because some things deserve recognition.

i realize that i haven't been writing for quite some time now, both online where typing on a keyboard is tons faster and on paper, in which i can feel the rath of my journal towards me because i seem to always forget about her.


which brings me to the purpose of my post.

the first thing that i shall emphasize to recognize is my abstract print, multi-coloured canvas Paperluxe journal that has been my company ever since grey velvet Paperluxe died or in more literal terms, ran out. this journal, despite having only being filled less than a quarter full, has been a dear friend to me. it was a 19th birthday gift from the very lovely Nicole and Carissa. 

the second thing, or well, people, that i want to put into recognition here is the two girls that i have just mentioned. if you scrape back to how we first met and how we became the trio that we are today, i honestly can't remember what is the exact story. i just remember being intimidated by the quiet and reserved, artistically-gifted Nicole and randomly talking to Carissa in a communication class (correct me if i'm wrong ah pls). in a couple more hours, i will be seeing them + a few more for an indoor/outdoor picnic with alot of food and good camaraderie. i am blessed to have been considered someone important in both of their lives individually and as a group. 

since we are speaking of people,

let me direct this midday writing to the girl that inspired me and this post.

this young girl has been my sister's best friend for the longest time and perhaps is my sister's closest acquaintance. i've known her since we were both kids, her family, and a little bit of her story and struggle as she grew up without a mother. at times, i've been accused of treating her better than my own sister. so nonetheless, i do see her as someone that i'm protective over. i also know for a fact that my house is her second home and back when i used to be in Rampai, my home was her safe place. it is pretty wonderful when you think about it; that what you see as something not necessarily a comfort place is a haven to another person. 

i always have the most pleasant conversations with her because i see a level of maturity way past the age on her birth certificate. if there's anything that i'm stereotyped/biased/judgmental about, it's the type of books and music that a person reads and listens to. i just think it says so much about a person; what intrigues them, what inspires them and perhaps what their perspective is like. she reads a bountiful and i have given as well as lent her numerous books that i know only a few can appreciate and understand without immediately going errmagerd books for weirdos eew. i had an unexpected burst of excitement when we were talking as i drove her home this morning and she told me that she loved Paulo Coelho and she was looking for John Green books to read. take cue, M

i'm sorry, 

anyone who loves Paulo Coelho,

ultimate number 1 in my Awesome People List.

when i talk to her, i don't feel like i'm talking to an eighteen year old. age doesn't even come in between as an invisible boundary because she's one of those few people who just understands. there are very few people that i know i can openly express my innermost thoughts and opinions to and she is one of them. so freely, we spoke about religion, societal ethics and love. no judgmental feelings, no and the fact that she presents herself so well as a teenage girl; poised, though sometimes silly and hyper, i just think she's one of those few people in the world who have that bit of spark that people tend to miss, simply because they're not magazine-type pretty or british-vogue beautiful. i have had the privilege of watching her grow so elegantly into what i think is only going to be an even more lovely an amazing person with time.


this remarkable girl is Aasmitha,
the at-times soft spoken, reserved young girl who lives her life bravely.
God bless this wonderful soul, the inspiration behind my post and perhaps my next few days.


Hurt- Johnny Cash

because to love is to suffer. or is it?

'To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love; but then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer, to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love; to be happy then is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy; therefore to be unhappy one must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness.'


why do we still love when love also equals suffering?
is there something so potentially beneficial about love that we do anything to have it flow in the veins of our bodies, even if it means it bringing about harm and unhappiness on the side? 



i disagree with the third sentence of this quote, 
that one suffers from not loving. i know far too many people who are capable of not loving. i mean, the average of people not caring at all is definitely more than those who care too much, no? that, or, these emotionless people are just very good at suppressing their emotions. on the outside, they claim to not care at all but on the inside, pergh fire burning with fireworks melimpah sini sana. that, or, my former thought, that some people just don't give two shits. yeah. i prefer to go with that. 


therefore, back to my question,
why do we still love, then? 
are we not better off not investing hopes, expectations, trust and cooperation into something that is so painfully fragile yet able to cause such large scale damage? why do we as humans, continue seeking out for love, when we don't know how to handle the cons of it well? 


i have another problem with this thing called love; the idea that burdens are shared. if i love somebody, i wouldn't want him or her to be carrying my burdens. 1)have you not seen my physical strength? and 2)how could i put someone i love under the weight that i carry? not especially when i know the severity and extent of what and how much i carry. in its most brief summary; i carry a lot. the one thing that differs me from a walking time bomb is that i am a continuous explosion. a continuous, ghastly and hazardous network of untimely explosions. 


yet, i demand that from others. that the people i love share their burdens with me because i cannot bear seeing the people i love under strain. the irony when i cannot see the underlying similarities when the people i love offer to do the same for me. i just refuse it. i see my problems as burdens for others, but others' as a human difficulty and something that i should account a little bit of responsibility for because i care.


so how can i share when i know too well, deep down, that my sharing of burdens would add to overall miserableness? why would i want to create more unhappiness when my own unhappiness is my own problem? but if i don't share, then what is the point of having love?  


i guess i have carved out my own conclusion that indeed,
to love is to suffer. but not loving is to suffer as well because what is the point of living when one is absent of love? because to be happy is to love. 

Penakut- Yuna

because i do still miss home, but

it's been more than two weeks and yes, i've finally thank God established an Internet connection in my house. the terror that all the media i had was my television (to which, Astro was only installed a week upon moving in) was just ghastly. that shows how dependent we all are, or at least i am, on the Net. it's almost very sad. to think that i shrink into ultimate nothingness without my grip on the internet.


oh well,
AREN'T WE ALL


it's 1a.m and instead of my usual cup of green tea, i'm sipping hot chamomile. a change from the usual routine. and instead of my desktop, i am lounging on this chair with the laptop, sitting directly at my balcony facing the highways and the sleeping city. i see buildings, numbers of bright neon lights, a car or two driving by on the roads.every twelve seconds, a gush of cold wind comes in. it is pretty wonderful, the entire combination + Ben Howard playing in the background. i guess this is one of the main perks of moving into a condominium on the eight floor. that plus a swimming pool.


i really should be sleeping because i'd been sick the whole day but i can't. i'm not frantically filled with a plethora of thoughts like how i usually am. i just don't feel like sleeping. i want to sit here and just stare at this quietness. the deep purple sky that envelops the entire arena of shophouses, skyscraper buildings, trees and streetlights. that perhaps, someone else is awake, staring into this quietness as well. or maybe this kind of quietness has become dull for most. i hope i never find this dull.


You Remind Me Of Home- Ben Gibbard