Tag: heh

goodbye, implorers

dalam bilik sakit itu, ketika aku sedang ponteng dari kelas satu hari, tak ingat kenapa, pergi klinik sorang-sorang (satu diversion), balik, baring, termenung, minum air, gembira sebentar dari orang ramai, dia, tiba-tiba muncul di muka pintu, tercegat di situ, dan cakap;

aku dengar kau tak pergi kelas hari ni
yeah, aku pergi klinik tadi
kau sakit ape
um…. demam
tipu
tiba tiba dia sambung;
aku rasa kau bipolar lah
(babi) asal ko cakap camtu
kau ade mood swings
everyone does
kau punya lagi hebat
ape kau kisah

dan dia duduk tiba-tiba di katil aku;
jangan buat macam ni, weh. kesian kat orang lain.
(senyap)
dia pun blah lepas tak dapat respon memberangsangkan.
setengah jam lepas tu, dia (orang lain) pulak datang, dari pintu lagi satu, dan kita borak-borak, berhadapan dengan padang, bercakap pasal benda-benda gembira, sambil tengok orang lain balik, dari kelas. kau, kau tak kisah, dan kau tak banyak bertanya.
bagus.
p/s; hey, aku tak tau bila kau fly pergi india, mungkin dah pergi, mungkin dalam beberapa hari lagi, tapi selamat tinggal. hadiah hari jadi kau masih aku simpan, beserta benda-benda lain, tapi sebab tak sempat, serta malas jumpa, maaf. seribu kali maaf. aku, tak pernah sibuk. busy kepala hotak. penipu. maaf sekali lagi. jadi hei, selamat jadi doktor.

without meaning

so you really want to do this?

do what?
you know what.

yeah, i don’t know. probably. what’s it to you?
nothing.
oh really? then why bring it up in the first place?
just asking.
*silence*
but if you really wanna know, yeah, it’s a, definitely maybe, thing.
oh. go on, then.
just like that? you ain’t gonna say a thing?
i’d rather not. i’m not too good on goodbyes. or anything for that matter.
hmm, well, okay. take care.
aaaaarghhh sial.

the same as it was before

the thought that writing this, subsists trough time, unlike pure imaginary thought, is a haunting one. it is not like one of shakespeare’s sonnets; his beloved’s beauty captured, immortal, read by others. no, nothing of that sort. for there’s no beauty in this whatsoever. just a bunch immaculate words jumbled, mashed up together, thinking that they form some idea or thought, so that they may be understood by others. write an epigram or two, which could easily be substituted by the name of crappy poems, and be thought profound by others.

in the first place, and in the first place, i don’t know why the fuck i would keep coming back writing here, when i’ve got other places to write on. it’s not as if it would be consolation or something. producing something out of your head, either verbally or in writing, does nothing but to arrange your thoughts, make them coherent to others, communicate them in order to generate a mutual understanding between two individuals.
but fuck, i know that i never quite find the exact words to express anything tangible. it’s not a complete mystery or anything, or deeply complicated, but it’s just messed up. scraps of events here and there, tiny ornaments that seem to signify something, people that seem to seamlessly fly out of your hands, useless pile of information that was never put to good use, a wide range of knowledge of pop culture, literature, music, poetry, myths, films, paintings, symbols, history, buildings and shit. you get all fed all sorts of stuff you don’t quite know how to blurt anything out except rubbish.
add this to the diminishing amount of vocabulary i seem to have, the degeneration of this brain which gets only worse by the day, or by age for that matter, the amount of responsibility and duty which comes with that, it’s getting annoyingly depressing. now one often hears this particular word uttered by friends and people alike. and hey hey give me my happy pills if it makes me feel better. it’s fucking annoying, i tell you. it does nothing but make you feel numb and dumb, tired and bored, wallowing in self pity; it’s makes it all worse.
if only it was as easy as that.

perasaan rasa bersalah

Kenapa yang setiap kali aku cuba call kau, mesej kau, kau tak pernah reply?
Aku tak tahu. Aku memang macam ni.
Aku tunggu kau. empat hari bulan tujuh, kau cakap nak datang shah alam. tapi kau takde cakap pape pun.
Maaf. Aku memang macam ni. Agaknya ramai orang sedang bengang dengan aku.
Aku tau. Aku tak bengang. Cuma agak kecewa.
Itu dan ini.
Kemudian dia tambah lagi;
Kau sihat?
Lebih kurang. Mungkin. Ya. Sama macam orang-orang normal yang lain. Tak macam dulu. Aku tak tahu. Entah.
Walaupun kau mahu cakap sebaliknya.
Damn.
Maaf. Maaf. Maaf.

prologue

i wouldn’t remember things i have said, where they are said, when they are said, because words, they travel away, blossom and bloom, wither and die, origin unknown, destination known, or so it seems at first, little did i know that sometimes, they would seep into them bones, dwell and become, a malignant growth.

repulsive.
and this knowledge in hand not given to me beforehand, i try to comprehend now that they are sent, like shooting arrows, with poison at theirs tips, gleefully i feel this wondrous revel (or rebel as you call it), am i to make a mockery out of this, or to serenade you with wishful thinking, both seem so inappropriate, so lemme say;
da da ra da.

leave them out

Like a demonstrative effort to explain the things behind psychiatry, you fail to do those an in effect, expose those people whom you have sworn to never talk of them anymore. Tales of newspaper cigarettes and electric feels should be confided for those who understand only. Not crowds who do not understand a word you are saying.

Do not exaggerate.

“What are you reading?”
“Kierkegaard”
“But Nietzsche’s more interesting”
“Kierkegaard’s more good-looking than him”
*Googles*
“You’re right”