Mourning and Healing

this was meant to be blogged earlier. because it was something that happened over the weekend. but i only managed to find some time now.

sometimes the biggest epiphanies hits you between the eyes when you least expect it to.

spent the wee hours of sunday crying quietly in bed.

spent saturday night out celebrating a good buddy's birthday, ex-housemates from 'the apartment'. the scandalous apartment. the one with booze parties and things that happen with booze parties. u get the picture.

there's something i wanna say to someone who shared that table that saturday night.

**

thank you. i took up that dare because i needed to feel like a woman again. because i needed to heal.

no, i didn't realise it then. all i felt then was depression, and pain suppressed so deeply in me, it took all i had to not go back to the darkness i thought i had left behind when i moved out.

of course, you probably didn't realise i was doing that. how could you, when i barely realised it myself?

i'm not even sure anyone at that booze party realise the fragile mask i had put on. the anger and frustration behind the smile. the mask-it was pure china, all of it.

there were signs, though, i normally don't start a drinking session by sculling whiskey neat, immediately. shot after shot of it. special brew, to boot. i like to start my drinking session slow and easy, normally.

i wonder if anyone noticed the craziness in my eyes. then again, i was wearing my glasses. it was dark. and i act crazy all the time. add to that the fact that everyone was trying to knock themselves out. no, i guess not.

i'm sorry if knowing this now would make you feel used. i don't mean it to. i didn't even realise it then. i suppose we'd always be teased about it. which is fine by me. i did ask for it by taking up your challenge. after all... i was single then, and so were you. you liked it then, and so did i.

and though i suspect you too, were harbouring your own dirty little depressing secret, it was still no excuse.

i doubt you know what you did for me. how broken i was inside then. how i curled myself up into a little ball every night as i wrapped myself around the middle in the protective foetal position while i sobbed myself to sleep. how i hated what i did, what had happened, what i had allowed myself to happen, how i allowed it to happen, how i allowed him to treat me the way he did, who i was.

how i felt the secrets and lies and deceit were too much for me to bear, and the burden of holding it was crushing me underneath it's weight. how i felt i could speak to no one, and the loneliness of that was choking me. how i feared for my own sanity, and the depression was so dark, holding me in it's visceral grip, i felt i could never set myself free.

i lost perspective. i lost confidence. i lost my sense of self. i lost sight. i lost sense. i lost hearing. i lost touch. with myself. with reality. self-preservation. self-worth. self-confidence. all slowly came crumbling down in a span of several ugly months.

yet i have no regrets. i'm a success. it's only a failure, only a regret if i never learnt from it. i did. i still do. it was hard-fought, hard-earned, and terribly pricey, but i came out a victor at the end. battered, bruised, left for dead, but i survived. i made it, and i'm stronger, and happier, and, hopefully, wiser.

so i do have to thank you for helping me heal... i suppose the moment i sculled that shot, and took your hand to get on that balcony, i made a conscious decision to start forgetting and start healing. quick. who better to make me feel like a sexpot again than one known for making women quiver within a 30-mile radius? after having had my face rubbed into horse manure, over and over again, it was high time to wipe the tears, wash myself, put on my best clothes and sexiest strut and have me some sexytime.

and it worked. better than i myself thought. it was a confidence-booster. it was sewing up old hurts and storing them away. it was knowing i still have it in me to make a man perk up and take notice. i needed that, and you gave it to me, with or without knowing you did it.

and although things almost got out of hand, i'm glad things didn't get further than they did, though. it shouldn't, and it didn't. so let's just keep what happened there where it is. i wouldn't change what happened on the merit of what i got out of it. i consider it a gift, and i thank you for it.

i know you liked it as much, but i sure hope it wasn't a regret. we've both moved on from there, after all.

like they say: all's well that end's well. que sera sera.

I'm THAT FAT meh???

i've been told i'm insane.

i've been told i'm cheeky.

not too long ago, i was a Class A nerd. like, seriously! :P

aye, i think i still am.

so i don't quite know where to place myself.

all i know is, i've always been odd. not queer, darling, i appreciate way too much the aesthetic beauty of the male body to swing the other way, much to my dismay. as a quite-nearly-there faggy boy (well, at least, he acts faggy sometimes) once told me: turning bi-curious doubles your chances of getting laid. :P to which i replied: hunny, i ain't got no trouble gettin' laid, babe.

so yeah, i don't quite know where i stand sometimes. a cheeky class A nerd?

anyway, i was walking at a prominent shopping complex yesterday evening with two of my galpals, we were about to go home after a swanky dinner. yep, girls like to pamper themselves. :) boys, note this, and note it well: the better ur woman feels about herself, the better she'd make u feel. really, she'd make u one happy happy boy. of course, that is if both of u really like each other enough to care. that goes without saying, no?

there was an OSIM promotion going on. well, one of the salesboys were trying to convince us to try their product. unfortunately the poor boy was pointing to the uZap poster, while trying to convince my friend. oooo.....

ok, none of us make a stick insect look curvy. and honestly, i like my ass JUST the way it is, thank you very much. at least if i'm getting screwed, my man ain't gonna feel no pain after 6 hours straight of thrusting. that way, he can do more of it in the morrow. ok?

so no, i don't wanna weigh under 45kgs. i know, MOST (not ALL) moronic chinese boys like their females plank-like. meaning: 'front dun have, back dun have', please sway like a waterlily, listen to everything i say, cling to me like a barnacle and never let me go even if i do u sooo sooooooo bad. cos my self-esteem can't take no shit from no real woman.

my poor friend. she was trying to ignore him. he was insistent. biasa-lerrr, salesman. so i spoke loudly to the friend between us: Just tell him laaa..... i'm THAT FAT meh???

friend B stared at me, shocked. friend A turned her attention away from salesman towards me. salesman was shocked for awhile then quickly recovered and said: Not fat.... massage maa.....

all three of us burst out laughing, and walked away.

kekeke.....

insane meh? evil meh? just mischievous laaa.... having been brought up constantly under the hawk-like eyes of my very watchful parents, i'm just making up for lost time. ;)

slow day and my thoughts

slow day and my thoughts

I'm sleepy. Stayed out quite late two nights in a row.

Spent Valentine's at Nirwana's chatting till almost two 'cos we were on an interesting topic, and we forgot the time.

I found that my thought processes are so much more masculine/ cold/ practical/ different then most of my female peers at this stage. And yet it saves me a lot more heartache than if I didn't think that way. The problem is always when I allow someone to cross from one compartment where I've placed them to another.

Yumchar yesterday and talked nonsense till late. :D Nice, but I had trouble waking up this morning. Tried another route to work today. Slightly faster, i.e. can have a bit more of my precious sleep :)

Bought two flowy, loosely-fitting, slinky, 3/4-sleeved, geometrically-patterned cotton dresses yesterday. And a pair of cotton pants that are so comfy :) Why is it that I always end up spending money when I'm unhappy? And frustrated? And alone? I've been binge-ing on chocolate as well. Sighs.

Not that the dresses aren't lovely. They are. But but but... I wanna buy new bra and knickers. And lingerie. And shoes. I need to throw out a lot of my old ones and buy a pair that I can use everyday and that can last. Dammit. I need money for that. I don't need two pair of dresses that make me look and feel very sexy, but which I might not be using as often.

I hate the feeling of losing control. Especially of giving in to temptation. There's a word for it. It's called L-U-S-T. The purchase of those dresses is the embodiment of lust in its purest form: I want. I get.

I is a very bad gurl....