Soul Searches

I have a severe problem of communicating how I feel at a needle-point accuracy, so to speak, verbally. I find solace under the shelter and might of the pen. I have always envied ones with a tongue so eloquent they manage to convey WHAT they want and WHEN they need to exactly in the right amount of words and just enough vocavulgarity (ies) without ever having to sidetrack to profanity.

Mak said I was probably slightly neglected during my earliest childhood. My sister was born when I was barely a year they said. But March 3, 1984 to November 11, 1985, I think that makes up about 1 year and 8 months ++. Still was there lack of attention that I have this problem of expressing myself ?

I have always felt somewhat short in the art of what my colleague would call the Taichi. The masterful art of deflecting hits and redirecting it to someone else first before finding out the facts and figures yourself, of which, by that particular time, the attention has winded down so much, it might as well had never happened.

Hence during my early years with my current employer, I always have to write down what and how I feel to make sense of things, I wrote down every last details of the affair. I had to dig and I had to dig deep. And lo,  it makes so much more sense when I write them down. I was able to dissect what and how I feel compared to just feeling enraged ALL THE FUCKEN TIME. 

Yes, rage. Very productive.

I had no idea how to solve things, therefore I break them. Its not that I discard the art of effective communication altogether, its just that by the time I do employ them, the tone will almost always be slightly higher than what's required to be effective. Thus, there's no such thing as anti climax ending to my confrontations. They always have to be either 'hideous' ugly or they never happened to have an ending.

Last but not least. Fruitful discussions and effective communications are all pretty, only you happened to be ugly. So pardon me not when I snap.

:)

These days I don't even know the song that I have in my 2000 strong playlist, well more actually, but God, I download album after albums but that does not mean I'm gonna listen to the whole lot of them.

So, I stumble upon this song - very easygoing melody, delightfully light music. Makes one smiles, albeit a melancholic one. Truth be told, I don't even know what its saying. And upon Googling, I found out that's its one of those K-Drama OST. So must be either Yan's or these kids' punya kerja. Heck, its enjoyable nonetheless :)

Rantings of Various Very Unorganized Thoughts.

A Painting Is More Than The Sum of Its Parts. (this is what was supposed to be the title. A quote from the movie Flipped)

The more used we are to each other the more I feel like I didn't know her enough. The more questions asked. And wow, InSecurity is creeping in. I've just realized it.

I've just gotten back from dropping her off dekat rumah dia. And a sudden melancholic sensation swept in. And seriously what the fuck ? More and more uncertainties surfaced and more questions than answers dangle the temple of my mind.

Then *tenenenenet*

Her SMS reads, OK I'll just vertically challenge the content : "Sorry of I blurted out something that bothers you.." or something like that.

Owe Em Gee. Did I look distant ? Ergh crap crap. I don't ever want to hint that persona to any of My Intended. Especially not her. Even conversations weren't that Haha-able. Sheesh what did I let slip.

But the SMS was all it takes. I'm feeling, guiltily, relieved. And now the clock is ticking faster towards me clinging to her every response in order to determine what I should feel. And th..

OK, that was Yan. Coming back from Ipoh. =) =) =) =) =) =)

Ok. Happy ? Not quite. As a matter of fact I felt for a couple of paused seconds, clueless of what / how to feel. I felt happy she's finally back from Ipoh. A tad melancholic because she's in the condition of having to brave the pain. And the even harder task of being so used to pain that she'd expect pain to surface at any moment's crack.

And there she was. She's losing weight at a very rapid a rate. Her arms both bony and scarred. Her jaw, I couldn't bear to look at her lower jaw. It makes me sad. My beautiful little sister is scarred and her jaw metal plated.

Check.

I have to somehow look strong. Or else, look away. But no I'm not about to. This is my sister and I helped getting her off the van. She was fidgeting. No she looked frantic. The expectation of pain surging all over her fragile body. That was all. But just looking at the frantic state she was in made so sad. I told her she was strong and God has tested her to this length for a reason. For one reason that she's reasonably strong. Strong enough to cope with it. And God is All Knowing.

This is a very unorganized thoughts, random, raw and naked I present to you for this has been a violent emotional roller coaster ride in the space of few hours.

Her Bloody Clothes

Adik.

When I saw the bundle of your bloody clothes, I feel guilty of even smiling. Smiling while you're braving raving pain all over your frail body.

I hope you're fine. I hope you're well. I can only pray. I know it shall never be adequate. Proof of my own incompleteness.

I hope you're fine. I hope you're well. I really do.

Happy Birthday Adik.

This is a third time re-entry for this. For I keep dabbling on the backspace for each stuff I typed. For I think none is good enough for her. For her, I would want the sunniest metaphor to depict the brightness she wrapped us around with. She has always been the most frail amongst us. But she too has always been the bravest. Though I know for years, only the nights have had the privilege to be drizzled by her tears.

She has probed into some of the most less humane territories we chose to avoid and proving critics time and again that obstacles are made of some holographic projection of our brain cells to keep us safe, sheltered in the comfort of our norm. She braved them all and came not unscathed. But somehow stronger each time.

For her I would want to weave each and every syllable of a beautiful poem so that I could patch her patchy backdrop of painful early years.

For her I would trade blows and exchange knuckles if you ever were to choose to stand in her path. I couldn't help but be emotional in this entry for I know now how painful it is to be watching her writhing in stinging pain all over her fragile being.

And I finally realize just where she's placed in my heart.

Happy Birthday Norazyan Binti Ahmad.

I love you much. So much.

"Will You Have 5 Kids With Me ?"

Its the combination between The Prick and The Chivalrous that create the magic. Too much niceties will only elevate you as far as a chauffeur goes. Too much Pricks and you'll come across as arrogant. And not to mention, InSecure.

And so yeah, I miss you. And me being a prick is as stretched as my attempts at 'I miss You'. For this has been the only way to communicate to My Intended that she is the one.

Am sure Yan would understand. For I feel a bit wrong in delving in my little rants with emotional stuffs while she is bedridden braving her pain. Yes, I love you Adik. And am sure you would understand.

Oh and on that note, "Will you marry me ?" is getting old faster than the speed at which the light travels.

So I'm thinking - "Will you have 5 kids with me ?" instead.

I Love You, Adik.

Apart from the compulsory adoration between siblings. I have always admired how she could have faced through what she had to in most of her early years. Up until the fight she had to brawl she faced off to ensure a place in her master study.

Health wise, she was always so fragile. I remember she used to need to carry her inhaler everywhere and there was one time our father had to take her to a clinic where she needed to be assisted with her breathing.

I wondered sometimes, how something so frail natured withstand the batterings of life. Despite the obvious difference in strength she was always the one looking composed and know what to do when times are not so kind. Sometimes its just like she was meant to be the first born. And its a statement supported by the fact that people had always mistaken me as her younger brother. And trust me that is not one bit flattering.

That's why it is so gut wrenching to see her struggle for a mere word.

"Air.." (water)

She was thirsty. God. I couldn't help but break.

Nil orally. She wouldn't, for quite sometime be fed and neither that she can drink. Not through her mouth at least.

My sister had a crushing accident. 8 out of the 10 passengers who were inside the van broke their legs. A few of them unconscious. Some still thought they're still in Penang. Yan was the hardest hit as she was the one driving. She broke her mandible and was quickly transferred to Ipoh's Tuanku Bainun Hospital from Manjung district hospital.

I kissed her forehead for a long time since I can remember. And realized how much I love her.