I do not want to forget this

Dear me in the future,

    If you ever forgot some of the dreams you've tried to remember, (I hope the one that you... you know with the black, tall, woman in a corridor with light, that never came true), this one, I think, might give you some stimulation not to forget a person's name, face or nature.

    As far as I can remember right now, even under the spell of some brain waves, it all started when you entered a competition or a talent show or something.  You were with that person and you've been assigned to work with her to show people what you guys can do.

    So you and her went to a bookstore to find some topics to do and, I don't know what happened during this, she picked a book about... sex toys. She got an idea and sort of... forced you to tag along. So she... kinda... grabbed an orb or something, it was shiny and it was a sphere, and... put it... into her... well... yeah.  And you got some sort of pad? that you put under your tongue to hide it and you were wearing a magician's cape.  She was wearing a blouse.

   And the time came when you and her are supposed to showcase what you got to the crowd or something. It was a hall with only a person, as far as i can remember, and it was an old stern woman.  So she sat on a stool in front of her and you were beside her.  You announced what you were going to do, I can't remember the words, and she... sort of... touched herself. Like masturbating.  You were smiling then.

    Then, you sort of spit out the pad thingy that was under your tongue and scraped out the... orb.. out of her... yeah.  Then, the scene changed.  She was tired and suddenly there was a lot of people pointing out to her and calling her a dirty woman. She was looking and smiling at you, seemed satisfied.

    You were mad at the people and the woman now, was pointing out to her.  You got mad and... these are the only words that I can remember, "It wasn't her idea! It was mine! I made her do this because I need to pass the exam! I'm the dirty one, not her!" But, inside you were saying, "I gotta get her out... This was her idea but I gotta get her out..."

    The best part was that you thought you were the hero.  You were wrong.

    At this time, you woke up.

    You took a bath and until you combed your hair, you didn't remember it. Then it came to you, while you were staring at the mirror.

   It came to you that this was the first time, in a long time, that you have ever dreamt of her.  And even in dreams, you can't say her name, afraid that you would summon her again.

    And don't forget about why you made this blog.

Another one

Ichi ni san do odoridasu

shi go roku demo odoridasu

hontou kimochi wo himitsu dayo

himitsu dayo

I guess

That there's no one like me here.

Haha...

I wish someone would understand what i'm going through...

I wish someone would try to understand something to it's deepest core.

I wish someone would be as conscious of himself as I am.

I wish that someone would get the meaning when he watch a story.

I wish that someone would continue what I say.

I wish someone would come up with ideas as crazy and big as I would.

I wish that someone would feel sad when I feel sad.

I wish that someone would reply in japanese when I greet him in japanese.

I wish someone would talk to me in english.

I wish someone would talk to me, for goodness sake.

TALK FOR THE SAKE OF TALKING.

Just be there when I need to say something.

Oh god, please.

Why do I have to do this with the feeling that I will be alone in the end?

Even if someone would read this, I don't think they would laugh.

I told you

I told somebody that I want to disappear after completing my secondary school, disappear from their history and just gone from the other's memories.

I didn't regret that.

I still am who I am, the real me for those who knows who I am and I'm still being nonsensible.

The first time someone asked what my dream was, I blurted out everything and he didn't understand a single fuck.

Excuse my french.

But, my ideals cannot be seen from just a single point of view, it has to be seen with multiple points of view.  Because if you look it that way, you cannot see what's going in the other way.

Think about it.

We have created the internet.  To our eyes, the internet is just a big piece of network that connects with each other and let others connect to you.  But it's on the other side of a screen, it always is.

My dream is to bring that internet out.  Out here, into this reality, and create another special reality above our own.

My name for it would be Virtual.

man.... i wish someone would read this.....

even the girl would be nice to know... you do not forget someone... you only side step it's memory, put it in a box...

But me and the way i think... i keep tripping on those boxes.

SPM

In SPM, Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia, it was english test at the time.

Upon reading my question to write an essay, I realizes I have no frikkin story that will fit that question.

So I made one instead. The one I wrote on that piece of paper is not the whole story but rather... like an intro to said story that will span, oh, about 300 pages, take it or leave it.

So, here I am again. I need to write down SOMETHING, so I'm writing down what I have written down last year. With a lot of modifications.

#try not to go ahead as I did in SPM.... Plan something ahead.

"The men in armors watched as they fled the grounds like wasted animals leaving their nests.  What a pathetic scene.

It was evening but the sky was already blacken as of the smoke that's lifting from the buildings around covered it like a blanket, leaving only patches of clear blue sky unforeseen from a view standing beneath all that fire. The buildings were crumbling down as fire fought fire for air. It was a beautiful scene for a pyromaniac and a disgusting scene for an architect.

It was simply ceremonial.

The road that has been there for perhaps 200 years. The road that was so called the Alley of Hands, are now no more than bricks upon bricks of old mold. The commander of the 7th Battalion's Empire Army stood amongst the flame that even now continue to ravage even the dirt beneath his armor-clad body. 2 men stood behind him with a space, both adorn the same white armor but with less frills and a lot less stripes down their shoulders. For Commander Stalwart, the Alley of Hands is but a honey pot, filled with bees and hornets.  In order to get the honey, you will have to smoke the bees first.

It wasn't working.

Because the bees were out, but the hornets are putting up quite a fight, both against the insurmountable fire and the men in armors.

Commander Stalwart watched as more and more of his men joined the fight against the so-called thieves and elites of the "assassins."  Pathetic. It was more of a scene of total slaughtering than a fight. Some of them aren't even what we would admit adults yet.  Some of them haven't even begun to sprout beards.

But they were many of them.  And there are only 50 of the Commander's Battalion that day.  He decided not to attract that many attention from unwanting eyes, eyes that some belonged to the Senate. This was his decision. If he can ravaged an entire land from it's rightful residents than he can do it without getting trampled down by some old fags. But the fire will have to attract attention, at some rate. For some reason, he can feel eyes behind his back now.  Real ones.

He addresed the two men behind him to spread out. Both to the north and the west. He needed to know where the bees seek refuge. And the empire isn't so keen on letting some thief to spoil it's lands.

He turned around. The eyes were there, but they were inside his head. Strange.

"You know, you could just say where we would meet, instead of giving me riddles and puzzles for me to code," he said to the fire in the building. It was melting hot, but for some reason, his armor is still warm from the morning sun. He didn't care.  At that time, even if a spear is about to pierce his heart, he wouldn't care. He needed to do this. After so long avoiding it, he needs to do this.

"Ah, but that wouldn't be fun, no?" the fire gnarled at him. "Then again, I have no time to waste. Proceed."

Instantly, he knew where to go.

He left his men behind. They are not a lot to be drooled at and he knows they can take care of this themselves.He walked on, knowing that he will somehow meet the one that made his life a misery to live in. He wasn't angry. Rather, he was quite calm and cool, despite the warmness.

He turned the left corner of a building made out of brick, still the fire licked and licked, until even the stone went white hot. A charred sign was hanging there, from a piece of steel bar. An inn. Or a bar.

He stopped at a long road that went all the way to his eye level. A rising hill, booted with stonework and tar. Here, the fire was even worse. But the buildings still stood whole.

"So, you've come," he said, at quite anything other than the air itself.

"Well, I wouldn't miss my son's party would I?" the voice rings around the flame.

"I am not your son," he gritted his teeth. Annoyance.

"We'll see about that."

The fire parted around the man like a cloak. He was hooded connected to the robe. In his left hand, he was holding a walking staff. He looks frail in that outfit. He was grinning wide in the shadows oh his hood, and pleasure masks his face.

"You look fine today, Commander," he said. His voice still rings out beneath the flames.

"And you haven't been eating much souls, lately have you?"

"How silly. I do not eat souls, son. I keep them to be my servants,"

"The same thing all over again. Lies,"

"Ah, but the truth often hides behind the lies. It's quite shy, you know,"

"Enough!"

Stalwart hold out a hand.

"The pendant. Now."

The man in hood looked quite taken aback. He lifted his walking staff and thumped it down once. The air somehow became a lot more bearable. The air suddenly lifted around the long road and filled with coolness.

"There is no need to rush, my boy. We have lots of time. I heard the Empire plans to take over the Rava's rules on to the north. You do know the northmen are not as fragile and small as we have here, right?"

"The Empire's plans are his own. I do not meddle with it,"

"Ah. Then, the senate still has some power left,"

"The senate proves no scathe in that plan. The king made the decision himself with us,"

"So you DO plan to attack the northmen,"

"Ceh. You linger and burrows into minds of men like a snake would,"

"It is my nature, son. It is our nature."

Silence filled in for quite a while. Both the man looked at each other and tried to gauge how many years have scarred between each other's life. None of them could decide.

"Have you wonder, son. Why is the fire still there, and the bricks have not fallen yet? Even the fire stopped at out feet," the man in hood looked up. "I haven't done nothing but made the air cool,"

"Who knows. You and your tricks,"

"I wonder so, son."

Stalwart reached for his helmet and took it off. A pale face with strong eyes and bulky feature appeared. Black eyes, and even blacker hair. Cut short, and growing beards. Some white showed within those strands of hair. Stalwart put down helmet and looked up.

"I see no reason for you to stall anymore,"

"I did no stalling, son,"

"Then you better have the pendant or I am forced to kill you,"

"Kill me? Many did. And here I am, still breathing,"

"The pendant."

The man on the other end stopped grinning. "You've grown, haven't you, son?"

"I am no son of yours."

The man lifted his hood, revealing a pair of eyes almost similar to the hazel nut pupils of the Commander but a little greyer. His almost bald head made his forehead looks bigger. His face speaks of wisdom. And perseverance.

"Why the rush? If you shall have the pendant, then I shall have the Map, if you would please,"

Stalwart prepared for this. He reached inside his armor through an opening on his side and produced a piece of paper the size of his palm. He held it out.

"Unravel it, so I can see,"

"If you would see the map, then I would see the pendant."

The man chuckled. "Of course, son."

From his right hand, he reached inside his robe and took out a pendant, the size and colour of small nut.

Stalwart's eyes gleamed when he saw it. He quickly fold out the map, so the other man can see the lines and notes on it.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

"Much,"

"Now, we make the exchange. And no tricks,"

"No tricks. Cross my heart,"

"You do not have a heart,"

"Then cross my liver."

They both stepped forward, one step at the time, both of them looking straight ahead towards the other, trying to see what he will and will not do. Both of them have muscles strained. Stalwart sweated and none because of the heat.

They stopped a meter from the other. Both held out their hands accordingly.

"Exchange on the count of three," Stalwart said in a commanding voice.

"Tsk tsk. Do not use that kind of tone on your father, son,"

"I will repeat it as long as it takes. I am no son of yours!"

"We will see about that."

Stalwart counted up.

"1,"
"2,"
"3,"

The man snatched the map from Stalwart and the other, the pendant.

"Mmmhmm, this is the real map, alright," the man was shivering with excitement.

Stalwart was silent.

"Well? I took really good care of it, you know. After all, it was your late mother's request,"

"Be quiet!"

"Well, is there anything else you need from your dear father?"

"You are not my father!"

"Well, if you need anything, just call, okay?

And just like that, he vanished.

Stalwart looked at the pendant. He sighed.

"I don't know what to believe anymore."

He went to his battalion and called them out. At that time, Alley of Hands was a big piece of rubble. The fire dwindled at last to a tiny flame and vanished with the last spurt of smoke.

As the last of the armored man gotten out, two figures stood above the ruins.

"Well, that took quite a bit of life from this place," said one of them, with a deep voice.

"No worries. They'll rebuild the whole thing back," said the other one.

"I'm not worried. But I am concern on what that man holds in his hands,"

"Oh, let's not concern about him. We're not here for him, we're here for somebody else."

"Right."

The wind brought scent from a rain up front. The clouds in the sky foretold a night of good rain. The two of them looked up.

"Gonna rain after this,"

"Huh. Just my kind of weather."

And they vanished with the next gust of wind.                 "


It was short. Because we only have two hours....

And it was underdeveloped. I need to make a decent skeleton.

And yes, I was writing in a hurry. Much because I have no idea what's going on next.

So.... huh.