to have you to myself

if i could lock you up in a cage,
or write you down on a single page,
or keep you in a box of mine,
i shall live my life sublime.

black & white

we all have our grey areas.
i can't wait to finally discover yours.

:)

pejamkan mata dan lupakan semuanya

manusia takkan selalu memahami sesama sendiri.
manusia takkan selalu bersifat toleransi....

bila dituduh secara membabi buta,
butakan mata, pekakkan telinga.
dia takkan faham dan
dia takkan ingin mendengar penjelasan
kerana padanya, hanya dia sahaja yang benar.

lupakan.
lupakan semuanya.

a love that lasts a lifetime

" I sometimes have a weird feeling with regard to you - especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two 
hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, - you'd forget me." 


" Have I not found her friendless, and cold, and comfortless? Will I not guard, and cherish and solace her? Is there not love in my heart and constancy in my resolves? I will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgement - I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion - I defy it."


Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte.
  

WHAT?!!!!!!!!!!

http://muslim-responses.com/Cross_Critique/Cross_Critque_

please, by all means, read what this young man has to say.

How can anybody NOT fall for this guy? And by the way, I'm so absolutely intimidated right now. I mean, how, HOW(?!!!!) do you talk to person with all that complexities in his mind? You'll have to know or just end up looking daft. Forget using big words. No matter how monstrous your choice of words may be, it will not measure up to his, ever. 

Ahhh....sakit.

PhD

Perasaan hasad dengki membaur-baur tahap tak terkata and tak boleh terima bila baca blog ini (klik la. mesti korang sakit hati jugak) Perluke orang ni tulis hebat sangat sampai boleh buat orang rasa macam-macam?

Read it, and first, you'll feel jealous of "you". You'll spend a long time wishing you were "you". And then...you'll relate so well that you'll learn something new...kita-semua-sama. That's what he's trying to tell "you".

Click, and enjoy.

:S

it's hard to be happy when your friends are sad 

i can stop crying my heart out now

because you're finally here :)

Marriane Williamson said:

"There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." 

i

found a friend in the most unexpected place

a perfect day

berikut adalah sebuah puisi yang sangat panjang dan depressing yang telah saya pelajari dalam kelas tadi...

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

by T.S. Elliot

  

S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
     A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
     Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
     Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
     Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
     Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question…
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
     So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
     And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
     And should I then presume?
     And how should I begin?

          . . . . .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? …

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

          . . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep… tired… or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
     Should say: "That is not what I meant at all.
     That is not it, at all."

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
     "That is not it at all,
     That is not what I meant, at all."

          . . . . .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old… I grow old…
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

I'm officially very very scared of growing old

...

it's been a long time since i looked in the mirror and liked what i saw

pengecut

knowing the right thing to do and not doing it is the worst cowardice.

bangun pagi,
pergi tesco,
pergi padini,
pergi SPK,
pergi KJ,
pergi Kota Damansara,
pergi sekolah Kamil,
pergi Rasta,
langgar kereta orang...

and my day is officially runied.

First of July

I opened up your letter,
You told me you don’t love me,
Don’t you think it’s better you tell me to my face?
Was I wrong to think about the heaven that you brought me?
Was I wrong to see you as the apple of my eye?
I don’t feel particularly good.
Don’t worry about me I’ll get by.
That was the last day of June,
And this is the First of July.

You don’t have to pity me,
It’s something I don’t need.
The signs were clearly written,
I just didn’t pay the heed.
Was I wrong to let you go without another fight?
And was I wrong to think I won’t be missing you tonight?
I don’t feel particularly good.
Don’t you worry about me I’ll be fine.
That was the last day of June.
This is the first of July.

They say that time has got a funny way of healing,
Right now that’s the only consolation I can find,
You might find another guy and break his heart tomorrow,
And I might find the peace of mind that gets me through the day,
I don’t feel particularly good, no.
But don’t worry about me I’ll get by,
That was the last day of June,
This is the first of July,
This is the first of July,
This is the first of July.

fatigue

my hands are shaking
my heart is racing
my stomach's rumbling
and i can't stop crying.

good night

i always need you

but you're never there...