i’ve told many that I am really not an extrovert as many may have perceived and that I do not enjoy talking as much as others may think I do. Unfortunately, I have yet to meet anyone who can see, accept or agree that I am really am not a person who enjoys talking…

I don’t deny that I talk a lot. But honestly, most of the time I do it because I feel a need to. A need to break ice amongst people I just met, a need to make others feel comfortable with this new person they’ve met, A need to show others that I am not as cocky or snobbish as others may initially perceive me to be.

Lately, I’ve been talking a lot, a lot more than I usually do. And it is indeed tiring. I am currently involved in a project, where I have met new people who I need to work with well, with whom we need to form a good relationship for more effective team work and for all this to happen, there is a need to for me to put on the talkative, funny Felicita so that the awkwardness can be overcome. So, I talk, joke, be creative and interesting and witty and funny and fun. Things that make others feel comfortable and easy to be around me.

But….

Just because I can be all these since most of these qualities come quite easily for me, doesn’t mean I want to be or do all this.

Amongst the people that I work with, there is another group of people who happen to use the same facility with us for another program. I happen to know some of them. They are my Indian friends/family. I don’t necessarily know all of them well, don’t necessarily agree with everything they say, but I like them, respect them and enjoy their company for reasons I can’t really explain.

But these group of people, are very judgemental and often conclude that I am one cocky, arrogant girl with no respect to others just because I’m just not the super friendly kind. So, to prove to them that I am not what they think I am, I put on that friendly, fun, funny, witty, interesting character again.

All in all, it’s tiring… tiring because you have to constantly perform to ensure the other party is entertained and feel comfortable around you.

At the end of the day, I long, a lot, to just go home to someone who I don’t need to talk with at all, that I can be quiet all the way through and he’ll still find my company as meaningful as I would find his. I want to go home to someone who accepts my silence and doesn’t think there’s something wrong with me. I long to go home to someone who would take me in as who I am, with whom, I don’t have to be funny, or fun, or witty or creative or interesting. I want to go home to someone with whom I can be the plain me. The me who’s a lot quieter, a lot more thoughtful, the me who’s interested in listening to how their life as been…in its most genuine sense…life that is not masked by the temporary pleasures of life.

I see so many people around, so many friends, so many special individuals with whom I can feel a sense of inexplicable connection and yet, I wonder if there’s anyone who would be able to accept and understand the silent feli…

The fact that my real home is so far away and far from reach makes me hope that I’ll be able to create a home here for myself. A family. As weird as this may sound, but I don’t mind getting married at this age (to someone I love and who loves me back of course), simply because it would mean, I have a family here that I can go home to. But of course, I do wonder, if this family that I may have, requires me to be the funny, fun, witty feli or allows me to be the silent feli….

A friend came over and was chatting with me and my roommate, you know, about normal things, like exams and college and special sems and holidays and friends. In the midst of the conversation, out of nowhere, I felt, like a punch to my stomach, like the kind that brings you down. I felt disturbed, a little troubled or sad or depressed and I was shocked as to why I was feeling that way. I mean, we were talking about perfectly normal things. Then, why did I feel like we were discussing something rather depressing…

I thought about it. I really wanted to understand why I was feeling that way, especially when, the feeling did not go away.

And then I found the answer.

It was that time of the year where biomedical science student have their special sem, when everyone else goes home for holidays, we have our special sem where we do additional subjects and do our final year research. Yeap, lotsa work.

I was feeling the way I did because this special sem meant that it was time, where I would have to stay in college….alone….when people go home to their family for holidays, when my close friends will all be home, equally busy, doing their things, but yet away, in their world. This special sem, would mean, me in college, alone, struggling through research, without a place to run to when I am stressed or troubled or bored. It means, I’ll have to survive for two months without the little family I have made for myself. It’s not easy coming from penang and having a ‘family’ who are all locals.

No worries, I am not selfish. I’m not wishing that they lived far from their families like myself. Far from anything that sick. I’m happy they get to go home. I know how good it feels to be home, since I get to go home really seldom.

I guess I am just afraid of falling…afraid of coming back to an empty room, afraid of being alone, afraid of an empty college, afraid of life without friends and families to support, afraid of not having someone to turn to, afraid of drowning in my own thoughts without having someone to support, just having someone around.

Life of a student is really not as easy as people may think. There’s always a lot more going on. We just don’t realise until we take some time to think about it.

I know some of you guys are gonna read this and feel really bad for me. Don’t. It’s just my insecurities and I guess, it simply means you guys mean to me more than it seems. I am going to get through this, I’m sure. I'm gonna be okay...

I’ve come to realise that my blog posts are always the depressing sort (duh~)…

I mean I am no depressed girl. REALLY. I don’t deny I’ve got a hyperactive mind that loves to analyse, but me no depressed girl. I love the life I’m blessed with, the people in it, and the many little surprises that make my life, simply amazing to live.

The reason most of posts are depressing-toned maybe caused by my perception that sad stuff or nostalgic or melancholic stuff are better to write about, simply because they are not easy to talk about verbally.

But to avoid people thinking that I am falling into the valley of depression, I thought I’ll share with you a rather fun post.

I have a great roommate. She’s a good friend of mine. And I think that’s important. I’ve come to realise that not everybody has the opportunity to have a roommate who’s also a friend. Most people have roommates who are merely people who share their rooms with them. I don’t bug you. You don’t bug me. We are happie. J

But, thank god, that’s not my case.

Anyway, back to the story (sorry, I have a habit of side-tracking). Well, we accommodate each other, try to minimise what the other can’t stand, tolerate. And to make things all the more interesting, we are total OPPOSITE. Haha. Tell me what the odds are like.

So, this is the scenario.

Me: lazy, sleep a lot (bout7-9hrs a day), crazee (inside out), hyper, loves music and movies, love talking breaks every 1-2 hrs of studying, eat every meal, eat a lot, especially during exams, take long sleeping breaks, or simply breaks, love going out with friends for movies, supper etc, even if it’s exam week.

Roommate: Hardworking, sleep an average of 4-5 hours a day, crazee (inside), not-too-hyper, solemn?, can’t study with music, easily distracted by noise, even like nHz of frequency (hehe), average break lasts about 15 minutes, very focused, can sit and study for 5-6 hours straight, with occasional 5-15 min breaks of course, doesn’t eat every meal, abstain from going out, even out of the room, 2 wks before exams.

So, it was Sunday, when we were both preparing for our Monday exams. I got really stressed. When I get stressed, I desperately NEED to listen to music to distress before I lose my mind or go mad. It’s one of those of life or death situation.

Remember, I told you that my roommate can’t study with music. She was studying (felt like forever to me) and I knew that even a 5 minute music break can disrupt her flow and concentration. So, there I was dying to listen to music but yet understanding enough not to listen to music because I knew what that would do to her concentration.

Then, at about 8.00pm, she stood up, took her towel and gathered her toiletries.
My heart was literally jumping!!!! She’s going to bath!!!!YAY!!! Music break for me.

I calmly asked her, ‘Going to bath, ar?’. She replied, ‘Yeah’. ‘Alright then.’, I replied.
I may have sounded calm and composed, but only He knows what that meant to me.

I tot to myself, well, an average person takes at the very least 10 minutes to shower, that gives me 10 minutes of music break, which means I can listen to about 2.5 songs before she comes back and continues studying.

YEAH!!! I quickly chose my favourite song for the night, ‘Mauja Mauja’ from Jab We Met, and started (literally speaking) dancing hysterically to song, came up with the weirdest moves I could possibly think of, and just tried to dance my stress away…

Aaaaah….that felt so good….

The song ended, and I clicked my second song of choice, ‘Aoo Milo Chalo’ from the same movie…

It was about half a second into the song, when I heard a knock on the door. ‘That can’t be her, she just went to bath, and it’s hardly five minutes’. I opened the door, and guess who was standing there? To my utter disappointment, IT WAS HER, my roommate!!

I was like, ‘What???’.

I told her, ‘Can’t you like at least bath for as long as an average person would do?’

She: I did bath like an average person would.
Me: You took less than 5 minutes!
She: I did not.
Me: I’m hardly into my second song, and you’re back!
She: Uh?
Me: The first song was 4 minutes long and the second song, it was hardly into its first minute when you returned.
She: (she started laughing) What am I suppose to do? There’s only so much to do when I bath. Put soap, wash up lar.
Me: Ugh!!!

When I think about the entire situation, I think it’s hilarious!!!

I told her, that our room life can be made into a comic book, I’m SERIOUS!!

She couldn’t agree more.

Remember the people you shared a special connection with and believed could have developed into a special friendship or relationship, if it wasn’t the fact that your chances of encounter with him/her aren’t many, or he/she is seeing someone already, or you are too afraid of losing the friendship you share, that you put aside what you feel?

And even after years have passed by, you still, sometimes think of that special person, those moments you shared, those feeling you felt, and you wonder about the what ifs…

Ever felt that urge to just call him/her after such a long time, and tell him/her you missed him/her company, the sound of his/her voice, the little jokes you shared, the conversations you had, the hugs, the words, the eyes that spoke, and the mutual connection you shared? But never found the courage to do it because you were afraid that he/she didn’t miss you as much as you did, that you might be only a part from his/her past that means nothing much to him/her now, because you were afraid that he/she has moved on with life and from you, because you were afraid of looking like a total fool.

So, that night, I lay awake on my bed, unable to sleep. I have my finals next week, I haven’t been studying as well as I should, and yet it wasn’t these that kept me awake that night. I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about him and those special moments. They were like flashbacks from a movie that kept popping in my head. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t do anything, because I wanted so badly to see him or hear from him one more time. I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about the what ifs. I couldn’t breathe because I missed him and I couldn’t tell him that I did.

And foolishly, this is as far as I am going to get. I woke up and wrote it all down, hoping that if I took it out from my head, sorry, heart, then maybe I’ll be able to sleep. I stared thoughtfully at my screen, as I re-felt all those emotions, and remembered all those conversations and pondered about all those questions…

I miss his smile and his voice. I miss the way he stared at me. I missed the times I caught him staring intently at me, when he was suppose to be listening to the speaker. I missed his company, his big ideas, his belief in me. I missed the look on his eyes that seem to be saying something. I missed the uncertainty I felt around him. I missed listening to his views and sharing mine. I missed the warmth of his soul. I missed that night we danced, and the moment we shared. I missed waking him up in the morning and seeing the look on his face. I missed him.

I hate that he was already seeing someone. I hate the fact I pretended I felt nothing. I hate it that he felt that I was way out of his league. I hate that he thought I never would have given him a second thought. I hate that I couldn’t tell him I missed him as much I did. I hate not being able to see him anymore. I hate not having the courage to say, ‘Hey, I miss you…. a lot… and I continue to wonder about ‘us’. So, if you’re not seeing anyone right now, give me a call’ because I’m afraid of the rejection, of the awkwardness and embarrassment.

I wish ‘we’ had a chance to happen. I wish you didn’t think that I was way out of your league, I wish that you missed me as much as I did, I wish for so many…..

But right now, I just wish for one thing..

I wish for just a day with you,

where we can dance,

and share,

and spend time talking

without having to use words…

I just wish for that moment,

Just one more time,

With you…..

I always wanted a chance to give a thank you speech or a goodbye speech, like the ones you see celebrities give when they receive their awards…

I guess there are always things that I wanted to tell people or share with people but never had the chance or occasion to do it, maybe it’s more like I never could find the courage to do it.

Maybe, that is why I enjoy blogging… it is where I write all those unspoken thoughts, my opinions on general life and all that revolves around it, and on people and how they do what they do.

Always wanted to thank a friend for hurting me, more than he could have possibly imagined and for letting me go, because I felt, through him, I learned the kind of person I never want to be and the kind of person I want to be. Through him, I learned how to appreciate friends around me and the importance of honesty.

I appreciate others, I know but why do I always put them before myself?

I have always wondered why I am drawn to listen to what others have to say and how they feel. Why do I want to understand what they are going through? Why am I drawn to help these people in the little way that I can, even when there were times where helping them meant hurting myself? Even if it was someone I wasn’t too fond of. No, I’m no hypocrite, if that’s what you thought. Why do I observe silence when it comes to expressing hurt and dissatisfaction and pretend that I am ok to give more than I receive? I’ve even asked myself if I was just a masochist. Do I just enjoy inflicting pain upon myself?

No, I’m no saint. I’ve come to realise that what I do is no act of self-sacrificing, as I used to think. Nope. None of that. I am not an angel. At the end of the day, I help them for selfish reasons too.

When I see someone in trouble or confusion, or in loneliness or helpless and lost, or restricted and all bottled up, I feel what they feel because I see myself in them. I see a lost Feli, a Feli who was once or still is lonely, a Feli who is searching, a Feli who wants a friend who loves, a Feli who looks for answers and liberation from entanglements of life, a Feli who was once so afraid to show how she truly feels, and maybe still is.

I help others get out of that, because then, I feel like I’ve helped myself. Ironically, the problems I help people get out of, may still be/are problems that bog me down. I help people believe in themselves, so that, someday I may believe in myself. I help people express their grief, disappointment, anger, loneliness, so that when they feel lighter after letting it all out, I can convince myself that someday I might/can do the same. I help people see how beautiful they are and how more beautiful they can be, so that someday I would believe that I am too. I help people feel they have a friend, a confidante, a listening ear and an understanding, accepting friend in me, so that I can continue to hope that someday, I’ll find one too…

At the end of the day, it was/is still about me. I help others to help myself. It’s my form of therapy and it is the most effective kind. Nothing works better for me than a visit to Agathians’ Shelter because they make me believe that I can be something good when all else point otherwise. Despite my weaknesses, my limitations, my sinfulness, my mistakes, the children there make me believe that I have some good left in me. And when others may forget or fail to see it, they are living proof that it’s there….somewhere…

p.s see, this is why love blogs again... how could i have told anyone that i help others so that i can help myself. imagine the reaction..... :P

Out of the many great movies there are, ‘Lord of the Rings’ have always been my favourite…

I am sure that it is the favourite of many others as well. However, it is for reasons that may distinguish me from the others…I do wonder always if there are others who appreciate LOTR for the same reasons I do…

The movie was essentially about struggle to accomplish a responsibility or mission…

And aligned with the mission of the movie, my favourite character was (obviously) Frodo…And yes, Frodo may be the favourite character of many others but for what reasons is the elemental question.

Frodo was my favourite character because I felt I could relate to him the most…and he inspired me the most. His character was more complex than it superficially seemed…

Frodo was a simple boy from a peaceful village, lead a happy, easy life that revolved around the ordinary..

but a coincidence or another somewhat simple matter, the ring in his case, changed him for life…

That journey of carrying the ring and every significant event that he went through throughout that time, that is, until the ring was finally destroyed, changed him, his mind, his actions, his emotions, fear, hope, and desires in life tremendously, and no one can say unambiguously whether it changed him for better or worse…

He can no longer be content with what he used to be contented with before the journey…His wants out of life has changed, although he may wish it didn’t.

Although his mission was finally consummated, he still couldn’t go back to who he was before…

He is changed forever

and though the scar has healed, it still hurts…

He is no longer the Frodo of Shire. He is now, Frodo of nowhere… Where he doesn’t feel belonged to anywhere and is still searching….

His friends seemed to have moved on with life, returned to their original lives and living happily…

But…

But he…
He still feels lost, very lost…

People fear changes, especially when we see it in the persons around us…When we see that our friends are changing, we fear that things will not be the same again…we try hard for things to remain as they were and in efforts of doing that we live in denial….

We avoid letting others see that we are or have changed…possibly for fear of rejection… We fear if others can accept the new us, that is different and unfamiliar, even unfamiliar to our own selves…

Fear…lost….suppressed…restricted…hurt….search…peace….
All this sums up what Frodo feels and felt….

And I see me in him….

The scar has healed and the yet, it still hurts…

It has changed me, my actions and reactions, my thoughts, my opinions, my outlook on myself, rather than my life… all have changed forever…

And there is no going back to who I was before…