He's finally home for the weekend, and how i missed him so! *virtualhugs* *buthalalgap* *sepwilldo*

"James huh?", he asked with a quirky laugh. He approved of the name and he googled James Dean because he never heard of him. To him, James Dean was so-so. He was like that too, so-so to people but he swoons them over their feet.
What on earth did I get myself into.

We exchanged updates on the first two weeks of school, and it was hell for both of us. He said he feels unwell. The maximum number of days he will be sick is 3 days. He said to not worry as his fever is usually not that bad and he can still have the energy to study. Eh hello, how I am supposed to not feel worried? Even not hearing from him makes my heart feel uneased.

He read everything here, and I managed to say sorry for not opening up to him. Yes, he let me walk away, uncharged. Hehe.

I lied on my bed last night after the quick conversation, feeling calm than ever. I feel that a burden had been lifted from my chest, and dozed off with a smile. I want to make the most out of these two days to spend more time with him before we have to separate ways again for weeks. He told me to hold on. "Continue studying and you'll be out of this in no time. What's glory without sacrifices, kan?" , he comforted me when I whined on how I cannot go home for almost two months until Eid Ul Adha. A baby, I am.

               "Yes, success requires commitments!" , I shouted at the payphone, feeling motivated. He is everything now. My happy pill, my booster. Let's just hope that he won't be a heartbreaker.

Cheers to #2, #5 to go!

i am asking myself
over and over again while
cringing under the shower
downpour at 1 am
"what did i do wrong?"
replaying like a mixtape
i feel like banging my own head
to the checkered walls so that
I don't have to remember any of
these again.

i am grasping for air
while my own lies drown my
face into a basin of truth
but please,
i pleade,
push my head deeper
until my heart sinks
so it doesn't have to feel the pain
as it shatter due to the vows you
never promised.

don't pull my strands of hair to
pull my head
please don't save me,
i beg.
i don't want to rest my temples
at the edge with bloodshot
eyes and dry myself with a towel
and strut out looking just fine.

Please,
leave me.

strolling barefeet along the coast
let the strong rays of sun shade my eyes
whispered a prayer to the clouds
hoping the sky will fix it fine

the wind stormed out and messed my hair like my feelings messed my dreams
my intentions go back and forth like the water
non stop overthinking

i am the raging waves ruining
the shore
-i was angry.
but your reflection makes it
a beautiful scenery
makes me twinkle during
quarters of the night

you make people stare
at me with serene
-i was finally at peace.

 We were talking about distance. I told you about my perspective on distance which it has only two outcomes; either it will make us being further and drift apart from each other until it ends by itself or the feeling grows stronger that makes us realize that we do need each other so much in our lives and we will hold on until we see each other again. Twelve days of being away from you have changed me. I have never felt so reluctant of being apart from someone. I have thought about this a lot in the long duration, and I know that it is the second option with you. Good night texts have never been so important for me, nor good morning wishes either. What kind of magic have you been using? You have changed me-no, you have completed me.

you hate poems.
maybe that's why i write a lot.
i don't want you to read a
dozen stanzas that means
'i miss you' .
-nevertheless you still
support me
and reading you say
'i'm proud of you' from
a smartphone makes me
a smiling emoji
(before you said the exact same
phrase to someone else)
now here's an angry cat with fangs.

you once told me
to move on
and put everything behind
to write fresher pieces
in order to relate them with
the audience
but i decided to be a rebel
because i don't want to forget you.
ah,you are used to this.
'such a brat'.

this distance is a silent killer.
i get to meet my parents once
a week but not my number three.
once a year is only by chance.
it's hard to be alive
but i survived with your attitude
and a miserable mind
this one ain't a freeshow,
it's too horrifying.

as i grow up,
i focus too much
on the italics
but lost it at
the bold.

how should i know?
you make fun of
serious matters
but took no chill
on jokes.

a gentle reminder;
i am always your
little girl that you
see on stage with a
bee costume
that turns around when
you call her 'Dear'
and asks you stupid
questions while you're
reading manga online
in your free slots
but still doesn't know
how to cut her own
slice of pizza.


-and if you really
do wait for me,
have some rest.

i'll always come back.

"Just say what you want"
is easier to be kept.

it's always
"I wish
 I wish
  and
 I wish"
and so i sleep

-with my wishes come
true only in my dreams.

i have to stop marking the calendar
when you're being nice
your cheesiness is the end of my smile.

i hear the school bell rings
when you turn your back
and left 'goodbye' to end
our conversation,
because the worse thing
that always happens is
you leave me hanging,
and i prefer my body upside
down that being rolled over.

i need to pack my bags
when you mumble a word
first before i can whisper
-S,O,R,R,Y
but i thought that i know
you so much that i keep
building my fence thicker
and higher when you are
defenseless and displaying
yourself like an antique in
a museum;
a genuine soul.

i ride the car anyway
without waving back
because we will
eventually trace each
other after
the season ends.

I don't live long enough to tell you
which investment plan is the best to save up for
your luxury two-room apartment that is two blocks
away from the noisy elite nightclubs in Kuala Lumpur
but listen to me girl,
you're not a woman yet if you still wear those
miniskirts to impress an athlete when you walk
past the boys' locker room
and
Kuala Lumpur is a good place to find good books
but not a good life.
It's the trees that give you life,
unless you're a tree yourself
or your heart finds peace
in the 5-8 daily traffic jams,
hands down.

but why invest on a two-room apartment
when you can invest in a plot of land
and build an exclusive mansion?
guess that i'm not too young to give out
financial advise.

take off the lace dress
if it doesn't make you feel any more
than a wrapped frozen hotdog
on prom night.
don't feel ashamed to button up
a red checkered shirt and rock those
pair of jet black boots on the dance floor.
comfort is the key to confidence,
and you should be in your own skin.
take your time to learn how to cross
your legs while holding the tip of
your blouse.
even princesses had scheduled etiquette classes
to pick up manners at the dining table.
no one expects you to know how to
have a fleek mascara when you yet to
know the difference of which foundation
covers which.
you'll get there.

don't worry if you cannot help
carrying a man's trophy.
bear in mind:
wings grow,
not being attached.
you can empower the
world with your rough hands
from writing assignments and
cooking a decent platter.
true,
everyone needs a backbone,
don't be one to a careless
person that only knows
how to break things apart,
including your heart.

be brave and ask around.
be bold and brace every flaw
flawlessly.
run forward and see the wonders
that God has to offer in the world,
not running in circles.
it will help you avoid bumping into
the same negativities.

take this as a pep talk,
ladies.
i hope this one lingers
in your mind and occupies
all the space that you have
to kick out fear from your
head.

-and we are never too young
to do so.

i ate chocolate wafers and pints of caramel ice-cream
i was sugar deprived
my brain froze
had a hangover the next morning
like bottles of alcohol
i realised that dairy couldn't fix this heartbreak
when it started aching again after lunch.

it is no longer about boys.
i learnt my lesson quick although not
passing the exams because i don't
need to answer questions that shook
my principles that made me reminisce
to believe.
it is bad to believe that no sensible
human would try to pick up
the little pieces of my anatomy and hugs
tight to glue it together again
only to find it crushed into microchips.
disclaimer:
this is a general statement.

is this a mental illness
when i see a sea of love approching
my toes but when i run towards the waves,
i can't see a puddle left unless i take
10 steps back?

i don't think that any doctor
or medicine can heal me
from this illusion.

i was unconscious and numb.
i couldn't twich when the nurses
poked needles through my veins
to flow a river of hope
somehow they found out in science
that the waves crashing the walls
of my heart will keep it beating
but your fingers that read my
stitched palms  like Braille
and brought them close
to your lips for every silent
prayer that made me alive.
the only stimulus that i could feel
was your strands of hair that brushed
the ends of my left arm from the start
until the shift of the moon ended
i felt cruel.
i couldn't lift it to wrap around your
shoulders when you bury your
head in my blanket beside my hip
gave up defending your tumbling
fort and cry.
each drop of tear that you shed was
my strength until i was able to open my eyes
to  see your smile.
i won't forget the warmth of your hug that put
my grudges and anger on fire.
when the doctor took off the breathing mask
from suffocating my face
i could exhale forgiveness.

i am still crawling to stand
on my wobbling feet
but i am no longer afraid to
fall
because i am assured that
you are always here
to catch me from every failure.

and that makes all the pain
worth healing.

it's funny that
there are tracks that
still reminds me of you,
like this new Little Big Town
record that I'm listening to.

i solemnly swear that i'm not
Pinocchio
and i don't deny that
when i turn the shower tap
around,
i can feel the tip of your fingers
skipping on my skin like hitting
staccatos on the keys of the piano
with every downpour.

i am no superhero but
God keeps giving me flashbacks
that i don't want to remember,
making me a confused physicic.
i would hear your jokes whenever
FaceTime accidentally opens by
itself
but i would also hear your denials
and your lies of every bullet that
you hit
bull's eye,you held me hostage
in your mischief.

and that made me a cruel empress,
not giving you any more arrows.

now and then,
i would still question myself
if you wore suit and tie
opened doors
remembered our anniversary by heart
respected my principles
and looked at me in awe
like Milky Way was in them
sprayed Paco Rabanne like Dad,
my favourite scent
if you were loyal before I left,
if you were a complete
different person,

will we stay awake  in the teenage dream that we sleep for?

'will I be still in love
if you were a better man?'
                       

i am a tangled mess
that curls up
when comfort tries to rebond
with a streak of iron

-even when i'm sleeping
my dreams are all about
falling from a height of
monologues that are
meant to be said out loud
and waking up with
a complete anatomy
but acknowledges the fractured
bones caging promises
that once i held onto
but got broken alas,
like my heart.

i am always alarmed
on warnings and aware of
manipulative tongue twisters
but i stand back
listen
play along
got laughed at for being an honest
believer.
Honey,'pious' is not a familiar adjective.

what is the point of
guarding an empty deposit box
i am worn out of this old butterfly cycle
it won't be a sweet victory birthday bash.
free was demolished from the vocabulary of
words
and people are not fortune tellers to
know what you will become.
their vision is limited to the present
and
'I love you' can't be heard if
the sceptical beauty is not what they see.

I've had enough of living with my eyes closed
but with a conscious mind.
I don't want to wake up.
It hurts to be sober but don't reach for the pills.
Been there done that,it won't even snap your nerves
to forget why are you up crafting words with a dim moon
to show you the alphabets.

Turn off the lights,please.
Good night,
as there is no sunrise
that can kiss hopes on my
cheeks from the window.

a rocking hammock that
wants to be a safety net.

that is a woman.

she wants two hands
in her hair
pulling her close to
the taste of heaven
and the same two hands
that assists her to twirl
in the rain
and the same two hands
that gives her a bouquet
of flowers and any diamond
accesory on every date that
involves birth and the start
of the sparks
and the same two hands
that craftes its arms to fit
her waist after midnight
to ease the pain

but she also wants
to tame the two hands
from lingering around other
women's  fingers and
conquering their hearts.

she doesn't want to be a substitute.
she wants to be the main player
so enough is never enough.

but the moment she thinks
she did,
 she feels the responsibility
to obey,
the duty to trust
and the agreement to be loyal.

and so she closes her eyes
and shut her heart.

let the same hands squirt
blood out of her lips
and the same hands
pushes her to the corner of the wall
and her head is  nearly pierced
by the edge of the table
she knows  that at the end of night
the same hands will pull her close
to the soothing beating
like a drumroll welcoming her to
the heaven that she first found
in the eyes that promised her
a space to reside.

so she tends to forgive
again and again
and when repetition occurs
on a word
sorry sounds like a soft
snore she waits every night
for the instrument to come home.

that is a woman.

-such fragile creatures that
are playfully screenplayed
by love.

he said that he didn't know

'don't make your writings 

The nightly breeze can't soothe me to sleep tonight.
I want to drift stroking the clouds
and dance with the moon
but I am not an athlete
and my steps wobble.

and so I sleep anyway,
with a racing heartbeat
craving for more excitement
for tomorrow's sunrise,

but tomorrow is yesterday,
and yesterday was
the day before,
nothing is getting better.

therefore,I choose
to be in between.

the stripes of white and black
dreaming to be splashed
with colours.

My senior,Arisha Rozaidee just released her second book,Sandpaper Heart and I was very excited to wash her with a lot of questions since Sandpaper Heart was self-published.I asked her about the cost,which place to get it published and such.She said I need a large amount of starting fund which is around 1-2K.She said at least I can earn all the copyrights for myself but if I publish it at a publishing house,I don't need to spend a single cent on it.Gosh,I'm confused.

Submitting my manuscript to a publishing house is very uncertain.I may be welcomed with open hands or rejected without any doubt,just like how my short story is rejected by Lejen Press by only saying TIDAK.Yes,with capital letters.If I publish it myself,I have to sort everything by myself and it's also uncertain whether everyone will get the word or not about my book.

For now,I am thinking on how and how and how to just make ends meet to earn 1-2K before the end of this year and....I still don't have a plan.What should I do?I really want my book to published so bad to change my life towards the better.You know how money is scarce right now.

So for those who would like to share some ideas to make this work or would like to donate some funds for my new book,do DM me on Twitter @maleenbalqish or e-mail me at merlinprettywizard@gmail.com .

Oh,don't forget to get Arisha Rozaidee's new book,Sandpaper Heart just by mentioning her on Twitter @ArishaRozaidee and do so!

Xx(but truly worried),
M.