Back Row

As three people who had control panels on every tab,

Who read the signals and lines like past time,

We never predicted the clashing of our three crazy minds,

When we sat at the back of the class.

 

One Chinese,

One Malay,

One so mixed she doesn’t know what she is,

Satu Malaysia, muhibah it will be.

 

We traded our shy hellos and planted conversations,

Watched the friendship grow,

Into a tree of light hearted banter,

Branching to politics and general stupidity of crazy fellows,

And soon,

Our roots started to show.  

 

One with panic disorder,

Another with OCD,

Another with problems she couldn’t record,

A support group, self love they experts they will be.

 

It wasn’t always smooth,

We watched each part break down,

Crumble into our phases of hopelessness at different stages,

And we could only stand there with our hands wrung,

Trying to understand the madness

That was mental illness.

 

Our mouths breathed out a waterfall of sorrys,

Afraid of burdening the other with our problems,

But we learned not to expect,

And instead forgave and forget.

 

We turned our “I’m sorrys” into “thank yous”,

Our “I hate myself” into “I love yous”.

 

We painted a constellation with our colourful words,

Dotted the skies with our specks of playful insults,

Watered our garden of weed jokes,

And built the paradise our love ones couldn’t.

 

And I promise,

I can’t be there for every heartbreak,

Every tear lost,

Every time you had to pay for the cost,

Every forgotten call and hug.

 

But I promise I will be here,

Right where you need me and how you need me.

 

When I need a uber to drive a drunk me home,

I know I have one in a Perodua,

From Kota Damansara.

 

When you need a translator for the languages I understand,

Your favourite blabberer will be by your hand.

 

When you need paint for the Gundams,

I know there’s one with the money to fund.

 

I will hold our starred messages within the cracks of my fingers,

Even though Time may slip through like water in our palms,

As we try to hold onto the ropes,

That our boats cling to,

And drift away on the reality of life.

 

Whether we remain away or we stray back again,

I promise,

Your carvings on my heart,

Will forever remain.

 

Thank you for making me a better person.

 

To Rakan Maju Jaya,

Here’s to big dreams and endless hopes

That it will be okay

 

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