Everything in life, I have always expected the worst. The worst case scenario will always playback heavily in my head as I conjure not so nice pictures and events and words to each play their supposed part.

You’d agree with me on this; having such expectations will cushion the impact of whatever you’re about to receive. Even if it is certain that something good will happen to me, I would have another negative scenario played out, because nothing is exactly sure in this life. There is always that odd chance however small, to turn things completely upside down.

I have had my share of bad news and good news in the past. But the attitude of me receiving them had always been linear; keeping low expectations and portraying the worst possible outcomes. So the effect of the bad news would be kept to a minimum (i.e, no breakdowns, emotional outbursts, etc) and the good news would be amplified. Seriously.

I tend to divert my readers from the title heavily before getting to the point hence, keeping in line with my usual method of conveying information in this blog. 

Regardless, I have received a reply for the email I sent to a particular someone weeks ago. But if you had known the contents of what I had sent, you’d be hesitant to reply. That was what I thought exactly. I thought the email wouldn’t be replied at all.  1 (or 2?) weeks passed and I received the email.

I can tell you here right now, I was scared all the way from the tip of my longest hair, to the soles of my feet. I was honestly expecting the worst kind of reply possible. A measure of sarcasm, sentences provoking discordance, and the bleeding venomous words. And that was the worst I could imagine.

But when I read the email (it was written in Microsoft Word!), a strong sense of relief curled around me. 

And my teeth sneakily came into view as a smile began to creep on my face. I took my time and slowly read the words, as how one would appreciate  finely prepared food in an exotic environment. As the words slowly wound its way towards the comprehending part of brain, a good sense of a high came over me. 

Yes. I was happy.

The email was much longer than what I sent. But I easily could’ve felt the dedication, and the measured use of words and phrases, and the effort placed in writing such a meaningful composition. I reread it again and again, to fully understand what it all meant. 

Did I forget to mention that, whatever doubts, worst case scenarios that were played in my head, were diffused in a mere heartbeat when I read the first word?

Suffice to say that everything turned out better than I had expected. It was the best response that I could ever get at all. Like gambling, instead of getting a pair of tens or waiting for the dealer to bust in a blackjack game, I had the blackjack combination.  The ultimate prize. 

Many speak of it. But few, have actually succeeded.

The time that needs to be taken in order to successfully, say, "let go"? Is rather uncertain. Much like the number of stars that are haplessly stuck in the heavens to exude their brilliance.

Astrological matters aside, there is that.. rather odd feeling that your mind, the cerebral cortex of your head that refuses to absolve. Or in readable terms, I do not want to forgive and forget, and leave it be.

Surely many have succumbed (or is it two? I lost count of the number of people that actually read this other than me. Which is sad. And this thought has overstepped the boundaries of making sense.).....

.... To my words. About a female that was my companion, my other half. I wrote a poem somewhere in this blog. If you could, even call it a poem. I think it is a mishmash salad of words that used the wrong ingredients. Like the choice of beef and chicken in a Caesar's salad, or ikan bilis in a classic mamak mee goreng. *shudders in disbelief*




I mean, the poems was written with an intent, but with the wrong words and different contexts. Not to mention horrible grammar that seemed to violate the poem like how a rapist does to his (or her? =P) victims.


Pardon me for the excessive metaphorical comparison. The example that I have made about the grammar and the words. It was necessary to portray them in such a rather horrid manner so as to make you (whoever's reading this) understand my feelings as I read them again.


*coughs* I think we may have yet steered away from what I intended to write. Anyways,

I remember how dedicated I was to this one particular stranger of my life. I didn't even know her at all. So when came the (sorta) expected end, it really struck a hollow feeling within me. Dedication.. the feelings that I have had.. and among other things, were wasted.

Let's just say things got really bitter between the pair of us after sometime. And I regale a lot of stories and rubbish about this one woman(girl?) that (somewhat) ruined my life to a lot of people. And I still do.

The stories get even more wilder and more ridiculous as it was retold. And shorter. Because I was getting tired of mentioning her name or a reference to her over and over again. But I am still doing it.

Maybe one day, I would stop telling everything altogether because honestly, no one likes to hear me talking about a bitch that ruined my life. But in my defence, I would say she was.. similarly inclining to that direction.

You won't see me posting another word about her anymore in this recess of the internet. I am tired.





Of talking about her.








Finally.

I do not know how is this considered as a gift. Or maybe it is just me boasting but...

I write well.

I have looked over some of my emails that I sent to my ex without fail everyday during the duration of my short-lived relationship with her. I used a variety of metaphors, a plethora of amazing imagery, and probably the sweetness of the sugar market in Malaysia.. because I felt as I read it.

I didn't know I had it in me to write such exquisite rabble of words. I weaved those words not very much unlike the way one weaves intricate designs on a batik clothing. It was done with surgical precision, and it was done with the dedication that only another craftsman would appreciate. Or even lovers of art. Maybe.

As I read those past emails that I have kept (in the sent folder of my email client obviously), I was amazed at the extent of my skills. And I felt disgusted, as to why I wasted such talent, such effort in my words to such an undeserving person.
Of course, it would be really prudent to start bitching about my ex like a bitter, slapped dog. But I have already done that, and in different methods of communication of the humankind. Yes, I have talked bad about my ex in social media. I made it an issue, a bad news, with scathing words lacing it like a shrouded veil of grey on a white dress.

However, you will never find me posting about how bad a girl she was (previous post was just a lukewarm level of my verbal assault) over here. I have already damaged and stepped on my ethics as a writer. I have spat on the number one unwritten law: Do not write bad about other people, no matter how shitty they are.

So regardless, I have already, misused my talent in writing. I have written bad things about other people in such a colourful manner. And I have written beautiful things to another girl that did not in any way deserved it. And believe it my readers when I tell you, that I wrote, out of the 3 months we were together, out of the approximately 90 days, I wrote her on everyone of on those days except on a Friday and a Saturday night. Calculate. And I wrote without fail, I wrote nicely, because my personality as a writer, and the misguided dedication to an unappreciative person.


I just wanted to rant. This post is.. somewhat looking rather meaningless at this point. And no I am not under the influence of any substance or any drinks.