There were no more us sprawled on the floor and the couch
no longer knows the shape of you. It's just me on it now.
Our cats sometimes, but just us.
This will be a cruel heartbreak.
I hate it that I miss us waking up at four to find a place to shower
and it always felt like a little trip everytime.
I mean when it comes to us, each time we get into the car is a trip, isn't it?
Remember how we danced like the last day of our lives in the living room?
Simple things were so grandiose when it's us together that I wouldn't ever
expect for it to end that abruptly.
But it did.
How long ago was that anyway? Couldn't be that long I figure.
The nights spent in the holy surau as if we were homeless with so-called intent to study, running
from humans and other beings alike (snakes and entities) and the
sides of us that floats to the surface we were showing each other, all surfaces scratched
within such short time being stuck with you in this little four walls corners.
My absolute favourite was spending the night at the bus station after missing the last bus.
That was art gallery day. We saw DaVincis, and other lovely crafts too.
How much fun were we getting back then!
(At this point I think we misadventured too much, all happening unplanned.)
My mother never knew about that night and if she did I would be in deep troubles.
I'm glad my life is blessed with so much trouble. I love it more that those trouble
comes in the shape of you.
I'll forever remember the Ramadhan we spent going to all fuckloads of bazaar in Melaka.
Even went to one that doesn't exist at the end of the month. Yeah, remember we were just
hungry and angry (hangry as hell) after that.
Our foodhunting was weird too. I fucking lose it everytime the memory pops up of the time when we let Waze guide us to this one restaurant and we were on a flyover when Waze said we reached our
destination. Fuck, that was the good times.
Crying together, crying with, laughing always together, laugh at, sharing this
piece of life full of happenstance woven with calmness.
You know, like one day it's all blood rush and screaming car trip songs on top of our lungs
on the highway and the next we'll collectively sleep throughout the day.
It just felt natural. It was true. I achingly long for the things we did.
Happiness unfolds in such small gestures.
We talked in the car overlooking the hill of this place and cared for each other.
In my room, putting (or trying to put) your trust in us with vices.
The small talks, with hearts filled with pain, the coffees and redbulls.
Satay, corndogs and the foods we never had the chance to create together.
The sand of the beaches we went would have embedded our foot tracks in their memory.
Three generations of cats raised to be.
So here we are now, I don't think we're ever coming back to this place again after this.
75450.
God, oh god, I think I have attachment issues.
We didn't get to have our last trip, we didn't get to see everyone get together again for now.
Who would have thought that day in March was the last everyone got together.
I guess now when you're all coming to pick up your things in the oncoming days,
I should hug you tight and tell you I love you so fucking much.
You know I do. We created a lot in our names.
Then, when the last person walks out of the door of this place,
everyone starts heading out to places, scattered for years to come.
I guess, we're on to greater things, my friends! And going places, too.
