4 September 2018

miss everyday the same

everyday starts exactly the same way everyday starts.

he will set two alarms at 5.30 and 5.40 in the morning. In between the time, he will close his eyes trying to remember the dreams he had. no significance there, just ritual.

the second alarm will go off and he will rise straight to the bathroom door. he will undress fast, and after he let his clothes slip down, he will head for bath.

in less than 5 minutes, he will be out already with his white towel he brought from his parent's house. no sentimental value there, just that he is the type who thinks twice when it comes to buying new things. or shopping. he is not a cheapskate. to his defense, he sees himself as a person with priorities.

well he always defends himself anyways.

he will grab anything he feels like wearing right after he got out of the bathroom. his clothes are not new. he got them at flee markets or internet pre-loved items auctions he sees in twitter. he believes things have hearts, that if he throws them away— they would cry.

he would.

if he were those things.

so anyone who goes to his room would see all sort of old things. not the antique or vintage kind of old. but outdated and unwanted. he never cares what people think of him. like for example there is this one blanket he had from his mother. up until his second year in polytechnic, he used that blanket.

that—

he is.

he just cant put them away. he just cant handle the pain. the piercing sounds he hears while leaving them to their own fate. he just can't stand his own tears.

he says sorry to them as if those things hoping they would comfort him; that it is ok for them to end up in the thrash where he left them. he puts them nicely and in order, in gestures of a farewell to a pensioning national war commander—faked smiles with tears running down, as well as a nod with a bucketful of unspoken words.


everyday starts exactly the same way everyday starts.

at every time, he will work his look very well.


perhaps it’s because he is pretty in his own ways, or at least he thinks he is, which in his own definition means not giving a damn about how he looks but still presentably attractive. everyone is attractive, he thinks. one extra mole on one twin will make two different from each other, wont it?

it is safe to say he actually is beautiful.

and a lot safer to continue with “in his own ways”.

he should be. his parents were a beautiful pair of match made in heaven. everyone says that while they smile reminiscing his parents.

“do you remember?” ask they.

all the time.

every time.

how could he not? left to live in his own definition of living at the early age of 7 as his parents work untill 11 pm. his brother were either too young or too ignorant to care. he always feel lonely.

beauty was a term he learned by not having. like the word ‘rich’. he understands it by grasping the fact they are the opposite.

growing up, he was not the typical sparkle-eyed boy we want to be friends with. he was a potato and ugly. no one was there to tell him and guide him what to do. or how to manage the basic things in life like which powder to use to cover blemishes or what to use when you spill ketcup on a rug. no one at all.

he had no friends at all.

that was not bad.

he thought his life was normal.

now that—

was sad.

at 13 he enrolled himself in boarding school so he could breakaway from the silence he was chained to. he was a bright boy in his class, he always has. he was witty and smart with words—he found himself in the school debating team. he likes it when he can speak things out loud. he loves it when he expresses his mind. he cherishes every second on the stage for that is the only place on earth
he can be the person he has always wanted to be and can get away with it.

everyone can be someone they cannot be in real life there on the stage.

everyone.

but he was not the standard look of a representative of a unit. he may be the face of his school, but he was ugly and was not attractive enough to be the face. all he had was his mouth, his voice. no one likes a non-attractive smart mouth.

no one.

therefore always at the dining room, he will sit alone with no one joining him. what is worse than hostel food is obviously hostel food eaten on your own. after a while, he stopped dining. thank god for the allowance money his father gave him he used to buy light snacks to substitute his meals.

it is harder to survive loneliness than hunger.

of course, he lived.

but he lost massive amount of weight from week to week. he might be depressed, but no one saw it. “he was just being him”, snickered they. the way he lived his life was how his invisible brother live his.

quietly, he had made numerous attempts of suicides but that was the farthest he could go; attempts. he still cries on the sight of syringe at times he has high fever, how in the world can he even try to cut his wrist? he tried overdosing but always at the tenth tablet he would refrain himself as he feared the other side is just too big for him and he realized that he was not prepared. good thing, though—at least those drugs will calm him from his loud, mean and abusive mind.

there was nothing much to talk about of his next decade. the typical frustrations, the normal shouts of teenage angst, the classic puppy love made believe the truest. friends in and out. life up and down. the standards.

but whatever they were signifies nothing much to him in present time, except he is now is in his perfect figure and his parents looks are now more and more visible in his features.

he had become a swan.

but this swan grew up thinking he was a toad—

so of course,

he never knew he could fly.

if only someone would tell him he is beautiful & handsome.

if only someone would just hold his and say to his face he is wonderful.

but none did.

none at all.

so no matter how much he had grown into a man, the only person he sees every morning in the mirror is the boy with a ugly appearance. it is a tragedy, actually, to live a life of one who wishes to be someone you never knew you were all along.

a swan who wishes he were a swan because no one ever told him he was one.

a simple little swan who loves his simple life of his every simple day.

and like every other day after he is done with putting on clothes and accessorize, he will powder his face and paint his lip nude. he will get into his bus and go to his office. it takes him only 35 minutes to get there had no force of nature or brutal accidents on his way.

at eight every morning he is will be in his office. he will always make sure he gets there before anyone else. he loves coming early to work so he doesn’t have to see people looking at his movements every second from the door to his cubicle. he can’t stand being looked at, other than the times when he is on stage debating, or at times when he enjoys being the class clown pathetically in desperation of friends making.

he will make himself busy until the office closes. he doesn’t even go out for lunch because he cooks to work. he may be a superb cook because he was born with amazing taste palate, but truth be told: when he was little, all he wanted to be was a housewife.

he still keeps that thought secretly to himself. but in reality he feels too ugly to date, and assumes he would never be married. and he has this understanding that so far, all of his assumptions had always been right.

well, mostly.

perhaps he was protecting himself.

so.

in the office, he is more like an observer. he is kind and never tried to be rude even though he was visibly quiet. he helps the office help when they come in. when people make silly jokes, he will laugh together with the joker, no matter how bland the punch line is. he smiles secretly in support whenever people present their proposals, be the ideas are weird and outstandingly stupid. he avoids talking much so he wont have to shut his ears to office dramas. he blends better that his cubicle’s wall.
The only time he become himself and speak loud is when his best friend atiqah come into the room. But they would never had a long & comfortable conversation bcs his working partner (who is older than him) forbidden him from talking to his friends due to "work ethics" as that what his working partner said 🙄. All he know is his working partner is jealous. everyday when he come to work he will be treat like, that is his first time doing the job. not in a good way of course but in a pressure and mistreat way. he tries really hard to not be significant. all the things that he already knew, ppl will treat him like he don't know anything and he is fucking stupid. every single day he will be treat the same. he feel useless.


at 8.53 when the sky is dark, he will be out of his cubicle, far from his computer and report papers. by now, everyone had left. and everyday, after work, before he gets back to his company house, he will drop by at the supermarket. he buys his groceries in small portions on daily basis because he has nothing else to do. he has his own movie setting in his phone. his company house is complete. at least to him.


right after, he will head directly to his nest.  he will change to appropriate homey attire, and then he will start cooking two portions. one for now and another for work tomorrow. he will cook and then he will turn on his film of choice on his phone. his favourite genre is autobiography and myth. with food in the plate on his palm, and he will enjoy his dinner while sinking in his little cinema date with himself.

his body clock is everyday demanding for early sleep. the latest he could go is at twelve and at that is very rare. he is more of a morning person than a night owl. nothing happens at night, he said.


nothing but beautiful dreams he cant wait to be in.


he will then clear the mess he had made for dinner and will pack his food for work. he has never let himself sleep in untidy. he will clean everything up and put everything back in order. he would feel terrible if he notice any of hid stuff fell off unattended—because they have feelings.


and he has feelings, too—

so.


everyday, his ritual ends with his tucking himself between his cozy bedspreads and blanket. he will smile as soon he is comfortable with hid position. he does that all the time. he smiles to signal his thanks to the bed who every night had kept him safe and warm.


he will doze all the way in bliss. he will find what he wants to find in his dreams. he has always been so eager for night time. it is the best time of his simple every day.


as everyday starts exactly the same way everyday starts,

everyday ends exactly the same way everyday ends.

except this morning,

he wakes up dead.

4 September 2018

miss everyday the same

everyday starts exactly the same way everyday starts.

he will set two alarms at 5.30 and 5.40 in the morning. In between the time, he will close his eyes trying to remember the dreams he had. no significance there, just ritual.

the second alarm will go off and he will rise straight to the bathroom door. he will undress fast, and after he let his clothes slip down, he will head for bath.

in less than 5 minutes, he will be out already with his white towel he brought from his parent's house. no sentimental value there, just that he is the type who thinks twice when it comes to buying new things. or shopping. he is not a cheapskate. to his defense, he sees himself as a person with priorities.

well he always defends himself anyways.

he will grab anything he feels like wearing right after he got out of the bathroom. his clothes are not new. he got them at flee markets or internet pre-loved items auctions he sees in twitter. he believes things have hearts, that if he throws them away— they would cry.

he would.

if he were those things.

so anyone who goes to his room would see all sort of old things. not the antique or vintage kind of old. but outdated and unwanted. he never cares what people think of him. like for example there is this one blanket he had from his mother. up until his second year in polytechnic, he used that blanket.

that—

he is.

he just cant put them away. he just cant handle the pain. the piercing sounds he hears while leaving them to their own fate. he just can't stand his own tears.

he says sorry to them as if those things hoping they would comfort him; that it is ok for them to end up in the thrash where he left them. he puts them nicely and in order, in gestures of a farewell to a pensioning national war commander—faked smiles with tears running down, as well as a nod with a bucketful of unspoken words.


everyday starts exactly the same way everyday starts.

at every time, he will work his look very well.


perhaps it’s because he is pretty in his own ways, or at least he thinks he is, which in his own definition means not giving a damn about how he looks but still presentably attractive. everyone is attractive, he thinks. one extra mole on one twin will make two different from each other, wont it?

it is safe to say he actually is beautiful.

and a lot safer to continue with “in his own ways”.

he should be. his parents were a beautiful pair of match made in heaven. everyone says that while they smile reminiscing his parents.

“do you remember?” ask they.

all the time.

every time.

how could he not? left to live in his own definition of living at the early age of 7 as his parents work untill 11 pm. his brother were either too young or too ignorant to care. he always feel lonely.

beauty was a term he learned by not having. like the word ‘rich’. he understands it by grasping the fact they are the opposite.

growing up, he was not the typical sparkle-eyed boy we want to be friends with. he was a potato and ugly. no one was there to tell him and guide him what to do. or how to manage the basic things in life like which powder to use to cover blemishes or what to use when you spill ketcup on a rug. no one at all.

he had no friends at all.

that was not bad.

he thought his life was normal.

now that—

was sad.

at 13 he enrolled himself in boarding school so he could breakaway from the silence he was chained to. he was a bright boy in his class, he always has. he was witty and smart with words—he found himself in the school debating team. he likes it when he can speak things out loud. he loves it when he expresses his mind. he cherishes every second on the stage for that is the only place on earth
he can be the person he has always wanted to be and can get away with it.

everyone can be someone they cannot be in real life there on the stage.

everyone.

but he was not the standard look of a representative of a unit. he may be the face of his school, but he was ugly and was not attractive enough to be the face. all he had was his mouth, his voice. no one likes a non-attractive smart mouth.

no one.

therefore always at the dining room, he will sit alone with no one joining him. what is worse than hostel food is obviously hostel food eaten on your own. after a while, he stopped dining. thank god for the allowance money his father gave him he used to buy light snacks to substitute his meals.

it is harder to survive loneliness than hunger.

of course, he lived.

but he lost massive amount of weight from week to week. he might be depressed, but no one saw it. “he was just being him”, snickered they. the way he lived his life was how his invisible brother live his.

quietly, he had made numerous attempts of suicides but that was the farthest he could go; attempts. he still cries on the sight of syringe at times he has high fever, how in the world can he even try to cut his wrist? he tried overdosing but always at the tenth tablet he would refrain himself as he feared the other side is just too big for him and he realized that he was not prepared. good thing, though—at least those drugs will calm him from his loud, mean and abusive mind.

there was nothing much to talk about of his next decade. the typical frustrations, the normal shouts of teenage angst, the classic puppy love made believe the truest. friends in and out. life up and down. the standards.

but whatever they were signifies nothing much to him in present time, except he is now is in his perfect figure and his parents looks are now more and more visible in his features.

he had become a swan.

but this swan grew up thinking he was a toad—

so of course,

he never knew he could fly.

if only someone would tell him he is beautiful & handsome.

if only someone would just hold his and say to his face he is wonderful.

but none did.

none at all.

so no matter how much he had grown into a man, the only person he sees every morning in the mirror is the boy with a ugly appearance. it is a tragedy, actually, to live a life of one who wishes to be someone you never knew you were all along.

a swan who wishes he were a swan because no one ever told him he was one.

a simple little swan who loves his simple life of his every simple day.

and like every other day after he is done with putting on clothes and accessorize, he will powder his face and paint his lip nude. he will get into his bus and go to his office. it takes him only 35 minutes to get there had no force of nature or brutal accidents on his way.

at eight every morning he is will be in his office. he will always make sure he gets there before anyone else. he loves coming early to work so he doesn’t have to see people looking at his movements every second from the door to his cubicle. he can’t stand being looked at, other than the times when he is on stage debating, or at times when he enjoys being the class clown pathetically in desperation of friends making.

he will make himself busy until the office closes. he doesn’t even go out for lunch because he cooks to work. he may be a superb cook because he was born with amazing taste palate, but truth be told: when he was little, all he wanted to be was a housewife.

he still keeps that thought secretly to himself. but in reality he feels too ugly to date, and assumes he would never be married. and he has this understanding that so far, all of his assumptions had always been right.

well, mostly.

perhaps he was protecting himself.

so.

in the office, he is more like an observer. he is kind and never tried to be rude even though he was visibly quiet. he helps the office help when they come in. when people make silly jokes, he will laugh together with the joker, no matter how bland the punch line is. he smiles secretly in support whenever people present their proposals, be the ideas are weird and outstandingly stupid. he avoids talking much so he wont have to shut his ears to office dramas. he blends better that his cubicle’s wall.
The only time he become himself and speak loud is when his best friend atiqah come into the room. But they would never had a long & comfortable conversation bcs his working partner (who is older than him) forbidden him from talking to his friends due to "work ethics" as that what his working partner said 🙄. All he know is his working partner is jealous. everyday when he come to work he will be treat like, that is his first time doing the job. not in a good way of course but in a pressure and mistreat way. he tries really hard to not be significant. all the things that he already knew, ppl will treat him like he don't know anything and he is fucking stupid. every single day he will be treat the same. he feel useless.


at 8.53 when the sky is dark, he will be out of his cubicle, far from his computer and report papers. by now, everyone had left. and everyday, after work, before he gets back to his company house, he will drop by at the supermarket. he buys his groceries in small portions on daily basis because he has nothing else to do. he has his own movie setting in his phone. his company house is complete. at least to him.


right after, he will head directly to his nest.  he will change to appropriate homey attire, and then he will start cooking two portions. one for now and another for work tomorrow. he will cook and then he will turn on his film of choice on his phone. his favourite genre is autobiography and myth. with food in the plate on his palm, and he will enjoy his dinner while sinking in his little cinema date with himself.

his body clock is everyday demanding for early sleep. the latest he could go is at twelve and at that is very rare. he is more of a morning person than a night owl. nothing happens at night, he said.


nothing but beautiful dreams he cant wait to be in.


he will then clear the mess he had made for dinner and will pack his food for work. he has never let himself sleep in untidy. he will clean everything up and put everything back in order. he would feel terrible if he notice any of hid stuff fell off unattended—because they have feelings.


and he has feelings, too—

so.


everyday, his ritual ends with his tucking himself between his cozy bedspreads and blanket. he will smile as soon he is comfortable with hid position. he does that all the time. he smiles to signal his thanks to the bed who every night had kept him safe and warm.


he will doze all the way in bliss. he will find what he wants to find in his dreams. he has always been so eager for night time. it is the best time of his simple every day.


as everyday starts exactly the same way everyday starts,

everyday ends exactly the same way everyday ends.

except this morning,

he wakes up dead.

Friend : If someone asks you to introduce yourself, what would you answer?

Me : A kpopper i guess.

I'm a proud kpopper.

So I guess we're done here....muahahaha :B



Nah, just kidding.


Assalamualaikum. *wave wave wave*

As you all may or may not know, my fake name is 'godric minho'. I am known by 'gminho, and even budak busuk . You can call me anything you want, whatever suits you best, but please PLEASE PLEASEEE no unnie o' noona. Hahahahaha.

It all started back in '09. I was figuring out a pseudonym for my facebook account since I stood up for the term "never reveal your real name on social networks" (screw that term hahahha) My ever brilliant cousin suggested name 'Godric Minho' and so the Gminho started. Well, I continued the godric minho disease by naming my name as gminho.

My favourite books are one soul for chicken soup and ku seru namamu by ilany Maisarah. this little blog is where i post about my immature live. A hard fan of chocolates and telur. I think that's pretty much of it. :D

by the way im the owner of minholicious, smiley monster, fruity sour and ramen shop. these are my previous blog tittle in 2011,2012 and 2013. then i created new account on may 2013 and name it teapotato. inspired by hyuna ice cream mv.

gomawa for coming to my blog. its pleasure to have you guise here. ps/ owner blog neh memang over tahap dewa.

site materials
○ backgrounds
○ favicons
○ headers
○ doodles 1
○ smilies
○ doodles 2

tutorials
○ cute dekstop
○ desktop buddies

    

how to put a favicon in blogskin
<link rel="shortcut icon" href="faviconimagelinkhere">
copy and paste the code under [title] & [/title]

tutorial:
this is a tutorial on how to change your dull desktop into something cute. idk how should i explain it lmao.

here is some example. hope this help dull > bright

 Summer Love (Link)
 Merry Go Round (Link)
 Harmonia Pastelis (Link)
 Tutorial Change icons (Link)

do download and extract no 1,2 and 3. and then use no 4 as a guideline on how to change the icon. thats it.

if you have any questions mind to ask mr google B)