Love Over-rated

A million things have happened over the past two months and it feels like eternity. I have done so many things in such a short span of time, but the only thing that I haven't been quite able to do is to think.

I mean if you're talking about thinking bout things that have happened (especially the bad ones), well of course I've been thinking about it every chance I get. I'd snap myself out of it when I start fuming, or start ripping the pen that I've been writing with apart.

It is difficult to think of the good stuff when your bosses have stuffed you with work from the neck up. They have kept their promise to keep me barely alive after I returned from leave. It wasn't like I took leave to go to Maldives and walk on the beach and pick seashells ok.

I've probably changed from it all, but I'm still me. Even when some think that I'm selfish or being condescending and unreasonable and all that. But what is life if you don't get to enjoy it, basing it only upon what others do for you or otherwise? I mean damn, we'd never be happy if we were sitting around waiting for SOME guy to make us happy.

But what I've learnt, even how strong we say we are, we do need someone. Or at least I needed. But an indescretion proved that I could make it through on my own (yes, while pining for some knight in shining armour to take away the pain). As for you guys who believe in fairy tales, sorry to burst your little bubble, there isn't one. There never has been one, and there never will be. Well ok that's a bit harsh. Maybe in the beginning of some 'love at first sight' and 'head over heels' kind of nonsense, you may think that there is. Now I know there really isn't. You make your own fairytale happy ending in your head and it doesn't happen. So there, no more fairytale. Easy peasy.

Though I think the fault lies in the worldly interpretation of love. They keep showing us movies of how perfect a man can be and how exciting it is to see that hunky guy and that pretty lady gets to click with him yada yada yada. And then they get married and then the movie ends. Then we all go ga-ga over the movie and say we want a marriage like that. HELLO???? the movie ended. They'd probably end up yelling at each other every night cause the girl likes the curtains all flowery and the guy doesn't.

So someone had the most intelligent mind to tell me that love was overrated. He said that true love was by doing the right thing, even if it was a routine, even if you didn't want to do it. The world has closed our eyes on the 'right' and gave us false hopes and promises in exchange. It is sad, because I finally understood what he meant. I never saw things that way.

But when I thought about all the wrong things that I've done in the past, it wasn't that I didn't love. It was because I was stupid for not listening to the better judgement, thinking that my own way was the right one. And really guys, if anyone were to tell you to do something just because, it's not worth it.

A whiff of the past

A lot has happened in a month. And so I thought since it's about time I get rid of my gloomy looming old blog style, I'll do something different this time (partly cause I'm SO free I cannot think of anything else to do). And also because there are a few things which has to be put in writing.

Just a word of caution, I'm gonna be putting up pictures of my sister's funeral. So if any of you who has any pantang/bad luck/etc about looking at these pictures cause your weddingday/granduncle's birthday/dog's birthday/whatever is coming up, then there's this tiny white x in a red box that you can click on the upper-right hand side of this screen.

Anyways, this will be the first time I'm gonna actually talk about parts the events in my life. Without all the cynicism and all that (I try).

So before it all happened, I was happily engrossed at work. And one fine morning after the completion of a very long hearing, I walked into my office and saw this:

Courtesy of my colleagues. Azmin & Teck Wee, I will still kill you.

Really, don't ask.

Not a day after that, there was a lot of going in and out of this wretched place called Tropicana Medical Centre. It wouldn't be wretched if my sister had survived from that place. (Sorry can't help it, I have a grudge against that place).

And then that day came, the day which all of us didn't want to face but had to anyway. It's a little blurry. Except for the fact that I dreamt for weeks in a row about looking at the corridors of the hospital and the room that she was in, and how the doctors could tell us straight in our faces that there was nothing that they could do and show us signs that she was going away.

It was horrible. It still is no doubt. For the fact that I can still visually see the entire scene that morning. It is hard to believe that she isn't here any longer though. Not until it really comes and whacks me in the face. But I'd rather hold on to that small imagination that she's still somewhere, yelling at someone for not doing a good job. At least she's alright.

But ok. I'll keep my word of caution. Here are the pictures.

See. She's so pretty.

Something I got for her as her get well present. I gave it to her anyway.

Her boyfriend bought her a replica of Cookie. Everyone thought it was a real dog.

Something from her friend, Grace, who thought she could use some company.

To Aimee, Ben, Chris, Evelyn, Jasmine, Janice, Jian Bean, Kerting, Siao Hui, Tash, Yiting & Roy (if you secretly read my blog), here's the wreath that you got. It came in just in time for the mass. We thought it was really lovely so it went on the casket.

Thank you all.

 
Oh, and if you didn't know, she got baptised when she was in the hospital. So yeah, she got the death I always wanted.
 
But my sister was being my sister. She:
 
1. Made my cousin buy a very expensive plane ticket to postpone her trip to stay for her funeral.
 
2. Made me buy roses for her on Valentines Day (3x the price ok??) on her 7th day. Not 1. One each for everyone who was there. Fifteen.
 
3. Made us move all her stuff. And I tell you, her 'stuff' sounds normal. How do I put this. Um. Stuff from 1 apartment with 3 rooms moved to a two and a half storey terrace house making it FULLY furnished, equipped, in all the rooms, under the stairs, in the cupboards, shelves, drawers...you get the picture. Oh, and the 1 apartment is still furnished. Live-able. With a couch and all that. We took two whole weeks just to move. It's not done yet.
 
Chea, if you've got internet up there, I know you'll be laughing at all of us.
 
So in the midst of moving, cookie was in the way. So I had to do this:
 
 

And after that she sulked.

Sorry cooks.

It is not goodbye. I'll see you again.

You left without saying goodbye. Perhaps you didn't know. Maybe it was better this way. You spared us the extra tears that would've come if we saw you closing your eyes on us.

It's still like a blurry vision. Like it never happened. I still imagine that you're on one of your work trips, that you'll come back one day. And I'll see you, and we'll quarrel over petty issues that doesn't matter. Like how we shouldn't rub cookie's belly, or whether we should give her papaya or not because she pee-ed on your kitchen cloth that morning.

Then we'll have dinner and talk about useless things we did last time when we were young. The only time that I can remember most vividly was when we snuck out of the house, walked to Toy's World and bought ONE bar of Crunchie. It seemed huge back then. We ate half the bar each, and couldn't stop farting afterwards. And we had to keep ourselves locked in the room (and not let the fresh air in) because we couldn't let anyone mum know that we bought a bar of chocolate. Then we came up with an ingenious idea of where to dispose of that golden piece of wrapper. Out the window, onto the roof. I can't remember whether we actually did that but I know we laughed so much we were literally rolling on the carpet.

You still made me do that even when you were 25. But it was fun. You were fun to be with, despite me being such a spoilt brat wanting everything my way. (but you know you usually win).

I haven't been the best sister. You always wanted the best. And because of that I haven't been able to understand you. I didn't know how to. And now that you're not here I will never be or know how to.

You've changed so many people's lives I'm not even sure you know it. Dad cried so hard that day. He didn't want anyone of us to see it. But we all did. He never does cry, you know that. That day I thought that God doesn't listen anymore. To me anyway, and I thought that I didn't deserve to be heard. I was being selfish, I wanted you back into a life where you would suffer more than anyone of us.

Maybe you think you haven't done enough, and that's why you try so hard to please everyone and end up hurting yourself.

But like mom said, "God says it's enough. It's time to go and return home."

And I think she's right.

So I pray that you'll live in peace in heaven. I know you are already there.

If I live life good enough and be a good girl, God might give me a chance to see you again, just enough to say I'm sorry.

And I'd like that very much.