Sail

I was bored one day, and I decided to open all my apps in my phone to see what the hell they do. Then I opened Snapchat. Saw some random pictures and videos. Then I came across a picture, it was by a friend, a very dear one. I couldn't make out the picture itself, but it was a soothing darkness with different shades of grey and black. It had the time on it as well, and on it's right corner, slanted about 45 degrees, were the words "sail - awolnation". What the fuck is "sail - awolnation"? I wondered.

I was bored one day, and I decided to boot my Spotify and listen to songs. I opened random playlists and listened to whatever songs that came out. They were bleak and boring so in the end I listened to my own playlists, consisting of the usual stuff; metal, folk, 90s, pop rock, 50s etc etc. I then felt this sudden, sort of like WHOOSH sound in my head and the image from my dear friend's Snapchat Story appeared. sail - awolnation. I looked it up. Of course it was a song, I thought.

Blame it on my ADD, baby

I've been in very dark places. Places where fire can never light up. I've thought of the most horrible thoughts. Thoughts that make me shudder and ashamed of myself. Imagine thinking about things, then being ashamed at yourself for thinking about it. How fucked up is that. No, I'm not talking about pooping yourself in public or killing a cat, I'm talking things that would shame generations. Nevertheless, we all do it sometimes, don't we? Sometimes we just can't control our train of thought. Sometimes it wanders into the darkest of places and brings back with it the king of shames and it's entire kingdom. 

That kind of darkness is not your doing, it's not anyone's doing. Where there's light, there will be dark. We know that. It's how the world works. Hell, it's how Star Wars works. But what if you could create your own darkness, then blame it on something else?

Something like, your ADD? Or maybe...

Your demons?

Chance

Have you ever had this feeling of hate without any reason? Like you just hate something just because. No solid reason. Maybe you hate something because how the thing is.

Of course, we all have things we hate because they fucking deserve hate. Like ISIS, or more recently Donald Trump. Sometimes we even hate ourselves, and I'm not talking about some emo episode that one time because you listened to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus or All-American Rejects or whatever the fuck. I'm talking about self-loathing that can only be paralleled by, say, your extreme fondness of your cat, or how kids love ice-cream. That kind of self-hate. We've all done it. Some handle it better than others, some kill themselves. That's reality. Reality sucks. 

People often hate because they are afraid. Hate is a defense mechanism. We hate Trump because of how his ideology is endangering Muslims and Mexicans. We are afraid of change, be it good or bad. That's why we hate. Lo and behold, we human beings are so fucked up we use negativity to counter everything. Yes, everything. 

You must've had a friend who you never wanted. They just stick the fuck around. You hate this friend, for whatever fucking reason, maybe he once took your pen and never gave it back, or maybe she fucked your dad, or maybe just because. 

You must have a certain artist you hate. Maybe you hate the appearance of this particular artist, or maybe you just hate the genre. Maybe when you were a kid you saw a cat die and that particular artist was singing in the background, or maybe just fucking because.

Maybe you hate others because you're afraid of what they are gonna do to you once they get close to you. Yeah maybe some asswipe once broke your fragile heart into a million tiny pieces and boo hoo you can't fucking pick up the pieces. 

Maybe you hate yourself because you've disappointed yourself, or others for that matter, too many times and you feel like a worthless piece of fuck. Maybe you feel you're too useless to live and boo hoo no one is picking you up from the ground.

I've had my dad yell at me countless of times because I used the word "hate". I don't see the reason. It's a word. It described my feelings. It's four letters with a very strong meaning. Most of all, it's not a fucking curse word. I didn't understand. I still don't understand. Why can't I use the word hate? I was brought up in a very, very patriarchal family. Dad is boss. That's it. I never questioned. What a fucking mistake it was.

It's okay to hate. It's normal. Don't worry about hating. Whatever you're hating probably deserves it anyway. You can hate literally everything and it would be fine, at least in my books. What's abnormal is not giving these things a chance.

I'm a music junkie. I mostly listen to metal and other hard music, but I enjoy literally all kinds of music. I'm not exaggerating. Yes I used to hate many other genres because they were not metal. I called them sissy music. Pussy music. Girly music. Gay music. I was brought up in a patriarchal family, so please excuse my casual usage of homophobic insults. For the record, I'm not homophobic. Now, how come I love all kinds of music? Because I gave it a chance.

There was this one night I remember. My head was so heavy yet I felt as though I was floating. I was at a friend's place and I remember looking around that dank and stuffy living room. My friends were talking in murmurs. Low pitched, low volume, low enunciation. I couldn't make out anything they were saying. I didn't give a shit though. The TV was on. It was connected to a laptop and Youtube was on. Someone played some random songs.

It was beautiful. I felt happy. I smiled all through the 3 or 4 songs that someone, don't know who, put on. God they were good. I felt euphoric. I felt this carnal cathartic conscience just bursting out of my extremely heavy but floating head. Goosebumps followed. My spine was tingling. I heard less and less from my friends in the room and more and more of the songs that were playing. I closed my eyes and focused on what the lyrics were. They were beyond magnificent. They were love stories.

Then I realised I was listening to Justin Bieber. It was a pleasant surprise. Yeah I was in the bandwagon of hatred towards the Canadian cunt-wrecker. I listened to Baby back in the day and I was so appalled by it. This was when I hated all other music because they were not metal. I snapped out of my little epiphany and continued to browse other songs similar to What Do You Mean. Sorry was next, then I had some Ariana Grande, then some Nicki Minaj, then more and more pop music. I started to continuously nod my head according to the tempo. I like these songs, I thought. What the fuck.

Eventually the power of the majority overcame my plethora of euphoria. My mates wanted to watch some fucking movie. Can't remember what. That means it wasn't significant enough to overcome my sudden fondness of pop music. Like what the actual fuck I liked Justin Bieber. For the first time in my entire life I liked him. Why? I gave him a chance.

You hate someone? Give them a chance. Two chances. Three. Whatever. Maybe some people are an acquired taste. I have friends who are so stupid people usually stay away from them. Nevertheless, I gave them a chance and I found out I like these crazy mother fuckers. A loved one shattered your precious little red, beating heart? Give them a chance, at least for a fucking explanation. You hate yourself? You wanna kill yourself? You wanna end it all? Give life another chance. 

You were a result of chance, and there are people who will fucking dive into a pool of acid just so you would move the fuck along in life. These people gave you a chance. Use it.

Maybe fuck you

It's that time of the year again. People are leaving. Goodbyes are being thrown out, obligations to make time for those who are heading off etc etc.

I've never been so good with goodbyes. I feel that goodbyes are unnecessary. Why the fuck would you bid someone adieu anyway? Maybe if they are dying you should, but other than that I don't see the fucking point.

But hey, you wanna say goodbye to someone? Go ahead. I won't say anything. I don't agree with it, but I don't give two shits about what you do.

Maybe someday I'll change. We all do. Maybe someday I'll meet someone who truly deserves my goodbye, someone I will truly miss when he/she leaves. We never know with these things. Maybe I'll stop listening to metal because someone shows me another kind of music that resonates with me better. Maybe I'll start working out and shed a few kilos off my ass. Maybe I'll stop fucking up my life because someone is worth not fucking anything up.

Life is full of maybes, so don't you say "we say goodbye because it's set in stone that we wish it to someone who is leaving" because MAYBE that person isn't really leaving, or MAYBE I just don't give a fuck. I like the latter reason a bit more.

I'm sure it's nice that people put an effort to please you in your last few days somewhere. I've never felt anything like it so maybe I'm just bitter. Then again, why the fuck would people make an effort in your last few days when they never gave a fuck before? 

"Oh he's still here next year fuck him I'll hang with him later."

Maybe if people stop doing this shit we won't be having World Wars.

A Middle Finger To All Of You

I feel a bit happier nowadays. I give less shit, I expect less, I care about myself a bit more, and I just give middle fingers to all adversities life throws at me. Maybe the sunshine this shit city has been getting a lot these days have really helped, even though I still spend 80% of my time beside a window.

Yeah Wellington is a shit city. It's too windy, too unpredictable, too expensive, and holy shit I spent 30 minutes trying to get parking just now. Still, I love it. It's shit but it's still lovable. Maybe it's because I've been expecting so much less about everything lately that I finally think I love this place.

The people is nice as well in general. Smiles aplenty, warm welcomes galore, and just enough darkness to keep you on your toes. They're not perfect, but they sure as hell try, and to me, that's what counts. By people, I mean true Wellingtonians. Kiwis. The locals. My people? My people are a funny bunch. I don't feel like I should elaborate, because Malaysians are Malaysians, no matter where the fuck they end up going.

I received some fucked-up news not too long ago. I fucked up. This was not some fuck-up you can just brush off like dandruff-on-your-shoulders-because-you-forgot-to-shampoo fuck-up, it's more like the fuck-up where you consider blowing up a fuckton of rabbits just so you wanna feel like you helped decimate the innocence in the world kind of fuck-up. Yeah I said it.

However, I didn't feel that way when I got the news. It was more like finally getting home after a long-ass drive so you can shit peacefully in your own toilet. A sense of relief. Like getting to let go of a piece of ember you were forced to clench in your fists by the powers that be. It was messed up, and I was so fucking confused. How does one fuck up so hard but felt relief?

I can't wait to go back home. Oh, I don't fucking know when I'm going home because I still haven't bought my fucking tickets. Mom, please.

Sheep vs Wolf

"Hey, do you think me doing [insert whatever life decision here] is bad or good? Do you think people will think of me in [insert whatever negative thing here].?"

Why would you ask me this? Why would you ask anyone this? You're an adult, you know what's right and what's wrong. You also know what you want and what you don't want in life, or at least in your current phase in life. What I think of it is, or what anyone thinks of it for that matter, is irrelevant, unless you want it to.

So let me ask YOU a question, do you want my opinion to matter in your life decisions?

Need Patrick Jane or Cal Lightman

Have you ever told other people one thing, but do another? Don't shit me, because I know everyone does that. I do it all the time. I tell people I'll be studying for a test or something, but I end up binge watching The Inbetweeners on fucking Netflix. Why do we do this? Why do you do it?

Well I do it because I'm a liar.

We all lie. Again, don't give me any of your crap because WE ALL LIE. What degree our lies go to is a different matter. Why we lie is also a different matter. Also, there's a distinction between lying and being a liar. Me? I'm a fucking liar.

I lie everyday. I lie to everyone. Most people have tells that show they are lying, but me? I've been lying my whole life I don't have a tell, or maybe people just can't find it yet. Hell, even I don't know my tell. Lies just come out of my mouth like chocolate milk flowing to the mouth of a fatso.

I even lie to myself, and I believe them.

Fuck me I have issues.

Postal

It's funny, spending the night in a hospital ward because someone asked you to. Sure, you feel shitty and hopeless and helpless and maybe a little suicidal, but who would've guessed someone asked you, nicely, to go to a hospital to get checked out?

It's been a weird few weeks. It's three-quarters past 2015 and I still feel the same way I did mid 2014. I watched TI4 and TI5 and saw a shitload of changes to all Dota 2 teams. Honestly all the teams nowadays change like, as Katy Perry famously says, a girl changes clothes. It makes you feel old, how the Dota calendar changes so much. It's only been a year, yet so many changes around me. I, however, have not changed much.

I'm still not sure what the fuck is wrong with me.

It's frustrating to sit at one spot for more than a year. You get bed sores. You get cramps. You also get sympathisers. And like all bed-ridden vegetables, you can't do shit about it. At least veges know what disease they have. It's a simple thing, physical diseases; they get diagnosed with a simple scan or test. Not my case, though, not my case.

Motivation still eludes me. Sleep has been a come-and-go, sort of like an on-again-off-again affair. Fuck knows when I'll finish my assignments. I hate what I'm learning. I don't know what to do with my life. I also hate my life. I can continue, but people are going to think I'm some attention-seeking slacker who needs his balls licked by people on the internet. Fact of the matter is, I'm one gigantic fuck-up.

And all I want to do is trying to survive day-to-day.

So excuse me if I sound pathetic, if I seem to just want attention, if I write like a fucking degenerate, if I'm being obnoxious, if I'm being immature, if I look like a fool, if I fucking annoy you with my shit writing, or whatever negative ifs you can possibly think of. I have a life to live, and though it may not be as hard as our Middle-Eastern brothers and sisters, it's fucking terrible. Its. Fucking. Terrible. All I'm doing is trying to cope. So again, ex-fucking-cuse me.

I never wanted all this. You want to know my life goals? I just want a life where I can just contact someone, just one person, and tell literally anything without a shadow of a doubt that he/she will either laugh or say the right things to either humour me or comfort me. I want a life where I wake up in the morning and look forward to the day. I want a life where I can go out without feeling ashamed of myself. It's not much, but hey, life just wants to be a fucking bitch, so nuh-uh.

I'm pretty sure everyone will say their life is shitty from time-to-time, and I'm pretty sure they're right. I'm also pretty sure people will call me a crybaby and say fuck you fat fuck just grow a pair and live like normal people who have problems in life. Well, to that, I say fuck your whore mother. I don't expect you to understand. I just expect you to respect my life and how I choose to live it, as long as I don't come and shag your slut of a mother, which I won't, because I respect her.

Sorry for my language. I'm just a tad frustrated. My imagination runs wild at this hour and all I can think of is the world antagonising my entire life.

Maybe the whole world is.