I Would Die For You

But I wouldn't live for you.

Before you start screaming at me, no, I do not like tattoos. 

That's the quote I saw, and found pretty amazing, in The Perks Of Being A Wallflower.

It's been some time since I've read anything like this -- simultaneously light and heavy, very youthful and yet old, about friends, about love, about all those crazy stuff that we all do when our age defies us.

One of the little reliefs these days. :)

Granted, I do not approve of many of the crazy things they did -- pot, smoke, sex, abortions and all those. It's a little too crazy, and potentially disrupting with permanent side effects. Plus, there's Charlie trying to participate by trying all those forbidden apples. Are you really not participating if you're not smoking, doing pot or having sex?

Of course, I do not approve. There are far better ways to participate in life, Charlie.

However, the underlying theme of not participating in life-- being a wallflower, is worth pondering on. There are so many themes in the book worth looking over, and I vow to read the book at least twice someday in the future. *snorts* Make that a really far future.

Being a listener isn't really one of my strong points. I like to talk. Chattering, singing, mumbling, grumbling, nagging, scolding, laughing, giggling, chirping --  all these I can do; in fact, i'm pretty sure I'm good at it. Harping on and on in this blog should be enough to convince you of that.

I'm pretty sure you don't need FIVE people to talk that much. You just need ME.  :x

But listening. Really really listening. Like Charlie do. Put aside the fact that he's a wallflower, he's a really great listener. He really does understands, and he really does listen, and I guess that makes a really really desirable friend. He never really thinks about what he wants first; he's always trying to understand all the motives and feelings and reasoning lying beneath the epithelial layer. He's always observing (sounds creepy, I know, but still).

One of his more finer points.

And living. Dying for someone is --really-- not really that big a deal, once you think of it. It's usually just a split second decision -- to jump in front of a moving train to push someone aside, to shield a baby with your body against falling debris. Almost instinctual, if I might say.

But to live for someone. That's... That's really something. And I guess a lot of us, whether we know it or not, live for someone or the other. I know I do. I know I shouldn't too, but I can't help it. Sometimes you even lose yourself if you're not careful. To live for someone. To alter your paths, set your sights, your future, your decisions, all because of you want to please someone.... That's something real serious.

I mean, sure, you might change your routine a little just to see that person smile, try things that person like just to see how it feels. Friends, families, lovers. Whoever it might be. But it is these small things that eventually changes who you are, and forms a new you. Sometimes, it turns out alright-- your lucky stars shine and you turn out successful... But what if it doesn't?

My lucky star shone. I grew a liking for bitter things. Or is it me who's getting bitter?

Is it truly right to live for them and lose sight of your own life?

Perhaps I'm simply thinking too much. Perhaps living for someone is part of life and the realisation of it. Perhaps living for someone is living for yourself, sometimes.

Perhaps you can't really live for yourself unless you're living for someone. Perhaps you need both to truly live.

And To Goodbyes, We Say Hello Again

It never is, is it?

Isn't it funny, that no matter how many times you say goodbye -- practice saying it, actually saying it -- you never really get to have the perfect goodbye? After all, they say, practice makes perfect.

Saying goodbyes takes forever, I've heard once. Never really knew what it meant then, but as time passes, as more and more goodbyes loom ahead, the meaning regains clarity. It isn't the act itself, saying goodbye that takes time, I don't think. It's being truly able to accept the fact that this (whatever it is you're saying goodbye to) is the past. It's not going to happen again, it's not going to return to however it was before you said goodbye. 

It's sort of like a death, I guess. Where deaths have FUN-erals, farewells have GOOD-byes. All the oxymorons we really ought to ponder on. Perhaps it has more within the syllables than the word. 

I meant it hypothetically. =.=

Ignore my senseless ranting if you don't understand the workings of this convoluted mind. Sometimes I get lost inside too. 

Well, seeing that I'm saying hello to another goodbye, let's look back at this past year ( of course, provided my holey memory remembers ) -- all the fun, all the guns, all those crazy stuff we cried and laughed together. All those stuff you can only say goodbye to, but never really be apart from. 

After all, they say it's stuff like this that makes up who you are, eh?

That's me right there, right after the tests made me who I am.

Of course, first of all -- being nineteen. My final year as a teenager. Well, then again, I could still act like a teenager, but it won't be the same, I don't think. The 2 that's waiting to stand in front of my age sounds daunting though. Twenty. TWENTY. Urgh. 

I swear, Mr 2 just cackled in glee for having a new home --  my age.

Well, at least I think I had a good year. Broke some rules, broke some limits, broke some habits (made a lot more though); found a good lot of friends, found some things I'd thought I'd lost, found what it means to be nineteen -- what it means to be free, but never truly free. *snorts* Guess I also found a way to be really really contradicting. :P 

Goodbye Nineteen. Perhaps we'll meet again someday. Perhaps. 

I don't jiggle 'em much, but when I do, I slam it. Like. A. Boss. 

Then there's all the time I had to read books this year --considerably lesser than when I was in secondary school but that's to be expected I guess. I have a feeling free time's going to be even more elusive next year. And by next year, I mean tomorrow. Dang. I even had to spend New Year and its eve away from home. Not a very auspicious start for a year. 

Talk about auspicious. Don't even get me started about my results. AND the pending one. 

Perhaps this is one goodbye I'm the most reluctant to say. 

Goodbye, reading time. I'll find you whenever I can. 

I'm actually under all the books. Really. 

Then let's talk about hormones. I thought being out of puberty ( I hope I'm out already) hormones won't be scary. But it seems that my control over emotions are slipping away like eels. I hope to find them back by next year, but judging by the way things are right now.... 

Goodbye, me lovely control over my hormones. *sobs*

I think that's enough goodbyes for a day. There's bound to be more soon, seeing as this is the year we are all going in our different directions, scattered all over the world. 

Better say it first and let it sink in slowly. 

Goodbye friends.

Dry pants. Finally. Something good from a goodbye. 

This one year I regained my fun in words, this one year the joy of reading and writing was lost and found, this one year when everyday was like flying on top of the world with the viewpoint of an insect, this one year that was swifter than an arrow but slower than a snail, this one year when music ruled my world, this one year which felt like a dream even when I'm on my feet, even when I'm on the ground. 

2012 was a good year, maybe even one of the best I'll have. 

But I guess things never do stay the same no matter how much you want it to. So I'll have to say it.

Goodbye year. 

I'll miss you.

Just When I'm Missing You

It's kinda funny when these moments hit you, and you have absolutely no idea how to face them. Like exams flying into your face at a speed you know is going to smash your face in. Or a sore throat clawing at your throat cackling 'I'm coming' just when you were settling down for a sumptuous durian feast.

Exams tend to say that to me. :(

Or waking up every morning with one person in your mind and realising, oh, wait. I'm not supposed to be missing you.

Maybe it's too much T.Swift--god knows I do too much of that-- with her crooning I remember it all too well constantly into my ear, I reckon that's gotta mess up a girl's mind.  

I've been toying around with some words recently; words I'd written years before, words others had written, words that are resurfacing after a long absence. Sometimes these words bring back unwanted, unexpected memories or flashbacks, and pair 'em up with Tswift, you get a complete mesh of blubber--me. Pair that up with a sore throat, a persistent cough, too much free time and a depressing book like Atonement...

I just don't feel like chasing a ball, you know?

Well, I'll leave the effects to your imagination. 

Anyway, listening to Swift's I Almost Do had me crooning along, meaning the words with all my heart. I may not know the true heartbreak behind the words yet, but maybe --just maybe-- I'm feeling a shadow of what it might feel like. And it sucks. 

I bet you think I either moved on or hate you, because each time you reach out there's not reply. I bet it never ever occurred to you that I can't say hello to you and risk another goodbye.

She's right, you know. Sometimes it's a form of self-defence. To protect yourself from the unknown. 'Cause you never know when it's gonna turn back and hit you --hard-- right where it hurts. 

Realising we are not who we were any more, just when I'm missing you. 

Random words at random hours.

Random feelings. 

Random thoughts. 

Les Miserables

Les Miserables - The Miserables (wonder why I'd be interested in such a miserable book?)

It's not really the first time I've come in contact with this book. It'd always stayed somewhere in my brain as a vague great masterpiece--as labelled by the public-- and I know I know, I really should've sat me arse down and find out why others have labelled it as such. I mean, if I've got time for fanfiction and all those chicklits, I should--by logic--have time for these great masterpieces that has somehow waded through time, book-burnings and sharp-tongues out there.

Easier said than done.

I don't know why, but I can never finish a heavy book--by that I mean something even remotely heavier than  The Confessions of A Shopaholic--when I have tons of homework and exams looming over me.

My face when I discover LM

I envy those who can. I guess I need time for these books, to devour them from page to page without pause. Especially when it comes to classics like this. There are so many wonderful wordplays and hidden meanings between the lines and such beautiful plots I can't find it in myself to skim through them like I do Nicola and the Viscount.

It's just... hard, I guess, to get myself all teary and heavy-hearted when exams are depressing enough.

But Les Mis.

I have half a mind to go out now and buy the book, so beautifully strung the words are in songs. I have Harry Potter fanfiction to thank again for that. It's funny how fanfiction brings me to places I never really thought I'd end up. Amnesia, Autism, Les Mis, Beatles. I'm brought in front of things I'd never thought I'd love.

Beatles!

Moment Of Impact by Suite Sambo is really one of the best I've read, in fanfiction. It has all the elements I love--fatherly care, comfort, loneliness, the tragic after effects of war, coming to terms with death, families, friends. And with those, Suite has brought up Les Mis, which has elements stunningly similar to HP. Of course, it involves a war and thus all the usual after effects, but it also features a main character who's an orphan (technically she's not in the first act, but whatever).

I know I'm being boring, but I really need to get this off my chest. This meaning all those lyrics that haunts me night after night. Excuse me for being sappy, but I'm hopelessly sappy when it comes to Severus and Harry. *blush*

Sevvy!!!

There are too many songs that I love in this, and I haven't even read the thing yet. Anyway, here's one that really caught me. One dealing with survivor's guilt, that I'm here, and you're not, and I hate that. Dedicated to dear Fred Weasley, Remus and Tonks, Colin Creevey, and all those dear who are lost. Empty chairs will be left to recognise, remember and remind all who's left of your sacrifice.

The empty chairs

Empty Chairs At Empty Tables

There's a grief that can't be spoken
There's a pain goes on and on
Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone 

Here they talked of revolution
Here it was they lit the flame
Here they sang about tomorrow
And tomorrow never came. 

From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn
And they rose with voices ringing
I can hear them now!
The very words that they had sung
Became their last communion
On the lowly barricade..
At dawn. 
Oh my friends, my friends forgive me. 

That I live and you are gone
There's a grief that can't be spoken
There's a pain goes on and on 

Phantom faces at the window
Phantom shadows on the floor
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will meet no more. 

Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me
What your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sing no more...

I Knew You Were Trouble

Guitar!

I knew you were trouble babe, but me being me, I ran to you like a moth to fire. 

If you'd guessed it's Swift I'm talking bout, then yes, you've won first prize. *hands you a medal*

I guess experience should have taught me to restrain myself especially when it comes to Swift and exams, but Dang it all, Taylor, but why release RED when I'm having my end of sems?

More on her later, since my Chemistry is niggling at me like an annoying puppy, but here's excerpts from my favourite song (so far) on her bedazzling new album. *swoons* *squeal* *faints*

All Too Well

"Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red. You used to be a little kid in glasses on a twin size bed. Your mother's telling stories bout you on the t-ball team, and you told me bout your past thinking your future was me."

I still can't listen to this song without feeling that pull in my chest. It always makes me wanna cry and start writing and drawing and abandoning all the studying I should be doing and just lie on the bed fighting the knot in my throat. My fav for the moment. 

" 'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night, we're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light. Down the stairs I was there, I remember it all too well"

Dancing in the night - the fairytale version

Maybe it's the trip down memory lane that appealed to me. It's so human, so life-like and not the fairytale romances we--I'm--used to. Dancing in the kitchen, in the night... It's like, we were so good together, you know? We used to have so much fun together. What happened? 

"And you called me up again just to break me like a promise. So casually cruel in the name of being honest. I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here 'cause I remember it all too well."

Cruelty comes in many forms

And that's the reason why I love her. Break me like a promise, casually cruel in the name of being honest. I feel for her. I do. But damn girl, why are you so good with words?

"Time won't fly it's like I'm paralysed by it. I'd like to be my own self again but I'm still trying to find it. After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own, now you mail back my things and I walk home alone.

You changed me, and I wanna go back to who I am before you but I can't

But you kept my old scarf from that very first week, 'cause it reminds you of innocence, and it smells like me. You can't get rid of it, 'cause you remember it all too well."

We are all innocent until our hearts are broken

How many girls have gone through all that? Every second, every minute, every day, every month we went through, the tears and regret, the missing you... All put into simple sentences, precisely concise, straight to the heart.

That innocence

You can't get rid of it, cause you remember it all too well. That pretty much sums up the whole song and album for me right now. Thanks Taylor, for making my teen years fabulous and unforgettable. 

And thank you, for giving me inspiration to write again. =)

Thanks for being pretty inspiring, Tay. =)

I Miss You

Shivering in the cold alone in the room
It makes me think of you

We used to run around in the rain playing catch me if you can

But now I'm alone 

And I miss you

It's a long long day these words making no sense

It makes me wanna run to you

We used to sit together right here plowing through homework

But now I'm alone

And I miss you

Music blaring cars honking on streets

People walking rushing all around me

But all I can do is to think of you

The moments that we had running down the streets

Wind in my hair the cold on my face

The rain pushing all your troubled frowns away

But when the cold seeps in

When the sinking feeling starts

When I realize you'd never be here anymore

All I could only do 

Is miss you

The leaves are turning red autumn wind is blowing

It turns everything red and orange

It reminds me of your dark blue eyes saying I'll love you forever

But now I'm alone

And I miss you

It's not rocket science but I can't understand why

You took back everything you said

Carefully crafted world it broke in a sec when you finally said

I have to leave

But I'll miss you

Music blaring cars honking on streets

You mailing all my things back to me

But all I can do is to think of you

How I thought it was magical the way you pulled my hand

Right into the dance into the rain

And we laughed as the rain washed all my makeup away

But when the cold seeps in

When the sinking feeling starts

When I realized I'm back to square one and a broken heart

All I could only do

Is miss you

Empty

Sometimes I get this terrible empty feeling out of nowhere. It's like, it creeps up on you slowly, stealthily, and then...

BOOM!

...you're left feeling like someone scooped out all your innards leaving you with one hollow casket.

I don't even know why it happens. It's like one moment you're munching happily away on a bag of potato chips, and the next... You're hit with an emotional atomic bomb. And it hurts. Suddenly there's this pull somewhere near the place your heart is, and the muscles twitch in protest. Your stomach flies up to your lungs and when you try to take a really deep breath you can't 'cause your stomach's in the way. Your heart starts beating rabbit-fast, and you're gulping for air like a fish out of water. Your brain's sending you little love letters saying : 'hey, it's time to feel unloved today. It's time to crave hugs. It's time to feel empty.' Twinges of skipped beats, blurred vision, salty water.

It's all too common now.

I swear, these few days I'm not right in the head. I need a really hard knock back to reality. But thing is, what do I need?

Maybe I just need something to fill me up again. Not food--god knows I've tried that--but something else to un-empty me.

Hang On

Nothing much.

Just the scariest interview looming over my head.

And the End-of-Sems.

And the A-Levels drawing nearer and nearer.

And missing home.

And it's always raining nowadays.

It feels like world's end.

So, yeah. Nothing much.

Just reminding myself to hang on.

'Cause everyone knows I'm just too chicken to let go.

Limits

I think (at least I hope) most people who truly knows me will say, that's a girl who doesn't really get affected by a lot of sharp teases or pointed jokes. I guess I'm just too happy-go-lucky for things like this to hurt me. I mean, with my height (and I have to admit, my figure) it's not gonna be an easy life unless you learn to let things like shaded insults or sharp jabs slide. I learnt from very early in life that things like this are better ignored. Things like this should be treated as a joke, and I should probably just let it slide away.

I used to care a lot about things like this, and I used to cry over it. I used to shut myself in a room and look at myself in the mirror asking why am I born this way? I've spent I don't know how many hours scrutinizing myself, poring over this and that. Then I'd grab a pencil and start scribbling in my diary, spilling not only words but salty water. I couldn't understand why they kept doing that. I couldn't understand why they were so cruel. 

That was when I was young. 

But as I grew up (by growing up I mean in age, not height. Not really.) I began to realize that this is all beyond my control. I cannot help they way I look, or the way I am born. I know it sounds very cliched, but it's true. Why torture yourself over something you cannot help? The time would be better spent improving yourself on something you actually can do something about, like writing, or drawing, or even throwing pebbles into the water seeing if you can hit a tadpole or something. No one is perfect. So what if I'm not?

Learning to come to terms with myself was not a one-day process. It took me years and years to finally grow up, and to develop a thick, mostly impenetrable, skin. I learnt to take jabs as they come and throw them away; I learnt to laugh and make fun of myself. It wasn't fun, but it did make me happier. What are enemies for if not to push you over the cliff and make you climb back up on your feet, reaching even higher?  

I guess that's why I tend to make fun of people these days. It's not revenge. It's not even making myself feel better. It's just that I don't mind the jabs, and since you're taking a jab at me, you should be able to take one of mine. But recently, I have to admit, I'm not sure of where I stand anymore. Am I still a merciless teasing friend, or have I become really really mean?

I mean, yeah, I can take a lot, but can others? 

But hey, Heads up. Just because I can take a lot, doesn't mean I don't have limits. I'm only human. You can make fun of my height. You can make fun of things that I can't help. But please, lay off the stuff that ruins reputations. I have a reputation to keep, regardless of the jokes I make about myself. If I'm ninety, go ahead and throw my rep down the water-treatment tank, for I would already be halfway down to enjoying my custom-made-vampirish coffin. But I'm nineteen. I have a whole new world waiting .for me out there. I don't need people making my life harder than it already is.

I don't mind certain jokes in private. If you are a friend, and I know you're just joking, I'm cool with it. I mean, friends are supposed to be mean to you so that you know that people out there can be wayyyyy meaner. Friends are supposed to be your enemies in private, but your bestest general in public. They're the best opponent because they know you so well, but they're also, always, your best sidekick. 

But once you start being a foe in public, I will start to reconsider your status as a friend. And by public, I mean people who don't know a thing about you, or me, or the jokes that we are used to. The public doesn't know you and me like you and me do. The public doesn't know why I call you certain monikers, or what made you give me that ridiculously shameless nickname. The public only sees what is on the surface, and like it or not, the public will judge. They will judge you mercilessly, and that's when I will have to learn how to let things slide again. 

I have learnt to let many things slide, too many times. Now I'm wondering if I've done the right thing letting so much slide off my back. Even if it was for my own happiness. I guess it's time I do a reflection of my own, and see if I'm being too easy, and also if I've breached the border between good intentions and downright cruel and mean with my jokes. 

But while I'm reviewing myself, I'm telling you this one revelation I've just had --

When my limit is breached, the things I will let slide will not be the insults or jabs. 

It will be you. 

So here's a song for you to ruminate on, because what you say will eventually rebound back to you, 'cause I Am Titanium. 

I Feel So Alone

Maybe it's just the stress of coming tests, maybe it's just being away from home. Maybe it's just another bout of PMS threatening to drive me up KLCC.

But I feel so very alone.

It's not so much as being physically alone than being mentally isolated. I'm surrounded by almost a hundred people everyday, filling my ears up with chattering birds and humming bees. People come up and say hi, we exchange words, you smile, I grin back. It's what I do everyday. It's what we do everyday.

I keep talking. I keep that smile on my face. It's genuine most of the time--I guess I don't really get bad moods often; at least not in front of other strangers. But when I do... I keep those thick, sexy lips curved upwards. It's like a game, trying to see how good you are at putting up a happy face no matter what you're feeling inside. I guess most everyone goes through this at least a few days in a month.

It's not pretending, I don't think so. It's just... letting people see what they deserve to see. It's not fair to dump all your emotional faeces on others, practically strangers, when all they did was look at you.

Unless they stare too much, or have huge scary eyes, to which I'd reply with a "Shoo, cat."

*sighs* It's just so great what a simple sigh can show. I think it's the best sound in the whole world. Just like what a smile can do to a person who's really really down and feels alone.

I admit I'm pretty open about myself. I try to be honest to myself, I do. And I've found some pretty interesting things about myself. I tend to spill whatever's on my mind--thus, the blog--but there are some things you just can't find words for. You've gotta be there to really feel it, to understand.

But I try anyway, to put them into words. Because there are some things you cannot keep to yourself for fear of bursting like a bloated rabbit.

Surrounded by all these people almost everyday, it's curious why I still feel alone. I don't really dwell on it all the time, but today I seemed a little too sensitive. Or maybe it's just Taylor Swift at work.

*short interruption* Might I just say her new single Begin Again is so hauntingly beautiful? So hopeful, yet vulnerable. I love her too much. *swoons*

Anyway, amidst all these people, it's like, how many of these people I can identify with? How many of these people--they come, they go--how many of them will stay with you until you're old and gray? With whom do I truly belong? Am I really alone here, when my family is so far out of reach?

Yes, I have so many dear friends here to do weird stuff with me, but it's funny how these few days I find myself unable to breathe. It's strange how sometimes you enjoy doing crazy stuff--gossips, pranks, discussing the many shapes and sizes of digested/processed foodstuff--and laughing the hell out with your friends, and one single tick of the clock later, you find yourself needing a break from all those.

Needing a break, needing to be alone, and yet, feeling oddly down because you're alone.

This is why psychology is so interesting, because it's totally wacko.

And maybe this is why people say girls are weird. Oh well. Deal with it.

Sometimes being alone is fun. It gives me time to wade through the mess in my brain, put them into boxes and push them away into their burrows. I like those sessions, lose myself in my world, live lives I want to, filming them out in my big bird brain; cut away from reality. Perhaps that's one of the reasons why I love music so much.

But when silence is my only company, I lose sight of what's real and what's not. I'm reluctant to leave my little carefully-crafted world. Sometimes there are so many things to be done I cannot afford to lose hours drifting in my cloudland.

Not everyone understands the need for my silence, I don't think. People try to cheer you up when moments like this arrive, and then you'll get confused. Am I supposed to be cheered up, or should I continue to indulge in that small virtual unreality? Perhaps it really is just me being my usual weird self, complaining about being alone when it's loneliness I choose.

I guess loneliness doesn't really mean much when you enjoy it. But loneliness is still loneliness.

And right now, I feel so alone it's kinda scary.

Having strange urges to hug someone, tight. Wanna crush someone so hard against me to feel alive, to take that intense "alone"ness away. Wanna feel the heat and the beating pulse against me to remind me I'm not really alone.

I'm not really alone, am I?