The Way You Are

Who am I?

I’m X, and who I am is a blank. I am no king in any trade, I am a jack. You see, people like me has their hands in everything, and we’re not bad at it, but we’re not the best either. People like me wishes to be the king. We start out with strong ambitions, strong determination, get to it, struggle, get up only to reach maybe at best, second. We mould our self in hopes we’d be like the king. We compare ourselves with the king, improving by leeching.

But, I’m sick of being a jack. I’m sick of trying to be a king. I’m sick of living my life, trying to be like someone else, trying to fit in, trying to chase after something that I’m struggling with, thinking that “if I’m like that, someone will like me because I’m different.” I’m sick of chasing kings, I am who I am. Who I am is up to me and it is I that will answer Who am I?

I am not able to write stories, to come up with poems, I cannot string words into a perfect sentence and I cannot perfectly compose my emotions into a paragraph. I lack the creativity to create perfect stories, stories that are different, I cannot capture an audience with my words. I can however write good essays, my command of the language is good, the ideas are not lacking, and if anything I can try.

I need a man, a person who will support me, who will love me, who will change my light bulb when it fuses, I need a man who can share my burden, who will spoil me with luxury things, who will be my punching bag, who will allow me to use his money but I can live without one. I do not need a man to be complete, I do not need a man to survive, I do not need a man to fight for me nor I need a man to tell me how to live.

I have my ambitions, I have my goals, I want something in life and I will do anything to get it. I am wise, I am a strategist, I can play mean or nice, I’m able to work extra hard to achieve that one goal. I am however not able to neglect the other parts in my life, I cannot ignore the roadblocks, I cannot act tough and say I’m okay when things are not, I am not able to hold my tears and not act on emotion when it gets too hard.

I am not the domesticated goddess, I cannot sew, I cannot cook for a family, I cannot clean a house and I certainly cannot tell the difference between two types of brooms. I can sew a button, fix a tear, cook maggie mee, boil rice and water, I can make sure everything is in order and I can certainly arrange books and cds in alphabetical order.

I like dark and twisted but I am not an emo. I love rainbow and sunshines but I am not a cheerleader. I enjoy a good cry but I’m not a sensitive. I can emphatise with some things but I am not cold hearted. I must have order but I am not an Obssesive Compulsive. It must be perfect but I am not a perfectionist.

I love speaking in public, I love making speeches. I love saying my opinions and I love being heard. I love being able to hold a intellectual conversation, I love debating over an issue. However I cannot make small talk easily, I cannot make people feel like I love them, I cannot help but feel a little bit awkward, I am a little bit shy among new people, I cannot get the perfect topics.

I love discussing books and movies, I love being sarcastic, I love the catty side of me, I love how I know who wrote what. I however cannot have a in depth conversation about books, I cannot come up with sarcasm on the spot all the time, I cannot tell you why I think that book’s better than the other other than the obvious ones.

I’m not a maths genius, I’m not an economics whizz, I’m not the investors dream, I’m not the physics pro, I’m not the english professor, I’m not the next einstein neither am I the next Warren Buffet. I am however able to count the Interest rates, to calculate mortgages, I’m able to discuss what recession means and how an increase in the target cash rate affects us all, I know the law of gravity and why force is so important, I love William Shakespear and I know what a verb is, I may not be the next einstein or the next Warren Buffet but I will certainly try to make a name for myself.

I may not be so many things, but I am just the same, so many things. I am who I am and whoever I choose to be. I am everything. A little bit of this and a little bit of that. I can’t change the fact that I’m not good at one thing, I can’t be one of the boys neither can I be one of the girls. I cannot discuss haircare and what nots and I certainly cannot enjoy a game of football. I love playing computer games but there are some that I hate for sure. I can’t change the fact that I sometimes need a nudge, a compliment or two to feel secure and I can’t change the fact that I can’t take being dictatored to. I love to have democracy, a chance to speak out, a voice to be heard a force to be reckoned with. I can’t help it if I’m a little rebelious, who sometimes break the rules.

You see, people like me sometimes find it hard to fit in because the world loves kings and people like us become just like everybody else. Not that it’s a bad thing, but you see, being a jack means that we’re equally as good. Which means our competiness comes out, our determination and ambitious nature gets the best of us and when we are “just like everybody else” it irrates us, it frustrates us. We loose our self a little bit when we try to convert ourself to be a king.

However today I’m making a stand, I’m embracing my true nature, I’m X and I’m a jack. I love it. Because we’re able to do EVERYTHING almost perfectly. We are who we are made to be and to survive, you need everything you can get your hands on.

x.

written by: ally-k

(note: haven’t been proof-read or edited. This is the rawest form of my writings)

 

Blurring The Lines

He stood by my window, his pearly white hands stretched out, asking for my hand. Take it, his grey eyes seem to whisper to me. Lets get out of this world together. We’ll dive oceans, see bluer skies, taste richer chocolate, see fantasies you can only have by imagining, I can bring it all to you. Take my hand, love, take my hand, he tells me. I’ll show you a place where magic is real, where perfect is certain, where the heroes and villans are obvious, where the good always wins and the ending is always ever after.

She stands by the window, right in front of me. I see the world she lives in- the horror, the pain. I see the politics of good and evil undefined, under trained eyes like mine- I see how people wear masks, living out stories they wished for themselves. I see the dullness in their routines, the unappealing nature in the way the run it, it’s always the same; where’s the excitement? It’s no wonder why they create their own drama’s, their own dilemmas- the only exception is, in mine, the climax always ends and theirs is a never ending process till the day they die. She deserves better. The light behind those blue eyes will fade in time, just like the many others whom I’ve seen. This world is a way too cruel place fior people like her to live in. This world will never understand the uniqueness, the speciality in people like her, they’ll only crush it- turning her into another robot. Another robot chasing after something unattainable- the ending- but in the process, they only get to see the climax. I have to save her. I stretch out my hand. Take my hand, love, take my hand- I tell her.

Time stood still. Together they fell out of the window, leaving. Leaving. Leaving.

aLLy

Author’s note:

I’ve been reading a lot of novels lately, to be honest, I’m finding the world I live in really dull. It’s almost as if nothing appeals to me any longer. I want to live in my books- to have the climax and the ending. In this story, there’s no prize guessing who lives in which reality.

 

winds of change

It will go down in history, written in all the textbooks, sang to all the children, the stroy will be told over and over again. As the saying rings ever true “Pride comes before a fall.” Children take note, adults learn to live by it as nobody, no one can ever be invincible. When you start thinking you’re invisible, when you start acting like you’re invincible- it’s when you’re fate awaits you- cruelly waiting. The fall- is everything but graceful.

 That’s exactly what happened in Malaysia 8 days ago. The very proof that there is more to just flowery bold selfish statements, more to being good- getting votes. And trust me, to get votes is more than just being good, it’s being likable, being admired, being trusted.

 Before things appeared like they did- people who were undefeatable in the past were getting over confident, getting cocky with their so called success- success in means of money into their own pockets, making bold proud statements- Even tractors will not be able to bring me down!, doing stupid things, saying unwise things- you-you-you…. and acting as if the world revolves around their idiotic asses.

I’m glad it turned out the way it did! Good bye you useless people, good bye you proud people, good bye and good riddence. I finally see hope in Malaysia, a new future awaits, new avenues that is waiting to open. Lets just pray that the people who have won, the people who were unprepared for such wins, the people who finally is given a chance to shine, make full use of it. Let them not be swayed with the money and gold but let them put themselves last and the people first.

 Let them see the true meaning of being a leader. Cause leaders are born to serve, given the opportunity to serve and how many times is this forgotten. Pray that the winds of change comes peacefully and pray that these people who has been chosen, unprepared and all, be prepared. Cause the future is now in their hands.

 I can’t wait to see what happens in the future. I may just thank God that I’m Malaysian 🙂

 Dear future leaders,

Please bring back Malaysia’s pride. Restore it’s good name and think of us when making decisions!

-a future voter-

ally.k

 

Don’t Look Back At The Empty Room

 

She sits in her tattered and bruised up chair, the one beside the study table. The light brightens up every corner of her now unfamiliar room. Even the lights seem to shine brighter. The posters on her walls has been taken down, the bed no longer has it’s covers- what’s left is a clear plastic sheet used for bedspreads, the things that defines her room is now boxed up, cleaned, the room is now almost empty. She sighs, she never expected to see the room in this state again, she thought the day she moved in would be the first and last time she sees her room bare. How wrong was she?

The walls, if they can talk, they will tell you of stories that no one else knows about. Of how she battered her self, of how she screamed her lungs out, of how she pretends that everything is alright out side and breaks down when she’s between the 4 walls. Oh yes, the walls has many memories. Now her room stands bare, stripped of it’s glory- without it’s clothes, it looks so normal. Unfamiliar.

Her bags all packed, her shoes worn, she sits in the room for the last time, a tear manages to slip past her mask then she grabs her bags, walks out, not taking a second look back. Cause if she did, she’ll never be able to leave her room.

aLLy-k

 

Hands

 “A many splendour it is to see the works of Her hands.”

His wife naps in the armchair, the same arm chair that has been around for the past 18 years. The lines on her face tells him that she isn’t as young as she use to be, each line frames her face- but in his eyes, she is still the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on. Age tells him that he has experienced life and lived life. He stares at her- he likes watching her sleep. The rise and fall of her chest as she takes in her next breath, the way her mouth falls open slightly, how her head tilts to the side and how sometimes she smiles when she sleeps.

While he continues watching her sleep, he reaches out for her hands. Her hand fits perfectly into his- the warmth familiar to him, the weight comfortable on his- he remembers how these hands have helped pull him out of his lowest points, how these hands soothed away his worries. The hands so familiar yet so different. He remembers the first time he held these hands- the smoothness of it, the innocence. Now these hands are calloused, worked out- how much has these hands seen, felt and done.

These hands reminds him of many things. One of the most cherished memories are the birth of his two children. How the hands he was holding now held them. How they held on to them gently but securely. How her love could be easily seen in her hands- the way she carried them protectively, territorial.

Her hands- each callous, each scar has thier own story to tell. How she washed the clothes, cooked the food, the work she did to put food on the table. How she got hurt catching their then 5 year old daughter from falling into the drain. How she stopped the crate from falling on their son. How she held the cane to discipline them. How she pushed through the crowd to tell him she loves him. How she held the broom till it bled cleaning the whole house after the flood. How she picked flowers for their kitchen.

She was his life saver, she was his life. These hands he held means more than just love. These hands he now holds, is a story of hardwork, life and most of all sacrifice. Her hands are no longer smooth, are no longer young, but he thinks they’re even more beautiful now.

He kisses her forehead, heads out into the shed, she smiles in her sleep.

aLLy-k 

 

A Walk To Remember

Landon: Jamie… I love you.
[long pause]
Landon: Now would be the time to say something.
Jamie: I told you not to fall in love with me

(my favourite part of the whole show)

I watched it for the gazillionth time today. Gosh, that movie always makes me feel like my problems are so small. My problems are not a matter of life and death. I do not have to face love lost or to face death. I love the movie. I love the book even more. Am reading it again for the 2nd time. *i need my box of tissues*

 aLLy-k

 

1 John 4 : 18

18 There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love.

I stumbled upon this verse today and was taken a back. At first glance this verse seems like another proclamation. Another promise. Power to you and me! Power to me because it tells me that all you need is love- where fear is not present in the presence of love. It’s powerful because it gives me that courage to do show love to other people because it also says to love your neighbour, brother, enemies etc. It further explains that fear = torment and common sense will tell you that if you LOVE someone, you wouldn’t want to TORMENT them. Basic A B Cs…

But as I took a few more moments to ponder on that line, it became quite scary. Scary because the verse continues with he who fears was NOT MADE in perfect love. In other words, when you show fear, it’s like saying that Hey, God didn’t make me perfectly. I don’t know about you, but I feel like we’re saying Hey, God, you made a mistake or in other words, we’re doubting that God made us. And that’s scary. It’s also scary because it tells me that such a small thing as fear can reflect on our creator. How one small action can either make our God really huge or just another person. And I say another person because other than God, everyone else makes mistakes.

Now that’s something to think about.

aLLy-k

 

Daybreak

As daybreak approaches,
Anticipation, waiting,
For that ray of light,
For the sounds of mornings
Waiting…

As yellow breaks the darkness,
The glimmer of light,
Along with it – hope.
Hope for a future,
Hope that today is different,
Hope that today is better than yesterday.

Good Morning 🙂
I love mornings, I love hearing the world awaken. It’s so very positive.

aLLy-k

 

Who are you?

The reflection I see,
Is not one of me,
Eyes red, tear stained,
So Vulnerable, fearful,
Worried, weak and incomplete.

She looks back at me,
Her eyes- empty, hollow,
Like an icy pond- cold,
Gone is that driven fire,
That undying passion.

A corpse is what I see,
No signs of life, No spirit,
No longer determined,
Given up, Given in,
Buried in pain, broken.

No longer free,
Burden by sin, Bound by chains,
By a past unseen,
She struggles, she fights,
Drowning in a sea of pain.

The reflection that I see,
Is not one of me,
No hope of a future,
Defeated, No purpose,
That is not me….

aLLy-k