I watched 'Young Adult' and hated it

I am about to answer one of life's puzzling question: Why do girls fall for bad boys?

I should know. I am Exhibit A.

It happens sometimes in life, meeting someone that triggers your clumsy mode because of this uncontrollable nervousness that comes from nowhere. It comes in many variations: stuttering, inability to maintain eye contact, blushing on the apple of the cheek (or the forehead in my case. Weirdo), constantly stumbling onto inanimated objects placed perfectly to avoid hazardous situation, or a cocktail of them all.

I am running through five stages of dealing with grief. Grieving on the loss of myself. Looking back, I denied the fact that I acted that way, adoring him to the point I blurted cheesy lines and refused to let him out of my mind. I wanted to get angry at him, but I can only punish myself for being a clueless person, thus skipping the bargaining stage (it is beyond my comprehension anyway) and straight to bottomless depression and self-pity.I painfully accept the fact that I am just being toyed with, thus prolonging the state of sadness I'm in.

I had this notion, it is okay to reciprocate other's feeling, you know, accepting someone's affection towards you, and give them the confidence boost by accepting their love. And it should be okay too, to accommodate your beliefs to theirs so that they can feel comfortable around you. And also okay to pour your love onto them, for you know that is what they are after.

Boy, I was wrong. I screwed myself big time with this naive concept.

He let me get a taste of him first, letting me feel like I am loved. Then cut all connections without any warning,  after that showed up like it never happened. The best part was after giving me the sweetest smile and the loving gaze that I craved for, he left me hanging, again.

And I am a sucker for clinging onto it, making myself 'easy'.

I believe it is because I was tricked into the fantasy setting of 'Girl, you are the most fascinating human being I see here, so I am gonna hit on you like there's no tomorrow'. I felt for it, thinking that it might last, at least for a couple of months, and what did I end up with? Marathons of B-grade sappy romantic flicks every night to ease the deprivation.

Weeks of getting stuck in this futile relationship, I want a way out. I want to stop feeling pathetic for my mistakes. I want to halt my hope of us rekindling.

This is sad. Even listing out him being a douche, I still have a soft spot for him.

God, help me figure this out by Monday. Sleepless nights can do danger to my work. Damn, just like me already! I want to cry.

Re-defining Douches

It was a quiet, peaceful final day of the working days. Nothing much to do, and productive hours were spend on scheduling activities for awesome weekend (which will later be discovered as too much hassle to conform after succumbing to the power of fresh bedsheet). And then, along came the man in ill-fitting clothes..

He walked into the bank at 4.15, whereas the closing time is 4.30. With two healthy but bored toddlers, he demanded the bank to deposit his coins, which later sums up to RM 1,800.00. I had no choice (yes i did, but that will involve ruining my good mood to get into mouth fight with him) so I did.

I finished running the coins through the machine in 30 mins, and another 30 mins to sort them out accordingly. Throughout the duration, I didn't have the slightest will to hide my dislike of him. I didn't smile, I didn't reply him, pretending the coins machine noise was blocking his voice. The most annoying question he popped up was "Can you make it faster?" i gave him an indifferent look and monotonously said "Tunggu je la (just wait for it)". He might expressed his dissatisfaction, but it all drowned in the sound of coins dropping into their respective slots.

After he made his way out, Kak Timah came into my room. She looked concerned, and the evening all made sense after she said "that guy with plenty of coins? He's my ex-husband"

Flashback to couple of months, I once asked Kak Timah, " I admire your children. From your stories, they seems very independent. How did you educate them so?"
"Because they were abused by their father"
I chocked with horror when she told me how the bastard punched and kicked her two kids, including a baby that was almost being thrown out of the window of their apartment. She left them with her then husband for she had to attend her father's funeral back in her hometown. Upon being informed by her neighbour, she endured two 10-hour journeys in a day to get back to her children's rescue. They went their separate ways several months after the traumatic incident, and getting full custody of the children. They would not want it any other way either.

How can you appear in front of a group of people who knew how sadistic you are, bringing your wife and two kids (does the wife as ignorant as the husband? Apparently yes) all the while putting a guitless face? And don't let me get started on his clothes that desperately needs to emphasize his built. Yeah, guess that's what you got training with minors.

That day made me realised the word 'douchebags' are not meant for teenage boys wearing stereotyped clothing, it is more for person who conduct their manners without keeping in mind God's guidance and promise of punishment.

Heavy eyelids, Burdened heart, Encumbered mind

Cold breeze will always aid in getting a good rest at night. But that is not the case tonight. Partially alert mostly drowsy, I retrieved my password and start to post rants, again.

It is easy to figure out how many months had passed since I last logged in, but reading the last post might result in embarrassment, for I was young and became excited too easily under the influence of unnecessary hype of trivial matters. Mostly, I just do not care.

I found a 9 to 5 job recently, hence quit the business I was so fond of. Yeah, six months had passed since I started working and not a week went by without me reminiscing the good old days. The hours slaving in the kitchen, won some trophy scars when operating the commercial oven, and it all ended with a sweet smell of pastries and bread coming out from the oven. And then I ate them, under the obligation of Quality Control.

The job in the office had become a routine, so weeks went by quickly, whether or not I regained substantial energy and willpower to do the same thing as soon as the daylight approaches.

I am not whining, oh no I would not dare. I got my wish, to be independent and other crap, and plus I am satisfied with the pay. It is just so much going through my mind that revolves around work, I can not stay apathetic as I preferred on living my life.

The list goes like this:

- Organizing the flow of distributing new notes for Hari Raya Puasa, taking in account to reserve a portion for staffs and VIPs. Have I mentioned that I am a banker? And I am the cashier? And I count like sleepy people counting sheep?

- Getting sales. Oh God this is the hardest part. I remembered being sweet talked into getting insurance and credit cards, and how I despised them. You should hear me on the phone. But now I have to do it. Life is not a fairy tale. At least it is for Taylor Swift. (p/s: Please do not compose hatred break up song of Mark Foster. You know it is inevitable. Get a hold of yourself!)

-...

Oh that's all. But it is a lot thinking to do for someone who is raised under the spoon-fed national education policy like me. 

Too much disappointment. I should be mollified, not improving the sarcastic-ism. 

Happy Ramadhan anyways. I want zuhud-ness in life, being contented with worldly affairs and aim for a peaceful hereafter. That matters most, I should believe.