Sometimes, when i read my own old entries, i only like a few of them.
I like it when it tells stories of others. I like stories about Abang, Abah, Umie, the Uncle and the Aunty who own the convenience store i visit daily, close friends, or even the people i’ve never met, like Sara Aziz. Oh, she’s a wonderful person.
Truth is, i hate writing. I honestly do. When i first started this online journal i call Firdauz takes 5, i promised me to never write a single word of anything at all. I knew that i wasn’t that good with words. Not much. A photo & video blog it would be, just to abase myself with silly things, it should. I managed to follow the plan for the first 3 posts, but after the 3rd, it didn’t turn out to what i originally wanted it to.
I started writing, amateurishly, about who i am. It became a series of autobiography. I liked it. Then i openly asked people for lunch date. Making new friends, experience life as it should, learn new things and listen to what they tell, write the experience, share with the world. I liked it too. So much. I liked everything before i openly told the whole world, that i do not believe in God.
That was the emotional mistake, i started to hate my writing ever since.
Truth is, i love religious people who truly believe in what they do. I admire them. I admire anyone who openly declares his faith, or even the lack of it, but not me. I don’t like much about myself when it comes to religion. I emotionally tend to not care if i hurt anyone with saying who i think, doesn’t exist. Often, i even hurt those who are close to me. Including myself.
But the nicest people of my life, the ones who are dear to me, they always forgive my lunacy. Including me. I forgive myself all the time.
Sometimes, when i read my own old entries, it reminds me of who i was and what i had. Who i was, was kind of mysterious, and what i had were, clumsy moments of my silly life.
I stumbled upon life. I do not know much about it, so i wrote some of the stories that i liked, and some of them that i liked less. Amateurishly.
I stumbled upon life. Clumsy moments of my silly life.
