bitter pill to swallow

puasa has somehow made me a little bit melancholic these days. yesterday i had to stay at the office till 8.30 pm; toiling on my paperwork, and wondering if this is all worth it.

i came across an internet article saying one of the things you'd regret as you grow older is not spending enough time with your parents. i wish life is as simple as packing up your bags and just go home. back to the arms of your parents, the only people who loves you despite your ugliness. but reality is as bitter as a panadol unswallowed, stuck at the edge of your tongue, the bitterness seeping into your tastebud as you tried to swallow it; even when you managed to, the bitterness stayed on.

its been half a year already, and i think im growing bonkers each day, loneliness starting to kill each brain cells i have left; and the bitter reality that im a grown person now, if i fucked up my job, my ayah wont be here to talk to the boss explaining to them why i misbehaved and then i'd start over again. if i fucked it up, im fucked up for good.

last night as i drove back from the office, the need to escape whatever johor represents was burning through and the only way i could think of was going to a MCD joint, getting some sundae, smelling the familiar scent of fried chicken that is similar to the joint back home. but it hit me how alone i am here, and it scared me. having no friends, nor family, especially during ramadhan could somehow break your spirit.

whenever i woke up for sahur, eating alone, id think about the times i'd have it with my parents. how i'd sleep on the couch till sahur and woke to the sound of my mum working her magic in the kitchen. how i never had to sahur alone.

growing up is a scary thing. all these while when i was a teenager, ive always dreamed about working somewhere far, making it big, having her own car; now i dont think i want that anymore, maybe a dosage of all the pretentious smiles and concerns are more than enough to make me sick. all i want is to wake me being a teenager again, in the safe arms of my parents.