Day: April 9, 2008

Leaving you each time tortures my heart
It’s so difficult to be apart
Never have I imagined feeling as such
I love and miss you very much

It is not the surprises in life that are so debilitating. The truly crushing force is being surprised that you’re surprised.

Sometimes I dread the surprises life has in store for me. I do not handle surprises well. Even as a kid, standing in the hallway watching the angry father choose the cane amongst canes standing in that Sarawak vase, I used to expect to be hit with the worse of the lot, and I was always right…it would be that tongkat kayu tas covered in manik Sarawak that would be used…and I was always resigning to my fate that I was in for a hell of a beating, and the night would be long…and painful.

Physical pain, I can take very well now. You can give me the most brutal of masseurs, I will sleep through the session…and snore. I can, and have, broken a leg, when two weeks later I would remove the cast, and go skydiving. I limped for almost two years after that, and still suffer from pain every now and then…I can take it all.

But emotional pain is something I do not handle very well. When I am hurt, I will immediately go on the defensive, quickly put on a front so to mask my pain. But the pain will linger for as long as it could, slowly slashing away at my heart with a thousand razor blades at the same time. I will put up weird postings on my blog, so readers would think I am okay and have moved on from certain heartbreaking episodes. The fact is, nobody knows how weird it can be when I sit at Sushi King alone, laughing while talking to a friend on the phone, and the moment I hang up, my tears would drop into my Miso soup, unintentionally.

The great (buffoon) Zainuddin Maidin once told people not to believe everything bloggers write, and in some ways what he had said is true. When I put on a front here on this blog, the postings were so weird that people started asking if I was for real, or if I was mixing fiction and non-fiction. More often than not, these postings have been misconstrued as a reflection of my true self. Did I care then? No. My life is my own. But somehow I do care now…somewhat. What was I to do then? Sit and cry and dwell in sadness? Be at my lowest and allow certain characters to inveigle me into relationships I would discover later I never wanted?

The worse part about emotional pain is the snowball effect. You are sad about something, and then all the sadness in your life starts to drown you…be they of the past, or of the present.

My quarrels with my family has gone to another level. My nephew, Ahmad Nazree (above), is getting married to a lovely young lady, Asma (the one next to him), on April 26th. My daughters have been invited to attend. I have not been invited. My ex is in the wedding reception committee. So blood is thicker than water holds no truth in my family. Maybe all the amount of statins that my family members have been consuming all the years have contributed to the thinning of our blood. I didn’t know about the invite, well, I didn’t even know Ajee (as we call him) is getting married. That is my nephew, for God’s sake, and I love him. 24 years ago I sucked mucus out of his nostrils using my mouth because he had a bad asthma attack and there weren’t any nebulizers then. I used to burp him, and put his tummy on my shoulder when he was colic. And I am not allowed to attend his wedding.

It’s okay. I’ll choose that weekend to go diving. Meanwhile, Ajee and Asma, do look after each other for always. If by any chance either one of you get to read this blog (I know someone in the family reads this blog), I want you to know that despite the quarrel I have with your mother (and uncle and auntie), I love you and wish you the best in life. Please forgive Ayah Lang for not being able to attend. I would attend if I am allowed to. But as it is, I stand a better chance becoming the Prime Minister than being invited to your wedding. Forgive also Hana and Fazira for their refusal to attend your wedding reception without me. I did not ask them to stay away; they themselves have refused to attend.

So those are part of life’s ugly surprises. Surprises I would rather not have.

And below is a message to the person holding my heart: