Don't know why I
feel like I wanna write about something today. In fact, I always feel like I
always want to write. Yet, each time I took out my writing tools, (it
depends-paper and pen, or computer, or phone) I don’t know what subject should
I write about. It had always end up me writing nonsense. But it made sense to
me right now. Why? It's because now I finally realized that I missed my diaries
a lot. I mean so far…I miss the one diary of mine which is literally so
colorful. It really was. And the colors applies to what's inside of it. The
colorful diary of mine was the concrete symbol of my colorful and cheerful and
playful and carefree life of mine of those times I held them each time I want
to alphabetize what I saw, what I feel, what I care about etc etc.
Talk about diary.
The one I mentioned above was the last diary of mine before I left Malaysia,
the land of my sweet childhood. Everything written in the diary is of genuine
thoughts of mine and most especially they'd came from the bottom of my heart,
with strong literature impact.Oh yeah? It's because I wasn't using any language
to write on but Malay. And I don't want to brag but I am very good in Bahasa
Malaysia. (Yea, not Bahasa Melayu cause Malays generally are divided into two
major groups, according to the places where it's being used, and general
generally there are two: the Malaysian malay and the Indonesian malay. And
guess what, under those places mentioned, the languange is again varied
according to more specific towns again.)
And so much for
that. Let's get back. I am good in Bahasa Malaysia and I really was. (Dunno
what happen to me now but somehow I lost track in two different countries and
their customs and their languages. What a mess. See, now I'm messing myself out
with this international language. Just how much should I have to improve this.)
It was always being reflected in my grades in the subject back then. And mind
you, the grades were not measured by a single test paper in an examination, but
measured by usually, as far as I could remember, the minor tests, major
exams-school level and nationwide exams like PTS and UPSR (let's break it down, there are always
objective exam that is called multiple choice paper composed of like 40-60
items if I'm not mistaken, and the most agonizing of all is the subjective exam
that requires us to answer open-ended questions based on specified novels we
took up and an essay or any article with specified number of word bracket, and
yeah, talk about language, the oral exam with limited time to read, to
comprehend and to answer the questions face to face to your teacher about
certain selection…jeez…I took them all stupendously back then. I was really
that good in Bahasa Malaysia. In fact, my grades was always A+ or A- in the
card) of course assignments, projects, and etc etc.
And my point is- I
wrote my diary in a language that let me pick out every exact word that I know
so well and is precisely needed to describe every encounter of my life then in
a paper black and white. But not literally black and white cause I use to use
colors in every mood of my writings, blended with all creativity. And when I
read that back, everything was so mesmerizing. Everything is twisted with every
exact word of accuracy and color of the season that seems to lead me back to
those encounters of which I've put them all in paper- diary to be saved for
last, and they apparently seemed to re-visit-able each time read them back. I can almost see it happened
all again, rewinded in front of my eyes as I read everything again. That is how
powerful the language for me as my instrument in writing my diary…back then.
You really can spool back time, but not literally, as long as you saved them
all, by writings or by pictures and of by any kind you name it. We're kinda
applying the tools created by high technologies by now. Nevertheless, I
daresay, nothing can replace the time-honored paper-and-penjournal or just
simply diary.
But as for now, the
dearly beloved diary has long gone. If only I could protect the diary from the
stupid ants that built their stupid cave and made my beloved diary a dwelling
out of it. It really meant a lot to me. It really is. The colors, the pictures,
the scent, the modes, the songs, the mantra, the stickers, and most especially
the writings and the thoughts, the priceless bittersweet memories of countless
experience that I ever had. And for my benefit, I thought, I should threw it
away, so that I can start off a whole new life in a whole new country with a
whole new perspective. I want to leave everything behind. I want to get over my
life in Kinabalu city. That is what I thought. I did threw it all, but not the
reminiscence. A life that is full of drama, stupidity of a normal teenage,
crazy thoughts, and accidents and challenges. Yet it was full of life, full of
colors, full of creativity, full of fun and full of hope and I feel like my
potential is on its height. I did threw
away the diary. And I regretted it. I missed every single page of the diary and
even the smell of it. Suddenly I feel like crying now. Never thought how far
life has brought me to and would bring me to.
You know, since then
I started with a whole new diary. Lemme describe the first diary of mine in the
Phillipines. It was a typical notebook (just like the previous one.), inside it
was written using black or blue or red ink ONLY. No other colors, no stickers,
no light, and no fun, back yet. I almost
feel like I'm hopeless. Just how miserable my life was…symbolized by those
colors. All I could recall was the culture shock, the longingness, the
breakdown, the disappointment, the misery, the anger and I could almost taste
for the first time of my life then, the real poverty. How wretched and gloomy I
was back then after the sudden transition. On the upside though, the black,
blue and red are the basic colors or hues of real life. These colors taught me
how to put my feet on the ground, how to stand on my own, how to face real
challenges, how to be kind, how to be straight, how to be good, how to
appreciate small things, how to get real, how
to live and most especially how to get near God, the Almighty Allah.
Step by step I
learned. I learned the hard way. Alhamdullilah, thanks for the love of
everyone, thanks for the love of Allah, and with every help I got, I slowly
raise myself up, constantly improving myself. You see, if you happen to know
me, I am not a perfect person, and certainly I'm way too far behind to be
called a good one, but this is the BETTER version of ME. I miss my old life,
but I wish I'd led it in a better way. And I miss my real name. Helenah Sahara.
It was me. Now my name is cut short for Helen. But HelenKhan is better, and
still Helenah Sahara is the best. And the real one.
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