Writer's Block.

I Wish I Wrote The Way I Thought

I wish I wrote the way I thought,

Obsessively

Incessantly

With maddening hunger

I'd write to the point of suffocation

I'd write myself into nervous breakdowns

Manuscripts spiraling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing

And i'd write about you a lot more than I should.

By Benedict Smith 

Ya nasties.

Don't think i'll be able to re-live this at PSU:

1) Going to Dave's Deli every month

2) Those hurried runs from Subang Parade to Subang Avenue because you folks have class at 1 p.m

3) Wandering around and oogling at stuff all those snacks/drinks/desserts at Cold Storage

4) Buying those snacks/drinks at Cold Storage only to realize they tasted way below our expectations

5) Going to Subang Parade on my birthday and seeing that dude wearing a top like my sweater and we all went "Bitch stole my look"

6) Sitting in my favorite spot of the library (level 5, in the corner tepi discussion room tu)

7) Doing last minute work together

8) Not to forget, those cholesterol inducing trips to Arisan

9) Those disappointing movies we watched last semester (erm Oz, you sucked)

10) Wendy's!

11) Singing along to whatever song that came up on the car radio 

12) Trying to tolerate each other's fandom; Barca, K-Pop and Taylor Swift

13) That YOLO day we had when we went to have bagels at SS15, watched 'Warm Bodies' at Pyramid and went to Taipan for Nando's where we really embraced the term "bottomless" and ceaselessly refilled diet coke.

14) Going to Genting for the first time with you folks and realizing what a non-daredevil I am unlike you two

15) How refreshing it was to see you guys again after two weeks

I absolutely dread the fact that we're all going separate ways. I honestly can't picture myself being in an environment where we're hours away from each other. Hopefully you guys will come across this someday because I just can't bring myself to tell you guys this in person but i'll really miss you two. I've never felt so comfortable in my own skin when we're all together and I just doubt that i'll find that again in the next two years.

Frankly speaking,

I'm terrified of what summer holds,
the pandemonium of completing documents;
the cringing at the thought of all those vaccinations;
the bitter realization that time is going to run out;
and before I know it, it will be the "August of Goodbyes" again.
But what I'm most fearful of is your return and my relapse.

Summer beckons.

It's approaching rather rapidly,

And i'm praying indifference and apathy will overwhelm me.

It's approaching rather rapidly,
And i'm hoping there would be no such encounter.

It's approaching  rather rapidly,
And i'm pleading myself to not backpedal to the way things were.

Yea dude, how on earth could you do that?

source

The dearth of what truly matters.

Honestly, I don't like when people say oh she has it all yada yada yada. Like when I look at you, i'd rather have what you have. I'm ashamed at how i'm attached to what's worldly. I'm taking steps to feel closer and closer but I don't feel anything within. I want to not feel out of place when it comes to that :(

When I do think about it.

Its as ephemeral as a brief downpour that passes through at a quarter to 11 pm,
It comes unexpectedly and it goes without notice,
but most importantly,
it holds no significance,
(which is favorable to me).

Mathematical melancholy.

At the mention of your name,

I couldn't discern the rapid beating in my chest,
Then I thought to myself;
All those shades of pink that colored my cheeks,
those palpitations,
those brief laughs at your dry jokes (which makes you, you my friend),
those sentences and glances we shared that I ended up overly replaying and analyzing, desperately trying to dissect their meanings;
They make such fleeting presence now; if not none at all,
They're piddling.

At the beginning of spring last year,
I was overwhelmed with anticipation.
Come early fall,
I was recovering from the juvenile and venomous game of mixed signals we unfortunately played.

At the beginning of spring this year,
I came to notice how settled you were. 
"Kudos for you," I thought.
It took me awhile to realize I had no negative remarks for you,
A first; since the whole thing went sour.

I asked myself "is this what moving on feels like? Is this what ceasing to look back feels like?"
Because it feels good. It's pure liberation.

I'm no longer that girl who spent the whole of last winter licking her wounds only to find them re-open during summer,
I'm no longer that girl who yearns for time to rewind to the days with you, as minute as they were,
Not anymore.

Letting go took longer than I thought, but I'm glad I finally got to it. Alhamdullilah.

As for you, in my life you'd always stamp your mark as my first love.

Always; as indifferent as we are to each other now.

I always thought first loves are beautiful, and the fact that my heart honored you with such a position was more than I could I ask for.

No one before made me want to let my walls come down willingly; you did.
No one before made me want to take a leap of faith despite the uncertain consequences that were going to transpire; you did.

No one before managed to evoke such rawness in the way I felt; you did.

No one before made me feel like I was drifting in such a strong current yet I loved every second of it, desperately wanting it to drown me into the deep end; you did.

No one.

You made me acknowledge how it felt to fall  and feel strongly for another. So, thank you.

"Once you start moving on, He eases the pain in your heart."

-Yasmin Mogahed.