AkImA No NiKkI

Last night was the first time I attended a party that consisted more than 4 people whom I'm comfortable with. Usually, it's not even a question worth answering if I would ever attend such a thing with people I barely tolerate, much less strangers, but considering these people are classmates I've shared 4 unfortunate years together, it's bearable. At the very least, there are none who I would call strangers in the midst. My limit of people to be around are normally within 4-5 acquaintances, or preferably, friends. 6 is just pushing it. Although it has to be said that it was very different from the class outing I participated (forced) back on the graduation night of Foundation year in Shah Alam. That one was an outing, and despite having less acquaintances and more people-whose-face-I-regularly-see-but-do-not-interact-with, I had ample space to be alone and not constricted by physical walls to be trapped around.  This one was an actual in-the-house, food-drinks-arou

I've just finished Kimetsu no Yaiba during the weekends, or updated to the current episode, at least, and somehow managed to finish Dororo in the span of two days. I feel like I have to keep that up in order to survive this semester. Something to occupy my mind with things that doesn't stress me out. I'm starting on Goblin Slayer next, and who knows what else. God Eater, maybe. Or Noragami. Or Gintama. Anything that's long series. Well, I can always rewatch Haikyuu if need be.  It's practically my go-to sad meds by now. Although I have to be careful so as to not let that disturb my sleep schedule. I've been sleeping really good since I moved in. I still get nightmares, sometimes, but they're really scarce for some reason here. There could be some logical, explainable reason why one of the places I can't seem to sleep is my home back in Kelantan.  Could be because I don't tire myself out like I do here in college, or because often times there

Things have been calm, at least for now. It's bound to get hectic soon, as always, but the beginning is slow and relaxed. A familiar instinct knowing it's all a deceiving farce yet taking the lie as it's presented anyway because we know there won't be any more after. Get the win however we can, yknow. I'm slowly getting used to writing again. Proven by these close updates of increasing blog posts, hahaha. I don't know if I'll ever get back into cross-stitching again -maybe if an inspiration strikes or something, but for now I have no motivation to stitch something into creation.  It could be good for me, given how cross-stitching had seemed to give me the impression that I am stitching parts of myself together with my own hands thread by thread, spending time and effort and pouring my sweat into something I can be proud of, but I'm not there yet. I'm taking my time with retrieving parts of me forgotten by the grief of Beloved's loss, the fig

It's one of those blessed good nights. The sky is starry, the moon is out, there is a cool breeze going in and out and dancing across the room pirouetting their way out the window in the living room where I sit in front of my laptop at the table, sipping my sweet lemon tea, warmth from freshly boiled water creeping through my body. I thought about changing out of the tank top into something comfier, but I figured the soft pastel of blue and white matches my emotions for now so I leave it be.  I couldn't find my soft pink kitty paws sweater anyway. It's been an ass-numbing day, despite waking up well-rested and having breakfast with good coffee with Jack on the phone -with the townhall meeting made obligatory for final year students. Granted, it lit up some educational lightbulbs with good Q&As but it was the notion that mattered. My ass was numb. This week has been hot because of the haze, global warming, and the slow easy puttering sound of our earth wheez

There are times when I feel grief over losing Beloved. I know it's just empty grief. A feeling of loss over the idealized version of them. Feelings of betrayal over what had happened that ended with waves of emptiness. When I have no words to portray these, knowing some people would take it as "I'm not yet moving on" or "It's been forever, get over it" or "this is a new level of pathetic", I keep the grief to myself. Coming from strangers wouldn't have done anything, but I don't know what I would've done had it came from someone I trusted to be there for me -someone I thought who would hold me. Because it's not like that.  I have  moved on. I don't stay up nights wishing with all the hope in my heart they would come back to me. I don't cry myself for hours in showers, reminiscing all that I should've done and could've done. I can say their name and remember their face with a smile on my lips, knowing they

So it's the first week of my final semester as a degree TESL student. I'll be soon swamped with assignments and deadlines and meetings with my supervisor about my AE, or otherwise known as thesis or FYP (final year project). Granted, I hope I will be able to finish it on time and graduate on time without problems.  Aaaaaand I just jinxed myself.  Great. We're going on a great start, y'all. My new renthouse is situated on level four this semester, though luckily I got somewhere within the same apartment compound and the same block so I don't have to re-familiarize myself with the environment. But the whole level four thing is really huge because my legs are still cramping and I'm out of breath like an asthmatic person by the time I reach my house.  No joke, I actually cried a little thinking when I had to lug all of my shit when I moved in. Without the help of the contractor -he came over to have me sign tenant contract and shit, I would've probab