“If you think you are too small 

to make a difference, 

try sleeping with a mosquito in the 

room.” 

memories of a good friend.

4 days back into my old, boring life.

I am pretty much moving on, trying not to think so much of what happened. I laughed out a storm, had dinners, hang out with friends, played guitar,wore kebaya to class, jogged around Gelugor, smiled when I got average pointers, registered as a candidate in the upcoming campus election, slept in class, texted some random guy in class to refrain from sleeping, chatted with a tagteam/bff/brother about relationshits-- his and mine, drove around Penang in a friend's brand new sexy car, bought a Manchester United jersey at chowrasta for 10 bucks which was too figure-hugging and wore it to jog despite all the stares,

pretending

that I am not at all affected over what has happened. 

Truth is, I am. In most of the things I did, I just wish that that very person would be near. That he would be at least watching. That I would at least get to see his face, and see the stone-cold numb look on his face, the expression when he sees me now. He used to smile. A nice friendly smile.We used to be friends. He'd even say hello. I'd be nervous, the way a girl in a stupid American high school flick feel when seeing her crush across the hallway or something, but I'd say hello too because we were friends.

And now every time my phone rings I found myself praying hard that it was a text from him. And every time I jog I hope on mere coincidence I would bump into him, and in the cafeteria, choosing nasi lemak over sandwiches I would remember the breakfast we had and how he told me he doesn't eat spicy food or have his rice wet, and so I decided I'd go with the sandwich simply because memories about him makes me feel like I am close to him.

Like we were friends again, because I sincerely thought that not so long then, we were. I thought I heard him say I was his bff. 

Maybe I'm wrong. 

I'll just live with the memories. Memories of the things that we did, memories of the place we went, memories of a good friend. 

The Call.

My Ummi once said that I am a person with no stand. That I must admit. I am undecided, uncertain. I can't make a strong decision. No, I can make a decision. Only, I will change it the next minute. Sometimes I make decisions and regretting them, and changing them back again. For most of the time I don't know what I want. 

I had up to 7 break-ups with one guy in our year-long relationship, because I was the indecisive little bitch. I told him that we should end things between us due to some really pathetic psycho reasons  until I began missing him and calling him again and begging to patch things up. 

I also got into a relationship with one very nice chap, simply because I thought that was what I really wanted, one who I dumped 5 days later because I was bored. Because I realised that "he wasn't what I was looking for".

My indecisive, vacillating, uncertain, volatile self has taken a toll on my love life, one of the reason why I am at 21, still boyfriend-less. p.s. call me only if you're cute, single and looking.

Never mind all that. This morning, in the dull old Ethnic Relations lecture, where I was listening to Alex Turner's heavy British accent in Arctic Monkey's No Buses(please check that song out!), I made a decision I know for certain that come what may, I must never change.

It is going to hurt for a while. I am going to need time to adjust to the situation, to forget the routine and to adapt to the new life. No, to go back to the old, boring life I had before I met him. 

The time spent together was fun, what I had with that certain someone. There was a lot of adrenaline, laughters and whatnot. Now I'm discarding all the naughty nights for niceness, with the memories of a really good time. Yes he gave me a good time, I would say that, but everything must come to an end now. It no longer worth doing this, hurting another person. Another woman. I couldn't even sleep at night, or to look at myself in the mirror every morning without utter disgust. To quote Angelina Jolie, way before Brangelina that is, 


“To be intimate with a married man, when my own father cheated on my mother, is not something I could forgive.......I could not, could not look at myself in the morning if I did that".

A tad bit too dramatic there.

Guilt got the best of me, I cannot be the other woman again. I was once but it was harmless, but not this time. Not another innocent soul. Not another heart. Not another love story. 


But that's only half the reason why I make the call. Another is because in the end, in this little game we play, I am the one at the losing end. Things will heal between the couple,I believe, and I'll be alone. Even if they couldn't patch things up, I still have to leave and be alone. Would you build a relationship on someone else's shattered  one?


I don't want to perpetuate this maelstrom.  Better to hurt now then later. And oh, don't worry about hurting. I am resilient enough =)

I don't know if my decision will stay, or I'll go back to my old indecisive self again. Let's hope not, okay? No, it must not. 

I promise.