This silly heart will always root for the same guy.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
The cat died yesterday afternoon.
After struggling for days, I've managed to not shed a single tear when I carried his dead body to his grave. There was a large gaping hole where his right cheek should have been. I was quite relieved when he finally died, because no creature ever should survive with such pain, unattended.
Talk about crying, I've had my fair share of crying just a day before he left. I took some time to stroke him, whispered I love him. And he purred despite how weak he had become -- he could not even stand up by then. I wonder if his purring was effortless. I sure hope it was. I would hate it if he wasted whatever energy he had left just to show he loved us.
Damn. Now I'm crying again. Haha.
Have a safe trip to Heaven, sweetheart.
by: Atiqah Shaharudin at 1:28 AM
Saturday, February 7, 2015
I actually don't want to write about this, because I'm such a weakling. Writing this will only bring me to tears. But I need to. I need to straighten out everything that's been cluttering inside my head. I need to because I need closure.
So a few days ago, I found out my sweetheart was injured, rather badly, on his right cheek. There was a big gash just under his mouth; you could see the red flesh and the pink jaw as clear as day. Fuck. The moment I saw it, I felt so enraged I felt like throwing things around the house. I was so heartbroken.
I already cried for ten minutes when I told someone about him. Most of the time, I just didn't want to acknowledge anything. Since then, the only thing I managed to do, without crying, is to care for him. I bathe him every day. He scratched my arm, but I don't care. His wound smells bad it attracts flies, but I don't care. He can no longer eat as much, but I don't care I still pour food for him.
He's such a stubborn little fella, too. He knows he's sick, but he still struggles to munch at least one or two pieces of the cereal I pour for him -- if I am there to see him through it. He still runs to me, with all his heart, whenever I call him. He refuses to believe his injury is a bad one, because he still is the same ol' playful kitty.
I don't know how much longer he can pull through. There's a part of me that believes he can make it, but another part just wants to succumb to the fact that he's dying. I don't know. I'm not strong enough to even think about it. If this ends, I just want him to be happy. And I'll do whatever I can to ensure that.
by: Atiqah Shaharudin at 8:25 PM
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Kalau kau tanya orang apa benda yang paling menyakitkan, mungkinlah, mungkin, orang akan jawab pisau, luka yang dilumur garam, paper cut, dan kalau dari segi emosi, mungkin ditikam belakang, kekasih curang, dan di-ignore oleh orang tersayang.
Tapi aku tak tahulah sejak bila, kalau aku terkena perkara-perkara menyakitkan tu, benda first sekali aku terfikir adalah okayyyy what the hell did I do wrong this time? Sebab aku percaya, sakit tu karma. Sama ada sebelum ni aku pernah sakitkan hati orang lain, atau aku tak cukup bersedia sampai aku sendiri disakiti. Dan selepas bertahun-tahun buat refleksi diri cenggitu, aku akhirnya faham apa benda yang paling menyakitkan, untuk aku.
Dan ia adalah harapan.
Sebagai seorang manusia, aku sepatutnya faham bahawa manusia adalah makhluk yang paling susah diteka, tapi pada masa yang sama, kau patut hargai ciri-ciri unexpectable tu sebab dia membuatkan hidup kau sedikit-sebanyak lebih interesting daripada biasa. Namun, oleh kerana ciri-ciri ini jugalah, aku tidak sepatutnya memasang angan dan harapan waima sekelumit habuk sekali pun. Aku sendiri tahu pengakhirannya -- sakit.
Aku masih berpegang kepada pendirian aku masa aku pernah jadi optimis dulu -- harapan itu sesuatu yang indah, walau sesakit mana. Tapi aku dah mula takut, dan aku semakin percaya harapan cuma sakit semata-mata. Pun begitu, aku masih berharap -- jujur cakap, boleh ke kau berhenti daripada berharap? -- bahawa sakit yang datang bila harapan itu tak dipenuhi taklah sesakit hingga menyesak ulu hati.
Jadi, ini adalah aku yang paling jujur. Harapan aku adalah, walaupun aku mungkin tak dapat orang yang aku suka, aku harap dia tetap gembira. Dan aku, daripada mengharap pada manusia, lebih baik aku berharap yang aku, aku sendiri, mampu cipta kebahagiaan aku suatu hari nanti.
by: Atiqah Shaharudin at 11:22 PM
Monday, February 2, 2015
As I slip and fall behind, life takes on a slow-motion stance. So serene, so peaceful. I can see the bright bondi blue sky and wonder what it would feel like to bump on the cotton-like clouds. Then, it fast forwards -- the images at the back of my head -- playing continuously and vividly I swear I could almost hear the sound of the rolling film.
I can see my mother and my father, laughing and encouraging me to keep walking forward with my two tiny feet. And my, am I eager to run into their arms and feel safe once again. I see Gran, frowning at me with her index finger pointed at the pile of Power Rangers figurines and some rust-coloured Playdohs. I see my best friend, talking about how difficult it was for her to lose someone so dear. I see you, staring at me on the aisle with your glossy eyes, as if you've never seen me wearing a dress your whole life.
And I wonder -- what next? Is this the end? I sure hope you won't cry over me. But I hope you won't ever forget me, either. Then plummet. To darkness.
I've always thought my worst fear was drowning. I was wrong. It's uncertainty.
by: Atiqah Shaharudin at 10:33 PM
"Sometimes I hate people," he said.
"Yeah? Why?" she inquired.
He kicked the sand burying his right foot. Stared at the little granules rolling back to where they were. She waited.
"They just don't understand, y'know?" She stared into his eyes. He stared back, and he knew he didn't need to elaborate.
"People judge too much," he started, then quickly stopped. He stole a glance at the person beside him, and he wondered if he had said wrongly. Her face was unreadable, and he didn't even know if that's a good thing. Her eyes were fixated to some invisible thing in the middle of the vast sea, whipping softly in front of them.
Maybe they too were afraid of being judged, and that's why they did it first. Maybe people are just pretentious assholes who divert their attention from their pathetic little flaws to others who are actually a lot alike like them. Maybe, maybe. I just realized I used a lot of maybes in my sentences -- are thoughts considered as sentences? Her mind raced, each thought showing like they were typed with a hyper-technological super-fast brain typewriter.
"You looked bored." He stated, almost like a demand. A demand for a response. Any response at all. He knew she hated how he always does that, and he could almost guess accurately -- in what looked like a nanosecond after he spoke those words -- the little frown lines forming on her forehead, the small exasperated sigh coming out from her mouth, the scowl, and how all those would drift away as quickly as they came. It was perfect.
"Well, look who's judging," she snapped back. Then they smirked, and she knew she didn't need to elaborate.
by: Atiqah Shaharudin at 12:31 AM