Untold story part 2

There is no great tale, rather than the true story

I know we all are not that strong inside, well that includes me

I was grateful to be under the "Project Khas" allowing me to not-paying the fee, except the for the PIBG. Swiftly, I completed the registration and was sent to the sole hostel in the administration side, specifically for the new boys.E42 was my dobby number-it will be coming handy later I guess. As my father faded away with the car, tears rolled on my cheek, the heart felt so empty. stranded in a world filled with strangers.

I was just a small kid indeed. Never went too far from home. Very shy to make friend and often look clueless. Not surprising I’m not making any friends initially. On the very first day of schooling-we were forced to remember our classmates’ name, that day I embarked to know them. 1 Sejahtera, the last class far at the end was my lucky class, a music class indeed, not art as I hoped it was.

I cried every morning, well when I woke up from my deep sleep to be exact. I remembered home, the comfort and all nice things that could across my empty mind. “I heard you were crying every morning, right after I woke you up” told my close friend, one day. Silent in the air-I didn’t know what to say. However, it eventually stopped after I coincidently read a hadith “We should not cry when we were awake in the morning, those who did, as if they were blaming God for His fate” sound something like that. 

We all had to pick a sport or you would become “kapal layar”- A cool phrase rather than saying, I’m not taking up any sports. I was a dumb when it came to sports, unfortunate guy who not really, not at all I guess to be fond of football; a game that unites people nowadays. So, I chose to play basketball. “Should be easy and fun, plus it is hand and not feet” I thought. It was indeed, if you were passionate about it- I was among the 21 boys who would finish training very late, almost 7pm and had to rush for shower and dinner.

Unbelievable fact: I called my parents every day, before subuh if you guys were wondering. Most of them were a less-five minutes chat. I didn’t know why I called them at dusk, perhaps that the only time I was free and the public phones were unoccupied. One night, as usual I put my ‘ring ring card”-the prepaid card that can easily be slide into the public phone to make call, under my pillow. I remembered the balance in it, RM11. That morning, before rushing to surau for prayer, I was shocked when the balance was less than RM2, I cursed the one who used it silently. A thief and a crime had been committed, indeed. 

Hurm, I was really in a very deep sleep.

End of part 2.

Yet, you can continuously hiding, or bravely stepping outside

That's for now