It was during the silence of the night with my roommate not in sight that I got unexpected visitors. I was going to start a video on Molecular Orbital Theory when I heard a knock on the door.
It was DJ and Yana, my two course-mates of mine. They were coming for a bit of a visit and to borrow my Ecology textbook.
I smiled at their wonder and awe as they entered the room. They were awing at the carpet, at the walls, at the shelves and it makes me light up inside to see them such way. Their chatter and their voices; beautiful and it chimes inside my empty heart.
They saw my family picture at my laptop desktop and as they marvel at it, I offered them if they want to look at others.
I had this thing about pictures. I rather show people my pictures, rather than tell what had happened. My story, to me, it is either written or capture in an image, frozen in time forever in a solid form. Words, coming out of my mouth, to me, it won't last. My words on paper, it is something that I am grateful for, rather than the words that come out from my lips.
And pictures, they tell stories. Pictures guide me, help me tell my story.
They left as quickly and unexpectedly as they come. I sat back down and looked at the pictures that I had taken and kept.
My grandmother, during Raya celebration.
My self in my high school uniform.
My family on vacation.
My friends, smiling and posing.
These are the things that made up my life. These are the things that make who I am today.
It made me sad to look at the pictures--it reminded me of what I had lost--but it makes me feel grateful that I had went through those happy times.
Alhamdulillah.
This is my story.
It takes time.
No.
It takes a struggle to me, to be happy.
I want to be happy and it is my choice to be happy.
It was DJ and Yana, my two course-mates of mine. They were coming for a bit of a visit and to borrow my Ecology textbook.
I smiled at their wonder and awe as they entered the room. They were awing at the carpet, at the walls, at the shelves and it makes me light up inside to see them such way. Their chatter and their voices; beautiful and it chimes inside my empty heart.
They saw my family picture at my laptop desktop and as they marvel at it, I offered them if they want to look at others.
I had this thing about pictures. I rather show people my pictures, rather than tell what had happened. My story, to me, it is either written or capture in an image, frozen in time forever in a solid form. Words, coming out of my mouth, to me, it won't last. My words on paper, it is something that I am grateful for, rather than the words that come out from my lips.
And pictures, they tell stories. Pictures guide me, help me tell my story.
They left as quickly and unexpectedly as they come. I sat back down and looked at the pictures that I had taken and kept.
My grandmother, during Raya celebration.
My self in my high school uniform.
My family on vacation.
My friends, smiling and posing.
These are the things that made up my life. These are the things that make who I am today.
It made me sad to look at the pictures--it reminded me of what I had lost--but it makes me feel grateful that I had went through those happy times.
Alhamdulillah.
This is my story.
 |
| My UiTM friend, Pray for our lasting friendship |
 |
| During some kind of SPM bengkel, my classmates of 4 Ametis |
 |
| A morning jog with my family |
 |
| My coursemates, DJ and Nasuha. We went on a species hunt for our Biodiversity assignment |
 |
| A little vacation at Port Dickson with my family...I miss them |
 |
| My UiTM housemates; The best, the wonderful human beings I ever met |
It takes time.
No.
It takes a struggle to me, to be happy.
I want to be happy and it is my choice to be happy.
Comments
Post a Comment