Read This in 2037

50. That's how old I will be when my son turns 21. That's 14 years from now. That's at least 14 years worth of reasons to stay alive. To stay healthy. To stay strong.

Good Night.

Unorganized Thoughts

I write here because nobody reads this. I might type out a Word document and delete it (sometimes I do), but it doesn't feel the same. This space is public, it is accessible (a little hidden), yet it is empty. It's hard to describe this with an equivalent physical space.

---

I'm past the age where it is cool to be depressed. I'm at the age where it is irresponsible to be depressed.

Unfortunately, I am an uncool irresponsible person.

---

My son doesn't know it, but I need him more than he needs me.

---

I've been on a Men I Trust binge for weeks. Hard to Let Go is hauntingly beautiful. Will be seeing them live in a few months. That's something to look forward to. From what I've learned from TV, suicidal people don't make plans like this. So I suppose this is a good sign.

---

I still hate driving, but I love the solitude.

Meant to Say Goodbye

Apa yang boleh kita bualkan?

Dalam era video 30 saat dan berita terkini dikemaskini setiap saat di twitter, 5 tahun rasa macam satu kehidupan yang lalu. Ditambah pula dengan pandemik dan whatever you call this post-pandemic life, rasanya dah terlalu lama.

Di mana patut kita mulakan? Tanya khabar? Reminisce? Bercerita tentang 5 tahun yang lepas?

Sukar nak bercerita tentang 5 tahun bila kita hanya ada 10 minit. Tak pernah kena masanya, tak pernah kena tempatnya. Sepuluh minit setiap lima tahun. Lima tahun lepas di bakeri. Sepuluh tahun lepas di kedai buku. Mungkin we were always meant to meet in passing.

How have you been? Where have you been? Did you find what you were looking for?

Père et Fils

Setiap hari aku temui perilaku baru anak aku yang menyerupai aku. Gerak geri dan cara ketawa. Roman muka dan pola fikiran. Kalau tak aku yang temui sendiri, isteri aku yang beritahu. Memanglah tak mengejutkan. Bapa borek anak rintik. Memanglah tak mengejutkan, kuah tumpah ke nasi. Memanglah tak mengejutkan. Tapi sedikit merisaukan.

Risau dia ditakdir mengulang kesilapan dan kelemahan aku.

Risau.

Risau yang dia terlalu yakin pada diri sendiri.

Risau yang dia hanya toleh ke belakang bila semuanya sudah terlewat.

Risau yang dia tak tahu harga dirinya.

Risau yang dia sukar diterima orang lain.

Risau yang dia tak pandai mengurus emosi.

Risau yang dia tak sedar bila dia perlukan pertolongan.

Risau dia jadi aku.

Sebelas Tahun Selepas Dua Ribu Sebelas

How much time needs to pass until hindsight becomes 20/20? Feels like it varies between a split second and a decade or so.

---

Malam-malam sebegini, aku cari solace dalam chaos. Kita dan semua yang tinggal akan jadi debu angkasa lima billion tahun dari sekarang. Kegagalan dan kesilapan semalam akan hilang makna bila tulang temulang kita pun dah lebur dimakan matahari yang dah jadi red giant. 

Selamat malam.

Kafein dan Helplessness

    "All men need therapy," kata Za, penuh yakin, dan sedikit condescending.

    Aku tak iyakan kata-katanya, tapi aku tak nafikan juga. Sejujurnya, aku tak tahulah kalau 'semua' lelaki perlukan terapi, tetapi kalau semua lelaki lain seperti aku, ada betulnya kata Za, mungkin terapi dapat membantu. Tapi Za bukannya bercakap pasal aku, ini cuma cerminan sifat narsisis aku, Za bercerita tentang berita politik.

    "Kau baca tak ni?" Za tunjukkan tweet tentang parti politik mana entah yang baru saja keluarkan kenyataan apa entah. "Kau dah tengok?" Soal Za lagi. "Selagi negara ni diperintah lelaki-lelaki tua macam ni memang tak ke mana lah kita."

    Aku sepetkan mata dan lihat tweet yang Za tunjuk di skrin telefonnya. Skrin telefon Za terlalu malap, mungkin untuk jimatkan bateri. Bateri telefon Za tinggal 37%. Dalam skrin malap telefon Za, aku lihat refleksi wajah aku sendiri, tapi untuk seketika, aku tak kenal wajah yang aku nampak. Mungkin terapi dapat membantu.

    "Ugh, I need to get off twitter," Za mengeluh.

    Aku angguk. Aku tak pasti berapa lama Za akan berhenti semak twitter. Aku rasa ini kali ketiga Za cakap benda yang sama dalam minggu ni. "Yeah, maybe we all need therapy."

Input Not Found

10, no, 11, there are 11 unfinished books on my shelf. 1 fiction, 1 biography, 3 politics, 6 popular science. Perhaps there is some correlation between unread stories and unwritten stories. I don't read as much these days. Don't write as much.

But suggesting that there is a strong correlation between the two is admitting that only books can inspire writing. Surely the brain cannot be that limiting. Surely the brain can draw inspiration from other sources.

But admitting that would mean that the source of the problem is that my brain is uninspired. Which is likely. Hours of scrolling through dumb videos and tweets. Sitting through Netflix binges and YouTube recommended content.

But this means that I need to change.

---

Pfft. Good night. Keep scrolling.

Je ne comprends pas

Table For One

Kerusi paling hujung menghadap tingkap. Secawan kopi panas. Masa yang kian sukar untuk dicari. Masa untuk aku duduk sendiri. Dua belas minit.

Dua belas minit sendiri.

Sebelas minit tanpa tanggungjawab.

Sepuluh minit dengan angan-angan.

Sembilan minit tanpa skrin.

Lapan minit tanpa kata-kata.

Tujuh minit tanpa peduli.

Enam minit. Lima. Empat. Tiga.

Tinggal dua minit lagi.

Satu minit.

Satu minit.

Satu minit.

Yusoof & Zakhir

2008, Pasar Seni Station. 09:00 PM

It was my first job, the hours were long, but the work was easy, at least in hindsight. Although I like to think I was a much more happier person back then, I'm sure I had my fair share of complaints.

The interchange station is Masjid Jamek, but I always got off one station earlier, to stretch my legs and get a whiff of that night time KL carbon monoxide flavoured air. Polluted, definitely, but KL has character, or whatever you call those green chunks floating in the Klang river.

A young man approaches me, late-20s, clean clothes, but with a backpack too big for him.

"I'm really sorry, can you spare me some change? I just got here from Alor Setar and I think I just got pickpocketed. I just need to get a cab to my friend's place," he pleaded.

It was my first job, the hours were long, the work was easy, but the pay wasn't great. I took out a RM50 bill from my wallet and handed it to him.

He thanked me a few times and asked for my number, so he could pay me back. I told him to pay it forward.

I skipped a couple meals that week.

---

2012, Lebuh Ampang. 10:00 PM

I was in my second job, the hours were longer, the work was neverending, and the pay still wasn't that great. Ironically I still think I was a lot happier then.

It was the hour around KL when the office workers start to return to their burrows, and the actual city dwellers show themselves. More depressed faces instead of stressed faces. More worries, more untold stories. I sit down at the mamak opposite Pasar Seni to grab some supper and unwind.

A young man approaches me, early-30s, clean clothes, but with a-- wait a minute.

"I'm really sorry, can you spare me some change? I just got here from Alor Setar and I think I just got pickpocketed. I just need to get a cab to my friend's place."

I stared blankly at him for a moment. "I think I gave you 50 bucks the last time." 

Without as much as a blink, he turned away, walked a few metres out of the shop, and tried the same thing on another passerby.

In hindsight, I should have felt some regret, or anger. But I remember chuckling to myself. The supper was quite good too.

---

It's 2021, and while the country (and the world) is in a mess, I'm doing relatively well, career-wise. The work can be tough, but the pay is enough.

Yet I've never been as happy as the time when I didn't have enough money and found out I gave RM50 to a grifter.

Good night folks. Take care.

Rant

Never been unhappier. Never felt such joy. Never earned as much. Never had so little to do. Never had so much to learn. Never wanted so much to know. Never been this confused. Never been this lucky. Never made less sense. Never made more sense. Never felt this way. Never felt this way.