my MP3

Today my MP3 fell into the toilet bowl. I don't know how it happened, but it just did.

Sad as I am, the agony is not merely because I lost an MP3, but it is also because it marks the death of something that reminds me of my past. It's definitely time for the end of it, and maybe I should just feel happy.

But suddenly, everything that was familiar, every pain and hate, gush out like the breeze that can take you of your feet, and I found myself lost in my own internal, silent sobs.

Remembering the past, I just want to stand at the 8th floor of E block, and shout on top of my lungs that "I'm not guilty!!". I'm not guilty, I repeatedly tell myself. Merely because I'm the sole victim of his promises that have never been able to realize. Back then when our love was just budding, I told him childishly that I was crazily in love with the paddy fields, and would really like to walk among them. He claimed hopefully that his house was just 15 minutes from the Sungai Puyu paddy fields and he would cycle me there once I finished my STPM examinations. I can still remember how happy I was when I thought I've found somebody who took me seriously and would try his best to help me realise my every dream, no matter how trivial it is; and later, how disappointed I was when I proved myself wrong.

Everybody on his side will throw a look at me at the corner of his eyes and defend him by telling me that the only reason he COULDN'T do that is because he's busy building the foundation of a better future for me. He's too into his work, thinking that it will be the only passport for me and him to a life without worries together , and it's too cruel to shoo him off with the reason of lack of attention on me when he's paying it in another form. I'm often polite but sometimes when the pain is too much, I just wish I could tell them "Bullshit!". There is simply no reason you can give for negleting one's feelings, although you might be doing something for that person. If you don't care about my feelings NOW, don't tell me anything about the future!

I'm usually not good at reasoning to others about my own feelings, because I often come lacking for the ability to express them completely. It is even more true in the incidence of breaking up with him and also in the endless happenings that followed. And in this case, I often feel that I'm not understood, just like Vincent Van Gogh until the day he died.

My MP3 is still dripping exactly how an MP3 shouldn't be. I just hope that some of the agony can just drip off me like the water and tomorrow I can wake up finding that I am completely dry and smells fresh again. But I know that this is not the first attempt to lay things down, and it wouldn't be the last. It's just like trying to take off a wrinkling coat, only to find that you have another one under it.

It's still under the one year warranty, but I'm not sure whether the technician will want to repair a crying MP3.