Forgiving The Unforgivable

It's amazing how love can make you forgive someone. Simply because you don't want to lose them. Because you believe, even after how much they've hurt you, that they are a good person and worthy of your forgiveness and of your love.

I wasn't just the victim in my past love chapters. Many a time, I was also the villain. Maybe it was my insecurities playing up, or just sheer boredom, or curiosity that made me test the waters.

Unfortunately, some of my weaknesses still haunt me. But I don't ever want to hurt Asrul the way I hurt other people in my past life. It was mostly a game to us back then; you hurt me so I'll hurt you. I don't want any of that for him.

There was a time, back then, that I wasn't sure if he was the right one for me. I was so afraid of being hurt that I didn't want to truly commit myself. Up till now, I never wanted to truly believe we were meant for each other because if we're not, then I'll just end up heartbroken.

When I told him all this, his response was, "There was never a doubt in my mind that you're the right one for me". It was so honest that it almost made me cry.

We went through all our issues tonight. How I felt back then and why I did what I did. Even though he's told me before that he's forgiven me, it was hard for me to forgive myself.

Because I've never felt this way before.

I've never looked at a cute guy and not want to smile. I've never rejected flirtatious calls purely out of disinterest and not because I was afraid of being found out. I've never wanted to make someone so happy before.

A world without him is literally black and white. Like lyrics without rhyme. I know this because I've lived that world before. I lived it, I tried to be happy, I tried to move on but it always felt like I was leaving my right side behind.

I can learn to forgive myself, the same way I forgave him for his sins and defended him against anyone who didn't have faith in us. I can keep being his no1 supporter in his studies, inspiring his ambitions. I can tweak my future plans for him, weave my dreams around him to make sure he fits into my life.

But if I lose him, I'll never find someone I'll love as much ever again.

It's like catching lightning, the chances of finding someone like you.

Farhan Farhana

Back in matriculation, there was an English Drama Festival themed "To Be Or Not To Be". We were all divided into groups in English class and the best drama would then represent the class for the said competition. My group comprised of the six of us; me, Sai, Syaz, Naza, Yana, and Farhan, the only male of the group.

While mulling over what to write for the script, I thought it would be funny to turn all the girls into guys and the only guy into a girl. And so, Farhan Farhana was born.

I stayed up with Syaz till 4 a.m. writing the script and going over it line by line, thinking of who suited which character and all the funny lines to slip in. It was worth it, though, because that drama won at our class level and went on to represent the class of H6E1 for the competition.

I'm not sure how long the whole competition ran for but there were many rounds and levels, we went through each round and (to my awesome surprise) made it to the top 3. It felt like it was going on for months, there were so many rounds!

It was just the best moment ever when they announced who won second place and we automatically knew we won first place. We screamed so loud, my eardrums rang. It was super super awesome. All the late nights rewriting scripts, choreographing dance routines, constructing props, arranging the stage, finding and designing costumes, it was all worth it because now, we have memories to last us a lifetime. The big bonus is that the memory now includes winning first place.

Big thanks to everyone who helped out with this drama, not just to the people of H6E1 but to others who helped out and supported us, it would not have been possible without the group effort everyone gave.

Sai, saya ingat lagi awak cerita awak bangun tengah malam practice dance tu and roommate awak takut tengok awak menari dalam gelap and ingat awak kena rasuk ke ape, hahahaha

It was a long time ago but Syaz recently posted the video on Facebook and it's got me flipping through old photos feeling so nostalgic and grateful for having such great friends who gave me fond memories.

If you don't have anything to do for about 30 minutes, watch this drama, which I co-wrote and co-directed. It gets me laughing every time.

Farhan Farhana, Part 1

Farhan Farhana, Part 2

I make a pretty hot pengkid, no?

Growing Pains

This is my album, full of photos from my younger days up till my convocation recently. I intend to get a new one with more pages and to organize them chronologically or perhaps start a scrapbook when I have the time. But this will do for now. Since I love my readers so much, here's a tour of my album and hence, my life.

This is perhaps, the earliest picture of me since my parents' camera was broken when I was born. Or perhaps the whole excitement of a new baby wore off by the time they got to number 3 so here I am, my first photo at the age of perhaps 6 months or so. My mom claims my hair stood up like that all the time, like a permanent Mohawk. Rock kan saya?

I'm guessing I'm at about 8 months here. See those thighs? 22 years later and they still look the same.

My first big accomplishment! This is when I first learnt to walk. And I still have this particular coffee table in my house right now, waiting for my children to learn how to walk around it. Tehee.

My first birthday! Wee~ This was also my first studio picture and by the looks of it, you can tell I hated sitting still and smiling at the camera. The left side of this photo is actually my mom's hand holding me up, telling me not to cry as I was very close to tears (I probably bawled like mad afterwards).

My 2nd birthday! My mom's in her pajamas (I used to wake up freaking early, and I mean so early that me and my brother would turn on the TV and wait for the Negaraku song to start). In this picture, my brother blew out my candles before I could and I cried immediately after and my mom had to relight the candles. I was very garang, even back when I was a kid.

A year later and here I am at my 3rd birthday. My mom's album is full of me with my face smeared with chocolate, ice cream, and, as this photo demonstrates, cake. I was born with a love for food and all things fattening, no surprise as to why I still have my baby thighs. Whenever I see a kid too young to tell the time and yet wearing a watch, I would always remark that I don't see the point of parents buying kids watches when they don't even know how to tell the time yet and here I am, at my third birthday, wearing a watch that I have yet to break/lose/bite to pieces/thump my brother on the head with.

Four years old, at Sungai Congkak with my family and cousins. Saya takut-takut air masa ni. Sejuk!

Us three. Don't you just love it how kids can be so spontaneous in photos? If I pose laughing with my mouth open right now, I'd look like a retard.

Fast forward to the future. Me at 10 years old and my front teeth just grew and no, I am not yet aware that I look like bugs bunny. Poor little me. She didn't know she'd come to hide those huge chompers in each and every photo for the rest of her life. Also, my hair was as bushy as a squirrel's tail, right? I was yet to discover the joys of going to hair salons and Ezzura was yet to convince me to try DIY hair dyes.

Us at 13. I was always tall for my age and look at Ezzura's hand gesture over my shoulder. Patut pun phone casing dia devil. Nanti saya nak cari casing angel. See my peace sign?

Me and Ezzura, now at sweet 16. I would spend a lot of weekends at her place back then and it wasn't long after this photo was taken that her mother passed away. Al-fatihah.

Good friends are hard to find and I have been blessed with 3 such people during my time in matriculation and they have stayed on to be one of my best friends ever. Sai, Syaz, and Naza, may we stay friends for ever and may life treat you all well.

Sometimes I may moan and wince at the pains of life and cry over my troubles while at other times, it may feel like life is perfect and happy and complete. That is the beauty of life. After all, what kind of life would it be if we never learned from our mistakes? Especially when we look back at photos and see how far we've come, it's then that we realize we're all winners.

Not everyone gets to go from here

to here
And from here

to here

It's at times like these that I truly see and appreciate the efforts my parents put in in raising me and the friends that accompanied me throughout my journey. Oh wait, lets not forget

From here
to here

We are all truly blessed, aren't we? Alhamdulillah.

Behind Every Strong Girl. Well, Me, At Least.

Few nights ago, as I was driving home from work, I suddenly recalled memories of an old ex-boyfriend.

I have not thought about him like that in years. Sure, sometimes I would wonder where he is, with whom and what I would say to him if I ever saw him again but I hardly ever thought of all the old memories.

I suddenly remembered how he looked like. A roughed-up version of Anuar Zain, that's what I used to think of him. The first time I introduced him to Ezzura, she gave me the thumbs up behind his back. Meaning : he's gorgeous. And he was. I suddenly recalled every detail of him. That scar cutting across his left eyebrow. He was pretty short, though, I was 15 and he was 21 but we were about the same height. Guess I'm way taller than him now. But he was buff. I wondered if he had put on weight since then and is just a fat, short, 28-year-old somewhere out there.

But I recalled other things too. Things I'd rather not remember right now that I'm sober of all the emotions I felt that night. But there was one memory that stood out. One memory that I have not thought of in a long time.

We had photos taken with his brother's camera back then. I remember, when our picture was taken, I was mad at him about something. So I was sitting next to him when the camera focused our way and I tried to conjure a fake smile on my face when he suddenly leaned in and planted a kiss on my cheek. I was taken aback. I laughed and turned towards him and that was when the camera clicked.

The picture came out with both of us smiling at each other. I loved that picture. I cut out slits on the very last page of my school book and slipped that picture in so I could stare at it all day in class.

No guesses why I wasn't a brilliant student then.

So anyway, all these memories came back on that drive home from work. They didn't make me miss him or choke me up with tears or anything. But it all felt so... unreal. Like it was from a dream. Or a book I read somewhere.

When I got home, I rummaged through my old diaries, looking for that particular ex in my childish handwriting. I found nothing.

Nothing.

And then I remembered what I did with everything that ever had a trace of him. I tore out all the pages of my diary that had his name on it. I threw out all his gifts, photos, and momentos. I wrote his phone number on the back cover of my diary but even that was blanked out.

I really don't know why but it felt strange. To have all these memories of someone who mattered so much to me once upon a time ago and yet have no trace of him left. It was like he never existed. And that bummed me out. He felt like a dream and nothing more.

What's worse was, as I went through my old diaries, I relived most of my teenage memories. I hated being a teenager. All that uncertainty, that self-searching that never seemed to end. The back stabbing friends, the dream boy that was out of reach, the parents who never understood, the constant need to have peer support.

It wasn't a very good time for me. I read about the boys who lied to me back then. Sure, most of the boys I had crushes on noticed me but most of them did not have honorable intentions. And there I was, asking that same question again and again (Does he love me?), all the while over-analyzing the situation and creating my own misery.

I look back now and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Because it's just so obvious that none of them really loved me and, to be honest, all I wanted back then was to be wanted. It's just so pathetic that I feel embarassed by it now.

Then, I came across another book. I had quite forgotten about the existence of this book. It was just before I left for London. I wrote a 3 page letter to Asrul on the front pages of that book and he wrote in it almost everyday while I was gone. Sort of like a diary.

I've only read this book once after he gave it to me when I returned to Malaysia, and back then I was so busy and excited to be back that the words didn't really register to me. I read it properly again that night and could almost hear him saying all those words to me.

In it, he wrote about how much he missed me, how he loves me. He wrote about the problems he had while I was away and how he wished to tell them all to me right there and then. How he would see me everywhere he went in HUKM while he was doing his practical there and how it drove him crazy. How he would never, ever cheat on me. He would put little smileys in his letters, some sad and some happy, even one or two smileys with glasses on to make it look like him and that just made me laugh.

Slowly, hate and embarrassment I felt for my teenage self ebbed away. My need to find living proof of that ex that changed everything faded.

In one of his letters, he dedicated a song to me. I'm not big on Malay songs but this one really touched my heart.

Gadisku
Seri mewangi bagai disiram selautan kasturi
Gadisku
Terindah padamu kerna tak pernah meminta selain cinta
Dialah gadisku selalu
Tak peduli apa kata orang terhadapnya
Aku tahu dia gadisku
Tak peduli nista yg terlempar padaku
Dia tahu dia gadisku

And then I didn't care anymore about the past. I didn't care about the friends who bailed as soon as I needed them. I didn't care about the boys who I thought cared about me and who I thought I cared about.

Because all of that led me to him. He loves me for who I am today, despite of my past. And he is the only one of all the guys I've ever dated who doesn't want to know the gory details. The others probably got a cheap thrill out of it. But not Asrul. He can't stand the thought of me loving anyone before him.

But I think most of who I am today was shaped by my teenage experience, however horrible it was. It taught me many valuable lessons and though I am not proud of what I did, I most definitely would not wish my past to be any different. Well, I might tweak a few boring bits but that's all.

I have come so far since then. That girl writing in those diaries, she seems almost unrecognizable to me.

And that epic love story I thought I had? Turns out it's just beginning.

Angel Of Mine

I can't sleep. I think, of my 22 years alive, the past year has been the one most filled with insomnia episodes. Last night I went to bed at 3 a.m. and woke at 6 a.m. I went back to sleep around 7 a.m. and woke at 12 p.m. which is a decent amount of sleeping time but really, I only woke up because Asrul insisted I get out of bed. If he didn't bother me, it's safe to say I would have slept till 4 p.m.

So what's been keeping me up all night? Am I studying so hard? That's a laugh. I've only studied what, twice the whole week? I did manage to cover most topic areas but I know I'm not doing enough.

Okay, I'm only going to see Asrul tomorrow night for dinner so I promise I will spend the daylight hours studying. Well it really depends on what time I wake up since it's already past 3 a.m. and I'm wide awake. And I usually need a minimum of 9 hours rest to wake up feeling completely energized.

What's kept me tossing and turning at night? This is gonna sound silly and I'm a bit scared to admit it because I know Asrul will take my guilty pleasure away if he finds out. But if it's bad for me then it's a good thing there's someone to stop me, right?

So here goes.

A few days back, I watched on Oprah about this girl who grew up with a deep, dark secret: Her father is a serial killer. Nicknamed the Happy Face Killer by the media because he wrote chilling letters about his murders and signed it with a smiley face.

The part that I couldn't forget was that this murderer would terrorize his kid by burning stray cats in an oil barrel and once, he even hung up little kittens on a clothesline by their tails. Creepy, huh? That last one kept me awake a few nights.

So I decided to Google this Happy Face Killer.

In the end, not only did I find out more gross details about this particular killer but I ended up reading a whole lot of other serial murderers. Mind you, it's not a one page story about killing people. These murderers managed to elude police for years so it was a good 10 to 19 page read and I spent hours going through the details, even having my meals while reading it like a book.

The one that I really can't forget is the demonic Westley Allan Dodd. This pedophile is so gross, he makes me question if he really is human. His sexual fantasies about children were so violent, he even wanted to eat their genitals. I told you it's ultimately gross.

So why do I keep reading this stuff? Good question. Honestly, I really don't know. Some things are so horrible, it captivates you. It's the same reason why I love horror movies, even though I know it's guaranteed to give me at least a week's worth of sleepless nights.

The longest I've read was about the Green River Killer but it was a disappointing read. The police didn't catch the murderer until almost 20 years and 48 bodies later and what was the sentencing like? Life in prison with no possibility of parole. He escaped the death sentence because he made a deal that if he confessed, he wouldn't get the death penalty. I'm like, what the eff? After what he did and the cops can't even manage to lie to him? If I was the investigating officer, I would pull the deal back just as soon as his confession's recorded. Okay, I think that might be illegal but I really think this scum shouldn't be kept alive, especially at the cost of taxpayers. If I were the victim's family member, I'd stop paying taxes just so I wouldn't feed the psychopath.

After reading all the gruesome and gory details, especially after seeing that most of the murdered victims were my age, I begin to get suspicious of loud noises, of shadows passing behind me, and I'm really getting paranoid about making sure the front door's locked. One of the murders happened on campus grounds so I'm not taking any chances.

Hence, my sleeping problems. And so close to exams too. My mum would kill me if she knew.

What I'm about to tell you is something I've never told anyone, not even Ezzura and I tell Ezzura everything. I guess that at the time it happened, I really thought nothing of it so I didn't mention it to anyone. It's all behind me now and I'm safe and sound so I guess there's no harm in mentioning it here.

When I was a kid, whenever my parents were mad at me (more like, when I was mad at them), I would sit out on the park bench in front of my house and watch the cars go by on the main road. The park was just out front my house but not directly in front, it was about 100m to the left so you really can't see me from the house.

So anyway, one night when I was really mad, I sneaked out after dinner and sat there on the park bench, watching the cars go by and fuming silently. I was 10 years old. Sitting out in the park that was just in front of my house where I've lived my whole life sounded perfectly safe to me.

Then there was this guy, I think he was a Sikh, mid-30s maybe.He was big and bearded, he drove a van. He parked by the park and came to sit next to me. He asked me if I was okay. I said I was really mad at my parents. It didn't even occur to me to ask who he was. He then asked where I lived. I turned around and pointed at my house. He nodded and asked if I wanted to go for a ride with him. He mentioned he had a rope in his car. I really didn't know what to say to that so I just kept quiet. He then got up and left and I went home soon after.

Now that I think about it, it would have been very likely if I had gone into that van with him, I would be on the front page of every newspaper. Raped, murdered, dumped in a ditch? Who knows. I don't know what made him leave but I'm thankful he did.

There was this other time when I was 14 and did something similar. Only this time I was picked up by a guy who said he was a cop and told me to get into his car. Stupid as I was, I did get in and was terrified because he didn't intend to send me home. He showed me some ID that he really was a cop and even drove to the Kajang police station to meet some friends of his. I really don't know what he was planning to do with me since I said I wanted to go home but he drove all the way out to Kajang. I was scared but decided on a stony-faced approach, not wanting to show him that I was scared.

He then told me to sit in the back and a friend of his sat in the front with him. He drove out towards KL and somewhere along the way, he stopped and said the car broke down. He lifted the hood of his car and asked his friend to help him out. Even at that age, I could tell he was faking it and was really discussing with his friend what they wanted to do with me. I wanted to get out and run but it was in the middle of the highway and a part of me said that he's a cop so he can't be dangerous. So I sat tight.

They both got into the car and next thing I knew, he dropped me off at the Bandar Tasik Selatan KTM station and gave me RM 50. I used the money to take a cab home.

I guess you're all breathing a sigh of relief now, eh? Yes, I may have been so stupid and naive but at that age, I really didn't know better. Thinking back now, I think it was real lucky of me that none of the men even touched me, though I could sense something sinister going on but was too damn scared to do anything.

I must have one heck of a guardian angel. Perhaps it's the same one that sits with me in exams and provides me the answers to questions I haven't studied at all.

By now you've all probably summed up that I had a pretty crappy time growing up and I always was (and still maybe am) a rebellious teen. I have a really short temper and when I'm angry, I usually just run somewhere to find solace. I still do that now but, being older, I've implemented some safety rules.

Always, always, lock the car doors. Never go to mat rempit spots alone (e.g., Bukit Ampang, Dataran Merdeka, that sort of place). If you ever get into an accident at night when you're alone, don't get out of the car. Note the license plate of the other vehicle and immediately drive to the nearest police station. And of course, the old age rule: Never talk to strangers.

Be safe, people! There are so many psychos out there.

Irreplaceable

To those of you who has read my old blog in Friendster (which is inactive, by the way), this picture may seem familiar. Yes, I know I wrote a really long post on this little boy but it's been 3 years since his death and I still really miss him a lot.

I don't want to talk about how he died and and what I felt and the last time I saw him. That's just gonna bum me out. It's just that I miss him so much. I think of him every time I cuddle any cat. He's my what.. fourth cat since I was 3 years old?

The first cat I had was a Persian mix called Cindy. She gave birth twice and I kept one of her sons, Tom, because he had sky blue eyes and was grey in color. He later became the oldest cat I ever had when he died 13 years later, I was 16. How did he die? No, it wasn't of natural causes and I really don't want to talk about it because it'll just make me feel like a murderer. Cindy got lost during one of those 13 years I had Tom and during that time, my dad also bought me another Persian mix who was all black in color, a really hyperactive cat I called Cinder. He later got lost too. I made up the theory that they were stolen which was pretty likely and that was why, when I got Teddy on my 16th birthday, I resolved to keep him indoors only.

His full name is Theodore Tom Ocyrus II. Silly name for a cat, eh? Hehehe. I actually couldn't make up my mind on what to call him when I first bought him from a pet shop in USJ. At first I called him Sunny cause he's so orange but then it just didn't fit and my sister later suggested to name him Tom II, in honor of the late Tom. She later came up with Ocyrus, which is a Greek name for the sun or something. But something in me just nagged that his name was Teddy. He was so shy at first. Every time I came home from school, I would see him at the top of the stairs and, upon seeing me, he would run into my room and hide under my bed. But after a while, when he got used to having humans around, he became this really cuddly, needy, playful little thing. I would always call him my Teddy Bear.

He really had a personality about him, sometimes it felt like he was almost human. I've never, and I don't think I ever will, meet another cat like him. He would sit by me while I studied and when I didn't pay attention to his meows, he would jump onto my notes and roll around, asking me to scratch him. So I'd scratch his chin, let him play with my ruler, hold him tight till he can't breathe, let him knead on my pajamas and drool all over my leg, and he has this habit of sitting with his legs wide open and I'd tickle his belly. About 30 mins of that and he'd fall asleep.

When he died in 2007, it was the first time I've ever seen my mum cry over a cat. She was always shooing him away and yelling at him for scratching the furniture and getting fur all over the house and even bringing a bird in once, but I guess we all really loved him. He was part of the family.

And that, my dear friends, is the last pet I've ever had. I think things have never really been the same because I've never not had a pet kitty since I was 3 years old. I've always had a cat. But my mum is adamant not to replace my baby teddy and I think I am craving for some kitty love.

I can't wait to graduate and get myself a cat once again. And I'm not just gonna pick any cat, I know none of them can be exactly like Teddy, but I'll try to find one with just as much personality.

Poor kitty. You've got big shoes to fill.