100 marks the spot.

You know what? They lied. They lied to all of us flat;

Time doesn't heal wounds.

Well, time hasn't healed MY wounds.

and to top THAT off, I think my nose's plugged cause I still smell that inane amount of oldpeople perfume in your room. You know, the one where we'd all sniff and make weird faces, cause it smelled so.. flowery? Yeah, weird. I know.

also.. at times, I still hear the sound of your wheelchair squeeking down the hallway. Your weird chants and random shouts still echo through the place;

even 100 days after.

and maybe i'm still a fool. but I still expect to see you, when I enter the room; taking a huff of that powdery smell in the air, listening intently for that loud snore or the ramblings you used to sing out.

cause 100 days have passed.

and I still...

heh.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I... if there was another word for sorry, I'd be screaming it out loud now. I'd be repetitively screaming that word, that could just tell you how... I feel.

but there's none that can express to you, what I felt, what I still feel whenever I remember that scene. Oh god, only god knows what went through me at those moments. Regret and guilt interlaced with grief.

I wish I had talked to you more, spent more of my free time. Heck, I didn't even get to fulfill your wish to taste my nasi goreng cornbeef, did I? But I did, sleepover there for a night, I promised you a sleepover, didn't I? I know it was one night late, and we didn't sleep at all, cause we were all lamenting on the good days. back when you'd bake us that AWESOME cake, teach some of us how to cook, prodding us with the spatula when we were too playful in the kitchen, telling us how bad judi was while we were playing big two, and even the moments where you would tell us how it was DONE back in the old days.

'Masa nini dulu bah, tok mana ada tok, kamek, kamek kalau buat camnun-nun, pake cara tok..'

and now, 100 days have passed..

I miss you.

BadAss DeathEaters!!

Let the words flow

Her eyes are squinted in concentration,

frowning furrows appear on her forehead,

woven with an uprising eyebrow,

pupils dilated As her mind accelerates,

As Ecstatic fingers

readily weaving,

deliberately devising,

changing, concocting.

sidetracking everything,

for this, her creation:

to tinker with the nuts and bolt

of sentences, to find flaws and

to understand and relish the

flying sensation of liberty coursing

to and fro her veins.

She enables the channel

building a chasm between

her and her creation,

it was...

from her, to her; for her :

everything.

Running around making fools of ourselves.

Past few days have been hectic.

Heck, hectic doesn't even begin to describe them.

But for the sake of saying it: 2 Weddings (1 at Brunei ICC, another at Bintulu), Roadtrip & Shopping Spree. All WITHOUT INTERNET. Ahh!!!

Heh. anyways, I'll get around on filling in my dose of intel here soon. Not Now. Drowsy after that cup of hot chocolate. from starbucks.

hmmmmmmmmmmm... nyummy.

Half a year gone.

and already I feel on the edge;

I Need You,

more than ever.