On My Own

“And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket

But I've got to get a move on with my life”
 
- Fergie, Big Girls Don’t Cry
 
It was first the emptiness that reminds me of what transpired. Yup, my roommate is no longer. The last inch that held me sane has gone finally, flinging myself into a state of loneliness where only darkness covers. Then it was the sudden shock that comes momentarily now and then, when I suddenly panicked in a split second about him being gone, and the next split second coming into realization that it’s OK. It was like those dreams I had about me driving on a highway and I panicked in the driver’s seat, and waking up to realize that I already am a driver with a full license and hours of driving.
 
I had trouble adjusting to life without a companion, but I started anyway. There were no other options. I quickly reclaimed his working table, his bed and locker and stuffing all those furniture with my stuffs, as to tell myself that I had eagerly waited for this moment to arrive. I proclaimed this as my ‘Furniture Reclamation Program’, because why not. I hated my bed, which is made of wood while his is of steel, and his bed stands higher than mine. It came in handy when you’re wearing pants.
 
My table is broken into two, clearly from force of people stepping on it. There are signs of repair work, but it’s still broken anyway. I was never comfortable working on a slope which is what is left of my table, while his is completely level. Needless to say, I moved my working station to his table.
 
My furniture was in bad shape even before we came into this room. Come to think of it, he was the one who insisted on this arrangement, while I followed duly. And if he was still here, I would make a remark on this; about him being unfair and childish, and we would brush it off because none of us really cared, and we would laugh -
 
Laugh.
 
How strange it is to not laugh in days with another person. Even the prospect of laughing in this room now seems like a distant, alien idea. God, I miss laughing. I miss being happy. I miss my friend. My best friend.
 
I now began to have trouble sleeping at nights, since my brain is on guard all the time, but I already knew this would happen. I hated the fact that I could no longer relax. When you live alone, you feel less secure thus making your brain to be alert all the time. I’m glad anyway that I only have trouble getting to sleep and once I’m asleep, I would only wake up the following morning. Because if I woke up before morning comes, I would stare into his empty bed and wondered where he’d gone. And that would keep me awake for hours trying to make sense of what happened.
 
I hate this feeling of anticipation when I heard people walking outside the room. I was expecting him to come back; to turn in the key and come in. In truth, I was the one who returned his key to the office, so I know well that he’s not coming back. I know that I should not feel that way, that such feelings are such a waste; but I simply couldn’t fight it off.
 
Worst of it all, I hated the fact that I bottled up all my emotions that I felt. I felt so numb from pretending to not feel, because I know if I start crying I could never stop. Truth is, I missed him so much and I feel so lonely. I feel a lump in my throat, but I chose to ignore the signs. I don’t want to dwell in sadness.
 
There were times I had encountered something, like how today I learned that I have to pay RM500 just to submit my thesis. I was really excited to share the story with him, but when I reached the room there was only emptiness and nobody else, and I said to myself “Nah, forget it.” Then I went back to being numb. I found a dead lizard under our furniture, and I was already envisioning myself talking about it with him later when he came back, imagining his squeamish reactions, when I need to remind myself that he’s not coming back into this room. No, not later today, not tomorrow, not the day after, not even next week.
 
I promised myself that I would be strong, which in my definition means stop being such a crybaby and live my life to the fullest. But changes are hard, and there are days when you fell, and you have difficulties trying to get back on your feet, no matter how strong your determination is. And this is one of the days. I’m not used to being alone, for these past two years I was blissful in my friend’s company. We had fun; all joy under the sun. But like any other good things, it ends.
 
If you’d ask me, loneliness feels so much like somebody punches you in your chest, directly into your heart and leaves their hand there. And there’s nothing you can do to stop the pain, unless you ignore it while still feeling it altogether hoping that if you don’t care enough, it would suddenly gone. Truth is, you would still feel it.
 
It’s funny how my life changes in such a small space. How such small things brought great meanings, and how people I never cared about, touched my life and became a friend, and how much happiness a friend can bring into your days. And with such simplicity, I better experienced life.
 
Sadness would define me, but it makes me so much human. Memories are not to be forgotten, but cherished along the way. And in that way, I understood life and myself. And best of all, I understood friendship.

DREAM OF ME

“We don’t care; we’re driving Cadillacs in our dreams” - Lorde, Royals.

 
The sweet scent of the detergent fills the room every inch. It’s like a version of happiness, if happiness exists in smell.
 
That day you’re doing laundry, you will pile your clothes on your bed. The smell would evaporate into the air and make way into my lungs. Later that day, you would fold them nicely and put them away in your locker. I would rather sleep than waiting for you to finish folding them. You were almost invariably complaining that doing laundry is not your specialty; that you were too lazy to wash them and hang them and fold them, yet you do your laundry more often than I did. I, on the other hand, never fold my clothes properly. I’d rather hang them all.
 
I would, at other times, wait for you till you come back. And then we had our little conversations, which I would never trade for anything else in the world. Then we talk and laugh, and eat. Life has always been great, if not too forgiving.
 
When the windows are open, we could see the clouds behind the trees. Happiness exists in there too. When the season came, the trees would smell funny, and you would complain and I would laugh.
 
Cats sometimes wander in front of our room, making noises while begging for food. At nights, we complained that our room is too hot. You would spray your bed with water, and we had two fans on to cool us down. Yet the room is still hot and the heat would wake us up two or three times more later. I wonder how paradise looks like, if living here feels so much like heaven in spite of all these shortcomings.
 
I wonder how much you would miss this, or how much would I miss you, and how much would you miss me.
 
I already miss the funny smell of the tree, the sound of you laughing. Even the sound of the cats meowing.
 
2 years previously, I imagined how it would make me feel if you suddenly gone. And now the scene is unfolding slowly, zooming in into a vivid picture. And it is exactly as how I predicted.
 
You told me it’s a phase we’ll both outgrow, but I refuse to move on. This is the phase where I would last see you, before you would be gone forever into oblivion.
 
I don’t have many friends, and you are the one who stayed the longest, despite those fights and brawls we had. Goodbyes are always inevitable after hellos, but what we make between these two is what matters. And we had roses for two full years between our hello and goodbye, with the beauty and the thorns both we endeavour.
 
You never understood me and my actions fully, the same way I never understood your stubbornness and your mood swing. But there’s something more than those that we see in each other, of our need of each other.
 
There’s no adhesive force, no bond that binding us. But I love you so much as a friend I want to be your neighbour in Jannah (because apparently the post of your roommate is already taken :P)
 
I believe in so many things, though all those beliefs are always destroyed every time I learn the reality. But I believe in us meeting again in afterlife, friends again. And I hope it’s not too much to ask from God.
 
I imagine life without you. Would I laugh when I remember your comment on the smell of the trees, or would I cry when I miss those chats we had? Would you still remember those TV series we watched together on our laptops? Would we still be the same whenever we meet again? Would you still remember every single thing we talked about? Would you?
 
Would I be sad looking into the empty space where it used to keep you and your belongings in?  Would I miss you laughing at our stupid jokes? Could I live on my own again without feeling a bit lonely? I don’t know, but until I try, I would never know.
 
So farewell now, dear friend. I couldn’t remember the exact number of goodbyes I’d ever said, but no one goodbye is easy to bid. Especially this time.
 
But I will be happy to know that this starts and ends perfectly well, that no word is left unsaid and nothing is left undone. And having you to call as friend, is an eternal blessing. Thanks, roommate.