I am not good at describing friendships. I know you may think that I am excellent at writing but the truth is my overrated expertise has its limit. I cannot describe my friends in proper, civilized words. Of course, your praiseworthy nobility is not the problem. The whole world can tell; your nobility surpasses that of many. Even the deaf, the mute, or the blind animals that know you could not contest this. It is not like I have nothing to appreciate, in fact I have a lot. I just want to be careful in personal relationships. I do not want to expect much from people, while they expect nothing from me. I do not want to jeopardize myself. I am feeble, easily debilitated. I know I am.
For me, friends are friends. We can be nice to a lot of people in public but we know that we cannot always be as nice to them in private. It is a kind of tacit agreement that everyone knows. We all signed that contract since we were born, or at least since we entered the shoddy, brutal jungle of social life. Therefore, I rarely take friendships seriously now. I even dared to think that friends are for us to hang out with, not more than that. Everything is done for the sake of social graces. Superficiality is my new religion. I am the ugly apostate in the cult of deep, intense emotions. Rebellious me, suspicious me.
You are handsome but not hunky. You are humble but not humiliating. You are heroic but not hedonistic. The real Triple H is you.
Ok, no more corny, cheesy talks. Let’s go straight to the points and cut off the insignificant parts, my friend.
You have never been picky in selecting your friends. I have no idea why you kept looking for me last time. I was the freak type, I was the psycho type, I was the major weirdo type, I was the sissy type, I was the never-came-out-of-jungle type, but you still put all those negative schemata into your box of tolerance. I do not have as much patience as you do. I exaggerated things. I do not care about what others think about me. I overdressed all the time. I said emotional things all the time. I was the loud type, and you still could stand me. You never learnt the fact that I was embarrassing to walk with. You never fathomed the view that I was not the proper guy for you to have dinner with. You never grasped the idea that I was not the one you could play football with. You were stupid to many, but smart to me. A magical being- you.
I remember we talked till 5 am in the morning. I was so stupid to keep you awake. I knew you couldn’t stand it. You just wanted to please me. You wanted to please everyone. You wanted to be the angel in everyone’s heart. You always have that big heart in you while I certainly, and unequivocally don’t. I do not know why you take this rude and ruthless brute as your close friend. Maybe you found me friendless. Maybe you thought my family couldn’t accept me the way I was. Maybe you thought I was too fragile to be alone in this wild, full-of-beasts world. I still remember you once told me, “Do not tell people that you like Mariah Carey, they wouldn’t like to know that, if you want to make friends with them.” This actually gave me the impression that I was a pathetic person. This thought amplified by itself as I saw you make friends with another weirdo in the following months. No one but you wanted to make friends with him. Self-identification began. I knew who I was for you. An object of sympathy- me.
Of course we had some issues. Perfection does not lie in magic. You are not excluded. You knew I was hurt the most when you didn’t invite me along to Sunway. I knew you knew I temporarily kept a distance from you since then. I knew you wondered what the reason was. I knew you were offended when I kept talking about somebody that you considered your hunting rival. I knew you tried to run away from me sometimes. I was mentally burdening to you and I know this paragraph is blatant. I also know that I forgave you for anything.
I will never forget that you were the one who earnestly searched for me at the stupid bistro in Nilai when I was missing for my birthday surprise. I will never forget the moment you bought me some silly Cornetto ice-cream and a lame card for my birthday. I will never forget the moment you actually came to my room when I was crying so fucking badly. I will never forget the crazy late night talks we had in your room or mine. I will never forget when I first called you Seth Cohen. I will never forget I told the whole class you were still a virgin. I will never forget the provocative things we did (or maybe I did to you) in the courtroom in the third semester. I will never forget the night I told you everything. I will never forget our impulsive trip to secret recipe on a random Friday. I will never forget the moment you went to a cyber café to reply my petty SMS. I will never forget the night you told me you wanted 7 kids with her. I will never forget the first time I went to Midvalley with you after which I ended up buying a box of the OC DVD. I will never forget what you said to me about trusting others. I will not forget the moment I entered your room and forced you to text her. I will never forget the moment I accompanied you to your lecturer’s room before he berated you. I will never forget talking to you about your family. I will never forget about your RMT history in primary school. I will never forget your TOEFL story. I will never forget seeing you buy that i-don’t-know-what economics book at Midvalley. I will never forget listening to your used-to-be favorite song, "Unintended." I will never forget our arbitrary trips to the airport. I will never forget the funny images of you holding that Royal Selangor goodie bag. I will never forget the innocence in your voice when you led the prayer in BTN. I will never forget the moment I laughed at the innocent photo of you that you put on your desk. I will never forget that I was actually crying while writing this post. I will never forget all the ups and downs we had. I will never forget you.
They might call you a loser for majoring in political science. They might want you to major in some engineering areas or maybe some medical fields. They might want to decide things in your life but you know yourself better. You are a better person than them. You are not a loser. You are the glory of a boy. You took the course MAN 101 and you succeeded in it. You are now a man. I approved this. I approved you to be the first name to be mentioned here. Happy birthday, Rassyid Ramlan.
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