days that i sleep to forget

These last two weeks have been a bit..i dunno..challenging? disappointing? Confusing?

A bit of all, actually..

LAST WEEK
Monday & Tuesday:
Was in Langkawi. I felt at ease with myself. It seemed like my present life and my past shook hands in agreement to lock that black door up. It was peaceful.

Wednesday:
Back at home. Chilling.

Thursday Morning:
Excited to buy Linkin Park’s Minutes To Midnight despite Dara and Gad’s thumbs down on the album.

Thursday Noon:
Checked the letter box. There it was..my fate sealed in an envelope. I was rejected by SMU.

Thursday Evening:
Rushed to the hospital to visit my cousin, Abang Z, who collapsed into coma last June. Thought it was one of those false alarm, so I didn’t worry much. It was only later that I found out the Doc said he might go anytime that night cos there’s nothing else they can do. If he goes for a dialysis, his condition will worsen. If he doesn’t go, it will worsen too. So he was literally on his deathbed.

I stood at the foot of his bed, frustrated that I couldn’t do anything..not even recite yasin for him. He looked like he always had..eyes open.. looking at the ceiling.. his chest rose and fell with every breath in and out.. the rest of his body…lifeless… byt this time, he looked different from any other time I visited him. I tried to recall the last time I came to see him.. it was some time last year.. I felt bad…really bad..

I wanted to raise my hands to recite a doa for him..and then it struck me..i was actually paiseh to do so. What the hell was wrong with me?? I looked around to see if anyone had their hands raised. No one did! My cousin said, doa dalam hati. All I could think of at that time was what the hell is wrong with us?? Why do we feel paiseh to raise our hand to doa for a sick person but when it comes to singing in public or performing or whatever, we’re not so malu. I lifted my hands in the end..but did so without being obvious. I told myself that I was sick in the head and I had a dysfunctional heart.

Friday (wee) Morning:
It was 1+am in the morning, mom, dad, siblings and I headed for home. 20 mins after we left, Abang Z passed away.

Friday Afternoon:
Grieve still hadn’t sunk in.

Saturday Evening:
Had a kenduri for Abang Z. it was during that doa that I started to grieve properly..those words..that hope that he’ll be in heaven..what waits for him in heaven..or who.

Sunday:
Another kenduri.

THIS WEEK
Monday: anxious about the unknown.
Tuesday: still anxious. And afraid too.
Wednesday:
Another disappointment came in an envelope. Got rejected by NTU. I checked the letter box before I went to work..so when I got to work, I told Dara about it. It was sweet that she looked upset for me. Hehe.

I was mostly scared. Scared cos my tears were blurring my sight of the path towards The Almighty. Afraid of my ego swallowing me alive. I feared my heart becoming a stone..like those stones at the bottom of the pond..useless.. I feared great misery that I’ve dreamt of, coming true. I feared having nothing in my hand.

The strongest fear I had that day was losing my grandma.

Thursday Morning:
Grandma left for Umrah. I was happy for her yet scared at the same. I dunno..i kept thinking that something will happen to her.

Friday: worried.

Saturday:
Oh, Saturday is a whole different chapter…which I will talk about next time.


It’s one of those days that I sleep to forget.