every family is a ghost story

tomorrow is my last exam paper. at last.

I'm looking forward to ending my restlessness. no more staying up late at night, no more caffeine, and no more junk food. the truth is, however, I don't exactly have the minimum amount of hours to just sit and do nothing later. I still need to go to bed early while the others could enjoy the night for as long as they want.

my very housemates know this. call me boring or whatsoever, but I don't find it necessary to create any drama let alone in the middle of the night when people want to rest or sleep. tt is as if the common room is owned only by those who choose to talk, talk and study and talk. then, one gets up in the morning feeling angrier. oh, I don't know. maybe, at my age, everyone is angry. now that I'm the only last person in this house, and everybody else is gone for their semester break, well, I feel like the world doesn't weigh on my shoulder anymore. at least, or does it? lucky for them, then. so, I'm reminding myself this -- before I leave -- I have to take care of all the mess left here and there.

don't worry. just another rant.

and I'm thinking about writing about the day I got off a flight many months ago. believe me when I say this -- I had too many episodes regarding post-flight. I was on my way back to college, anyway. it was a night flight. I'd usually stay in the airport until morning came yada yada. but ummi insisted me to stay at her friend's, so I just went along with it. they (Aunty A and her family) picked me up from the airport and took me to a quick supper although I wasn't hungry at all. the daughter took a photo of me and her mom, and I laughed when she said, "awat lah tutup mata masa tangkap gambaq?" then, we reached their home and they left me to rest. sometimes, I feel sorry when I have to act less introverted or bubbly or conscious around strangers. I feel sorry that I didn't do enough, I guess? is there a manual for this, though? how do I convince people however small they did to me was already perfect? how do I practise living in the moment? should I smile a bit wider? should I talk about myself when they want to do small talk? should I try to figure out some common ground so that my presence here isn't a burden to this family? that's probably the reason why, whenever I tried to act neutral, I'd kindly agree with people. less drama.

in this case, it's a waste of time to figure out which choice is right or wrong. I repeat, just enjoy the moment. oh, I tried. but my mind wouldn't want to shut up.

the only thing that makes me go positive when such happens is the holy amount of time I'd curse to myself: this too shall pass.

I'm used to this, so why do I keep on complaining? I always think it's such a bad idea to come into another family, seeing them make some space on the sofa for everyone else, or how the children laugh histerically when their father jokes about his big belly or when the mother scolds them for being nasty to the guest or the moment they all share their food in one plate so that they could serve the guest as King. and sometimes, I imagine how my family looks like to any outsider. I reflect on that every time. all those what ifs I have terribly questioned in my heart and mind. all the things my parents did (or did not do) that I seem to be blind to even start realising the hows, not even the whys. maybe what others think don’t really matter. maybe everyone else will do whatever it takes to help and make their family grow, no? or maybe, it all stays as maybe(s).

this is a story about a family and, as there's a ghost involved, you might call it a ghost story. but every family is a ghost story. the dead sit at our tables long after they have gone. -- For One More Day, Mitch Albom.

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p/s: happy father's day.