It's like high school all over again. Awed by the presence of the person that I have a crush on, but I have to keep it all to myself.

Hush, hush. Not a soul is supposed to know.

Not that person. Not yet. I'll wait till I'm a bit older.

It's like high school all over again.

Jack:
Gave up?

Jill:
What?
To fall in love?

Jack:
Yeap.

Jill:
Should i?

Jack:
Honestly you should.
Love is vapid.

Jill:
I should give up?

Jack:
Yes.
Just get married already.

Jill:
Why?
Would it be different?

Jack:
Yeah.
It means u gave up.

Jill:
Owh
Did you give up?

Jack:
Gave up trying.

Jill:
Gave up trying to fall in love?
But if you were already in love, and if you are in love, you don't have to try to fall in love?

Jack:
Depends.
Sometimes if you can't, then you improvise.

Jill:
Are you in love?

Jack:
Tough question.
Are you?

Jill:
Why is it tough?
I asked you first.

Jack:
You don't think it's tough?

Jill:
To decide whether or not you're in love?
I guess not.
But to cope, it's a different thing.
I think.

Jack:
How can you tell?
Butterflies?
Shivers?
That you're in love?
Is a crush,
Love?

Jill:
You're gonna say that it's subjective, aren't you?

Jack:
Subjective is an understatement.

When I was growing up, I was constantly visited by clouds of feelings. I say clouds because I can feel them surround me as if they were light entities. Just there floating, to be seen, but only by feeling. Sometimes they are just around my physical body, and sometimes they stretch as far as the horizon.

There were also times that some feelings wrapped around me so tightly, it was like a blanket that I clutch to protect me from the cold. I often use 'blanket' in my younger days of writing poetry. Because it felt right.

Blanket of night,
blanket of darkness,
blanket of soul.

When something blankets you, there is nothing else. Just you, and the blanket separates you from the rest of the world.

And here you are, my new piece of blanket.

I hate to see someone doze into slumber when I am myself griping at the fact that I am not able to go to sleep. The whimpers and soft snores chime in harmony as if mocking me and saying, "Hey, when are YOU going to Lala Land"?

I'll tell you when. I will happily stroll to Lala Land, carrying a rattan basket in my left hand, while my right hand is plucking away at pretty wild flowers, when everyone else is AWAKE and serving time in Reality. That's when.

Oh, no need for you to wake up. I'll be happy when I am alone in that land when the time comes. Right after I take my dose of.. Zzzz.

"Cikda, dalam perut Wan keluar ramai adik-adik."

"Adik-adik?"

"Yes. Mama, Mummy Atie, Cikda, Cuja, Mummy. A lot of babies."

"Yes, ada five. Pergi tanya Wan, sakit tak?"
"Eh no, pergi tanya Wan siapa paling cantik."

"Taknaklah."

"Pergilah tanya."

"Cikda."

"Cikda paling cantik?"

"Yes."

"Cikda dengan Mama?"

"Cikda."

"Cikda dengan Mummy Atie?"

"Cikda."

"Cikda dengan Cuja?"

"Cikda."

"Cikda dengan Mummy?"

"Cikda."

"Cikda dengan Ally?"

"Cikda and Ally!"

You are just a quiet person. That was what you said. Sitting there, looking at your hands, shoulders slouched forward, as if telling the world to leave you alone.

But now, you want.. no, need, the world to acknowledge your presence.

And it does.

They always do.