Acceptance

You have your way with words. You very good at it. You’re so good, you can make any man fell for you.

Never face to face though. You need time, to come up with the glistening sentence anyone want to hear, you crafted uniquely to each and every single one of them. That’s explain the texts, and only texts.

I was one of them. I kept trying to tell myself, it is not real, but every time I’m close to that epiphany, you pulled me back in. You pulled me back to that ratchet lies of yours.

I was in deep. Maybe the deepest anyone has ever got in to. I think maybe some men know that there’s a trap at the end of you, and they bolted out. Not me. I fell right into it. Open myself up and got chewed inside and out. It was horrendous.

Which brings me to my second point, the armies of men coming at you. You told me stories how you hated the men that approach you, how revolted you are towards them. What’s weird is that, you didn’t stop them. Instead, you accept them with open arms. It baffled me every time. But I was in your world of lies. I think to myself that you’re just a nice person, and never have the heart to ghost people, even when you didn’t like them. How wrong could I be.

You like it, don’t you? The attentions, the gifts on your table, the never-ending texts from random strangers. You don’t just like it, you crave for it. It fuels you. You wanted more. It was never enough and one guy ready to fulfill that crazy needs of yours. One guy was ready to leave everything behind and give you more. Little that he knows, he already has everything he ever wanted.

The dumbest guy that ever walks this earthly plane. You were everything that he thought he ever wanted because you made yourself so. How can he love someone just the way she is when she herself doesn’t know what she truly is?

The words that came out of your mouth, thrown at him, is the same words that you threw around to the other men, just with a different phrasing. The ingredients are the same, lies. More and more lies. Maybe he is just messed up as you are, to believe all the lies you’ve been serving to him. The lies made him happy, the lies made him feel loved. A true love.

I regret it. All the time, love, trust given is all wasted. To the wrong person. I already have someone who love me for who I am, who already accepted me as her one and only love, and I failed her. I deserve what’s coming, as I am the fool who trust a beautiful lie rather than live the ugly truth.

Life of a Poltroon

“You’re a coward!”

She never said anything harsh to me. That was the first one she ever said. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It hurt because it’s true. I am a coward. I spend all my life running.

I think I was just 8 or 9 years old that time. I suddenly feel the urge to annoy my sister, so while she was lying down, I pulled down the pillow under her head, causing her head to smack down on the concrete floor. She burst out crying. Loudest she ever cried before. I was scared. It was supposed to be a harmless prank. I panicked. I supposed to own it. Go to my mom and just admit I did it, it was wrong and accept my punishment. But I didn’t. I am a coward. I ran and hid under the dinner table. For the whole day. Everyone went out looking. But I am coward. I just stay there hoping this will all blew away.

I was 19 years old. Going to an all-boys school, I never had a any luck with a girl, not until uni. It was during my diploma, I met the perfect girl, tall, pretty, and have the most beautiful smile. We dated. I was very happy. But I’m not sure if she was. Throughout the relationship, I always doubted myself, that I am not good enough for her. But I never told her that. I faked my way throughout the relationship, because I am scared. I’m scared if I told her, I lost her. True enough, she left me. She said she can’t see any future with me, that I am never myself around her. She’s tired of it, she’s tired of everything, and she want out. As the coward I always am, I concur. She left. It broke me.

In 2015, I started working at one of the most prestigious company that anyone could ever work at. Along with the job, I met a group of very great group of friends. But good things don’t mean to last. Company had a mass reorganization and my good friends were all transfer out. I was alone. There’s a void inside of me. I’m scared, again. I should open myself more, meet new friends, and be close to at least one, to make working there bearable again. I didn’t. I run away. I quit working at a company everyone can only dream of working and regretted it every single day.

Fast forward to present day. Whenever you’re having a relationship problem, the best person you should talk to is the person you’re having the relationship with, not with another person, another gender at that. You will fall into a trap that wasn’t supposed to be there if you just man up and talk to your partner. It happened to me. It happened because you guessed it, I’m scared. I’m supposed to talk to my wife about whatever been bothering me. But instead, I talk to another person, a girl. I’m scared that if I talk to my wife, she couldn’t take it, she wouldn’t understand, she’ll get mad. Guess what happen now? She can’t take it, she didn’t understand, and she is mad as hell. I love another person, the person I shared my problem with. A mistake that could’ve been avoided if I just be brave.

Now, I’m living with someone who I am not sure love me, and the person I thought I love I must leave behind, as the terms said. I didn’t need to quit work. I can just talk to my wife, convince her I’m a change man. I won’t repeat my mistake, love her and only her. But I didn’t do that. I use her as an excuse. The real reason I quit is simple, because of me as usual, I want to run away. I want to run away so that maybe I can move on from all this. I don’t want to see her anymore. The sight of her make me sick, make me remember the “fake love” we thought we shared together. We did something we shouldn’t, and I don’t need the daily reminder that I did that once before. I hope I can move on, it’s hard. To add to that, my wife is unsettled. Something bothering her and I’m scared to ask her what’s wrong.

That’s just me, a coward.

What could go wrong

We are from different race. She doesn’t know my culture, and I don’t know hers. She doesn’t know how to eat using her hand, I’m sure as hell hated using chopsticks. I don’t think I can get along with her family. Hell, I can’t even get along with my family. What will I do in family gathering? Come to think of it, can her family accept me? I don’t even know if my family will accept her. I don’t think my family believe I can guide a girl of different race to our culture, the culture I never like at the first place. My family want me to marry a nice Malay girl, the one that can guide me through what being Malay really is. That’s what make them happy, and I oblige.

She love going out, I love staying in. I hate meeting other people. I think I’m going to hate her friends too. She always went out with her friends, partying, doing god knows what. I hate parties. I hate crowd. I just want to Netflix and chill, by myself. I’m going to bore her to death. She doesn’t want to live the life I live. But that’s just the way I am. The way I always knew. 

She’s hardworking, I’m lazy like a sloth. She can’t seem to sit still, she always doing something, be it big or small, she’s doing it. I love doing nothing. I love the quiet, the peace in the void of nothingness. Not the kind of guy she had in mind to ever end up with.

She live a healthy lifestyle. I don’t, at all. YOLO, as the kids says. I’m not here for a long time, I’m here for a good time. She eats brown rice with steam chicken. Just the thought of it made me lose my appetite. Put anything in my food, as long as it tastes good. I don’t care. But she does. It’s her thing. My thing is oily food, cigarettes and couch surfing. She doesn’t do any of that.

Miscommunication. She speaks good English. My English as good as a preschooler. I don’t think she will understand what I’m trying to say, that will lead to a lot of fights later. I hate fighting. I rather avoid it at all cost, and for that, I rather to keep it to myself. Communication is the key of any relationship and if I can’t get that sorted out, might as well not to get in one anytime soon.

Friends. We have truly two different sets of friends. I mentioned I might hate her friends, this is the reason why. I don’t think she can get along with my friends, and vice versa. My friends are your typical Malay dudes who talk nothing else other than girls, sports and politics. Her friends are the most hype, modern, outgoing people I’ve ever met. We will have nothing to talk about. We going to have a really hard time blending in with one another, me and her. She loves her friend to bits, and I don’t want to put her through that. My poker face is not that good. She’ll know, and she will be heartbroken.

That said, if chance presence itself, will I still do it? Will I still get into a serious relationship with her? You bet your socks I will.  I’m willing to go through all of that, as long as I go through it with her, and only her. She will make it all worthwhile, because she’s the best there is and I love her. For better or worse.

The Life Someone Else's

Fake. A word that I need to get use to of late. The word got thrown around me so much that I can no longer hate it, I embrace it. It is a strong word, not to just me, but to everyone I think, to get accused of being something that they’re not. We all hate it, although we did it without realizing it. So, I dig down and for me to learn to accept it, I try and see everything that I did, to realize it, to not hate it.

They were right. I did fake it. I fake everything. I hate it at first. To end the day knowing that you were something you are not, trying to be someone else, it’s a burden. It’s heavy. I can’t stop thinking what kind of person I am and what I’m going to become. Is it something good? Or is it something evil, only time will tell. I don’t know. For now, someone’s quote I held close in my heart, “Fake it until you make it”. Whether I’m going to make it, I’m unsure, but I think that person made it and that’s why I’m going to continue to fake it.

Why did I do it? Is it because I want to be someone I’m not? Is it because I want to make someone to love me? Is it because I want someone to hate me? Is it because I want to move on? Is it because all of the above, it’s just something I always am, and faking my way in or out is the only way I know how. Whatever it is, I did it because it’s the right thing to do. It’s what everyone wanted, and I happily deliver so that I can go on with my day in this abhorrent world.

“Just be your yourself”, someone once said to me. I did, and I end up hurting everyone. I should know better, I grew up as a disappointment because I tried to be myself back then. I should know that being myself is never the right thing to do and that side of me should never surface. Yes, I was happy but at what cost, pain and suffering to everyone around me.

A lot of grief that day, myself included. I regret it so much. I almost lost everything. If I really think of it, I don’t deserve to have it at the first place, a life build on lies. But I won’t stop. I’m in too deep to go back now, so the lies live on.

I envy people who is just themselves. I don’t know how they do it, but god damn they are happier than I ever would be. I’m not happy now. I’m not okay. But I’ll will fake it nonetheless. I will do it because I promise myself, not to hurt anyone who love me. Although they said they love me for who I am, who I am is never the person I am in their presence. It’s a shadow I cast to cover them from the burning light of my true self.

To whoever reading this, if you know me, know that I may not be the person that you always thought I am. I’m sorry. The part of me that I’m happy with is disgusting, repugnant to see. I choose to keep it in and never comes out. Thank you for reading. May the life you chose to live is the live you always wanted for yourself.