Thursday, March 24, 2011

GDT 153 of 24/3/11

Hey...where's the lecturer? I'm tired and bored and I can't even lift my pen...Hey...the figure I drew is distorted...damn.

There's not even half of the class here...sigh. I want to go HOME!!!!!!!!!!

I'm sick of this. Can I just...leave...?

Monday, March 21, 2011


I stand with my gaze to the melting sky, a solitary, motionless, grey figure against the colourful animation of all kinds of students. My mind travelled back, as the sound of sobbing rings in my ears, dismissing the serene sound of falling raindrops.

The wailing goes again, I sighed. My eyes were transfixed to the monitor of my laptop, but my attention fell elsewhere. My work is never going to be finished at this rate. They torture me as much as they torture themselves.  I hear only her cries. It irks me, flailing my attention. How pathetic. You asked for the break up, and you are wailing over it? Heck, if I were the now lucky boy, I should be the one sucking my thumb and wail as I hear sad love songs in the air. But then again, I am not that boy, or at least I wouldn’t be doing all those things. Break ups are nothing. ‘Love’ in these ages, in such a tender time of life, is never to be eternal. Both of the sides are playing push and pull, just to experience this rollercoaster they call ‘love’. This, all of this is senseless, hurting yourself while you hold the knowledge to avoid it. You idolise your lover when you are a couple but when you break up… I dismiss those feelings of irk, agonising attention kill, sympathy and immoral happiness. My work is my utmost importance.

“Call Tiha, tell her I can’t make it to class”, the words came between all the sobs and wailings. Luckily you still remember about class. Even if you’re skipping it. You should have Che’ Wan as your lecturer, he’ll let you off the hook for missing his class due to a break up. Seriously.

 Strange, listening to all these…’jiwang’ songs, aloud and over and over again seems to calm her down. And managed to make me feel all giddy. She listens to it even in the midst of azan. Sigh .Then she read the text messages her now ex-boyfriend gave to her. The wailing starts again. I gave yet another heavy sigh, put my headphones on, minus the music and pretended not to hear anything.

About yesterday, or the day before, my other friend broke up with her boyfriend. She wailed, too. It disrupted the blissful serenity of my sleep. A very groggy I gave a comment, “You know how teens nowadays are, there’s no need for you to…” And my not even finished comment was barked back with, “Shut up! Shut up!” There goes a peaceful morning. I rolled back to sleep and awoke a few minutes later. What a great start to a blissful morning! Damn.

They were always quick to dismiss me as ,” You don’t understand, you really don’t,” and would give me the ‘do not interrupt our talk on our shitty boyfriends, shitty classmates, shitty bitches of a classmate, shitty weather, shitty lecturer, shitty assignments, shitty this, shitty that, and the list goes on… my life is so like, shitty’ look. Yeah, I don’t understand on why this girl is bitchy for writing on your boyfriend’s facebook wall, or that your lecturer is shitty for holding up replacement classes. Oh, and yes, they eat with that mouth. Me? I prohibit myself from cursing or using vulgar words. Not in writing, though. Everything changes when I write. I am at liberty when I write.

So I might be a jinx to those in love, but well, secretly I am glad of that. I try not to experience this kind of love. And it seems that I break other people’s relationship of this kind of love, that happens without me interfering - my classmates included. One of them broke up with his girlfriend and does a very non-macho thing. He cried. So much for his ego. Sigh. I pity him, but immoral happiness grips me tighter with its vice claws. So I merely gave a wicked smile and a sarcastic remark, when he broke the news. Boy, do I sound arrogant, cruel and cold…heh.

But hey, that’s just me. I wouldn’t change. Not now, and hopefully not ever. Heaven’s tears grew thick. Everything seemed blurred. In my brown jacket, I sauntered quietly in the rain, wet and chilled to the bone. Back to my room. Back to see love suffer. Back to the embrace of the agonising mixture of immoral happiness, torture and sympathy. At least until they all get new boyfriends and girlfriends.  I hold that thought with a malicious grin etched across my face.