Atika Sikun

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Sept 14th, 1992 | Selangor, MY
"we only see what we want to see."

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Recent Posts
· Sunday,you're so gay :P
· Stalk Them for a GOOD CAUSE ♥
· I wanted to stop being a stalker but it stuck in m...
· Yet another day.
· Stop. D:
· A total OH-MY-GOD.
· Open Day.and a lil' bit something.
· It's my time.
· sEtupid.
· It's hard for me.



When grief shines through
Monday, July 6, 2009 | Posted by Atika | 0 comment/s

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As I gaze toward that giant ball of light behind the dark, murky clouds, I can’t believe it was the same sun I see every morning the moment I pulled my eyelids apart when I was just a little girl. Had I owned a camera that time, I must’ve taken every angle possible just to preserve the moment, its precious light. Then somehow, I couldn’t believe that this was the same ball of light we were watching behind those purple hills a week ago. The grief brought by the sheer thought of you slashes through my chest, my soul. Had you stayed alive for me, we must’ve seen every sunset possible. But in the end, I would still end up gazing toward the hills with no one but my own self and the ghosts of your memories, the demises of our past. Now I lay serene on top of these emerald blades of grass that glimmers against the glistening glare of by that ball of light, our sun. as calms as I may look on the outside, I don’t think you would call this a beauty nap after hearing the anguished moans inside me, the hurling wind of grief flashing its own lightning, moving with more alacrity, as if in a hurry to cut deep down my feeble heart. The puny strength I bear, the only energy that fuels my weak body, it’s our memories. Oh, darling, you don’t know how beautiful the sun gets. I feel selfish watching it all alone. Maybe we could still the same sun, the same ball of light. But then again, I would still be the one to remain. I’ve been mulling over watching the moon instead, with its cool light beamed against me, maybe, just maybe, that way, the wound would heal, the grief would stop seizing my wounded heart, the same heart that once—and always—belong to you.