Hi.

This blog will soon come to it's long-awaited end.

But before that, some secrets can't stay as secrets. I mean, WHERE'S THE FUN OF EXPOSURE? WHERE'S THE ELEMENT OF SURPRISE?

Unfortunately, I've come this far to watch shit go down. But fortunately, I'm gonna do it all by myself.

Hamka, this is for you. 😚

I know you're tired.

Imagine being with someone for two years. Imagine now.

It's not like two years is long enough to validate anything but it's just enough to experience a lot. I admit, it gets a little too much to handle sometimes. We're human. We get tired.

Maybe not me, in the sense that I can be fighting with Hamka for days yet fail to come up with a solution to our problems, I'll still raise the issues up till we get to the core of the it all and strip it right off along with it's roots. Fortunately and unfortunately, Hamka's unlike me. He's one who lets things slide. There are pros and cons to it but being his contra, I saw that as a lazy and thoughtless act. It just comes off as he's ignorant towards it and shows no critical care about how shitty I feel. When I feel too much and he feels just as much but doesn't choose to show it, we get tired.

We talked less. We vibe badly. We couldn't see eye-to-eye, let alone meet each other to spend quality time. While I'm the feeler, he's the thinker. It's a pychological thing where I need to feel secure so I'll push all external factors aside and face up to him in person, in hopes that we'll communicate better with no barriers. (shady and indirect WhatsApp texts) Again, unlike me, Hamka's not down for that. But that's him. Come on, it's been two years. Although we still do fight about the lack in communication and all sorts of things, I'm still learning. Maybe not perfecting the relationship. But at least to accept the fact that my partner is human and I am too. And we all deal with life differently yet still want to live together eventually.

The relationship isn't an uphill road with a great scenery as a reward when we reach it's summit every time. Good days feel like lying on your back with shades on, floating in the Dead Sea. Freaking effortless. But down the other end, bad days feel like trying to seek help in the middle of Sahara dessert with no telecommunication whatsoever, while the sand is blinding your sight. Now, imagine having to go through all that, sometimes both simultaneously, everyday for two years and hopefully(?) more till one of you dies.

Damn. Tiring.

Hello, love.

Perhaps already known by many, this is Hamka - sometimes 'Ali' to his teammates, 'idol' to a group of inspired floorball enthusiasts but always (insert all terms of endearmeant HERE) to me. We met in October last two years and I've only loved him more ever since.

I knew him as a shy extrovert. Cursed/blessed (?) with a potty mouth, one like a sailor's on certain days. Well-reserved in some situations, loud and clearly loved by many for his humour. I, too, was attracted. I admired his drive in life. It was rather simple: "I'll give it all that I've got." He's never mentioned it before but his will and dedication proved his ideas worthy. He worked in silence and let his successes speak for itself. The biggest turn on was how humbly he carried himself under severe limelight and glaring eyes, waiting to mock his failures. I liked his positive outlook of life. He constantly chose to see the best in the worst of things, people and situations. He never believed in circumstances. All he knew was to be his best. 'Best' in all things closest to his heart.

To be real, I've never come across anyone like him. Let alone experience him.

And so, for two years, I did.

Consistently draping medals around his neck, soared throphies and crowned championship titles, I've seen him beaming with joy. Happiest in his zone.

He gets upset too. With me, particularly. He fumes. He shouts. That sailor sort of a mouth? This is when that sailor sort of a tongue lashes out at me. Or even when the traffic's bad and we're delayed. Ocassionally when I'm upset too - like, "I don't understand why you're upset so I'll be upset with you for being difficult."

That's not all that he feels. I can't probably name all emotions and provide examples but I know this man, don't tell me I don't.

You didn't have to lie.

The Hallucinated Proposal.

I strolled in to Republic Polytechnic's floorball arena one 11th October evening, escorted by my bestfriend, Ikah, all the way from the institution's carpark upon arrival by cab.

To my surprise, forty young men conquered the school's floorball battlefield, formed two similar line-ups down the farther half of the court. Fully geared in each one's club jerseys, grasping their sponsored sticks of various brands with their right hand over the other, shaft up and blade down. Tall and heavily-built goalkeepers kept at the sides of both rows, seemingly acted like unbreakable walls.

Instructed by Ikah to stand right before the goalpost these athletes were facing, I did just that with no questions asked. I calmly took some time to look at all of these faces placed  infront of me, they weren't any stranger. I've seen them through at least two seasons and one major international competition that sent the nation's name soaring up the sky. I recognised each and every one of them.

Except that, the squad wasn't complete.

Hamka wasn't found in line.

I let my eyes wander. Searched the benches, and finally behind my shoulder and the stands above. All I spotted were the creative crew of VoxSports and ActiveSG, armed with cameras and lights all around. Also, quite a turn out of spectators for merely an unofficial hit-around session amongst invitational players. But still, no sign of my beloved.

When I turned around to face the squad again, Hamka came in running from the sides, showing off some skills before he slid in between the two line-ups. He centralised perfectly amongst them, facing me like I was a target. With him, he had his stick and a ball, placed neatly by his blade.

I was even more confused when he started playing a few tricks, the ball flipped sides, left and right, like he was taking a penalty shot against me. He marched up close, close enough to score. I could hear odd sounds coming from the ball not far from me.

He finally stopped playing mind games with me. He paused for a moment, left the stick on the ground to his left and went down on one knee. That moment in time, not only did his knee hit the ground - my heart did too.

He picked the ball and with shivering hands cracked it open into two but it won't open. He actually got the ball custom-made into a ring holder. I've never seen him struggle so hard to form words without stuttering, what more voice out.

"Baby, I knew you wanted a proper wedding proposal despite already agreeing on a date. So let me ask you and let everyone witness this. Do you want to live with me for the rest of your life and have my kids who'll annoy you more than I do?"

The cliche had to happen - I broke down to bits and sprawled on the floor. Before I even agreed to his proposal, I crawled closer to him, helped open the ring holder and said "Yes." The kinda "Yes." only he could hear and wrapped my arms around his stiff shoulders which couldn't even move because he broke down too.

The sudden uproar of cheers and whistling from those watching over us made us embrace each other even tighter. I gazed upon the soldiers who stood behind him and saw smiles that translated to how proud they were of Hamka's courageous act. It's clear that it wasn't easy to plan a proposal, to execute it perfectly was a miracle and for it's process from start to finish be covered by a sports live station was hands down, the most epic of it's kind.

--------------------------------------------------

I can always dream this was all true, can't I?

Hamka's #roadtovictory.

Dear Hamka,

You're away from home and I assume you're settling in well in your new space. Looking at the way you progress assures me you're fed enough and taken care off pretty well. So let's start!

Your first game will kick-off this Thursday, 11 June, rightfully at 19:00 hours. Our families and friends will unite together in one hall to cheer the team on, along with the home crowd. You've never let me down as a team player and I put so much faith in you. The hopes of the nation is what you carry on your shoulders alongside the other 19 men playing for that Gold medal. I understand the pressure is rather hard to tune but I believe you'll handle it well. Your hardwork, blood+sweat+tears, never-ending sacrifices will soon pay off and haven't I told you, honey,

"Victory is sweet."

Let's not heat the intensity up with more pressure nearing the game day. Whatever the score may be, whether the spectators cheer or jeer, all of you will always be champions. The cup was ours as of the SEA Championships held last year on homeground, insyaallah, with sheer determination, it will still be ours this SEA Games. For as long as you play with your heart, for the love of the sport, gold won't ever be old. I am certain the country won't mind another silver or bronze in it's chart, but we've always looked good with the gold and all 20 of you will claim the title like we own it.

But for you personally, be the playmaker you are. Don't mind the size of your opponents, look beyond that. You have achieved so many great things in life and this is about to be conquered. I know I should've done more while I could - I knew your back was hurting, I should've massaged you when you asked me to. I knew your head was throbbing, I should've played with your hair till you fall asleep. Now that I can't, I hope your mates are helping me out by looking after you. Even if they don't normally do what I always do like it's my duty, I bet they have done their best to keep you on track.

Worry not. Gold, silver or bronze, you'll come home to comfort. Whatever you never got while I wasn't around will be made available to you. Massages? You bet, yes. Dota while I feed you chips? I'm on it. Hugs and kisses when you least expect them? You won't even have to demand.

All the best, Hamka. To your boys as well. Don't start searching for me in the stands while you're playing. I'll be there. Don't worry. I'll be right there.

+358 Bound, 8 Days Apart.

Dear Hamka,

We are separated again, for the sake of your dreams. It's hard, I won't deny that. I realised sending someone off was a painful process. Even packing your luggage away burns me. I don't even know if you're gonna be okay with the weather over there, or how you'd like the food, if I've tucked in enough jackets and pullovers to keep you warm, and if you'll ever come home to me safely. I fear so many things yet you see me so confident that I'll be fine on my own here.

Indeed, I am doing fine. Just not great compared to the last few hours we spent together before you took flight. The little while we had at home and small talks over dinner was a catch-up much needed after all the squabbling we dealt with the past few weeks. I haven't spent so much time looking at your face and hearing you out about how tedious the packing phase was for you. I came to help when you needed me to because that was the least I could do since I couldn't bring myself to wish you farewell at the departure hall that night. And on top of that, I still care, pretty much a lot. 

We're just moments away from reuniting again. I can't wait to welcome you home, you've been too far a tad bit too long I'm starting to feel lonely. It's not nice to know that you suffered various injuries while you're there and I'm nowhere near to nurse you. But it's comforting that my calendar has been updating me of your homecoming - IT'S VERY SOON, BABE.

I'm anticipating the safety your arms can assure me, everywhere else is scary. Soon enough, I won't have to wait up till the wee hours of the morning to receive a phone call. Time difference sucks, you're lucky I wasn't a whiny little bitch throughout. 

Just come home already, please. I promise I won't punch you. I promise after you arrive, you won't want to leave again. Because only with me do you get free cuddles, massages, hugs and kisses. Come home soon, I can't wait to spoil you. ✨