Monday, December 19, 2016


In times, i hate the way how myself have time to broadcast all of my insecurities. I hate on how bold i can be when i start to hate some other thing. I hate when i can't stop myself from pulling and pushing things. I hate myself on things that i never guaranteed.

I love, but the deniable was too strong.
It feels like the ribcage is caving in.
In times, it's tough.
But some other times, it's fine.

Apparently, i was fine.
It just that these days my thought getting wilder.
I thought all the things that i used to think before i start marching my legs in this place.

Why bother thinking syahira?

The question keep repeating thousand times.
Why bother thinking when you know you can't handle?
Why syahira?

That was the same question i asked myself past few years.
I dont get myself.

I asked a friend on how i can be too stress in times. She said "it was me too sometimes. I can jump out of bed just because of stress and trying to cope with things around" i laugh at her. Because for me it was funny the way she expressed her emotion. And she added "but it was fine sometimes, just dont let those emotion conquer you. Get rid of those bad emotion. Start a new day with hope to be a better person"

Nodded understand.
Because i deeply understand how it feels when the stress blow.
I can kill someone thousand times in my mind.

But then, a few minutes pass . And i all fine. All okay.

I just need myself.
To love myself is the hardest things to do.
I enjoy my story.
But in high pitch sometimes i cant cope.

I just need a book to read.
A song to listen to.
And someone to express how i feels.

But enough at that point. I am a cry-baby
I want to gamble life.
I want to ramble to someone about my things.
From a simplest thing.
I want to tell someone else about how my handsock got soaked with blood. I want to brag out about how a patient said i look pretty today. I want to yell about my new lipbalm got smashed in washing machine and all the simplest thing.

But yes. Instead of telling , i have to learn to endure.
I dont have any confidence to tell.
I might burden someone else on my melancholic stories.
I just dont want to buy extra time from people.
Because i know, everyone got their own messy problem😭

And that was the reason why i was too fragile.
I break down so easily -

In a second i can cry.
Then, i stand again.

My life was too difficult. Poor my man.

But yezza now i finish writing, and i feel refresh. Now i knew which part of myself is broken. The heart and lupdup  part is torn.

I have to pull myself together.

"Things doesnt kill you , will make you stronger"


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