werestle

i love you.

but i feel like i can't trust you.

help my unbelief.

how long more?

the daily routine of life and the need to keep things going. 

is a cruel insult to a grieving heart.

a damning curse to a drowning soul. 

ache

the pain.

the tears.

the letdown.

the fears.

all too familiar. 

hasty

in a hurry, in such a big hurry.

all in such a big hurry to get ahead of ourselves.

maybe slow down, perhaps treasure each step. 

'cause even here He is present. 

today holds enough troubles.

step

You lead, i'll follow.

still the cry of my heart is to be where You are. 

so let the song of my heart be a ministry to Yours.

let the oil that i've got be fully poured out. 

déjà vu

could it really be?

after all these years, could it really still be you? 

at the end of my brief sojourning, here i am again.

giving of myself to you.

illegitimate

The truth was that, around Jalil, Mariam did not feel at all like a harami. For an hour or two every Thursday, when Jalil came to see her, all smiles and gifts and endearments, Mariam felt deserving of all the beauty and bounty that life had to give. And, for this, Mariam loved Jalil. 

Even if she had to share him.

— Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns

maybe wounds are better than scars

The more often he feels without acting, the less he will be able ever to act,
and, in the long run, the less he will be able to feel.

— C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

~

happy new year, if you're still here.

if only we believed for ourselves the prayers we say for others.

repeat

at this point, ive grown used to being lied to by you. 

my folly is in how i consistently let you in.

lament

how fragmented our understanding of reality.

how fragile the safety of our hearts.

how foolish our lustful desires.

how fucked up our human nature.

how feverish our passions and how volatile our emotions.

how futile our ambitions yet how truly desperate we are.

we grope and grasp for truth and meaning for this life like drunkards in the dark but are so easily contented with lesser loves and counterfeit truths.

but amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saves wretches like us.

i find that after all these years, i still haven't outgrown romans 5:20.

perhaps i never will, but that's fine with me.

wait

"are you healed, or just distracted?"

centred

and all over again, i find myself beginning from your cross.

all my defences undone at the feet of one who bled for me.

all my weapons and rage falling apart at the calm whisper of love.

with all my broken fragments and pieces, it's here i start over.

persona

"Aslan is a lion – the Lion, the great Lion."

"Ooh, I'd thought he was a man. Is he–quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion."

"Safe? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

– C.S. Lewis, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe

chronos

another passing day, another fleeting second.

gone. and gone. and gone. and gone.

step by step, edging closer to the end.

it's only a matter of time.

culmination

a gentle answer.

a quiet touch.

a desperate glance.

a muffled sob.

an exasperated sigh.

an innocent text.

a drawn out yawn.

a loss for words.

a brave front.

a tired smile.

the sum of it all:

a cry for help.

give

i go through the same cycle, again and again and again. picking up my weapons only to lay it down the moment i catch sight of the greatness of this battle.

like struggling against the currents as it beats down mercilessly, wave after wave. head bobbing up and down, and up and down. gasping and drinking it all in; the air, the oxygen, the water, the anxiety.

so. overwhelmed.

i need you to help my heart find its hope again.

di sini lahirnya sebuah cinta

this year marks Malaysia's 61st year of independence. personally, it's a special one, but not because of the outcome of our recent elections. 

see, i've always loved Malaysia. i've always believed that Malaysia is beautiful, despite her flaws and regardless of the political climate. her land, all of her people, and her cultures, all make up a breathtaking mosaic, that kinda mirrors what worship before the Throne would look like.

i've been encouraged (or advised) by many in the past to study abroad, build a career, and eventually, migrate to other countries. but truth be told, it was never something i had considered, nor was it something i could see myself doing. my dad, on the other hand, doesn't usually share my sentiments when it comes to our land of birth. in fact, he was one of the people who encouraged the idea of migrating to another country. he even tends to support opposing countries whenever our country plays a sporting event. needless to say, it annoyed me a lot.

but some time this year, i saw my dad put up the Jalur Gemilang outside our house. this was before election season, mind you, so i couldn't believe my eyes. for what felt like the first time in my life, i saw my father make a public display of affection for Malaysia, and this despite the whirlwind of tiresome politics at the time. 

i knew, right then, that this was a special moment. it's just a small flag and a small gesture, sure. but it was a huge change of heart. and i couldn't be happier. 

again, this was before pakatan harapan won the elections. before there was even a hint of a change of government. and here's what i'd like to imagine: even if barisan had won the elections, he would have still kept the flag up. personally, i might not even be bothered if barisan won. what mattered to me was that my father actually took pride in this country.

for once, he had faith, hope, and love for Malaysia.

so here's hoping that more and more of the estranged children of this land, both young and old, would see the beauty of Malaysia, and love her despite her imperfections.

wander

finding.

searching.

exploring.

but all the lines seem to lead me back to you.

carry

you're wrong. 

happiness isn't forgetting. 

happiness is finding new things to remember.

source: iwrotethisforyou