word for word

[nuha] [this is a blog where I dump my random writings & doodles] [updates whenever] • Poems & stuff I wrote • Stuff I drew

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Michelle Williams

[nueword]

to wish no one knew who one was

is a privilege

how impossibly strong

this wish to not be

to be -

not even a pebble on the street

not even a flower

not even the air that flows

this heart

wishes nothing more

than to have never existed

to not even know what sound sounds

sounds nice

[nueword]

8 January 2024

when my dad passed, I felt weird for a bit because even when I knew he obviously tried his best, I grew up feeling a bit of a weird hate for him.

despite the murky feelings, the fact that he raised me was something I can't take away

& now - I can say that I loved him regardless of his flaws.

the first few months my grieving process was filled with guilt more than memories.

it wasn't until a song, Lemon, came out & I was in enough with my grieving process that I could tell myself "well, he's gone now, I'm grown, I think I should take the good he gave, & try my best with whatever he lacked, he'd like that".

started reading a manga too.

maybe because I'm slow with my own feelings that it took me external triggers for me to actually put my own emotional struggles into perspective.

but I'm glad. I really am.

[nueword]

I like to think I'm

happy

warm

kind

mature

welcoming...

but all the time,

the voice inside me would call me

sad

cold

selfish

childish

estranged...

unsettling...

weird...

weird-

weird.

"weird."

I'm not weird.

I'm walking.

I'm... I am... taking a step at a time

I am a lot of things

I am a whiteboard

I am a pen on a piece of paper

I am a watering can

I am too many things

I am not unchanging.

I am sad

I am kind

I am unnerving

Sometimes I am blind

I am a squid

With the tiniest arms

Reaching out

For whatever it could find

I am everchanging

I am.

[nueword]

Biarlah Bulan Bicara

sung by Broery Marantika

wanted to translate. asked a friend what song to translate. never doing that again (sike. might gonna do that again because I don't know much songs).

well, it's a sappy one :D hope you guys have fun reading this as I had translating it

Bulan sabit yang jatuh di pelataran Bintang redup tanpa cahaya gemintang Langkah tanpa arah sesat di jalan yang terang Aku yang terlena dibuai pelukan dosa

Ingin pulang membalut luka hatimu 'Ku pun tahu betapa pedih batinmu Beri kesempatan atau jatuhkan hukuman Andai maaf pun tak kau berikan

Air mata tulus jatuh di sudut bibirmu Tak terlintas dendam di bening mata indahmu (limpid/transparent) Aku yang merasa sangat berdosa padamu Masih pantaskah mendampingimu?

Biarlah bulan bicara sendiri Biarlah bintang 'kan menjadi saksi Takkan kuulangi walau sampai akhir nanti Cukup derita sampai di sini

The crescent moon sinks to the horizon The stars feel shadowy, without their gleam Aimless steps, lost on a lit-up path I sleep, coddled in sin’s embrace I wish I could come back to aid the wound in your heart For I too know how much pain you’re in Give me a chance or decide for me If I am not even worthy of your forgiveness

Heartfelt tears drip down from the corners of your lips

Not a sight of spite in those limpid eyes of yours

I feel that I have wronged you so much

Am I still worthy of staying by your side?

Let the moon speak for itself

Let the stars bear witness

Never will I go over this again (‘til the end of time)

Just let the torment end here

[nueword]

Di Pintu Syurga (At Heaven’s Door)

Singer: Dayang Nurfaizah

Composer: Tam (Spider)

Lyricist: Iman Imran

[translation of the Malay lyrics under the cut]

Segalanya kaku

Hati terus menangis

Bila mengenangkan

Dirimu telah tiada

Everything is still

This heart keeps crying

Whenever it thinks

Of you, who has gone away

Kau pergi tanpa pesan

Tinggal aku sendiri

Menghitung hari

Tiada daya dimamah sepi

You left without a word

Leaving me all alone

Counting the days

No strength against the loneliness

Duhai kekasih hati

Katakanlah padaku

Bahwa semua ini

Hanya igauan mimpi

Dearly beloved

Please tell me

That all of this

Is just a mere dream

Aku tak sanggup, kasih

Kehilangan dirimu

Walau sedetik rindu mencengkam

Terasa pedih

I can’t bear, love

To lose you

Even if this yearning comes for a mere moment

It hurts too much

Doaku kasih kita bersua

Di pintu syurga

I pray, my love, we meet again

At heaven’s door

Notes:

the song was performed lived for a national singing competition on 18th January 2015, the singer dedicated her performance to the victims & their families of the MH370 flight that went missing on 8th March 2014.

during the performance, Dayang & her accompanying guitarist were wearing white outfits, like clouds.

an audio clip said by the pilot of flight MH370 was played at the of the performance. To quote Captain Zaharie Ahmad Shah, “Good night Malaysian three-seven-zero”

[nueword]

Aida

Maturity.

I wonder if I’ll ever be

Even in the vicinity

Of maturity.

As a child, I used to think that once I’ve reached adulthood, I’d already be mature. As with all children. Now, going on 25, that was a bust. Huge lie.

I used to think I’d figure things out once I’ve reached my 20s “there’d be no more worries since I’d learned all this in school (lmao)”

Again, huge lie.

17, I used to think dreaming of fairy-tales would be childish. 18, I started saying no to things deemed “made for children.” 19, I turned Peter Pan & refused to accept that my 20s were approaching… & I turned 10 once more.

But why did I do it?

I didn’t like the denial. Saying I can’t be happy anymore. I can’t even have dreams or hopes of some sort of warmth in my future. The thought that I’d be grinding all my life, not knowing if I’ll ever reach a stable point (in numerous aspects) sometime in my 30s made the whole “adulthood” illusion seemed like a jail entry than a rite of passage.

In truth, I was scared. Terrified. I’ve lost a few permanent teeth, but I can still feel the sting there every time I think about what I’d do once I’m out of the house.

Adulthood seemed like… a nest of lies. Nosey noses. Bragging about leaving… what? Happiness? Your source of joy? Why would anyone do that so… willingly?

Maybe it was an edgy phase, denying those with a happy outlook as delusional. They’re not, really. At least the kinder & more accepting ones. As far as I know, those ones have mostly gone through hardships, have lived harder than most… life has made them resilient but forgiving as well.

I looked up to Disney’s Cinderella for the same reason. She was never stupid, she just had things more important than her own freedom, so she stayed.

Now, somewhere in the last few years, I realized that age is just a number when talking about maturity.

Oh yeah. Maturity…

Well… I don’t think I’ll ever be seen as one with maturity.

That’s out of the bag. Out of the question. Out in the ocean. And I’m a mountain with no beaches or piers for miles. I’m mainland China.

I guess I’ll just make do with accepting what I should do, what I enjoy doing & being grateful that the adults around me made me feel secure in their best ways as I grew up… & naturally, I hope I can do the same around the kids around me today. Gotta keep the illusion going.

 The M in Maturity stands for Mystery to me.

I don’t know how to describe it, even now.

[zandraart]

the botanist

[nueword]

I’m lonely

I haven’t been able to do much lately.

Same as always, this slump has given me no room to move this aching pit in my heart away. I want to be happy, but those would mean for me to leave everything behind.

I’d do it. I would…

But the thought of her having to go through it again… having a child leave her again… I couldn’t bear.

Or maybe I could – I’ve done it hundreds of times before –

In this sick head of mine.

In an unknown place, where no one can find me, I’d live alone.

 It’d be lonely, but it’d be the only familiar thing I have left from my own home; loneliness… is more often my company in crowds.

Loneliness… is something I’ve made friends with, because of the comfort it brings in the quiet.

 I know - years back I came to realise that what I was seeking was not loneliness, but solitude. A solitude that would put me at ease.

With security.

Always been a dream I’d dreamt countless times:

Somewhere out there, there’s a me I dreamt as, living a life full of bliss… in a solitude we both craved since young. Somewhere out there, acceptance came filled with a peaceful life full of contentment.

Somewhere…

I feel bad that it is never here; where I am. It never was here.

In a place I so love from the bottom of my heart, I could not find myself wanting to stay.

So somewhere, someday… Not here.

[nueword]

Knowing people grow old & leave us can prepare us, this doesn’t make partings any sadder.

You’ll still miss those who are gone. You’re human. We’re human.

So that’s why we pray, for them, for us, for the others who have moved on or are still in grief.

[nueword]

I dream of going into alleyways in a March night

But there’s no alleyways around for miles

I dream of walking into giants mushrooms & try to make sense of the sight

But mushrooms are too small to even dry my eyes

Suck it up

You didn’t say that

But it felt like you did

Maybe I should’ve broken my leg

Iono /shrug

At least the bleeding’s obvious

And even I would know

When I’ve suffered too much blood loss and woes

They don’t help me

Knowing doesn’t help me

Learning doesn’t help me

Smile

And pretend that I’m fine

I’m dreaming that I’m dreaming

Even now

Waking up sounds too hard

But I want to wake up

Wake up from this dream of mine

[writing-prompt-s]

Thunder boomed and the sky opened in a flash of light. It was the end of the world, and the old gods had returned

[gerardwayslips]

I crack my neck and stare at the sky. I finally get to punch Zeus in the face…

[christdookie-resurrection-deact]

[smeliot-deactivated20220528]

what a nice pair of loafers

[dali-daydreams]

The Last Words Of Famous Writers

When you’ve dedicated your life to words, it’s important to go out eloquently.

Ernest Hemingway: “Goodnight my kitten.” Spoken to his wife before he killed himself.

Jane Austen: “I want nothing but death.” In response to her sister, Cassandra, who was asking her if she wanted anything.

J.M Barrie: “I can’t sleep.”

L. Frank Baum: “Now I can cross the shifting sands.”

Edgar Allan Poe: “Lord help my poor soul.”

Thomas Hobbes: “I am about to take my last voyage, a great leap into the dark,”

Alfred Jarry: “I am dying…please, bring me a toothpick.”

Hunter S. Thompson: “Relax — this won’t hurt.”

Henrik Ibsen: “On the contrary!”

Anton Chekhov: “I haven’t had champagne for a long time.”

Mark Twain: “Good bye. If we meet—” Spoken to his daughter Clara.

Louisa May Alcott: “Is it not meningitis?” Alcott did not have meningitis, though she believed it to be so. She died from mercury poison.

Jean Cocteau: “Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking towards me, without hurrying.”

Washington Irving: “I have to set my pillows one more night, when will this end already?”

Leo Tolstoy: “But the peasants…how do the peasants die?”

Hans Christian Andersen: “Don’t ask me how I am! I understand nothing more.”

Charles Dickens: “On the ground!” He suffered a stroke outside his home and was asking to be laid on the ground.

H.G. Wells: “Go away! I’m all right.” He didn’t know he was dying.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: “More light.”

W.C. Fields: “Goddamn the whole fucking world and everyone in it except you, Carlotta!” “Carlotta” was Carlotta Monti, actress and his mistress.

Voltaire: “Now, now, my good man, this is no time for making enemies.” When asked by a priest to renounce Satan.

Dylan Thomas: “I’ve had 18 straight whiskies…I think that’s the record.”

George Bernard Shaw: “Dying is easy, comedy is hard.”

Henry David Thoreau: “Moose…Indian.”

James Joyce: “Does nobody understand?”

Oscar Wilde: “Either the wallpaper goes, or I do.” 

Bob Hope: “Surprise me.” He was responding to his wife asking where he wanted to be buried.

Roald Dahl’s last words are commonly believed to be “you know, I’m not frightened. It’s just that I will miss you all so much!” which are the perfect last words. But, after he appeared to fall unconscious, a nurse injected him with morphine to ease his passing. His actual last words were a whispered “ow, fuck”

Salvador Dali hoped his last words would be “I do not believe in my death,” but instead, they were actually, “Where is my clock?”

Emily Dickinson: “I must go in, the fog is rising.”

[vintage-mist]

Tag yourself. I’m HG Wells.

[emeraldmercury]

I’m James Joyce

[hummingbirdbandit]

No, but no one is explaining Ibsen!!

He had been really fucking sick for days, and woke up from a feverish night. His nurse? Wife? Asked him if he was feeling better. He smiled, said “On the contrary!” And died.

Supreme power move from my man Ibsen.

[chamiryokuroi]

Voltaire: “Now, now, my good man, this is no time for making enemies.” When asked by a priest to renounce Satan.

I have to remember these for when I die.

[i-am-thornqueen]

I’m Roald Dahl’s actual last words. 

[providencepubliclibrary]

Once more into the breach with Rotograph.

[flavoracle]

I rarely criticize my wife, but when I do, it’s spoken directly to her, in private, and with love.

I don’t speak negatively about my wife to other people. Not because she’s perfect (which is an impossible and unfair standard) but because she deserves a husband she can trust. To say anything about my wife that I wouldn’t say to her face, would be a betrayal of that trust.

I never want her to spend a single moment worrying about the way I talk about her when she’s not around.

[smallmight-72]

A little louder

[flavoracle]

I RARELY CRITICIZE MY WIFE, BUT WHEN I DO, IT’S SPOKEN DIRECTLY TO HER, IN PRIVATE, AND WITH LOVE. 

I DON’T SPEAK NEGATIVELY ABOUT MY WIFE TO OTHER PEOPLE. NOT BECAUSE SHE’S PERFECT (WHICH IS AN IMPOSSIBLE AND UNFAIR STANDARD) BUT BECAUSE SHE DESERVES A HUSBAND SHE CAN TRUST. TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT MY WIFE THAT I WOULDN’T SAY TO HER FACE, WOULD BE A BETRAYAL OF THAT TRUST. 

I NEVER WANT HER TO SPEND A SINGLE MOMENT WORRYING ABOUT THE WAY I TALK ABOUT HER WHEN SHE’S NOT AROUND. 

(is that loud enough?) 

[littlewitchlingrowan]

Yes. Thank you.

[likkistu-ormur-deactivated20200]

I went to the farmer’s market yesterday and at the honey guy’s booth and there were all these bees just hangin out.  Checking out the beeswax tabs, floating around the honey jars, not being aggressive, just really gentle and investigating or something

and as he was giving me a sample of the wildflower honey one of them landed on his hand and he just took a drop from the jar and dabbed it on his hand for the bee, and when I asked if they were his bees he said “No, but they show up every time I come out, I think they just know my truck” and this guy is well-known among the local bees and lets them sit on his hand and eat his honey and I just really like the bee guy

[fieldbears]

What more of an endorsement could you hope for

[hashtagloveloses]

you met a fucking forest nymph