You see. Here is the thing: it gets better. All the time. Everything. As long as you count your blessings, I guess. These sort of things are conditional but to me, it is ever so easy. Everything gets better as time progresses, whether we realize it or not. So, for me, I would always have the best birthday every year.
On another unrelated topic, if you ever notice, I almost never put a post title for my blog entries. So I am not so big on labeling things... I value content. This particular blog entry is a special one. There is an occasion that I am celebrating. GUYS it is Thomas Muller's birthday!!! It is also Niall Horan's birthday!!!
HAHA. I do not really care (ok maybe I care a bit...).
Anyway there is just so much for me to tell I am not even sure if I can fit them all in this post. I know I have silent readers most of whom are my friends- acquaintances, at least- and this is not exactly the sort of things I talk about here on my blog. You guys might just click the 'x' button and forget about this post. It is mostly me, talking to Ilman here. With my heart.
Hi there Ilman. You quite possibly was waiting for me to wish you when the clock struck 12AM here in Malaysia. You might even think that I forget about your birthday. I do not. What is the point of wishing you when it was not yet your birthday where you are, I thought. So I have pre-written this post and I totally made that up there from scratch with Photoshop (I made it sound like a big deal don't I :P).
But you know what Ilman? It does not matter. Some of my blog readers are, like me, sometimes a little rebellious and is stubbornly reading this post I wrote for you. So I thought I would want to tell them some little stories about you and me.
Hello again you little rebels, you have made it this far in reading this totally insignificant post in your life. Thank you, you guys are loyal. Just please do not fall for Ilman... HAHAHAHA I kid of course (not really, so just "aww" like a cheesy person reading some cheesy stories and forget this ever happens- think you could do that? Yeah? Sweet. Thank you).
Okay so I always take forever to finish my food and Ilman, patient as he is, always waits. In fact, he is always waiting for me. He waited for me at the RC after my papers. He waited for me to finish studying so we can watch a movie together. He waited for me to come to the RC after lunch because I showered mid-day and it took forever for me in the shower. He waited for me, clumsily walking with stacked pile of notes, files and books in my hands to see Bonda for a meeting about SC camp. He waited for me when we were walking together because I am sometimes as slow as a tortoise. He waited for me in front of the hall during prom when it took me forever to come down after Maghrib. He waited for me after finished praying Isya that time when we escaped the little rave everyone had during prom. He waited for me to listen to him again when I zoned out whenever we were together because I inevitably do that. He waited for me to tell him about the stupidest, silliest, most random of things that I think about when my mind drifted off. He waited for me to finish my stories before telling me his.
So when he asked me to wait for him to come back for me, I never looked back to have it all figured out. I will wait for him, I told him.
Also. Guys. I am an indecisive, most fickle person. Ilman is quite the opposite, most of the time. You see we both are two very different characters. We listen to different types of music- he listens to lovey dovey, sappy, cheesy, romantic, crazy emotional songs while I listen to cool songs he has never heard of. We enjoy different form of recreations- he loves sports while I love indoors-y activities like reading and writing. We take different sort of subjects- he takes subjects with numbers as such while my subjects are all essay-based. So, almost every day, we would talk and tell each other about our days- basically what happened and we share our thoughts. It amuses us both, I think that we never fail to do that. Every single day. We tell each other everything, catching up the years of our lives that we both missed in the other. Suffice to say, at some point, we both agreed that the period of us knowing each other is worth more than a lifetime of knowing anybody else. It is pretty wonderful. Sharing. Sometimes, we would just rant to each other about our problems and random thoughts. Random, like one day he basically listened to my (acah-acah) philosophical rants of where the soul is located- heart or brain or the entirety of our being? I love that he would listen to every little things that I say regardless of its importance. Though sometimes he would let me talk to myself because that is what I always do. Duh. ALso one time we had an argument about the use of the word 'worser'. He said it does not exist. Or incorrect. Or something. And I fought my case saying I HAD encountered the word in my readings. GUYS I was a Literature student so I read old piece of work written by Shakespeare and as it turned out, that night, we discovered that OH the word 'worser' does exist but it IS old English word that people scarcely used these days.
K.
But seriously. Ilman listens to everything I tell him and he would layan me. Yesterday I enthusiastically told him about my first dUCk (I got dUCk-ed!) and he told me it will definitely look good on me. *cues tears* It is almost ridiculous how he bears with me. With tremendous patience and kindness.
When I get sad, I rarely talk about it because I do not like being sad. Who does right? But I do not like to talk about sadness. You know. I normally just take some alone time to wallow in grief and devastation which is sometimes followed by moments of self-loathing. But I guess my sadness sort of portray itself in my words and actions. He reads me like an open book, always knowing what I feel. Sometimes, I feel like he knows me better than I know myself. This, coming from me who, despite my vocal self-critic I utter out loud, is a self-assured and self-sustaining happy cheerful person. Most of the time (errI mean there were times when I would walk like a zombie, dragging myself from a place to another feeling simultaneously light and heavy, complaining to people about something- classes lah, this lah, that lah...). However Ilman will always, always strive to reach out to me. With his ways. Until I open up to him. The first time was possibly the first week of our term as the SC when we had 927747 problems to tackle and I was emotionally damaged. I had locked myself in the room and cried my heart out to the point I was sobbing like a child who has been crying for an hour non-stop (it was unfortunately that heart-breaking). He was texting me, asking how I was doing, how I felt about it and I have said that I am fine, I am okay and I am alright. Something along the line. I do not remember. But all I know is after a while, he called me. That guy freaking called me and I had to repress all the tears that I was about to keep letting out.
And then it happened. He heard me cry. And I remember at one point he laughed a little?!!!?! Anyway it was comforting to listen to him attempting to comfort me. From then onward, he would never fail to try and comfort me whenever I needed it. He is stubborn and persistent that it is a little frustrating yet admirably amazing. So with Ilman, I learnt the truth in the statement: grief shared is half grief and joy shared is double joy.
Ilman respects my opinion and value my counsel. Sometimes, I do not how to react to certain things so I can merely offer my attention. I listen. But he appreciates it so much that even when I had told him that anyone could have listened (hey -most- people have ears that could listen), he would say, "not like you do". It makes me feel special :)
We laugh a lot too, when we are together. We laugh at each other, we laugh with each other. One thing that puzzles me is how Ilman would just watch me suffer and laugh at me. He openly does that! A few times, we had to arrange tables and chairs. I am aware that I am a quite petite but during the old days back in Seri Puteri, we were so used to carrying desks, chairs, tables, refrigerators and elephants. HAHA but you get my point right? I think Ilman finds it amusing to see me fumbling with tables, occasionally teasing me about it. One time, he literally stood and watch me. Thanks a lot Ilman :) :) :) definitely not making me nervous at all. But I get it. I love that he does that. Sometimes when we study, or when we are doing anything really, he would just look at me. Just looking at me for no reason. But I understand. You once told me that, not talking, but just looking at me is "the best feeling ever". Cheesy and puke-worthy as it is to you people, when it is said to you, you too, would feel what I felt. Trust me: the best feeling ever.
Ilman once claimed that he does not know how to buy gifts and stuff blablabla but do you know that he got me a panda plushie which I am always with right now at home and a book that I badly yearned to read when it first came out...? I got Catatan Matluthfi on the same week it was released. So I am writing this to counter his claim because to me, he really is thoughtful with gifts-giving. Before Ilman left for London, he gave a care package of a notebook and markers and pens. Mama said it was a perfect gift for someone like me, how does he know?
Haih. How is that bad in giving gifts as such? Right guys? (see, they all said you are okay with that!)
Ooh also this one time, last year, during the mooncake festival in college, he gave me a pink lantern. Like one I gave him two years ago. We did not know each other back then, I was not even sure if we can call each other acquaintances. I once had a tiny crush on him (now not anymore). I mean he is pretty cool :)
With all seriousness though-
Truly, Ilman has been with me throughout my bests and my worsts. Never, did he ever not display tenderness in his words and actions with me. Never, did her ever give up on me. Never, did he ever just leave me to my own. He is always taking care of me- not that I need it but it is sort of nice to have someone who does. I am sorry Ilman, I would not be walking with you in the streets of London nor would I be able to watch your basketball matches (if there is any) in the next three years. You know what Ilman? You always thank me for every single thing. Even the littlest of things. I love how you appreciate me so much. I love it that you love me in the best way possible. Thank you for reading my essay-worthy of messages when I know you rarely even read. You also check my blog everyday! These little gestures... all that you have done- it is amazing. Thank you for fighting your way with me despite all odds to just be together. All the best for your first year! I believe that you will do great. Because you are a great person. And if you ever doubt yourself, you know that you can count on me to return the same favours you have done for me. :)
Happy 20th birthday, Muhammad Ilman. May your days be filled with happiness, always. Cheerio!
That's really cute and touching story that I've ever read.
ReplyDeleteThat's really cute and touching story that I've ever read.
ReplyDelete