Being nostalgic always ruin my mood. I am going quite public here. I have not gotten over my past relationship and that there had been times that I have to cope my days one step at a time keeping myself focusing on the biggest lesson I’ve learned: never forget to breath.

I have been enjoying the down hill track. I enjoy having days in which I endured pain, I enjoy days with so much occupancy that times fly and all there were was the fatigue resulting with an effortless sleep. I deprived the days, when Facebook's notification kills me. And if you ask, I would prefer it had never occured, yet the lesson would not be as much. Such cliché that was, but I wish no more than the same thing for him. I doubt I would (or could) have taught him the lessons he had been learning, the people he had been inspired by, the journey that he had taken, the depth he had gone. I treat myself for movies whenever I grief, I took moments to acknowledge how I could stop writing my journal (which means I have been coping rather well), I give my shoulder a pat, whenever I go through the road I used to cry through - this time singing Blur's.

Awkwardly - and I might be in a state of denial - I have never believed in breaking a relationship up. The Bahasa wording it translates to means ‘to cut’, and it seems to be too absolute. Whilst ‘breaking’, leaves an option of cracks, shattered, crumbed to pieces – yet even the tiniest pieces it falls into, gives room to be collected to be either cover the crack, put together with some hot glue, reused for some other purposes, or throw it all away (even when this happen, some pieces of it would closely thrown, making the connection with that one other piece – stay). This, my friends, might be the self healing and self comforting effort. I have learnt, though, that all effort matters even when I stop, it’s my effort to remember to breath.

You could tell the sorrow from my entries, some friends knew what had happened within some of the one or two sentences I wrote upon things. They know me to well, thus I am scared that had they known the state where I’m (still) in, they would feel obliged to reach out. So, guys, if you ever get the chance to read this, I am giving you the standing ovation for sticking around, being the best support systems one could ask. I have been walking the walk and grabbing the branches you had given to pull me up. The walk and decisions to grab the branches is mine and I have much enjoyed the company as I wish that you would stay around as much. However, I would want to look for those branches. I have troubled you enough as I get consumped with myself. My biggest apology. I would still trouble you, though, as I am requesting to find you walking before me through the aisle at the church, with your hijab, your red nine-west, your sneakers, your dolphin doll, or your Indian sari - the exact outfits I would prefer you in. Oh, and I would expect the lovable ogres to sit with their babies.

Aku padamu, guys. *Meh.