AkImA No NiKkI

I've gotten used to say goodbye and not expecting a reply. Isn't that pathetic? Gotten used to being dismissed with just a word or a sentence or even a flick of the head. I'm tired of being the backup plan. I don't want to wait,because I'm done waiting. I had wasted 9 years of my stupid life waiting for a jerk that later betrayed me and broke everything I had on relationships. Confidence. Affections. Love. All of which I am still struggling to recover. Bit by bit.

I had great fun today with Dibah and a primary school classmate of mine (can't put her name since I don't know her well.) .She asked me to a UTM program for SPM graduates and it sounds good and since I don't have any plans either,I agreed. Besides,it was a nice opportunity to have a reason to go to a SMO book festival held at Dewan Jubli Perak,KB .I doubt it has the kind of vintage books Onee-san and I have been looking for but it's worth a try. See,when we were lying on the grass at the field at the DJP,she showed me a text of her guy friend telling her a weird dream.It was a very weird dream,indeed.Personally,I think it's because he has weirder minds.Weird minds create weird dreams,no? It's not the dream that's the problem.It's the way he talks to her. Trash talks. I don't like trash talks.I fuckin HATE trash talks. They're different from swearing.I have no absolute problems about swearing because hell,I swear like a fuckin sailor o

She's under pressure,I get it.I understand. She's stressed out and in need of constant lash out. Well lash outs need punching bag because you can't lash out at the floating air.It's illogical though that never stopped some people before. My problems being some of the reasons that causes her the pressure and stress,it makes sense that I should be the punching bag.I understand. It doesn't mean I enjoy it. It hurts like shit when she lash out but all I have to do is shut my stupid mouth and take it silently,keeping my comments and tears to myself. It's tiring,and it feels like every lash seeps out my energy just to stay still.I may have fled the house more often than I used to,if not for the reason of releasing some steam off my head. I just hope I could bear it long enough. The tears were not meant to be seen or heard by anyone. It was my secret with God.

Season 2 of Hannibal makes drastic developments in the plots. The good news is,I've stopped being grossed out by Hanny's raw cooking of human insides.Or is that actually a bad news? Meh.  *shrugs* Season 1 didn't show much of Hanny,zooming into the left and right of Will's already-unstable-and-pushed-to-the-limit mind. Not saying it's a bad plot,rather awesome really because that leads to the understanding of later on in the next season. Season 2 is more of an enlightenment of Hanny's behaviour.That move with Alana was a really dick move,pretty sure even Peter won't go that far but at least he's not a cannibal but then again,who knows? He's called Crazy Peter for a reason. Jack is really slow for an FBI and is denial his default setting because for some reason even Jackass Frederick could see the obvious. Alana is the stupid bitch who hops back and forth like a whore.First Will,now Hanny.Next should be Jack after his wife died of freaking c

At this wee hours of morning,I'm pretty sure my brain have stopped functioning therefore leaving my mouth to ramble all I want.Much like Stiles,really. Except that I'm not half deep in shit to save some huge ungrateful werewolf asses.I literally have hard time believing Google actually holds all the answers to mankind which by the way,way too exaggerating because really. Google? No offense,they're awesome as fuck and all but not to that point. I'm in the middle of watching Hannibal season 2 and just closed my last fill of Sterek pack bonding family fluffy fics.Tell me those two combinations are weird beyond belief. *roll eyes* I thought about the whole snapping and depression and humiliation thing before with Mom and Dad and Onee-san.The thing about my result. I suppose it's a bit immature of me to act so dramatic over the whole thing.My insecurities are my own case.I wasn't supposed to blame them for it. More often than not,I tend to feel inadequate i

Lies.Lies. Lies . All lies . Mom lied to me.Dad's probably the worst. Blaming me .Blaming me for not working hard enough for the result I got. When we went to get my result,Mom said it was okay . She was satisfied .Then why tell me I'm not enough NOW ? Why tell me I didn't work hard enough NOW ? Liars. And the worst thing is,I can't even go to my sister for this.Because why? Because she'd say the same thing.That I'm useless . Worthless . not enough . Is it because I didn't show them? Is it because I kept on putting that brave,bold,carelessly easygoing unstressful font? Is it because I hid my humongously growing insecurities and tears when I could barely keep myself together in the middle of the fucking night alone,locked in my room? I gave it all I've got. Why isn't that good enough for them? I'm not good at improvising.I answered the questions as best as I could even when I've never seen the damn pattern all my 5 years of s

I was sick. That's all I'm going to say if people ever point this out. I'm going to blame this all on my fever no matter what any human say. Last night,I think I've outdone myself in embarrassing myself even more to that person.Granted,he'd seen all kinds of embarrassing sides of me but I think this must be the worst.I blame this on the fever. Fully . I can't say they're lies no matter how much I wished them to be because they're not.They are the truest of truth I've ever spoken out of my brains. I was scared. The simple fact was that. The images have been haunting me for weeks and with my stupid flu setting in,they got worse.They became nightmares.I see them when I close my eyes and I see them still when I blink. They do.They really do. It's horrendously humiliating to admit that at 18 going on 19,I have a monster under my bed.Well,more like at the edge of my bed. A monster . Maybe it's my suppressed childishness since my

Mom and Dad are stressed and they don't have time for me and my failures. She was right to call me useless and worthless. Dad comes home with a smile and lovingly ruffles our hair and pats our heads and Mom tries to get busy with our schools and business. And here I am,wrapped in my self-hate and my ghosts swirling around inside my head,telling me all I already know. Maybe it's the fever talking.Maybe it's the sickness talking. But I wanted to crawl up in a hole and stay.

I'm not poetic or rhyming in my writing so when I write 'White Kitten' ,I literally mean a white kitten.It seems so many years ago when Onee-san and I had adopted our little bundle of orange tabbiness we call Noeru - after a main character of Kindan no Koi ,which she named therefore I shall take no responsibility whatsoever over it - when it had only been merely 3 years ago after Dad and Mukhlis found him shivering in the back storage on one stormy night. Noeru was more fuzzy and his long,bushy tail was crooked at the end. And he was smaller.Much,much smaller. I was 16 and she was preparing to go to IPG.Thus he was left to my care.I remember he was only the size of a tennis ball,barely fit in my palm. I kept him in my room for 4-5 months until he was old enough to take care of himself outside the safety of my room.Even in the chaos of my daily school and outdoor classes routines,he grew up remarkably well under my supervision. Sometimes I had to skip a class

As the picture says.

I checked the UCKG for the IPG interview and guess what? I didn't get in. Well,it's as good a reply as any.   *sigh* Though I hoped they would look past my general result and focused on my Eng one because this country clearly needs more English teachers running around,I guess they didn't. I admit,I'm sad and frustrated but for a while,let me bask in it just to get the point across.I'd always assumed that somehow I'd end up as a teacher just like Mom and Dad and Onee-san and most of our aunts and uncles and now,it just got shot into hell. I know that but still.... At first I was like, 'fine,they don't want me.Their loss.I could be a good teacher if I want to.I could teach a lot of kids proper English down right to British standards if I have to.I'll show them how UNQUALIFIED I am and shove it up their f*ckin asses and make them regret of ever turning me down,sons of b*tches.' but then I remembered the call from a staff of IIUM last wee

It's true. Making the person you love laugh is the best thing in the world. I absolutely 110% second that notion. Why?  Well,duh. Laughter are medicine.They literally and emotionally make you feel better,unless you're related to the Grinch. I for one,love to make people I love laugh.For someone like me to purposefully make fool of myself just to hear their laughter and watch them scrunch their faces cutely,forming laugh lines around their eyes speaks a lot. One of the reasons I love my moments at SMKIP.During preps,I would tell them stories once we're done with homeworks.Stories that made them laugh so hard,Hidayah and Faqie fell out of their chairs gasping with mirth on the floor. I smiled for days after that one.Seniors and batchmates alike stared at us but nothing mattered for us.Hearing them laugh was mesmerizing and nothing else in the world mattered. The twins will be Qie and me of course. Before bed,I would tell Qie a story until she nods off on my

Everything change.That's a fact. One we must accept to live on.I know this,and I accept.But it doesn't mean I have to like it.A change for the better is of course likeable. Time moves on and one by one,each of us walk forward,putting one step each minute every day.Everyone moves on. *sigh* I suppose it was inevitable.A duckling will grow up into a duck and will swim on it's own,like a little bird having to learn how to fly on it's own and leaving it's nest to build it's own. Having used to being relied on by peers and family,it's how I feel when one of them takes the first step of standing on their own feet.Parental much? I ought to be happy and proud of their conscious decision to not lean on my shoulder anymore but at the same time,it made me feel kinda lonely. One went.One absence. Being a negative thinker that I am,I sometimes thought that maybe it's just their way of cutting me off from their lives. I thought,after they could fly freel

Two days ago,I went out with some friends. As usual,topics of relationships arises during lunch.My replies were off-handed as usual.Kyo believes that there are people waiting for me which I scoffed sarcastically because,yeah right. *snort* I'm likely to believe pigs could fly rather than that . Then his friend started to ask things like how long mine lasted and such.I have no qualms remembering the details of my previous relationship with Akira because I've made peace with our fall out.It was nothing much anyway. Jocks are good boyfriends but they're not really 'friend' material.You can't be their lover and friends at the same time.It's frustrating,really. In school,there were always many types of clique.All classmates are friends and acquainted with each other but they all have their own clique and most of the time without me realizing,I was dragged into the possibly popular ones. I suppose they were popular because the teachers adore them an

I noticed that I haven't been writing much lately.More like,since Feb actually.If I say there's nothing to write,that would not exactly be the truth because my mind has quite a lot to say these days. In school days,I write in my diary every night usually before bed,making it a routine for a good night's sleep.But this year,I found myself reluctant to write in the diary I purchased at the brink of New Year's Eve.I could not say why. It could be because it was more like a planner's book rather than a diary and I rather don't like the sight of the ready prints of days and dates blank in it.It feels empty,somehow. Instead,I wrote and doodled freely in the very much abused scrap log books I found -or searched- as days passed. The truth and only truth. Most I store fictions I wrote on my own and dreams I remembered from nights in my sleep.I've been having vivid dreams,some pleasant and some not. And pleasant or not,I wrote them down so that I could re