Thursday, March 30, 2017

break free

At times, I hate how I believe in second chances.

How can I grant others a second chance when I am a paranoid bitch myself. And let's add more damage to that - I am blatantly honest too. 

Here's another problem. I have an abnormally slow heart too. Which initially stabilised, until recently. Whenever I am too sad, it gets slower too. So a few days ago I was hospitalised, all for the same reason - they were worried that I would go into cardiac arrest. I went through all these about a year ago, so I wasn't shocked anymore. The sight of that defibrillator being at my bedside - that's nothing scary anymore.

At times, I wish he had never came. I was fighting with myself. I was somewhat glad but deep down inside, I knew that everytime I get to feel happy with him by my side, the next day, I'd become terribly sad and crushed... and yep, that happened.

I no longer wish for anything anymore. I had cut everything off because... I really have neither the physical nor mental strength anymore.

Maybe I don't have the right to throw my tantrums. Maybe as I lie on that hospital bed, thinking that having a cardiac pacemaker implanted, my future in oral maxillofacial surgery being crushed I might have to be just a normal dentist, being on medical leave repeatedly, waking up in the middle of the night because apparently the neighbouring patient passed away. Only Allah knows how troubled I am with all sorts of possibilities that can happen in near future. 

Some might judge me - what an ungrateful sod, she can still work as a dentist. Open up her own clinic. Generate good bucks. 

If only I am as superficial as that. I don't wish for easy money. When I broke off my engagement, the path to oral maxfac surgery suddenly opened up and I grabbed the chance. It has always been my dream, my escapism. I love the thrill and how much it engages with the medical community. I don't feel trapped in the cocoon of dentistry.


Yes. To feel trapped. I fear that.

Sunday, March 12, 2017


It is rather confusing. To be wanted. To want in return; but also having to walk away and to restrain yourself from turning back. The past had taught me enough to which extent shall I bear being around someone.

And yet... I miss his presence.

I closed my eyes to recall the good moments we shared. I tried hard... but suddenly tears trickled down my already sunken cheeks. I can only recall us arguing. And the sound of my breath as I hyperventilate from disappointment and sadness.

For every ounce of effort wasted on me. I apologise.

For every penny spent on me. I apologise.

For every milisecond sacrificed for me. I apologise.

For immeasurable false hope I had given you and your family. I apologise.

For having such an elaborate dark past. I apologise.

For my mental instability. I apologise.

My remaining strength is all invested on my job. It is in this that I find solace, despite its chaos and complexity. It is in this that I feel that I am worthy of something good. That I have value.

And with you, I feel like I worth less than a trash. When brushing me off over something uncertain becomes easy... that's when I know that I have lost the glitter I used to possess which caught your eyes seven months ago.

I had gone through so much for a person of my age.

I am just a human. How many times can I mend my heart just to have it shattered into pieces over and over again before it turns into pulp which is beyond repair?

The little weight I had gained during my stay in Egypt is lost just like that. The spine on my back is obvious. My ribs are showing. My hip bones are jutting out. My chin looks as if someone did a bad genioplasty with it from being too prominent.

I wake up everyday feeling nauseous and experiencing chest tightness. I am starving. I want to eat. I want to eat so bad, I cry everyday because my tummy seems to reject food everytime I try to fill it a bit. Even if just a little bit.

Sad memories keep replaying in my mind that I am forced to sleep to let my brain relax a bit.

Every pace is a strive. It feels like trying to walk through a swamp with thick mud pulling my legs from striding forward.

This feels terrifyingly familiar. The thought of experiencing the same thing I did seven years ago is so terrifying...

Monday, March 6, 2017

handle with care

Like a bird; Handle me with care, and I'd fly high, but no matter how far I go, I'd eventually return to you. Hold me too tightly, and I'd be strangled. You'd snap my wings and neck. 

After all, I have too many scars which run deep into layers of my muscles if not through-and-through. And to have someone else dissecting through them, being curious what caused them, I feel my wounds reopening.

So yesterday, I chose to walk away. I gambled too much for too long, putting my sanity at stake. So while I can still think rationally, I walked away.

It's time to recover.

I somehow managed to get a few affairs settled today. Thank God.

Oh Allah, grant me strength...