(72) I made lemonade out of lemons.

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dear mr & mrs bloggie…

 

I was left with little imagination.

 

Happiness was ideal, it was the work of the imagination. Cheerfulness was impossible, an inept approach it so seemed. The energy in me had been sucked dry, to the last bit. Late night crying made me numb and well, I was all cried out.

 

No one seemed to take this predicament seriously, not even my mother, all assuming I was in for the ride. I was more oft than not left sitting alone in the corner of the bedroom, loneliness being my solace. Dreadfully, it left a trace of sting in my heart thereafter.

 

That, yes that no more my friends, for I’ve decided that life’s too short for wallowing. I ought to live life to the fullest. To boot, I’ve been craving for some loving for the last little while. So I did it. And I couldn’t be happier. I am whole.

 

Well, to those not in favor, please for the love of God, shut up.

 

 Anyway the man I chose was……

 

………………

 

………..

 

…..

 

..

 

.

 

 

Go figure.

 

 

Choosing him does not make me love the other one any lesser. I love them on different grounds. But see, my heart bleeds whenever I hear D’s sad voice and this heart soars with his laughter.  It’s like I want to make him happy, just like he does to me.

 

If this is crazy, I don’t want to be sane.  If this is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

 

Yup, 7thingsIhateaboutyou. Some things only you know.

 

Now I can go back to my normal ways. For now.

 

Speaking of normal, I met up with three random but important people in my life last Monday. Farah Deena, my niece-in-law and my love love ever since my brother married her auntie eight years ago. And then there was Zulkhairi, my primary schoolmate who didn’t talk to me before, not until ten years later, presently to be precise. We have not stopped talking since. And finally my bestfriend back in secondary school, my smartest friend Faman, who had seen me grow up from an ugly fat pimply teenager to a… well to a…. ah never mind. I can’t think of a great metaphor.

 

Three strangers who didn’t know each other but we four bonded so well it was a shame we all had to leave early that day. I love hanging out with smart people because talk’s cheap with them around. Now that I have with me a circle of intellectual friends, I have no need to frustrate myself over some provincial thinking of others.

 

And a funny thing happened. Well, to me it was. Deena and I acted like two guilty teenage school girls. We had to lie (with much conviction) and hide from the boys when we wanted to take a puff because Faman scolded me for not quitting still. As we joined them a mere ten minutes later, I was told off rather blatantly by him. I was adamant myself so there. Hmpghf. By golly, who would’ve thought the two guys I went out with don’t, for the life of me, smoke. Nor drink and club for that matter. Boy, I need to hang out with this kind of people more.

 

Good thing was humor was present throughout our conversation and trust me, that was without a doubt a remedy for my heartache. I wouldn’t want it treated any other way. Right.

 

I like being happy.

 

 

And there you have it. My simple 72th entry. Pardon such gibberish on my part. I just thought I’d better write it down for memory sake. Ho well.

 

 

 

 

My Deena and Mr Hairi

 

My bestie

 

 

cinta

fasyalba

 

 

Psst! Dear someone, I won’t be meeting you for three weeks. But don’t you dare think I’m not missing you. *gives D a swift buss on the cheek*

 

 

 

 

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