The secret for long relationships is not having a perfect and harmonious love affair. It is not how less often you fight, not because of the number of similarities and the stuffs you both like doing together nor the number of mistakes you did. Those things count but it is the faith that keeps you going. A relationship would last if both of you are willing not to give up, if both of you is willing to stand up and still try every time one of you or both of you fall. You should not lose hope when you are struck with problems along the way. Give each other hope and hold on as long as you can.
(via arch1medes)
._.o_O._. omg…haven’t done this for like..two years??? THIS makes me nervous and looks like an idiot..i guess.. ._. hiks. KI, HELP ME, i want this one to workoutt ummhmmmh..i need a help(-‘_’-)*sigh* if i fail this one..i don’t know>_<
:’) i’ll keep you a little longer in my life<3
Where should I start? My current feelings or what initiates them?
The latter would be preferable, but no. I can barely wait to blabber what’s inside me now. I am sick, I just got home from overseas which made me went through a two-hour flight with a poor baby who relentlessly cried throughout the journey and rudely interrupted my “short nap” after a sleepless night. I was annoyed, but I pitied the lady, apparently she was alone and helpless. I feel so bad for not being any helpful. But the torment did not end there. I had to get into a crazy cab in which I was tortured with stiff air-con and continuous small jerks; credits to the traffic jam. Urgh.
I’ve been having the urge to puke all the times, I don’t know why. Small things annoy me. A part of me suffers a terrible headache now and then. A rush of thoughts and memories makes me uneasy, and I suffer from an ad nauseam caused by it. I don’t know how to put these feelings into words—my English mark is always the worst, a stain to my report card—all I know, this all started postmortem, of a brother of mine.
He was not technically a brother. A close friend would do actually. Scratch that; the closest one. I have twenty ‘brothers’ all in all, and seventeen ‘sisters’. More if we count my seniors, since we’re all living under the same roof of a hostel in Singapore. Long story. Everyday, I meet all of them and I’ve seen them almost in all states no one else would ever see unless they’re living together with us. Pillow-faced, messy haired, stunk with sweat, starving, full, cheerful, depressed…all. We went through ups and downs together, as a big family gathered with a common fact that we’re apart from home and have nobody but each other to lean on to. How sweet that may sound? Awww.
Anyway, he, who passed away earlier this month, 5th December 2011, was my most favorite brother of all. Now I hate myself for using was instead of is! Damn it, he IS MY FAVORITE BROTHER ALL THESE TIMES. I loved him—at the stake of sounding cliché, but not in that silly romantic way. He is a gooooooooood friend, like a brother if I got the chance to ever have one. I knew his features all too well my eyes could detect his face amidst a huge crowd without me even trying. It happened once when I found him at Orchard Rd, really.
Still, I can picture him clearly standing beside me, sitting in front of me, when I made that tap on his shoulder, when I saw his eyes widened when I said that our curfew was extended… I saw him ate alone before me for so many times. I remember and know all too well the way he chewed, the way he talked while eating, even the way he drank his drink, and the way he scooped that strawberry ice cream he bought after he ate a grilled chicken we ate face to face. We used to have lunch together after church. Things were NOT awkward, even if he was the only boy who went with us. That, is what I like and I miss the most about him. He, who never complained a single time when he walked us for a window shopping although we all knew we wouldn’t buy a thing in the end. He, who I saw flashed before my eyes with his hand so quick until I didn’t see him stealing a basketball I had dribbled all across the field in our hostel. He, who finally jumped so high—higher than anyone of his height could do—and made that shot precisely to the rink, and grinned…
I can mention the shirts he used to wear, still. Purple, yellow, faded pink, white, green. In his last days, he wore some new shirts I never saw him wearing before. His mom must have bought those for him since he had arrived to our homeland a week earlier than I did. Those might be a kind of present; he did well in his end-year finals. We had discussed it, though. I shared how my scores were not as good as his, but he encouraged me (after he teased me first for he forever did better than me, of course) that one day, somehow we both would make our aggregates down to six. And we said amen to that.
Little did I know his dream—our dream—to achieve that and to enter the same junior college would have been abruptly slapped by destiny. God has called him home, we could do nothing about it but to gulp the fact down hardly (choked, in my case) and continue our lives. For me, it’s not that simple. I didn’t get the things I saw that night. How come most of my friends were not crying that late night we waited outside the hospital after that lightning stroke? I was the only one weeping endlessly as my heart crushed into bits of tiny glasses and felt my life fell apart somehow. I lost a huge part of me; it left me a huge abyss until this very second. I once watched the movie I Am Sam. When the authorities were about to take away a girl from his autistic father, they went to a court trial and a witness said something like “if you take him away from her, it will left a hole in her heart. And she will forever live, trying to fill that hole.” That is indeed very true. I think I will live the rest of my life filling the hole left by him. Probably I will endlessly search for that one person who can be my close friend like he did, although I know I would end up alone. How can a new friend catch up all the things they have missed???
He didn’t exactly pamper me or being the nicest boy around; he blurted at me, teased, mocked, and ignored me. I couldn’t tell which times he was merely joking or which times he actually annoyed with my presence. I didn’t know, I don’t know, I don’t want to know either. All I know, he considered me as one of his closest once we chatted under a tree while we tried studying chemistry together. I always know I am annoying and cared too much for him, but I love him, I am repeating myself, making myself clear. I don’t really care if he loves me back. All I know, I did have that thought: “maybe if I can show him enough how I really care, one day he would take care of me as a reciprocal.” That one-day never came though. But I believe there is nothing wrong and nothing hurting about loving someone. He didn’t mind either. He knew I care, and he knows it is true now. The last days we spent, I chatted with him about his trip to Australia, which he never managed to make… I told him to brought tank tops and bikinis since the summer is incredibly hot down there. I kind of forced him to bring me back some nice souvenirs. I wished him to get well soon when he said he had a cough. We argued since he didn’t want to say “thanks”. It was silly, but a “thanks” would be nice for me. But I forgave him anyway…
I was a jealous friend, REALLY. I AM. I thought I wouldn’t have to be jealous for him once he has gone but things went crazier instead. I honestly hate to see his name everywhere, news, papers, tweets, FB wall posts, I don’t even like it when people who don’t know him well like my personal note for him! What the hell? So everybody starts to care when he’s gone? They don’t even KNOW him. I hate myself for this too anyway…they’re probably nice people who want to understand me…but still. And some even make silly comments. I. Don’t. Like. It. Period. It’s my friend you’re talking about and it DOES matter for me. Well, I sound like an autistic child whose plan disrupted now. I am having meltdowns. Sometimes I think I’m about to literally experience one.
I have planned to say so many things to him—I mean it when I said I planned.
I haven’t got the chance to tell him I found a biscuit with his name on it.
I haven’t got the chance to remind him that we actually in the same group when we had our outbound at Pancawati. He had been there beside me in our old candid photographs, yet I didn’t notice!!! I REGRET THIS, YOU KNOW. NOW I REALISE AND..? WHAT’S THE POINT?
I had that stupid uneasy feeling before he went.
I had lucid dreams after he has gone.
I had so many thoughts that give me headache, and heartache.
I want to meet him soon. I know that sounds silly.
This afternoon, I had fried dumplings from a nearby restaurant for lunch. They are so nice that I miss eating it at times. The last time I missed this very dish, I sent a blackberry message to him, telling him I miss the very food. Back then, it happened that he was eating at that restaurant. He ignored me; he said “cihh”, sounding like he didn’t care. I didn’t mind at all. Because if he’s not being like that, he’s not him anyway… Little do I realise, I often sleep with my hands touching my own throat, wondering if only that damned man didn’t ever stab his…but I’m trying my best to let it go.
