AkImA No NiKkI

Every year, I go to visit Amelia and Irene in Kedah and we have a sleepover. This tradition began when Foundation ended and we began our degree, because we didn't want our connection to end with Foundation. It has been going on for four years now, from the year I started my degree till the end.  A picture taken as we wait for our order in a Korean cafe during lunch hour (it was amazing how Mya and Irene manage to find places nary of people and we could eat and spend our time together in peace because God knows how stressful it would've been if the place was crowded with people and noisy as fuck)   Every year, it doesn't seem we change all that much, in terms of appearance. I still look as dumb and mediocre next to the two of them like I do in Foundation and they still accept my gremlin-looking ass next to them (hahaha). Generally, we don't keep in touch with each other all that much, other than sporadic events here and there. We're more of those kind of fri

It's currently pre-christmas break, and we have two weeks of it until deadline for all things count. For some reason, it's a particularly bad day for me to be awake and not dead asleep to the world. I wish I was still asleep and the day would pass for a better one.  I know it's highly likely because of the unbalanced hormones that comes with PMS, yet that changes nothing to my current predicament.  Actually, I've noticed something different with this time's menstruation cycle.  Usually, my PMS lasts only for a week and then the blood comes, as naturally and smoothly without obstacles as ever (discounting the painful and uncomfortable cramps), but I have been suffering from this month's PMS for 2 weeks and the blood seems to have trouble flowing down. It's spurting out small doses of blood like a dying engine of Stiles' ancient Roscoe instead of the Niagara Falls of blood it usually becomes.   The small amount of blood that comes out isn't red ei

These days thoughts fly in and out of my consciousness faster than I can keep track of them. Even when I stop for a while on certain thoughts and felt that I should make note of them, they eventually got forgotten and circling them back takes more of an effort than I thought. Not necessarily the ones I put out on social media either, because I'm not entirely sure I want them out there for reasons some idiot taking them out of context.  Here is MY sanctuary.  At one point in time, I know I would delete my Twitter eventually because I was never fond of it, I never liked it, and I only made it this year because I was trying to venture out of my comfort zone on reaching out due to a friend's suggestion. When I'm more susceptibly stable on my own, I will deactivate and delete it. But I can't deny that certain things ARE instigated by the platform, in terms of thoughts, both bad and good. Undeniably more bad than good, which is why I will deactivate it sooner than later

The whole self-partner thing is really working out for me, 'cause I like how it sounds. I'm not looking for a partner, I've always kinda let those who came to stay, stay, and those who wants to leave, leave. I'm a let-things-fall-where-they-fall kinda person.  I'm okay with being who I am and who I was and who I will be, regardless of who stays and leave. It's a necessary thing to ground yourself to you and not to someone or something so you never lose foothold.  Of course, sometimes, memory comes and goes. You can't really help those kind of things, where you've made memories and they won't disappear. When you accept those things, it's easier to let them pass and you move along to other things. I will be 24 next year, and new challenges will appear. And then 25, and 26, and so on. Maybe I'll die at 24. Maybe I'll die at 38. Maybe I'll die at 27. Who knows? Some of my friends don't see themselves living beyond 30, that

Last week was a small show of a circus. It was week without walls so we had no classes other than completing assignments via digital means, thus I spent the week sleeping despite knowing I could have spent it doing my thesis because for some reason my brain short-circuits no matter how long I sit in front of the opened document.  I was sleeping unabashedly like I was back in asasi, for days on end with only brief moments of consciousness. I remember settling into the warm confines of my bed on Wednesday, only to wake up (after checking my phone) on a Saturday. That's a new record. Before you ask, no I didn't eat. No I didn't drink. For the entire 4 days? Yes. Reasonably, I only woke up on Saturday because there was a slimey feeling between my legs and realized I've woken up in a pool of my own blood. Honestly, not the first time either. The depression "nap" turned into a depression "coma" and with the period, it was not uncommon for me. PMS is

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

I've had this draft in the safe for a while. I have a tendency to open a blank page, intending to write, but whited out after putting down the title. Whether I lost interest in writing it, or decided I shouldn't, and later changed my mind, who knows.  There is 2 weeks left until I  start my final semester of degree. Honestly, I don't know how I got here (do you have 90 minutes?) and admittedly, I've had close encounters because let's face it, my failed 4th (?5th?) suicide attempt is still fairly recent. Speaking of recent, I feel better. I've unloaded some burdens, some baggage, so at the least part, I could think in rational terms which is a lot healthier for my well-being. Apparently that showed in my appetite. People around me have been asking me why I've gotten "chubby", and for a while, that bugged me, because it resulted in poking at my self-esteem in a way I have never thought about before. I began to look at myself differently

How do I pull parts of me that are fragmented? Those parts of yourself when you were just a little kid, not knowing how to be yourself other than just existing as you are. The absolute conviction that you are YOU.  Where do they go? My friend is broken. Sometimes they come to me hoping I can be with them at the moment. They don't ask what I can't afford. All I needed to be was present. But existing is something we both are having trouble with. Something most of us have trouble with. I don't know how other people do it, and it's very likely that even if I asked, it wouldn't work the same way for me or her or us.  I can't persuade my kid to not say things like "if I die pursuing my dreams, so be it" because I have issues with dying just to not exist. I have no rights. I can't tell someone to live when I myself am someone who is still figuring out how to. And the desire to.  When I can't sleep and dredges of the void drags my chest to the bo

The part of me that wishes to see the future is slowly, slowly, being rekindled. Like a dying ember on a dry coal that's been covered by a damp moss after rainy season. Dissociation is still strong, even after the whole disaster of me unsuccessfully killing myself again for the fourth time. So is my apathy. It's a chance-circle shooting game up in here, hour after hour. I find myself zoning out, unable to return to my head. I find myself unable to empathize with my friends, despite knowing I should if I want to keep them around.  With dissociation, I can't find the controls in my head to flick on the empathy switch. I'm not in there. Nothing is. I'd find my body sitting upright on the bed, staring at a spot for hours. It heavily reminded me of highschool nights, minus the blank spots in my memories. I'm a little okay now, with my broken heart. I'm healing.  It's still a bitch most days, and I know I've totally become that edgy emo sad bitch