Heart of Steel...
It had been almost a month since the break-up and I am slowly recuperating. I guess my tears have all dried up, and the heartache does not hurt that bad anymore.
I no longer have his number. Although I have deleted it a couple of times whenever he pissed me off, I still saved it, hidden somewhere in my phone, like Inbox, Outbox, old messages, so that I could retrieve it whenever I felt like missing him. Not anymore. I also do not memorize the number so that the memories do not linger on. I used to hope that it was him, whenever my phone beeped indicating sms or when the phone rang. And I was disappointed time and again. Now I just could not be bothered.
Have I turned into a woman of steel? A woman without feelings? Without passion? Without love? Maybe. To me it is an act of survival. It is a cruel, unforgiving world out there.
I am now starting to build that fort around me, which I let crumble not too long ago. The fort which was my blanket of security, my barrier of all things bad, my barricade against the oh-too-familiar pains and hurts. I am slowly building it back, this time bigger and stronger, like the Great Wall of China which is so big, you can see it from space. Mine will be even bigger, so that you can see it from heavens.
All I wanted is a simple man, to lead a simple life with me. I don’t need big bungalows, or fancy cars, or expensive jewelleries, or high-class dinners, or exclusives clubs, or Europe vacation. I am a simple woman, who does not even know what escargot mean, who still cannot figure out why u need so many forks and spoons just for a meal, and who pronounce Carrefour as care-four instead of kah-foo.
All the simple man need to do is to make me happy. It does not take much to make me happy. A clean house makes me happy. A good meal makes me happy. As long as I feel loved, respected and appreciated, I am happy. But that was still too much for a man to give.
I want to think of myself as a survivor. Perhaps not in Panama, or the Virgin islands, clad only in shorts and bikinis, surrounded by nasty, backstabbing people who won’t bat an eyelid in killing me in my sleep whenever they get the chance. No, not like that. But I have survived living alone.
I managed when the house flooded because of the leaking sink. I survived a major car overhaul (the engine was so hot, it could have burnt me alive anytime). I remembered driving myself to the pharmacy to buy meds and air kelapa muda, albeit blisters and all, when I was down with chicken pox. My body ached so much, I was almost on all fours when I had to go pee. I had been through disastrous relationships before. I survived a car accident without Abah holding my hands. I survived failure in exams, which was my first time ever. I was crying alone when Yibbe, my darling cat was sick and almost died. I managed to sort out in court, when I was duped with a business scam costing me thousands of ringgit. I survived all those.
And I braved them all… alone.
Perhaps I could find him in Tesco (right Bergen sir?). But there is no Tesco at where I live. Just a supermarket called Hero. Maybe I could find my hero there? Yes? Or maybe Jayajusco. That’s near, minus the jam.
Perhaps, I am meant to be alone in this world. And that soul-mate I still foolishly believe exist, is waiting for me there, amongst the skies. Perhaps it was already written in the books.
I shall not cry. Maybe I should morph into a man instead. Body of a woman, yet mind and soul of a man. Hey, I don’t want a sex change. I love my anatomy the way it is.
Men seemed to be more heartless, have i-don’t-give-a-damn attitude. They don’t bother about matters of the heart. Breaking up is easy, like swatting a fly. Footballs, fast cars and sex are their only indulgence. Mushy stuff ain’t gettin’ me nowhere. Tears are only for the sissies.
Maybe I should have the heart of steel.
Perhaps I could be Superman…
I no longer have his number. Although I have deleted it a couple of times whenever he pissed me off, I still saved it, hidden somewhere in my phone, like Inbox, Outbox, old messages, so that I could retrieve it whenever I felt like missing him. Not anymore. I also do not memorize the number so that the memories do not linger on. I used to hope that it was him, whenever my phone beeped indicating sms or when the phone rang. And I was disappointed time and again. Now I just could not be bothered.
Have I turned into a woman of steel? A woman without feelings? Without passion? Without love? Maybe. To me it is an act of survival. It is a cruel, unforgiving world out there.
I am now starting to build that fort around me, which I let crumble not too long ago. The fort which was my blanket of security, my barrier of all things bad, my barricade against the oh-too-familiar pains and hurts. I am slowly building it back, this time bigger and stronger, like the Great Wall of China which is so big, you can see it from space. Mine will be even bigger, so that you can see it from heavens.
All I wanted is a simple man, to lead a simple life with me. I don’t need big bungalows, or fancy cars, or expensive jewelleries, or high-class dinners, or exclusives clubs, or Europe vacation. I am a simple woman, who does not even know what escargot mean, who still cannot figure out why u need so many forks and spoons just for a meal, and who pronounce Carrefour as care-four instead of kah-foo.
All the simple man need to do is to make me happy. It does not take much to make me happy. A clean house makes me happy. A good meal makes me happy. As long as I feel loved, respected and appreciated, I am happy. But that was still too much for a man to give.
I want to think of myself as a survivor. Perhaps not in Panama, or the Virgin islands, clad only in shorts and bikinis, surrounded by nasty, backstabbing people who won’t bat an eyelid in killing me in my sleep whenever they get the chance. No, not like that. But I have survived living alone.
I managed when the house flooded because of the leaking sink. I survived a major car overhaul (the engine was so hot, it could have burnt me alive anytime). I remembered driving myself to the pharmacy to buy meds and air kelapa muda, albeit blisters and all, when I was down with chicken pox. My body ached so much, I was almost on all fours when I had to go pee. I had been through disastrous relationships before. I survived a car accident without Abah holding my hands. I survived failure in exams, which was my first time ever. I was crying alone when Yibbe, my darling cat was sick and almost died. I managed to sort out in court, when I was duped with a business scam costing me thousands of ringgit. I survived all those.
And I braved them all… alone.
Perhaps I could find him in Tesco (right Bergen sir?). But there is no Tesco at where I live. Just a supermarket called Hero. Maybe I could find my hero there? Yes? Or maybe Jayajusco. That’s near, minus the jam.
Perhaps, I am meant to be alone in this world. And that soul-mate I still foolishly believe exist, is waiting for me there, amongst the skies. Perhaps it was already written in the books.
I shall not cry. Maybe I should morph into a man instead. Body of a woman, yet mind and soul of a man. Hey, I don’t want a sex change. I love my anatomy the way it is.
Men seemed to be more heartless, have i-don’t-give-a-damn attitude. They don’t bother about matters of the heart. Breaking up is easy, like swatting a fly. Footballs, fast cars and sex are their only indulgence. Mushy stuff ain’t gettin’ me nowhere. Tears are only for the sissies.
Maybe I should have the heart of steel.
Perhaps I could be Superman…
posted by marina at 6:15 AM
| 3 Someone Is Eyeing Me
Tamtam and Coco rummaging through my bags after my trip from Trengganu. Bau keropok gamaknyeee...
