Welcome Back

The title, is for me.
From me.

Let's ignore the fact that I've gone Tran with  my false promises of updates and embrace this fresh beginning.

Firstly, let's discuss how long this blog has been alive.
It was there when everyone did it, you know, the whole choose a template and link your friends' blog on the side with a self description of 'Ex-SMS, current MS' or 'Ex-Yayasan, current MS'. (Yeah, yeah, we all went through that, don't deny it)
It was there when I went creative with coding, it was there through pretty much all my high school drama.
I'll give it a read once more and see how childish or too mature, even, it was back then.
One thing's for sure though, we were never blogging for purposes similar to that of Gossip Girl.
I don't know man, that's shit's cyber bullying even before broadband existed. How??

Anyway.
High school is over, and uni life says hi.
I've been where I am now for 3-ish months now. My first semester is about to end with a bang of exams at a Racecourse (Level 2, just a reminder), and travel plans have been made in which you will soon see with '#eox'.
Too early? Perhaps so.

Uni has been really good so far, I've met some interesting people along the way from walks of life, specialising in things I didn't even know existed.
Of course that's just what everyone usually says, right?
Sure, uni's great. There's more time flexibility, a little more freedom (in attires especially), you speak a language that's second to your tongue 99% of the time (minus the times when you accidentally make a point in Malay and realise nothing really quite translates) and the food's a bit more great than the usual Laksa from Amsarra.
Surely it can't all be that great?

The answer to that is............
It depends.

I've had this trouble even back at home, I can talk miles and miles with you about something that we have in common or something that interests the both of us, maybe I'll laugh with you, and say hi to you if I see you in the hallway or the flight of stairs to reach my Literature class on the third floor (which isn't really third floor if you count - stairs pass the Career centre, pass the hub, pass the English department, pass the other floor where Kassim, the school cat had her kittens and finally reach the floor where you know it's  high enough if you jump you won't survive because at that level, you're higher than the lamp post.)

But I still can't talk to you past the surface. It takes me forever to get comfortable with someone. It takes certain people who I can argue with and know it's ok because we both know we're not insulted by any of our remarks.

It's different here.

We'll talk about class, we'll talk about other things if our knowledge reaches the same topic - entertainment being top of the list.
I see people making friends already during the first day (like enrollment, not even orientation), having a posse for lunch.
I can't seem to make myself artificial enough to pretend I'm interested in what they're talking about.
But at the same time, my reluctance to do so leads me to a sense of isolation.
Someone once told me that 'at this age, you should be filtering people. Keep the ones worthy of your friendship.'
Of course that's easy to say if you went to a higher institution if the majority of the cohort are already your friends before you went.

Does it get lonely?

Most definitely. However, it's not the worst thing sometimes to be alone with yourself.
Most of the time, we're afraid to be alone because then we'd be able to hear our own thoughts. And no one wants that because we're so used to living in a society where the opinion of others trumps our own.

My first month here, I've never met a single Bruneian (except Nicola of course).
I thought being a part of a group from home would ease, if not cure, that sense of isolation.
.......Not quite.
One afternoon, I finally did meet my fellow Bruneian comrades.
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I felt even more awkward and out of place.
It was very confusing to me, considering we all were conversing in the same language and slangs.

Don't twist my words on this though, some of the Bruneians are a god-send. I'm glad I met them. They've been more than warm and welcoming and I am more than grateful to have known them. I really am.
But to associate myself in a group where I feel like I can't be myself, not quite the best feeling too.

I go to a university where there's probably a 50/50 ratio in Asians and locals. And still, I can't fit myself into the rubrik.
So I'm deducing that you're not supposed to fit into just one category.
For best results and memories, adaptation is essential.

Tonight, I found myself staring at pictures stuck on my wall while some sad soppy song was playing in the background (way to go right?).
I actually miss the comfort in being able to laugh and tease people.
I miss complaining about the canteen food (Amsarra still rocks the other 2 canteen that came after).
I miss having people who would sometimes laugh at my lame jokes.
I miss having my jokes labelled as lame.
I miss having people who didn't have to pretend to not offend me when they're being blunt.

But the part that breaks me the most is how I've taken some people for granted and only realise how much I'd kill to just be a part of it anytime.
I miss going to Muara as a child with my grandparents only to stop at a convenience store to buy dried corn kernels so we can feed the pigeons.
I miss having aimless night drives with my parents just to see kampongs and light shows in Bandar.
I miss having my siblings to go to when school work becomes too unbearable.
I miss Thursday nights where I'd join my cousins to watch American Idol (auditions are the best because we pretend we can also sing), or to sit around the table and talk about movies and laughing at each other's lame attempts at jokes.

I just...miss being a child. I miss it being easy. I miss having someone cooking for me or having fresh laundry everyday.
I miss weekday mornings during primary school where the struggle to wake up is real but it's ok because I know either my mum or my maid would comb my hair after that.
Seems silly right, to have someone comb your hair?
The moment that stops, it equates to the start of adulthood.

I miss having my family and my friends to run to.
It just feels so completely alone here.
Everything is just on the surface.
Nothing really fills that hole that makes you feel at home.

I know some of you might think throughout this post I sound spoiled or I can't adapt, or I can't get my independence right.
It's not that.
It's missing something you're used to having.
Because when it comes to family, everyone is still a child at heart.

I'll stop now.
The amount of waterworks while typing this.....

Good night Brunei, good night Melbourne.

Oh, um, if anyone feels offended by chance (because that always happens) please tell me. I understand even for the purpose of self-expression, it too has a limit, so please inform me.


xom.








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