for the toolshed part. It had a weird green glow to it and I felt like something was sitting there looking at us. Well actually, the whole time I was scared of getting possesed or my partner getting possesed. Didn't happen anyway.

I think that night people found out weird things about me. Like, if I don't know how to pronounce a word, I would spell it out. Haha kinda like, 'Hey, the old changi hospital was a m-a-s-s-a-c-r-e site right?' True or not if it was the place the Japanese soldiers decided to go hunting, I don't know. And, I get lost working my way through the school. I always get lost walking from the library to the MM block.
So there you go. Two of my pathetic personality traits.

I think I wasn't THAT scared during the nightwalk cause I know NO sp ghost stories. None at all. That's how HUGE my sp social life is.

At midnight we walked to Tsomething to get some water. Freaky walk, cause it was dark. Haha, fun though. Sat there for sometime and I felt something touch my butt. Oh wow, what a place. We went back, but Az decided to take a newer route- which got us locked out of the school. Lesson learnt: NEVER EVER follow Az. He has a severe case of madness. Lol. He sort of jumped over the huge gate. We couldn't do it so we went through the construction barrier. Haha shush.

Watched a movie, yadayadaydada, and that woman in that movie flashed her tits. Well, not 'flashed' but the camera showed her tits for a few seconds. Oh man. TITS. I need to get away from them. Girl porn turns me on. I'm not gay, but errr haha I'm just weird like that.

Highlight of the camp was actually going for sahur. It was my first time walking that far at 3am in the morning. I didn't want to be the last because hey it's 3am, something might just be behind you. Scaredy cat. And we came across this stupid mat gangster on this motorbike. They were screaming at us, saying' WOOOO budak SP!!! (blah blah blah. They spoke in some weird malay slang which I couldn't comprehend.) Feeeweeet!!!' Ey come on la, if you're too stupid to get into a poly, pick on people who are as intellectually challenged as you. Don't embarrass yourself. These people deserve to die really. Get a fucking life man.

Az was doing his morning' exercises', jumping around and climbing walls and swinging on the monkey bars and stuff. Deprived. tsk tsk. I wish I could be fun like that. I always feel that I'm too old for anything and hence my life is rountinely unexciting. Well obviously he isn't like that. It must be really fun to be him.

I ate a few mouthfuls during sahur. I felt like vomiting and the rice was incredibly spicy. Oh wow, my first time eating out that early. I'm really pathetic, I know.

The journey back was thrilling. I had to pee, and we were locked out. We had to climb over the huge gate. Thrilling cause firstly, there's a security camera, secondly, it was really high and there's no way I'll get over it unscathed.

Got up second last. 'No I can't do it la! I'm too short! Oh no. I'm stuck!' All the excuses I gave. I heard my pants ripped btw. (OMG! Errr, hope no one saw that.) Damn it was scary, cause I really thought I was going to fall. My legs were too short. Az was like, 'If she fall, you all save her face first ah.' Lol. I hate being fat. Ugh. You can't do a lot of things. Finally climbed over it with a lot of whining and morbid thoughts later.

We watched 'Hitch' afterwards and I fell asleep and was awake again, and asleep then awake. Boring. Got back to our bunk and ended up tossing and turning, and not sleeping at all. It was too cold and I had to pee, and I had a stomachache. I stepped on some kind of stone in the dark and my toe is still throbing a lot now.

AND I DIDN'T BATHE! Can you fucking believe that. Deodrant and new clothes are saviours.

I was kinda sad to go home. Because there's madrasah, and there are parents to deal with at home. Well I'm home now, and my parents haven't spoken a word to me. I went to bed and couldn't sleep peacefully. Argh, damn renovations upstairs, and loud teevees.

Damn, I didn't think I said proper goodbyes to people. And that raffles dude was nice to me and I didn't say bye! Oh no, I feel horrible.

Grahhhh. I want to sleep in school again and break in and out of school for sahur again. And talk about boys! I'm so deprived la. I'm a worthless git who likes to talk about boys, sometimes. I'm so minah la! WTH. But really, I find it appalling that I have no one to talk to about the male species except for Zak and Nadya. EVERYONE'S GAY. I FUCKING KNEW IT. FUCKING GAY.

I like my colourful tudung. It makes me look like a happy git. Lol.

hey, tag me la. my tagboard kinda no social life you know.
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