<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025</id><updated>2012-02-16T21:44:24.386+08:00</updated><category term='separation'/><category term='insecurities'/><category term='Love'/><title type='text'>Heart of Glass</title><subtitle type='html'>"I think you are wrong to want a heart. It makes most people unhappy. If you only knew it, you are in luck not to have a heart." - Oz</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-8634301213041551300</id><published>2011-09-28T16:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T16:09:26.349+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='insecurities'/><title type='text'>jet plane</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Currently playing : Stereo heart by Gym Class Heros featuring Adam Levine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;If I could only find a note to make you understand&lt;br /&gt;I'd sing it softly in your ear and grab you by the hand&lt;br /&gt;Just keep it stuck inside your head, like your favorite tune&lt;br /&gt;And know my heart's a stereo that only plays for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Yesterday was not a good day to text. I always try to shake off anything I consider unpleasant about my Sugarpie. Maybe due to that, I can’t remember why I thought yesterday wasn’t a good day for us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;We text in the morning, during work, it simply ended like that. That was unpleasant. Not that it just ended abruptly that made it unpleasant, but the topic of texting. Darn! I try hard to recall but I can’t remember what we were texting about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Later that evening, he texts me saying that Rambo’s company called him, setting up an interview appointment. Not that the company belongs to Rambo but that’s where Rambo works. Rambo keeps bragging about his job, keep bragging how he enjoys every moment of it while I had my butt sticking on a freaking-not-so-comfy chair&amp;nbsp;in a cold office, staring at strings of numbers on the stupid monitor; daily! Yes daily for approximately 11 hours. Fuck my company that we are not allowed to claim the OT or even claim for a paid-time off. Huge fuck that company!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Well, since sugarpie told me about that job interview, I had been anxious. What if he really get the job and move to KL? Who will be my driving power? Who will I ask out for a movie? Who will offer me promises (even though they are fake but comforting promises) to take me out and make me happy? Who will go out with me each weekend nights and make me feel like I'm on the top of the world? I’m dehydrated without him. All those thoughts made me so freaking insecure, tears stream down, almost non-stop. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Better stop now, the tear’s blocking me view. Dont dare mentioning his name. Even though Shafiq Rahim scored a triple hattrick, but dont dare mentioning the name in front of me, or I will immediately break down and cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;+ “&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;saya sayang anda&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;” I wish I could say that +&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-8634301213041551300?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/8634301213041551300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/8634301213041551300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#8634301213041551300' title='jet plane'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-913277901843047247</id><published>2011-08-14T20:33:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-26T21:34:29.637+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"&gt;Ayam Penyet Wong Solo opened a branch in my hometown. I'm not sure how it tastes like but the shop is there for a loooong time but never open. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"&gt;I missed him, still do, but I never tell. I'm very sure he doesn’t know that. I don’t have the strength to bear the deep wound each time he ignores my text.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Yes it hurts. It’s fucking excruciatingly painful. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"&gt;But the pain seem to ease away when he agreed with my suggestion to try the Ayam Penyet someday. I know there’s nothing to be excited about since there is no guarantee and whatsoever but I'm surely want to smile due to the mutual agreement.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-913277901843047247?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/913277901843047247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/913277901843047247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_08_01_archive.html#913277901843047247' title=''/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-4580761963683553265</id><published>2011-08-08T21:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-26T21:33:33.567+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='insecurities'/><title type='text'>wanting</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"&gt;I am officially an engineer now. Lucky me. I really want him to become an engineer too; soon. Very soon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"&gt;The first training, NHO, was really boring. I dnt know what will happen tomorrow. I was so boring I text you, but how dare you did not reply my text message.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-4580761963683553265?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/4580761963683553265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/4580761963683553265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_08_01_archive.html#4580761963683553265' title='wanting'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-66955918672654789</id><published>2011-08-07T21:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-26T21:26:19.799+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='separation'/><title type='text'>parting</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Today I will leave my hometown, will leave him, will leave my family &amp;amp; rejoin some totally-hopefully-nice strangers. Tomorrow I will start working at a huge company, becoming what I wanna be. Do I fell good? Supposedly so, however, I hate the fact that I will leave him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;We don’t see each other much this week. It somehow gives a huge impact on me since we saw each other almost every day for the solid past month. I cried a lot in the past few days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I went to market today for my last minute preparation. I go back home straight after that.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;It was a hot morning, so I lie under the rotating ceiling fan and started to manage my text messages. I read some of the old messages. I was so happy during those times. I cried again. Hard. I wish I could see you before I go. I really want to. I was thinking of asking you out today, I know I will kiss you, listen to your heartbeat again, and hold your hand, dangling with those long pointed fingers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Later in the evening, I went to a hypermarket, again for my last minute shopping. It was so fucked you when the escalator didn’t function and the elevator takes forever to serve. When I'm done with my shopping, I walk to my car. I can’t believe that for the last time, I bumped into you again; and your mother of course.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Oh my goodness! I am so tremendously happy! Your mother looked unwell. You told me she was suffering from upset stomach.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;You were honking me when we were driving behind my car. Later you text me asking if I was scared that somebody was honking me. Like I don’t know it was you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-66955918672654789?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/66955918672654789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/66955918672654789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_08_01_archive.html#66955918672654789' title='parting'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-8849701807186791421</id><published>2011-08-02T17:31:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-06T20:33:27.113+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sailing..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;I got a medical appointment today. My plan was to request to be transferred to my new place, but the doctor &amp;amp; nurse refuse to let me go. They were reviewing me the situation, talking about the waiting list, the appointment set up and all. Therefore I stick to that hospital. Of course it doesn’t make them any richer or what so ever..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;During check up, M called me; I rejected. Later while waiting at the pharmacy, I called him back. It was obviously amazing happiest news he wanted to share. He got a job interview tomorrow at a shipping company. He was thrilled, so was I. I am so happy I almost leap. Thanks God for hearing my prayers all these times. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-8849701807186791421?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/8849701807186791421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/8849701807186791421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_08_01_archive.html#8849701807186791421' title='Sailing..'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-7851783174398115022</id><published>2011-07-31T23:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-06T17:14:31.324+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A place called HERE!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;He didn’t reply my message last night. I guess he dozed off already. Today i didn’t send him anything at all. I feel so empty. S i find some guts to text him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Saygness, I’d like to wish u slmt bpuasa. Moga rezeki u mlimpah ruah, cpt dpt kerja kot belah sini so u xyah p kl. I want u to b reachable. Xoxo”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;He replied:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Slmt posa gak. Murah rezeki posa dpt cni kot”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;He mentioned “&lt;em&gt;dapat sini&lt;/em&gt;”. Therefore, my infatuation tells me, not-so-secretly he wants to be up north too. Wheee!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;P/S: tomorrow is puasa. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-7851783174398115022?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/7851783174398115022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/7851783174398115022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html#7851783174398115022' title='A place called HERE!'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-653047666653781726</id><published>2011-07-31T19:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-31T19:11:16.879+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='insecurities'/><title type='text'>separation sucks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;Yes we text yesterday and last night. Before I go to sleep, I text him again, telling him I don’t feel good about going moving to Kulim. But he didn’t reply. I wish he did, so I could tell him, how much i wanted him to be near me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;M, I don’t want you to find any job in KL. In fact I know you did and I know after Raya, if you don’t get any offer, you are likely to work in KL. But you’ll be far away. I’m afraid I don’t have strength to go on alone. You know how I want you to be by my side. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;We didn’t have any communication at all today. It scares me. It tumbles me upside down. It made my head messy and my heart aches. I feel like throwing up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;Please spare me hon! I miss you already.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-653047666653781726?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/653047666653781726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/653047666653781726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html#653047666653781726' title='separation sucks'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-8802587423225145268</id><published>2011-07-29T23:07:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-30T11:09:39.569+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>love in the rain..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;Last day of the job camp. Very excruciating. The group totally ignored us (M &amp;amp; I) yesterday. I decided to stay away from them the whole day. I was just waiting for an email from Infineon all day long. I don't care about other things. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;We plan to go late today, so on our way we stop at a stall. Every morning we pass by that stall, wondering what are they offering, people seem to swarm the stall. It’s not any wonder of the world. Just nasik minyak and friend chicken with curry gravy. We are a little bit regret our decision. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;It rains almost along the journey, therefore it’s pretty cold. I made my move because M will be so hot and so touchable when it’s cold. I saw him smile. Happy smile. He asked me, how do I know. There are a lot of things I know about you, and you are now aware of me knowing it. Since it is pretty early, we went to manja2. I love it that he doesn’t show any refusal. I always love you M.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;I feel like wanting to ask him out tonight and manja2 again, but I don't have any guts. Plus he’s busy applying for jobs. I hope to see him soon..very soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"&gt;Lots of xoxo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-8802587423225145268?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/8802587423225145268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/8802587423225145268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html#8802587423225145268' title='love in the rain..'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-6690841873594010032</id><published>2011-07-28T19:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-29T19:11:15.409+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm yours</title><content type='html'>We skipped our evening class. We happily went to Jitra to buy a hand phone for M’s brother. We bought a basic one. I was my turn to drive, and I drove along the road that we used to take each time we wanna go to Jitra. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels like driving down the memory lane. I really really wanna touch him the way we used to. But I remember, that day when he was driving and I hold his hand. At one point, I have to let go, and he didn’t grab my hand back. We were silent until I reach home. And that was the only time I thank him. Since then, I never take the first move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it painful when his moves can be translated into a refusal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep down I really wanna do things like we do before. Tomorrow is the final day. I wanna find sometimes to make our moment memorable. It wouldn't ask nothing more. Its ok if it will be just the two if us, loving each other. I don't need words. Who need words anyway. Kalau boleh bergolek2 sambil manja2 pon sudah cukup bahagia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time we manja2 he said “&lt;i&gt;Anda saya punya&lt;/i&gt;”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya, saya anda punya.. citto! Citto citto ne!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heart you M&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-6690841873594010032?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/6690841873594010032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/6690841873594010032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html#6690841873594010032' title='I&apos;m yours'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-281638139202318370</id><published>2011-07-27T00:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T00:41:23.162+08:00</updated><title type='text'>on an interview</title><content type='html'>I skipped my job camp to attend an interview. Urgh! He didn’t even wish me good luck. How could he?! But he’s still cranked up some jokes. Actually I’m not mad, not mad at all. It’s because he still have the confidence in me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The interview was almost 2 hours but I think it was a promising one. The interviewer said, he doesn’t want a candidate who will move away after getting married. I said, “I hope I can get my boyfriend to work around this area. If you know any vacancy within your network please let me know.” He replied, “There’s always a help.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M told me he’s sleeping at Bob’s crib. In that case, tomorrow I’ll be going to the job camp alone. I don’t really fancy that. I love being in the car with him. I can constantly smack his tummy. I keep teasingly say, he’s seducing me each time he puts his hands behind his head. But I think instead of solely teasing, I also think it’s true. I always wanna touch him whenever he put his hands behind his head..always. But I resist it most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hm.. since we are not going together tomorrow, there’s no more intimate moment between us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I adore you M!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-281638139202318370?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/281638139202318370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/281638139202318370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html#281638139202318370' title='on an interview'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-7107822441516373459</id><published>2011-07-26T02:46:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T09:55:39.653+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='insecurities'/><title type='text'>Wanting you near me</title><content type='html'>Today is the final Monday of our job camp. It’s my turn to fetch him. We drive to the job camp alternately. I love the idea that he wears a yellow T-shirt while I wear a pale yellow shirt. Okay la..I admit, it is cream instead of yellow haha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We start our C-programming project today. But less than an hour, my phone rings. A lady from Infineon calls; sets up an appointment for an interview tomorrow. I freak out. I tremble. Not much I hear from him. But I am still glad that he offers some encouragement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, we go for a break with a huge group. About 10 of us. And then I go to unit peperiksaan to get my transkrip. Too bad they don’t allow me to get another copy of my transcript. They want me to produce an appeal letter. After producing the letter, I go to unit peperiksaan again. This time with him. I love the idea that he wants to go with me, instead of just asking to take the transcript on his behalf. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is pretty fucked up for both of us. We think we are on the verge of being expel from the group. But that’s ok, he and I can work magic!&lt;br /&gt;I request him to send me his resume. I need that for tomorrow interview. On the way back I kinda give him hints that I want us to work near to each other, but he boldly admit he’s waiting for Bob’s company to call him from KL. So since I got his resume, I think I will send it out to various companies near to where I will be working. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Late night, I couldn’t stop thinking, what would it be if I’m up north and he’s in the metropolitan. It starts to tear me apart. My heart aches. My hands are shaking. I close my eyes and I feel piercing pain. I grab my cellphone and text him about wanting him to work near. But its late night, I blame the late night that he doesn’t reply. I know he’s cool. I love him, that’s why he’s cool yikes!&lt;br /&gt;Stay close don’t go..M!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-7107822441516373459?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/7107822441516373459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/7107822441516373459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html#7107822441516373459' title='Wanting you near me'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6108269311287467025.post-8327143279122848077</id><published>2011-07-23T17:30:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-23T18:00:16.716+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>The Drive</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8rKW-VRFczA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a few driving power to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;"M" of course.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The video above&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Diary of Wimpy Kid&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;my fragile heart&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;of course, insecurities.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I tried almost everything. I created slide shows, wrote a letter&amp;nbsp;each&amp;nbsp;everyday, printed them out, sealed them with kisses, I wrote in a few books all these years, I wrote on fancy papers, I comemorated what I fell simply everywhere. However, I don't have any guts (up till now) to give to him, to be truly open to him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the first few months after we started to get close, we sat next to each other in class. I like to scribble in his book the word "muncung". When he flipped the pages and came to the page where I scribble those names he would&amp;nbsp;act as if he was pissed.&amp;nbsp;He tickled me knee. He poked&amp;nbsp;me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I call him names. Muncung is one of them. He started it, he said I pouted whenever he teased me. I said he is the one who had such a puty lips, pointer forward. He denied it. Long after that he admitted it. But still, he'll be mad if I call him muncung, even after the confession.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't say a word about this blog. If he ever read this, let say in the next ten years, I hope he knows I'm here, thinking of him, everyday, without fail. It's been more than two years now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even after two years, we are still seeing each other. I meet him practically 5 days a week now. We joined a job camp at our university. We are just graduated, actively seeking for a job. Next week is our final week at the job camp. Honestly, I totally freak out of what will happen next. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hardly reply my text messages now. I don't know it is because we are now pretty broke, since we both have no source of income; that he wanted to save up some money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you M!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+ a day without you just like a plant without water. it wont die, just dry +&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6108269311287467025-8327143279122848077?l=cintarahsia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/8327143279122848077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6108269311287467025/posts/default/8327143279122848077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cintarahsia.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html#8327143279122848077' title='The Drive'/><author><name>colep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03638601311117742691</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/8rKW-VRFczA/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry></feed>
