1.
SPEED
(Im)
It's hard to
see her not smiling. It's hard to see her not laughing. Because every time I
happened to see her, a smile would be plastered across her face. Laughter never
fails to escape from her. It seems like happiness surrounds her every time, so
it seems.
But now, I
found her lips trembling, the knuckles of her hands clenched, hands clutched
together, with her head falling down, and shoulder shivering. Our distances are
not that far, but not close enough for her to acknowledge my presence. She
suddenly straightened up, and her hands are brought towards her face, as a
startled viewer from above (not literally above, I'm standing at the balcony in
front of her), my guess is that she is wiping her tears.
There’s a
whisper inside me saying that I should go down, and be beside her. I did, in
fact, walk away from the balcony, and go down the stairs, but I managed to stop
myself from walking towards her a few steps behind. I know that she will
probably stand up anytime soon, and would not be expecting to see any human at
this time, at this place – our campus’s stadium- and with her present
condition.
But my Nike
runners could not bring me elsewhere, I won't even budge. Some voices within me
whispers that I should remain where I am, and try to find out what is happening
to her. As I expected, she stood up and turned around, and I saw her red-rimmed
eyes, for the first time. Something that disturbs her must be serious, or her
cheeks won't be wet with tears. Instead of taking a step forward from where she
stood to go to the distance that she expects she would go (to the exit I
supposed), she just stood there still. I reckoned that she probably felt my
existence distracts her because her body looked stiff. I cleared my throat and
start a conversation, which I rarely had with her.
{
I placed my
backpack on my study and take out the book I am currently addicted to, of
course, another non-fiction and politic-genre kind, and paperback is another
criteria that I would look for at the bookstore. I turned on the radio and
Jason Reeves's The End was playing. I look at the cover of the book and instead
of looking at the bold writings in blue and black, my mind wanders back at the
conversation that I shared with that girl this morning.
Well, it's
hardly a conversation. It was a stupid move actually, because I should've known
better she was not prepared to encounter a guy who is so unlikely to talk with
her, and so unlikely to start a, shall I say friendly conversation? Darn.
Instead of just exited myself before her, like I would normally do if I found
myself in an awkward situation like that, well not meant to be unconcern but
some people doesn't like people to budge into their life problems, and to
actually give room to them to gather themselves and not become more depressed
because someone had caught them in such a miserable state.
But in her case, it’s different. Instead of
leaving the stadium, I stood there facing her and after clearing my throat I
asked, "Are you, are you alright?" Just a simple question but my
heart pounds so hard, thinking about this makes me feel more stupid and wonders
why I actually felt that. She looked up at the guy who is standing on the
steps, I could sense a startled wave in front of her face, but she answered
after a few hesitations. "I'm fine." Just a short answer and she walk
passed by my side and exited through the door. I didn't go after her of course
that would be pretty much ridiculous because then she might think I'm acting
weird so suddenly, but I turned around and watched her go.
Now I placed
the book down and head towards my bed. As I lie down, my pupils caught on the
metal hanging above me. The fan could not be any louder, I thought, but this
fan had been serving me well for the last one year since I stayed here. Apart
from the loud fan, I know that I enjoyed staying at this room, in this hostel
of my campus. It gives me the comfort feeling, like I felt back home.
My far away
home. I tossed and turn and I seem could not find myself having a good rest.
You need a rest, you've been working long heck of hours and you deserve a good
rest, that's what the voice inside my head told me. But I couldn't let my
eyelids close, because my mind was thinking besides resting, I couldn't let go
of that girl's sad face. Suddenly a memory of the past blinded my eyes, a
memory that I reminisced.
{
I was at the
library and looking through the choices of books arranged neatly in front of me
and I saw the book that I have been wanted to read since last month, before my mid-term
exam starts. As I pulled the book from its position, another book which is
arranged at the opposite side also been pulled, and my eyes caught a pair of
beautiful dark brown pupils staring straight at me.
I straightened myself, and eventually I was
facing a tall, fair-skin girl of my age, with a familiar pretty face. I could
guess she is tall because her height is slightly shorter than I am. She's my
course mate. It was a brief but awkward moment, cause we actually stared into
each other’s’ eyes for a few seconds before she herself break away from our
‘awkward moment’ and gave a slight shy smile before she walks away. I on the
other hand, watch her go and kept reciting the istighfar.
I met her
again, however this second encounter was longer, and we actually sat and
talked, well, discussed is a better word, because we sat and discussed in a
meeting held among others, pertaining to our student society – the Medical
Student Association. I came fifteen minutes late, and as I entered into the
room, the meeting already started, and my course mates were sitting in a circle
–because we don’t have a round table so yeah- I found an empty seat next to my
friend, Kamal, and I sat, and looked in front of me, and I saw that girl. And
during the meeting, we actually discussed together, I supported her points, and
she supported mine, I looked at her in a different perspective. A new
perspective of her that I somehow like.
These two
events occurred last year. After the meeting, we somehow kept stumbling into
each other, before class (she’s not my classmate but her Biochemistry class is
just next to mine), at the café, and every time we did, the ‘only chemistry’
there was that we exchanged smile as a sign of courtesy towards each other, to
actually acknowledge each other as friends, well, we never really discuss
matters beyond the student body meeting agendas, like studies or that sort.
Reminiscing
this, I realized that I haven’t see her much often like before and saw her in
such depression like this morning adds to my already present curiosity. I don’t
see her beaming smiles since November last year. I heard my doorknob’s turning,
probably my roommate had returned from his lecture, and I looked at my Casio,
and just realized I’ve been staring at the loud rotating metal above me for
almost two hours.
(Nad)
Have you ever
heard of the saying goes “happiness could camouflage your sadness” or “laughter
could hide away the tears” or you probably hadn’t cause I had actually made
them up. But thinking about the words, it’s true, somehow, because I’ve
experienced it. Tears could keep flowing from my
most-of-the-time-red-rimmed-eyes-at-night and it will stop when it should stop.
I mean, you
could control yourself from crying can’t you? And that if you’re the reserved
type, who won’t easily share your personal stories, you would know when is the
good time for you to actually pour out, and have a good time of yourself,
alone. I always said to myself, true happiness is what I want, always wanted.
It is something to be accomplished.
And yet until
now I have the trouble to strive for it. I have the ‘misfortune’ of not
achieving the real happiness that I’ve always dream of. No, I wasn’t meant to
be ungrateful of what I have. Actually if I tell my story, most people would
have reacted in a way that tells me I should be grateful because others don’t
have many opportunities that I had obtained, before they even hear the rest of
my story.
It’s true that my life is complete, with
parents, a sibling, and a home although not a massive one, but comfortable enough
and I am fed with three meals per day. I entered kindergarten and the journey
continues until I could get into university, a life which I should be grateful
of, because not all people could experience that. But not all people know about
my life completely. Not all people should experience the other side of my
story.
Before, I
heard about the overwhelmingly devastating news, my previous sadness factor was
a whole lot of different kind. People always see me in smiles and laughter, and
so I hide my sadness with those masks. And I never thought I would be repeating
the same act again after two years of getting used to the whole lot better
situation.
Have you ever feel that your home is not a
home? You cannot utter the word home sweet home because your so called home
doesn’t even fit the two words; it’s not even a home because home where all
your ohana get together well without
arguing and fighting with each other and sweet, my home is far from sweet. It
is too bitter to tell.
{
That year was
2007. I had my headphones on and The All American Rejects’ It Ends Tonight hit
the play button. I was deeply engaging myself with Jude by Kate Morgenroth,
actually a very good read that I would recommend to my peers.
And as I got
to the part where Jude is accused of murdering his own father, I heard a loud
crash downstairs, which caused me to abruptly stand up from my bed and head towards
the stairs. I heard a loud thump sound this time, and as I peeked from above, I
found out the crash was from the crystal vase, among the two of our only crystal
vase in this house (that we got from winning mall prizes) and the loud thump
was from the books that has already lain on the floor.
There were
lots of books, our old textbooks, which we never bother to keep it nicely
arranged, and now they are strewn everywhere among the broken pieces of glass.
I saw my 9 year old sister crying and sniffing and the one who caused all these,
yelled at her, asking why all of us could not keep the house in a good state;
her voice is full of rage. This is not the first time. And we actually have
make sure we’d done our chores and the books, well, at times they could get
pretty messy when my sister needed them for homework or revision. But she just
won’t stop yelling. I closed my eyes shut and tried to control my anger.
Suddenly waves of the past memories hit me, and as I opened my eyes, I was 12
again.
I saw myself
at the kitchen, trying to bake some cookies. I could never get the hang of
baking, but the feeling of comfortable and lovely would always linger there
whenever I beat the mixture of butter, sugar, eggs and the vanilla. I headed
towards the fridge and was retrieving the chocolate chips that I had bought with
my own money that I saved when I was sent to buy some carrots at the nearby
store. As I was pouring the chocolate chips over my satisfied mixture, I heard
a key sound trying to open the front door.
My forehead
was already perspiring hard as I looked around the kitchen. It was a total
mess. Dirty dishes still remain inside the sink. The big lump of the flour that
I dropped when I carried the flour bag from one side of kitchen to another
caused the centre of kitchen to be the most noticeable. I promised myself I
would get it all clean up when the cookies are baking in the oven but I never
realized I should have to clean all these much earlier. But it was too late.
As I turned
around, I saw a figure standing behind me, looking at me and the background of
the kitchen with eyes full of wrath. I noticed she brought along a metal
hangar. The next thing I remember was that I had to put up with the bruises and
sores at my arms for the next five days. I also promised myself to never bother
to make anything to make that person happy. Yes, the cookies were meant for
her.
I startled as
I heard the loud yell. I realized my cheeks were wet and my lips tasted of salt
water. I wiped my tears away and looked at my sister from the stairs. Because the
woman cannot stand my sister’s continuous crying when she told her repeatedly
to shut up, she suddenly slaps my sister’s face. Hard. Which caused my sister
to abruptly stops crying but watching her from the distance I could know that
she’s hurting. I clenched my knuckles hard, and I feel like I’m boiling up. I
shouted, “Mom! Stop!” And mom turned towards me, and I was the second victim.
{
Yeah, I’ve
been slapped, hit. Lots of time. Because of the messiness we siblings had
caused. Messiness here could be defined as not properly arranged your textbooks
on your desk, late washing the dishes and cannot keep the living area tidy just
like our cousin’s house. Only that I hope people should try to excused us for
being kids. We were kids, back then, who tried to survive by having fun and
play.
I got hit because I answered back whenever our
parents argue and fights. People would probably think that is so ridiculous to
be true, but it is, unfortunately. My sister and I actually survived to study
in a house where you always got beaten with a hangar and hears your two
important people in life fighting and shouting endlessly. We are not rich, but
we are not poor either. Although we have a home and could feed ourselves with
three meals per day, things were pretty harsh for us.
Dad keeps
changing jobs and every job doesn’t give a better pay. Mom is in distressed,
that’s why she keeps blows up at us. We managed to score straight A’s and got
distinctions despite the chaos. However this, this was an accident that scars
us sisters’ lives 2 years ago. Now our lives are different to compared to those
miserable years.
Our parents made up with us, and we have
started to forgive and forget, although it took time because the throbbing pain
is still there deep inside our hearts. My guess is that probably because dad
got a steady job already, and the salary was higher than before, and mom, I guess
she had just realized my sister and I have been working darn hard to give her
all the straight a’s we could give. I’ve never stop praying. And I know that He
won’t burden me with something that I couldn’t bear. That’s why I managed to
smile and laugh in front of my friends every day.
Thinking
about how Im who had found me in such situation makes me feel more insecure. Why,
in all situations he would eventually see me in that kind of condition. It
feels more awkward when the guy who actually asked about your condition this
morning is someone who is your crush. My group of friends never knew this, except
Syaz, but I like him since our first encounter a couple of months ago.
A distinctive
figure that I couldn’t forget. The Medical Student Association meeting helped
me to get to know him better, well in the surface at least. The way he talks, is
full of wisdom and that caught my eyes. Anyway, back to my story, I didn’t cry,
so hard at the stadium this morning because of the past bitter memories. Well,
it was hardly about it, because my tears fell this time thinking that I thought
my problems had diffuse.
After the dreadful years, another year that
accompanies it seems new to me. I felt happier, and this time it is total
genuine. I actually enjoyed going picnics together with my “new” ohana, and the
venues are different every time. Mom would prepare us handsome-looking
irresistible foods. Unfortunately, new problem arises and this time, and it is
my battle. Not my parents, my sister, but mine.
I hope I wouldn’t let them be in a new mess
after the last mess have been cleared out. But it was too late. They have
shared my devastating news. Im saw me crying this morning is because I have to
keep to myself that I’ve diagnosed with an incurable disease. If last time I
was certain that I could not consider a guy to see my dad for my hand of
marriage when the suitable time comes, because of my family’s ‘unstable
condition’, now I am most certain I would not have the chance to get married
because I would no longer be here when the suitable time comes. And that is 23.
(Well if I happened to find someone by that age, if there is certain special
someone that He had picked for me). Why? Because I’m probably dead by that
time.
I looked at
my iPod and realized the time just passed 2 pm. I didn’t bother to go down and
grab some lunch. The red-rimmed eyes of mine are still visible to be seen, an
accessories that would attract others’ attentions eventually. The time just went
by so quickly. I’m going 20, just settled down nicely for more than a year in
this campus, and had gotten sick. Everything around me seems to be in full speed.
“He, who has nothing, has Allah.
He who has Allah, has everything”
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