breithla sona

i wish to write you a poem
but alas, there is no word
that can define my feelings
there can be no word
that can define you
because you are you
and you are the best at being you
and i am here
comparing my love to the stars
because words are beautiful
but you are even more so

high skies

And your eyes showed you were tired

But you hid it, such a liar

This is something I made my audience watch back when I was having my short tazkirah for Oral Communication class.

I'm not sure about you, but for me, 2012 witnessed the passing of several good fathers I know. One of which I know very well, whose laughter still resounds in my ears even now; and another is the darling father of a dear friend who is the true example of a daddy's little girl. The two others each have a son who is paving their own name and making people proud everyday.

Rough hands and wrinkles around your eyes

Even your defeated posture isn’t familiar to me

The whole time we were walking together
I just quietly watched from the back

The tears just came out

And they did.

Alhamdulillah

I have a friend who knows how forgetful I can get thus constantly reminds me of things I'm supposed to do. I am grateful for that.

I learned something nice this semester, and I figured I ought to write it down in case I forget, because human forgets.

Being friends means sharing your food. Let others taste yours while you taste theirs.
Being friends means lending your money when your friend forgot theirs.
Being friends means giving your friend some of your food when they run out of money.
Being friends means finishing your friend's food when they can't finish it, because wastage should not be an option.
Being friends means sharing food, because for many people food is happiness, and thus by sharing our food we share our happiness.

the king

I don't know Michael Jackson well. I've never been a big fan, and I don't know if I ever will be one.

But once, when I was much younger, I remember watching some sort of a documentary of him. And, watching his life through that documentary, I remember feeling sorry for him. He lived in such a big mansion, and he had a theme park and a zoo of his own. And the best part about his home is that he named in Neverland, where a kid would always remain a kid. Though I love that idea, I felt really sorry for him. Despite the big house, he lived alone (minus the maids). Despite all his money, he didn't really have anyone close. Frequently, he'd bring some kids over and let them play in his house, but then all he received in return are rumours and slanders. And the saddest thing about him is how he underwent plastic surgery so that he can be a white. He felt so insecure about being a black so he did that. I think, the worst feeling anyone can ever have is to be insecure. And he was insecure almost throughout his life, so he went through the pain, lived alone in sadness and despair.

And people only began to appreciate him once he was gone.

We live in a world where ten good deeds are immediately shoved aside and forgotten the second we make a mistake (which sometimes are not even that big).

budak benl

"ala english je, apa susah sangat"

Cuba belajar sendiri tengok sendiri senang ke susah.

Someone's father passed away yesterday. I don't know him well, but his child is a good person who brings smile to other people's faces, so I'm sure he's a good person as well.

I'm afraid.