Vicissitudes

I had decided a while back that I'd like to try a new life somewhere before I'm 30.

But things never seemed to go the way I wished it to.

For awhile, I despaired. I wondered why everyone seemed so sure and so settled, yet I'm still floundering like a fish out of water.

Things were very difficult. I was getting very tired in my personal life, I was tired of fighting what always seemed inevitable....

I was also tired of the place I was living in, and I was looking to move out....

At work, my team was getting bullied, and so, slowly, one by one, they were all leaving... yet it seemed like I was the only one who was left behind.

And so I prayed.... I applied elsewhere, I sought guidance... I told My Lord... this is what I'm hoping for... but let Your Will be done... I put my life in Your gentle hands, I let myself be guided by Your Wisdom.... I know that You will let things happen, when You see fit, in Your time, not in mine.

Months passed. Things seemed to get from bad to worse.

Personally, I felt I was not going to wait for things to get better, I stopped fighting. I guess in a way, a part of me kind of died inside. And I let it die. I explained things, I tried what I can, but I suppose I stopped wondering. I stopped asking. I don't know if I stopped caring, perhaps I never will, but I stopped trying to take the burden of it on my shoulders.

I had my own life to live now. And so I decided I should live it.

I should celebrate life, so that if I should face death, I will have no regrets.

I spoke up at where I was staying. I said I was unhappy, I said I didn't wanna care so much anymore. I know one of them took offence, but I decided, if things don't change by May, I'd just leave this place behind me.

As for work, I had decided I'm looking elsewhere, but if there's nothing, I'd consider just resigning and going home for some re-assessment.

I asked for help. I sent my resumes here, there, anywhere I can get help.

I'm still seeing dragonflies. As many as two years ago again, and as consistently. I wondered if it's a sign, and I prayed again that He shall reveal Himself to me in His time and in His way.

And I got my answer. Last night, my prayer was answered. I have an offer. Quite good at that. In a neighbouring place....

I'm afraid, to be honest... It's not easy uprooting oneself and transplanting myself somewhere else. It's not easy giving up everything I've built for myself for 9 years here. It's not easy leaving my comfort zone.... but I felt I must. It's a push I have not felt for a long long time....

I asked for a sign, and it couldn't be clearer than this... Someone told me once: if you don't get something you asked for, don't despair, it just means that it's not meant for you, and God has a better plan for you.

Perhaps I'm ready now, and God wants me to go follow my heart.

I'm afraid, this may make or break everything. This may make or break me. I pray the Good Lord grants me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change... the courage to change the things that I can.... and the wisdom to know the difference....

I'm learning... to celebrate life....

To honour, love and respect.

these are going to be short essays, distilled essences of thoughts over many months. after all, brevity is the soul of wit.

been wanting to write so many things:

about life. how it's so fleeting. so fragile. a friend of mine was so shaken, because her friend died in a horrible car accident. just a week prior, they had chatted about how she'd be starting a new life in another place, where my friend was. a week later, news filtered through that she had died in a horrible car crash. what irony. what meaninglessness. what an awful waste. so much potential. so much passion. so much youth. *snap!* and it's gone. like a bunny in a magician's hat.

and yet, how much do we really know a person? we can spend an entire lifetime with a person, and in his/ her death, be stunned by how little we know.

but life.... it's so unpredictable. so short. so seemingless meaningless at times. yet so powerfully moving at others.

life is fragile. and painful. and beautiful.

i told you: i wish i could've made more of an impact in other people's life. i wish i could've left school at 24 and traversed the world in help of the needy. my next manicure, my heartbreaks over men would've paled so much in comparison to 8 year olds dying of AIDS in my arms. or a pregnant young woman of 14 sobbing her heart out on my shoulder as i tended to the ugly purple welts on her body caused by the lashings of her poor drunken husband 12 years older than she was/ or her pimp who wants her to have an abortion. who am i? what difference can i make?

i told you: when i died, i'd like for as much of my organs to be donated to as many who'd need them, and the remains to be cremated, and the ashes be scattered over a flower bed. because i believe that's how life cycles in the greater scheme of things should be. with death, should come life. and that's why i don't smoke. and i try to keep myself in as good a shape as i can. someone else may need my liver and my heart more than i do.

i'm morbid.


about families. how they shape us. how they love us no matter how much we hurt them. how they welcome the prodigal son with open arms. how much they can hurt us. how much we can hurt them. and yet ultimately, how much we are bonded together no matter what the circumstances. and if familial ties are good, how much they protect.


about love - old loves, new loves. fleeting love, everlasting love. who's to say one impacts us less than another? who's to say the passion of a love of one month is less painful than one that lasts a span of 50 years? after all, both are imprints in the cement of our heart and our soul. they may erode with time, but the outline would always remain. the past may be the past, but the past helped shaped the future. and unless, like the rest of our world's problems, we learn from history, the past would always come back and haunt us. in the shape of the present.

after all, it's been said that our experiences are repetitive from the experiences we've learnt in our formative years. and so, the rest of our lives are repetitions of our childhood experiences. we react to stimuli the way we were taught to react in childhood. and the only other new experience that we would learn in adulthood/ post-pubescence would be the sexual climax. after that, we'd be repeating our initial sexual experience. we'd react to it as we were taught to in that initial experience and repeat it with future partners.

is that how love is as well?

it's been said that men (and perhaps women) have 4 loves in their lives:

1. the love of his/ her childhood (aka childhood sweetheart, puppy love, etc.)
2. the love of his/ her youth (possibly first real love, the one that made a bigger impact, first cut, etc.)
3. the love of his/ her manhood/ womanhood (the love that was made as a mature, responsible adult, one where he/ she assesses compatibility, lifestyle choices, background, etc. rather than profess undying love due to passion, sexual compatibility, physical attraction, etc. you get the idea)
4. the love of his/ her deathbed (where his/ her partner lives to watch him/ her die. the one where he/ she wakes up next to the creaking bones of his/ her senescence. where he/ she smells that old people smell everyday. where he/ she puts up with his/ her failing bladder, falling hair, lack of sexual drive/ sexual ability. where he/ she is the one wiping the snot of his/ her nose because he/ she can no longer do it him/ herself, etc. you get the idea too)

it's said that it is already lucky to have 3 and 4 be the same person, some are luckier still to have 2, 3 and 4 be one and the same. some rare few have all 4 be the same man/ woman.

who's to say? in my grandmother's time, there was no chance or choice to bemoan and wonder if you had married the right person. one is married, and then falls in love. or maybe never fall in love at all, but learn to appreciate one's life partner. with two world wars to survive through, who has time to think whether the next door guy is a better lover/ husband?

but in today's world, in a time of relative economic, political and social peace, with technology crossing all manner of borders, where does one cross the line? you look at your friend's boyfriend and wonder if he'd make a better boyfriend to you. or you look at your friend's sister and wonder if you had made the wrong choice for a girlfriend. or your colleague. or your neighbour. or your friend. or your cyberpal, after one too many online flirtation. too many choices. too little conscience.

we're spoilt for choice. and yet we're ill-equipped to make the right ones.

and so, when i met a friend of mine last week, one i hadn't seen in years, and her brother, who i haven't spoken to in many many years too, with his wife of a year old, i was struck by how quietly and simply eloquent the inscription in their rings were: to honour, love and respect.

To honour, love and respect. Inscribed on the inside of a simple, white-gold wedding band. With the date of their wedding. Taken straight out of their marriage vows:

To honour, love and respect all the days of our lives.

Love. do we really know what it means? so overused. so underappreciated. said at the height of passion. forgotten the next morning. said at the honeymoon stage of a relationship. forgotten when things get rough. as they inadvertently do. said to a replacement when the fires of a previous relationship had barely cooled. thrown out the window at the first argument.

To honour, love and respect. They come together. In a trinity. that's how love lasts, after all.

To honour, love and respect. Do we really know how to do that?

Honour. Do we know what it means?

Love. Do we appreciate the full extent of its meaning?

Respect. Do we have enough of this for ourselves, and hence, other people?

To honour, love and respect. All the days of our lives. Think about it.

It's as much a huge commitment as it is a wonderful promise. Perhaps it is both.

Pieces

A fragile mind is always teetering on the very edge of madness.

Today, my new colleague of barely a month or so made an observation about me that hasn't been made in awhile. Perhaps it is true, gay men are more astute after all:

You're too nice. You're a doormat.

I suppose it's true.

Despite my layers of cynicism...
I WOULD LIKE to be proven wrong once in awhile.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to take a person's statements at face value.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to trust someone so completely, I could be spared the worry of being lied to, betrayed and backstabbed.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to be taken for who I am, and not have to worry about being compared with someone and found lacking.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to take someone just as s/he is without worrying about ulterior motives.

But that's not how it works, isn't it?

A young wise friend of mine once said: there's no such thing as true altruism in this world.

And oh! What a jaded thing to say from one so young. But as time goes by, I'm more and more tempted to just, one fine day, pack up everything I have, go into a jungle up in the mountains, and never be seen again.

Because at times, animals make better company than people, no matter how fascinating people can be.

They lack that self-absorbed egocentricism that people have, and which I have had frightening brushes with, in the not-too-distant past. It makes me wonder, at times, what I've done in a past life (if that's your kinda thing) to be such a magnet for people who ultimately end up using me as a psychological/emotional/mental bedrock. And when they think they're about done, they prepare to toss you like a ragdoll.

Thxbai.

After all, what does one do with a well that has run dry?

There's a fine line between fear and awareness.
There's a fine line between genius and madness.
There's a fine line between melancholy and depression.
There's a fine line between confidence and pride.
There's a fine line between solitude and loneliness.
There's a fine line between love and hate.
There's a fine line between life and death.

Thank you for the catharsis.

Randomness.

Pages

It's like I'm living a novel.

Within one page, there's an emotional high and an emotional low in the next paragraph itself.

It makes you go: wtf just happened?

Do I know? No.

I wonder why, somedays, myself. Why am I doing this? Why go to such trouble?

There goes my zen-ness.

Then I remember why. I wanna feel.

So I ask you: Don't you wanna feel too?

Embracing, the thought of tasting,
My mind's elaborate my heart is racing.
I'm waiting to escape in,
A strange reality a page I wanna paste in.
Why don't you hold my hand?

Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
What I wanna, what I wanna feel, feel!

Surrender, I won't defend ya,
Translation overload return to sender.
Are you mistaken, I won't be taken,
I really want it but I promise I'm not fakin'!
Why don't you hold my hand?

Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
What I wanna feel, what I wanna feel!

Feel, feel, feel.
Feel, feel, feel.
I really wanna, don't, don't you wanna?
Feel, feel, feel.
I really wanna, don't, don't you wanna?

Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
I think I wanna, don't you wanna, uh-huh, yeah yeah!

-Rogue Traders-Don't You Wanna Feel-

Unfinished

There are times when you come to mind.

And I wonder about what you're doing and how you are. And yet I never pick up the phone to call, in fact, I might have forgotten your number now. Funny, because only recently, I still did. Someone asked me if I have mental blocks. And I wonder if you're one of it.

And I wonder, too, what it would be if we were still talking.

I wonder about the what ifs, what could bes, and what might have beens.

I also wonder, what we would say to each other if we ever do cross paths in the future. Would I recognise your face if I see you again? Would you remember me? Would we pretend we didn't see each other and walk away? Or would we stop to say hello, even stop for a drink for old times' sakes?

I've no business wondering. I did force myself to forget.

And its strange that, almost always, invariably, the memory of you visits me when I'm at my saddest. When episodes of my life flashes before my closed eyes like seasons from a sitcom. So clear it was almost like yesterday.

In a way, perhaps, you're one of my regrets, if I have any. Perhaps because between you and I, its unfinished business.

So many things left unsaid, so much emotions left unspoken, so much left unexplained.

Although, I could, in a way, conclude from the lack of communication, a form of closure in itself, still, it's different than hearing it from you.

But perhaps, that always was our issue in the first place. You never really did speak much, and for myself, then, being young as I was, neither did I.

Henceforth, I promised myself that I would speak my mind, at whatever cost, because when it comes to you and I....

I just regret how things turned out.

Insomnia

movement... in the depths of my subconscious.

movement... the clock ticks. it slows down for no man or woman.

movement... restlessness. sleeplessness.

movement... and yet unseen. i feel it in the tingle on my skin. in the things i see between sleep and wakefulness. that no man's land. subtle... but it's there.

and last night for some reason, i couldn't sleep. something's afoot, and i know it. 0100 hours. 0300 hours. 0500 hours. 0700 hours. finally. o sleep, tis a gentle thing, beloved from pole to pole. to mary queen, the praise be giv'n, she sent the gentle sleep from heav'n, that slid into my soul. 0800 hours. and i'm awake.

the answer's on the calendar.

dammit. gotta put old demons to rest. watch em shrivel like an overturned snail covered in salt. it has to be SO over. i ain't hittin' 27 with a deadweight of shit on my shoulders.

so i dug into the demon-infested recesses of my memories, and revisited old wounds today. i don't know why i do this, sometimes. but i feel that i must do certain things only when i'm ready, and as a test to ascertain that i truly am ready to lay all ghosts to RIP.

the carousel... has stopped spinning. i've gotten off, finally. i walk away, but as i do, i look behind one last time. it had been quite a ride. there is a lot of sadness, and some nostalgia, a little bit of fondness. but i know full well the ride is over. and this would be one ride i would really rather not get on again.

i guess this explains it best:

No matter what you say about love
I keep coming back for more
Keep my hand in the fire
Sooner or later I get what I’m asking for

No matter what you say about life
I learn every time I bleed
The truth is a stranger
Soul is in danger I gotta let my spirit be free
To admit that I’m wrong and then change my mind
Sorry but I have to move on and leave you behind

I can’t waste time so give it a moment
I realize nothing's broken
No need to worry about everything I’ve done
Live every second like it was my last one
Don’t look back got a new direction
I loved you once, needed protection
You’re still a part of everything I do
You’re on my heart just like a tattoo
Just like a tattoo
I’ll always have you (I'll always have you)

Sick of playing all of these games
It’s not about taking sides
When I looked in the mirror didn’t deliver
It hurt enough to think that I could stop
Admit that I’m wrong and then change my mind
Sorry but I’ve gotta be strong and leave you behind

If I live every moment
Won’t change any moment
There's still a part of me in you
I will never regret you
Still the memory of you
Marks everything I do, oh

~Jordin Sparks, Tattoo~

the precipice... i realise now was a path i had to travel. a situation i had to experience to gain better insight into my own psyche. to better understand my motivations. the fall was painful and deeply depressing. but with it was a lesson so priceless, it was worth it all. to know who your true friends are, to realise why you make the mistakes that you do, is an epiphany that i would never give up now that i have the knowledge. self-knowledge is more potent than any other, perhaps because it is like taking one more step closer to God. He did, after all, make us in His likeness.

i have no regrets. the precipice happened for a reason, and even if the other party learnt nothing from it, i have done my part, and i have done my best.

this i walk away from without looking back at all. no nostalgia, no fondness, just self-awareness.

Memories are just where you laid them
Dragging the waters til the depths give up their dead
What did you expect to find?
Was it something you left behind?
Don't you remember anything I said when I said,

Don't fall away and leave me to myself
Don't fall away and leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands again
And leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands
Love lies bleeding
Oh hold me now I feel contagious
Am I the only place that you've left to go?
She cries her life is like
Some movie in black and white
Dead actors faking lines, over and over and over again she cries

And I watched as you turned away
You don't remember, but I do
You never even tried
Don't fall away and leave me to myself
Don't fall away and leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands again
Leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands again
Leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands again, oh

~Fuel, Hemmorhage~

This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin
Tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in
Now you're outside me
You see all the beauty
Repent all your sin

It's nothing but time and a face that you lose
I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose
I'll write you a postcard
I'll send you the news
From a house down the road from real love...

There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I'm not sorry I met you
I'm not sorry it's over
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save

I'M NOT SORRY THERE'S NOTHING TO SAVE...

~Stars, Your Ex-Lover Is Dead~

***
and as i toss and turn in my sad excuse for a bed last night, i wonder what the future has in store for me. so the demons are banished. what next?

this year has been difficult. yes i'm wiser now, i hope.

but all these just serves to tell me one thing. i know nothing. i can make no promises. all i have is me. and who i am now.

all of these just serves to remind me: i am of this earth. my life is not my own.

there is a greater power at work here. all i can do is plan. but whether or not my plans come to pass is not of my jurisdiction.

and i miss you. terribly.

have i ever told anyone: i find christmas a more subtly romantic event than valentine's? christmas is for family, and good friends, and cosy dinners. it's about passion and firelights. something of a reality rather than the candlelights of which dreams are spun.

and i miss you. terribly.

for one with such perpetual verbosity as i, the silence i find myself in now is plain insufferable.

and this christmas, words fail me.

so i suppose i'd just borrow janis gott's:

I know Santa is a friend of mine and he's always been good to me
Always treats me right every Christmas night puts things beneath my tree.
But the one thing I want him to bring has never been on his sleigh
It's always on my mind, a gift I'm hoping to find when I open my eyes on Christmas day

I want you to wrap your love around me like a big red Christmas bow
I want to feel your love surround me everywhere I go
And when the holidays are over no more tinsel, no more snow
Your love will still be wrapped around me like a big red Christmas bow

Take the stockings from the fireplace but leave the angel on the tree
To watch, protect and to direct your love straight down to me
Now close your eyes, here's my surprise, feel my heart if you need a clue.
It is yours alone for you to keep and to own in return I ask one thing of you.

I want you to wrap your love around me like a big red Christmas bow
I want to feel your love surround me everywhere I go
And when the holidays are over not a trace of mistletoe
Your love will still be wrapped around me like a big red Christmas bow
Your love will still be wrapped around me like a big red Christmas bow

~Janis Gott, Big Red Christmas Bow~

and again... i miss you. terribly.

Fragments

Sometimes the greatest journey is the distance between two people. Sometimes it's the distance between oneself and his emotions. And sometimes it's between a fallen one and salvation.

**

Have you ever had one of those moments, when all you wanted to do was disappear? Just. Disappear. Into the swirling, churning vortex of oblivion. Get lost in a city of billions. Drown in a sea of faces. Hide in the darkest shadows. Be common. Be nothing. Faceless. Nameless. Soulless. Nothingness.

**

Endless: Destiny, Death, Dream, Desire, Despair, Delirium, Destruction. Neil Gaiman is a genius. Dark, disturbing, but a genius nonetheless.

**

Boundaries...
At some point you have to make a decision.
Boundaries don't keep other people out.
They fence you in. Life's messy.
That's how we're made.
So you can waste your lives drawing lines,
Or you can live your life crossing them.

There was a time I related so well with some of the lines from Grey's Anatomy.

I'd rather live my life building bridges rather than erecting walls.... so explain to me why at times I feel an overwhelming need to build up my defenses. I'm not into attacking, most times I prefer to be left alone. But that never really works. So to avoid being completely crushed, I've always had to be constantly cautious, even defensive. And when I let down my guard occasionally, experience has taught me that it is, more often than not, a very bad move. So over and over again, after each crushing defeat, the defenses go up, higher with each subsequent time, faster in its rebuilding, thicker and stronger. And then up go the armaments.

I wish this weren't so. But tell me, how do I balance self-preservation and building bridges? Perhaps someday I'd have my answer that's out of the box. But for now, it's a terrible quandary.

**

I'm guessing it's either make it, or break it.

Foreign

Strange how the thing I'm frightened most of is myself. What I'm capable of. And the things I don't understand. And don't know. And in the stillness of the night I lie awake and wonder. If I'm a fool, or if I'm a coward. My gut clenches in fear and my heart pounds. It pounds so hard I wonder if my ribcage would burst open with the pressure.

Fear. It's a foreign vocabulary. This is foreign territory. And I'm a foreigner here.

The insecurities come doubling back. And I'm bent double from the onslaught. Merciless. Unstoppable. Sudden. With no room for weakness. No room to catch a breath. And I know not how to fight back. How to stop this.

Fear. It's a foreign vocabulary. This is foreign territory. And I'm a foreigner here. In a foreign land.

Foreign.

Asphyxiated Exhibit

Thursday, 25.10.2007. 1838 hours.

Today I felt as though I were a museum exhibit on display.

To be stared at, prodded, gawked at, quizzed about.

I know it's just the paranoia in me, but I couldn't help feeling like that.

I'm unused to unsolicited attention.

First by my friends, then by his friends.

Add the frustration of going nowhere with my stalled work, and the SLP being downright abrasive, and I felt ready to implode.

My privacy and my stagefright are probably two of several of my well-kept secrets.

Since both are going to ashes, I might as well come clean with them.

Like I told J around this time last year, though among my schoolmates (J's one of them), I was a known retired public-speaker, what they didn't know was how I'd break out in cold cold sweat, and my hands would shake each time I go out on stage. My father's training, and later my own public-speaking taught me to hide that initial nervousness. And obviously I learnt to do it well enough for people to not notice.

It's the same with my privacy. Behind the aggressive behaviour, the crazy laughter and the psychotic smile, I'm actually a very shy and intensely private person. I've trained myself to blush less. To ignore certain things. Yes, I'm used to a certain amount of attention. Doesn't mean I like all of it. Which is why I try to protect my privacy as much as possible. At least the innermost sanctuary where my many multiple personalities dwell. What's private to me, may not be private to someone else. To each their own.

I keep plenty of things close to my chest, I dislike laying down all my cards at once on the table to a person. Until I trust the person enough, am comfortable enough with sharing.

I dislike my private space disturbed. Few people know where I stay, even less are allowed into my room. Some call it anal, some call it freaky, but I like it that way. I make no apologies for my quirks.

My thoughts are even more so. I'm annoyed especially, with the SLP because he's an Extremely Invasive Man. Some things people just don't wanna tell you. Don't push it already. It's intrusive. A Transvaginal Ultrasound Scan plus Cervical Pap Smear is preferable to some of his choicest questions. For instance: "How can your father know everything. You mean he even knows who and how many men you had sex with?" This was less than a month from meeting him. And in front of colleagues to boot. I was so angry I could combust. No, I didn't. But the day I leave, I'm gonna tell him he's one obnoxious, snotty, irritating, egocentric little little asshole of a man. For now, it's 'Ignore Everything, Say Nothing.' Well, I can try. :(

To be asked so many private questions by so many people all at once, to then have my decision questioned at every turn, to later have a private conversation observed by others made me feel downright naked when I'm not ready to be. The unsolicited attention was enough to make me feel as though my private sanctum was intruded. Invaded. Without my permission. And then ransacked. I couldn't help getting my defenses up. It was a reflex defensive mechanism after all. And being used to standing up for myself and looking after my own interests on my own for the most part of my life, yes, I was downright defensive. And aggressively so.

I know I'm insane. Among other things. 'Prickly porcupine'. 'Cactus'. 'Seahorse'. 'More male than female'. 'Shrew'. An oxymoron. A walking contradiction. Anal, paranoid bitch. Psychotic, neurotic weirdo. :( I'm sorry. I make no excuses for all that.

No one owns the market on insecurities.

I'm trying. Learning to finally let go of my hang-ups, insecurities and plenty of little eccentricities, and then finally, and slowly, learning how to share my life so closely with another individual frightens me. It's difficult. At least for me.

I'm so used to being alone. I LIKE being alone. Independence is something I greatly appreciate. Having to answer to as little people as possible. That type of freedom to do what I want, when I want it. Behave however the fuck I want to. However the fuck I like. And the devil can fly with public opinion. Up yours, you know. Within the borderline norm of civic behaviour, of course.

Now I have to learn how to be a GIRL. Dammit. This isn't easy. Not for me, it's not. I was brought up to be with more boys than girls. To be more like a boy. To think like one, too. It was a counter-offensive measure.

Because girls, sadly, in the larger community, is treated more like a liability than an asset. Because in the larger scheme of things here, women are secondary to men. Dispensable. That's the ugly truth.

I would have liked that people could think that although men and women are equal, we are NOT the same. Men and women are made to complement one another. But it doesn't mean that women are all that different from men. Sigh.

I'm the female who told a guy in university who whined about women being difficult to understand and difficult to live with that: A hole is a hole to you, right? So if women are that difficult, go settle down with a pinata la!!

Fine. I'm aggressive when I get my defenses up. :( No one likes the truth being thrust in their faces, I suppose. Yes, damn macho. :(

Being a girl. I wonder if I could do that. This is worse than being given 1 week to study for a Physics exam. At least there, only I would get hurt if I fail. :(

I know this news is THE bomb, Myocardial Infarction-worthy. It being a first, it's a novelty, too. But I'm trying to get used to this whole idea myself. Still currently trying to slowly feel my way. Groping half-blind in the half-dark, in a way.

Cut me some slack, people. I'm not a lab specimen. I'm not a goldfish living in a fishbowl. Give me some room to breathe. Please. I feel asphyxiated.

3 random things...

3 random things of the day...

1) i find i've started blogging again.... hmm... it's like a drug... i can't stop :P but i wonder... does this also mean i'm ok now? :) i kinda stopped blogging cos well, some things are just too painful to be put into words. at least, not then. but i think i should archive it here. so that 10 years from now, i can look back, see what went on in my schizo head, and laugh at myself for being so unbearably stupid. :D rebounds are no good. no good at all. :)

2) my pineapple tarts are here!! yummy!!! time to collect from crazywoman :) but gotta pay up, too. with that creature (:P) nothing is free. but ahh.. i never expect things to be anyway. :D

3) you ask me if/when you can have me. honestly, you'll never have me. just the parts of me that i'm able to share with you. :) maybe you've been going about things all wrong then? complete possession is never the answer. yeah. i speak from experience. shadows from my past that could possibly rival yours. shadows very few people know of. and which took me almost 2 years to finally open up to someone about. and only because that someone was leaving :P and then things got easier. shadows that still haunt me to this day. because he still calls. and still texts. but i would never pick up anymore. because he doesn't exist. not to me. yes i can be cold. so cold it burns. like liquid nitrogen. are you sure you know what you're doing?

Finality

17.08.2007. 1942 hours.

I finally took the steps I should have taken long ago on my own accord today.

Finally.

The finality weighted down on me. But it had to be done. Considering how he was a selfish coward to the end, and how finally, that selfish cowardice turned into a cruelty so crippling, its consequences on me, he would never see, and, if I had my way, he'd never know.

He probably never thought twice about it, but he would criticise all but one of my five senses: sight, smell, taste, touch, hearing. The only thing he didn't complain about was my voice. Perhaps, given time, he might have started criticising that as well.

It makes me wonder now: What type of little person was he, that he had to put me down, especially after a particularly intimate moment?
If I had doubts about my self-esteem, his criticism would have destroyed me.
Was that what he was seeking to do? What did he get out of such behaviour? But I no longer want to know.

Looking back now, there are some aspects to our situation then that I did not understand, which I do now. It casts an even greater shadow on the memory.

It makes me wonder, too, if everything he did then, had a hidden agenda. The thought made me blanch, but I suppose I have to face the consequences of my choice. So I made a mistake. A huge one.

I suppose if I were he, I wouldn't be able to help not just having the emotional range of a teaspoon, but also the psychological range of a pinhead.

I feel sorry for him.

But I can't spend the rest of my life playing counselor. And I won't take being used and abused again.

Someday he may finally come to his senses.
Someday he may learn to be less selfish.
Someday he may no longer be a coward.
Someday he may finally grow up and be a man.
But someday is too long to wait.

Someday might be tomorrow. Someday might be his deathbed.
Someday is a word he uses when he doesn't want to make a commitment.

Someday I may learn to trust and respect him again.
Someday I may learn to like him as a person once more.
Someday we might share once more the camaraderie we used to share.
Someday I may no longer feel as hurt as I do now.

But for now, I would rather keep it like this.

It would be as though we never met again.

I would remember him as the boy I used to know in school.

I'd wipe out as best I can, my memory of him as the charred holey remains of a shell I met again years later.

Because no matter how hard I tried to fill that shell, I could never do so.
No matter how much tears I filled it up with, it never did fill.

So I've stopped trying. It's too late for me.
Perhaps not for him, but for me.

Because it hurts to feel used.
Because it hurts to feel cheated on.
Because it hurts to care and yet realise it's one-sided.
Because it hurts to love a person incapable of loving.
Because it hurts to feel stupid and question your own judgment.
Because it hurts to know you've been betrayed.
Because it hurts to ask yourself:
'You hurt me more than I deserve, how can you be so cruel? I love you more than you deserve, why am I such a fool?'

Love and acceptance has to be borne, it cannot be expected from someone else.
If you hold someone's hand, you would never let it go. But it you ask someone to hold yours, you never know when you would be let go of.
You have to love and accept yourself first, before someone else can love and accept you. Because truly, how the world sees you, is how much you see, and show of, yourself to the world.

I suppose that truth is something he would never understand. Partly because he has never really wanted to try. An empty peace without true commitment is always what he had sought after. He is still a spoilt, selfish, cowardly little brat. A wilful 4-year-old who throws tantrums when he doesn't get what he want. Took me awhile to see that, and come to terms with it. All the women in his life, he had never treated well. Not the first, not the second, not the third, not the fourth, and not even his mother. He had never had enough respect for anyone of them to tell anyone of them the full truth at all times.

He hates himself. TOO much. And he expects other people to fill that gap in his life. To make him feel good about himself. To keep him from hating himself. He doesn't realise only he himself can do that for himself.

I refuse to live like that. Yet that is the very painful truth I had to finally come to terms with. That was what sealed the decision for me. A boy who has no respect for his parents, and who hates himself, is extremely flawed in character.

And the truth is, no matter how elitist this may sound, but Oprah Winfrey was right. We should surround ourselves only with people who would lift us up, not drag us down.

I hope this would be the end of it. The last of it. I'm turning my wounds into wisdom. Because I know, the way we're meant to be is that where there is no struggle, there is no strength.

Perhaps that was his problem from Day 1. But it's no longer my problem. It never was in the first place. All he's ever done for me was tell me 'No'. No, I wasn't good enough. No, I wasn't hot enough. No, I wasn't skinny enough (I should weigh less than 45kgs). No, I didn't smell good enough. No, No, No. Fuck it, he had never earned the right to tell me Yes in the first place. So why take a No?

'When it comes to being lucky, he's first,
When it comes to loving me, he's the worst.'

Here are more of my favourite quotes from the Great Coloured Lady:

1. Never take a 'no' from somebody who isn't in a position to give you a 'yes' in the first place.

2. We are each responsible for our own life - no other person is or even can be.

3. The thing you fear most has no power. Your fear of it is what has the power. Facing the truth really will set you free.

4. If you want your life to be more rewarding, you have to change the way you think.

5. I believe the choice to be excellent begins with aligning your thoughts and words with the intention to require more from yourself.

6. You are built not to shrink down to less but to blossom into more.

7. It is confidence in our bodies, minds and spirits that allows us to keep looking for new adventures, new directions to grow in, and new lessons to learn - which is what life is all about.

8. I believe that one of life's greatest risks is never daring to risk.

9. For everyone of us that succeeds, it's because there's somebody there to show you the way out. The light doesn't always necessarily have to be in your family.

10. We can't become what we need to be by remaining what we are.

11. I know that you cannot hate other people without hating yourself.

Anywhere but here...

Saturday, 16.06.2007. 2332 hours.

I don't know what to say.
I don't know what to do.

There's no more biting sarcasm,
no acrid cynicism,
no sharp witticism,
no painful bitterness.

We've reached our pinnacle, I suppose.

It's now or never.

We either make it or break it.

He can't let go. I'm not sure I know why. Perhaps, I'm not quite sure I want to know right now.

All I know is that what's been said and done cuts deep... very deep.

And it's very painful, and very difficult for me to stay.

Perhaps, with time, with effort, with patience, the wounds will heal.

I'm not sure how, I'm not sure when, but I can only pray that it be soon.

But for now...
We'll take each day as it comes.

Because right now...
I'm all out of words...
There's nothing left to say.

Except, perhaps...

I wanna be anywhere...
anywhere at all...
anywhere but here...

Snowflakes

Saturday. 09.06.2007. 1000 hours.

When I finally confessed to a friend about everything that's happened, she was first, speechless, then, disgusted, finally, disappointed.

I don't blame her. I felt waaaayyyy worse. There was a period when I didn't want to look at myself in the mirror.

Then she said: 'Forget.'
But I said: 'It won't be so easy. We share close mutual friends.'

It was true. From 2001-2007, he was probably one of the worst. But unlike the rest, he was the only one with whom I couldn't completely cut off ties.

The other Top Three Jackasses on my list:

1. The Doctor was easy to ignore. Don't pick up calls, don't reply text, don't answer e-mails. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. He was as good as dead to me.

2. Mr. Churchie-Wurchie wasn't so easy. But still, easier. One mutual friend moved to Aussie, and he didn't really keep in touch with that one, anyway. The other pissed me off so much, that I refused to talk to this one, and cut off ties, too. How very convenient. It was easier after that. It was like the Fates were on my side.

3. But this one isn't as easy. Fate doesn't seem to be on my side. We have close mutual friends that meet regularly. We have unfinished business together that I can't just leave behind. It was as though the Fates conspired to make me suffer and keep him in my sights. Or me in his. Whatever.

This I explained to her.

She said: 'The next time u wanna do something stupid, let me know, so I can whack u on the head with an iron bar.'

Then: 'You've successfully survived years in (insert name of Alma Mater here), don't tell me you can't endure a few hours with mutual friends?'

She's right. Growing up in Alma Mater a four-eyed pizza face, with all teachers knowing my parents, and not being rich, or pretty, in a school full of, and obsessed with, spoilt, rich, beautiful brats wasn't easy. (I'm generalising, remember. Not all are like that).

She knows what I went through. She could tell me WHY I was constantly ridiculed and made fun of.

There's a difference, though. I didn't care then. I phased out most of the time. Like The Doctor, and Mr. Churchie-Wurchie, I COULD not care.

This one got under my skin. Many nights I cry myself to sleep wondering why I cared so much, why he did what he did, and why I allowed myself to be so emotionally vulnerable. And the tears flow again, as I wonder how he could do it, after knowing what he did about all I've gone through. How he could change so much. How he could manipulate and choose a time when I'm most emotionally vulnerable to make me pay for the sins of his other women.

Why did he have to make everything so complicated?

Yes, I could endure the times when I have to face him. I could survive that as I've survived everything else before this.

Two years ago, at 3am on a cold, quiet morning in PH, Diana and I were swapping stories. She of her then boyfriend of 5 years, and me of everything else. No, I had yet to meet Mr. Sel-Imposed-Contrariness then. Diana was shocked. 'For a girl your age, I'm surprised you have gone through all that in such a short span of time. Some girls never go through any of that at all in their whole life.'

'No. And they're the lucky ones. I didn't actively seek them out. I don't consciously put myself here.'

Looking back, maybe I subconsciously do this to myself. Maybe, like my friend says, I seek affection. I can do everything myself. There's nothing I can't do. I've been trained from childhood to be so independent, it can be frightening. And yet, I'd like it if someone could do it once in awhile for me for a change.

Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I should want them even less than I need them. And I already need nothing from them.

My friend says, as I was stuffing stuffed mushrooms into my already stuffed mouth (O_O): 'At the end of this... 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8th mushroom, he no longer exists. Comprende?'

Looking at my friend of many years, good and bad, through our own fall-outs, I suddenly felt thankful. There are friends, and then there are Friends.

You know you've been friends long enough and well enough when you can just sit quietly together and not feel the need to say anything.

You know you've been friends well enough when words are unnecessary to express how you feel.

You know you've been friends well enough when you know what the other is thinking without the other person saying anything.

You know you've been friends well enough when one look is enough to convey what's on your mind. And you know the other person knows what it means.

You know you've been friends well enough when you can finish each other's sentences.

You know you've been friends long enough and well enough, most of all, when you know the person will have your back, and that the person is someone you can run to when you've nowhere to go, and that's the person you can trust with your blackmail-worthy secrets.

'Yes', I said quietly.

But what she doesn't know was that writing was how I endured Alma Mater.

I wrote on sheet after sheet of long F4 paper. Not stopping until I was done.

When I discovered my parents read them, I either set them on fire, or tore them into little snowflakes.

I would have liked to read them now, though. I've often wondered what my 20 something self would think of me at 10, 12, 14, 16, 18 years old. What murderous intentions did I have then? O_O

So this is how I would endure. This here is my catharsis. I would not speak of him in real life again, unless and until things changes between us (which I put no hope or faith in, sad to say, I really never wished things would end this way).

I would put my thoughts on cyberspace. Only here would I allow myself to truly speak my mind. These are my snowflakes.

When the sun rises in the morning, they would melt, dry up and disappear in the glow of the morning sun.

And they would be no more but distant memories.

Listening to:
Guns N Roses' November Rain (Acoustic)
Butterfly Boucher's I Can't Make Me
Travis' Writing To Reach You

The Precipice Pt. 3

Friday. 08.06.2007. 2033 hours.

It's been a long time. It feels like forever since I've been plunged headlong, and I've walked the Valley of Darkness.

The screams. The cries. The moans. The gritting of teeth. The stench of death. The pain all around. The seemingly endless road to travel. No stops. No rest. Only exhaustion. Only pain. Travelling that endless road filled with dark gravel, crawling on my knees. With all that torture, all that gore, all that blood, all that tears around me.

I've only come to realise that it's all mine. That endless mire of frustration and exhaustion is mine.
The tears are mine.
The blood is mine.
The screams,
the groans,
the moans,
the cries,
the gritting of teeth.
They all belong to me.
The stench of death is the stench of my death.
The pain is mine.
The long road is mine.
It's all mine.

He may have taken me to the precipice, he may have pushed me off it. But I didn't climb. It took me so long to realise that all the horrors of that valley belonged to me. Yet I stupidly trudged on, on my knees, hoping to find light at the end of that darkness.

Who was I to call him stupid? I was even more so. How much better am I, when I did the exact same thing he is doing, just because he took me along?

I could've climbed. But I chose to stay. And walk on my knees. Maybe I thought he needed someone to walk with him. Maybe I thought he'd be sad and lonely. Maybe I thought he'd walk with me. But he'd all but disappeared. He had always been walking with someone else, and that someone else is the one he chooses to walk with, while I had to walk the route alone.

Yes, I am disappointed in him. But that is nothing compared to the disappointment I feel in myself.

He is a fool, yes. But I am a bigger one.

And to hear both being shouted over the tops of the mountains by trusted friends was enough to set things in motion for me.

I shall not live in the darkness of my blindness any longer. Not when there's surgery available.

If he still chooses to traverse that darkness, so be it. I can't change a stupidly arrogant and stubborn boy-man, who refuses to listen. I won't even try.

If he wants to waste his time, he can. But I refuse to let him waste mine anymore.

The route has been cut through the valley. There's now a path of escape. The price to pay, like everything in life, is to cut off the shackles binding my hands and feet. That I must do myself. And the climbing, I have to do on my own.

He could come with me. I have shown him what the valley was, and the path to freedom.

But I can't cut his shackles, and I can't do his climbing for him. That he must do on his own.

All children learnt to crawl and walk on their own. All children stumble and fall. All children were taught and encouraged to walk properly, but they have to do the walking and stumbling and getting up again on their own.

Someone commented we looked almost alike. That we looked good together. Like a pair. Like we have an amazingly strong bond, a chemistry. After seeing us only once. For a few hours. When we barely spoke to each other. Maybe. Maybe we have a bond, a chemistry. Complicity. Maybe we look good together. Like each other.

Well, so what? Yes, chemistry and bond is important, but there's only so much that can do.

For instance, take ballroom dancers. A perfectly matched ballroom-dancing couple can make the art look so effortless, so easy, so heartbreakingly beautiful. It's like they move as one, although they're separate entities. Like they were born to it.

But no matter how perfectly matched they are, and how wonderful they look together, it counts for nothing if one partner refuses to dance.

Bond, or no bond, chemistry or no chemistry, glorious perfection or not, it amounts to nothing. Nada. Zilch.

I'd do better to dance with someone else.

Funny how the only thing he could say in response, after the stunned silence all around when another party clarified the situation, was: 'No, I don't have that many pimples.'

For an articulate, wordy, sarcastic girl, after the first initial bombshell, this hurtful rudeness left me speechless. But perhaps my silence was more than enough to make a statement. Even his friend said: 'That wasn't a nice thing to say.'

No. It wasn't. He isn't nice. He may like to think he is, but he isn't.

If I were to count his sins, big and small, against me, it would take an entire lifetime of utter devotion to make it up to me, and then some.

Barring his parents, he probably owes me more than he owes anyone else in his life. To be used as a tool and then discarded isn't a nice feeling at all.

He isn't nice. Not at all. And I was stupid.

He can stay and rot with the perpetrator of all his nastiness and negativity, since that's what he wishes. The longer he stays, the worse he'll become, but that could no longer be my concern.

He probably doesn't realise that nastiness eats at the soul. He's becoming soul-less. I could not believe he said what he did, so swiftly, so humiliatingly, so publicly. The longer he stays there, the worse he's become. It's like the men of Pirates' Davy Jones' Flying Dutchman.

Part of the ship, one with the ship. Ugly, misshapen, horrendous to look at. He's turning into that. Part of the nastiness. One with the nastiness.

He's nasty. He wasn't in the past, when I knew him first, but he is now. And which matters more, really? The past, or the present? We can't change our past. But it's our present that shapes the future. So many people forget that.

If he so chooses, I'd take his hand, and we'd make that climb together. But I won't wait for him. With or without him, I'm making that climb out of this hellhole. The love and support of my friends awaits me. Happiness and brightness awaits me. Laughter and peace awaits me. After all that personal suffering that I bore so long on my own, I deserve to bask in the light of the honest and the true. And the genuine and the caring.

Unlike Bond, I get only one shot at life. Now that I have to work late nights in KL City Centre itself, I might get viciously raped and brutally murdered walking home tomorrow. I'd never know. He's wasted enough of my time. He's plunged me, unwary, without warning, into abyssmal darkness. His abyss. His darkness. The blackness of his increasingly soul-less spirit. And he made it mine.

Now that I've found a way out, he can come with me, and I'd take his hand, if he so chooses. Only if he wants to. But I won't wait. With, or without him, I'm making that climb.

Training, Dreams, Accountability

Sunday, 22.04.2007. 2358 hours.

Had training workshop yesterday. Something interesting came up in training. Big boss was saying that psychologically our value and belief systems could help us progress, or serve as limitations to hinder our growth.

I should list 10 of my values (and find out why I place value on these) and see if they limit or help me in my progress. I should also note if there is a shift in my value system.

I've been wondering about this of late myself. Why did I do what I did? Is there anything in my beliefs that limit me? Are my principles holding me back? Should I discard/ Have I discarded my values?

There's someone I know, whose approach to life saddens me. But is he right? Is he happy with where he is, and where he's going? Or is it just that he's never really given much thought to it?

I don't know, really. Let's see if BB's approach would help me find some answers. About myself:

Values:

1. Trust
2. Honesty
3. Reliability
4. Loyalty
5. Integrity
6. Responsibility
7. Accountability
8. Filial piety
9. Wisdom
10. Maturity
11. Understanding
12. Gentleness
13. Patience
14. Passion
15. Humility

Well, I'm not sure it helps. But, what the hell.

These are values I find important, which I seek to practise, and instil in myself, and I look for in others. These are values that, when I break them, I find myself breaking down as well.

Are these impeding my growth as a person? Limitting me in my search for success and happiness? Stopping me from holding on to things and people? Do these serve me? Or a greater purpose?

I slept in snatches last night. For the first time in a long time, I dreamt. Vivid, clear images. People I know. Fights. Children. A story. I couldn't remember it, except for the last thing before I woke to full consciousness. A drawing taped to a fridge:

Learn to live together.

I know not what it means. Seems I know very little of what things mean lately. I suppose it'd come to me eventually.

Little Boss remarked that I'm not my usual bubbly self. And yesterday, S mentioned the same to me. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. We're close enough, he's a man who notices things.
S: You ok, dear? You don't seem yourself. Everything alright?
N: Huh? What do you mean? I'm fine.
S: You sure? You just don't seem to be your usual bubbly self.
N: I need food. Hungry.
S: Ok...

S gave me a once-over and left it at that. That's one thing I like about him. He doesn't push me to give answers I don't want to give.

Was it that obvious, though? He says I've lost weight again. I know that, but I attributed it to work.

But now that I'm haemorrhaging again, I wonder if there's more to it.

Sleepless nights. My job's been keeping me busy. I get home exhausted and fall into bed. And sleep a dreamless slumber, most nights. I'm glad for it.

I feel like an empty well, lately. Drained, run dry. The source has stopped producing water, but water keeps getting drawn out of me till there's nothing left to give. That's how I feel. Drained, empty, used up. Weary and exhausted. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally. I feel it to my bones.

Perhaps I hadn't had time to fully come to terms with what happened last. Everything happened so rapidly. And now this. It's all come together. It's like two constructive wave forms integrating. And I'm getting a double whammy.

More than twice in shock and force.

I wish I could just take off and go away alone for some alone time to search, reflect and meditate. To some retreat. Or to go home to be pampered. And scolded and fussed over. I am getting homesick.

But not now I can't. Too many responsibilities. The projects have all come in. It's a busy time.

Accountability. It's something I know. I'll have to put that off awhile.

Working myself to the ground seems the next best option for now.

**
24.04.2007. 0926 hours.

I asked Anne if it were so. She was among the few that has seen me recently. She said there seems to be some bitterness and frustration in me. I was quite shocked. I suppose it should be expected, but my friends didn't deserve the brunt of my frustration. This is my issue. My fight.

This is my cross to carry. My friends shouldn't have to shoulder my bitterness, or frustration or acute disappointment. It has to stop. It stops here. I can't. I wouldn't continue to propagate the vicious cycle. The chain of disrespect and mistrust and infidelity.

It goes against everything I believe in. Every goodness I hold dear.

the call of Nemesis

this is who Nemesis is, for those who don't know, or don't bother to find out:

Nemesis (in Greek, Νέμεσις), also called Rhamnousia/Rhamnusia ("the goddess of Rhamnous"), at her sanctuary at Rhamnous, north of Marathon, in the Greek mythology was the spirit of divine retribution against those who succumb to hubris, vengeful fate personified as a remorseless goddess. The name Nemesis is related to the Greek word νείμειν, meaning "to give what is due". The Romans equated one aspect of Greek Nemesis, which might be interpreted as "indignation at unmerited advantage", as Invidia (Aronoff 2003)

i don't call myself Nemesis for nothing. when i've made up my mind that enough is enough. when i've lost enough sleep over something. when i've been pushed to my limit. i am Nemesis. and i don't take no shit from no mortal man.

***
last friday someone pissed me off so much, my entire face went scarlet. and when i went off for dinner, and went to the ladies', i noticed little red spots all over my chest, and upper arms, right down to my bosom.

it looked like i had an allergy reaction to alcohol. except i hadn't started drinking yet.

yes, i got so angry, that i burst my capillaries.

that's when i thought: Enough. Enough is enough. I don't need this. From anyone.

***
i had a difficult childhood. i was emotionally and socially blackmailed and bullied as a child. it taught me 3 important lessons:

a) how to phase out.

b) how to be utterly shameless, and to not bother about the general public's opinions of me.

c) how to take full control of my own life.

these are lessons i learned young. it was so difficult, as i was so young, but it has served me well.

now i'm using it. because i have to.

***
on sunday, i found out something about someone i cared for that was totally unexpected, and that put me out of my misery of several months. it helped me reach my decision, immediately. swift as the blow of the guillotine. a decision i've been getting sick, and losing sleep over. a decision i had taken months agonising about.

do i want to lose a friend?

but now, the question is: was this person a friend to me?

no one runs circles around a goddess using a mediocre mortal. s/he better at least be hercules, or in hercules' league (a demi-god)

stupid, stupid jackass.

***
the wheels are in motion. the time is ripe to give what is due. retribution is in order.

the table is set for one last negotiation. it's time to make an offer.

if things don't work out, the blade would strike.

no one has the right to be selfish to such an extent. no one can be allowed to have such an unmerited advantage over everyone else.

***
if you've made your own bed, learn to sleep in it.

both of you.

the doormat is metamorphing into the goddess of retribution.

self-doubt: the knots require unravelling...

i'm having one of my rare moments of self-doubt.

i want to go for it, but i wonder now, if i'm good enough.

could i still do what i used to do as well as i used to do it?

could i remember all that i've studied, and apply it well?

could i?

where has my confidence gone?

has recent unrelated events affected me, and my confidence and image in myself, so much that i wonder who i am now?

i need a swim. i need intense physical activity.

that's the way i meditate when i'm all tied up in knots inside.

the knots need unravelling....

I'll remember

The brain is insidious in how it works.

Memories. The more you try to forget, the more you forget. Everything. Even the things you never wanted to.

So I've stopped. I'll remember. I'll remember everything.

The good and the bad. The happy and the sad. If it makes me cry, so be it. Tears are the safety valves of the heart, anyway.

I'll accept it as it is. I've already learnt to let go.

But I can't stop my mind from remembering. I owe this to me. To feel. To learn. Also to let go slowly. In my own time.

I've grown. Just as I've grown to love you. It's different from falling in love. Loving someone and being in love with someone is poles apart from one another. Someday, if I'm lucky, I'd have both. But now, now's not it.

I know full well the differences between them. Perhaps it's because I've always perceived love with my head rather than my heart. One's accepting. The other is blind.

I know you. I understand you. Not enough, but I try to. No one person can understand another completely. You think I don't accept you, but I do.

I know all your faults. I'm not blind to them. How you could be self-centered. Selfish. Critical. Judgmental. Blatantly cruel. How you could disregard others' feelings to guard your own.

But I know your strengths too. There are times you're so sweet. The simple gestures. The kind touch. I remember those too. How you listen, and listen well. How you watch to try to gauge my moods. How you're sensitive. How you're helpful. Never think I forget. I remember.

And it's painful, either way.

It's you I've grown to love. Your faults and your strengths. It makes you, you. And I wouldn't change how you are or who you are. No one's perfect after all.

But I'm also a woman. And after all that has happened, I know it's impossible to change a situation that seems futile. It takes two to tango. There's only so much a girl can do.

Just because I've grown to love you, just because you get under my skin, doesn't mean you feel the same way for me. And I know this, just as surely as I know the sky is blue on a bright, sunny day.

There's nothing I can do. That's why I chose to let you go. There's no point in grasping at straws. A man's a man after all. A man that doesn't want to stay never will. And what we're doing is dangerous. It's risky business. That's not a risk I want to take. Not anymore.

Is that why lately I've been thinking of you in the past tense?

I can't change your past. I can't promise you the future, either. That would be a promise I can't keep. And I don't make those. What I can give you is the here and now. It's called the Present for a reason. But whether or not you accept my gift and make the most of it is up to you.

I can take the horse to water, but I can't force the horse to drink.

I no longer want to know what it is you want from me. For me now, any answer you give me now no longer matters. It's irrelevant now.

I hope and expect nothing from you now.

Except, perhaps, that you grow up someone you yourself can be proud of. That you take pride in yourself and in what you do. That you see the world around you, and know that you have within yourself, the control and the power to change your own situation, and the situation of those around you.

Not the world, not even the richest, or most powerful men in the world could do that, but your own little community. Your friends, your family, your colleagues, maybe, to start with.

That it's ok to be frightened. It's not fear the holds us back, but the fear to be frightened. The fear to feel.

It's also ok to fail. Failure never brought anyone down. It's not picking yourself up again that's a mistake. We learnt to walk, as children, by falling down over and over again. It's the same as adults.

It's also ok to be sad. If we never experience bitterness, how would we know the taste of sweetness when it comes to us?

You're, perhaps, on the threshold of manhood. Not a boy, not yet a man. What holds you back from taking full control of your life? From taking that final step into manhood? From grasping fully the power that manhood can bring you? Added responsiblity? Responsibility comes to you, whether you choose it or not. Refusing it only bungles up your life even more.

After all, who doesn't know the famous quote on power and responsility?
"With great power, comes great responsibility."

You'll realise how true it is in due time. Just as you'll realise how avoiding that responsibility, and hence, that power does nobody much good.

You say you want me to be happy. You want to make me happy. Yes, I'm happy when I'm with you, but my world would not crumble without you in it.

You can't give me what I want. Or maybe you don't want to. And that's ok, too. I have no intention to make you do what you don't want to do.

Maybe you don't know either, and can't be bothered to ask.

You think yourself beneath me. You think I think you beneath me. You've no idea how much that hurt. I view no man as above me. There are plenty beneath me, but there are some I view as equal. You're one of those. It had never crossed my mind to think of you as beneath me. If I thought of you that way, why would I choose to waste my time and affections on someone beneath me?

You probably never realised how much you've hurt my feelings.

I'm not sure I trust you fully any longer. Things have changed. It's pointless to pretend that it hasn't. In fact, things have been slowly changing for awhile, now. Choosing not to see it, and pretending it hasn't been happening is probably what drove a wedge between us.

I don't want that anymore. You're free to go. Whenever you want. Only one thing I ask of you. To let me know when you want to move on. To let me know to my face. To not taper off slowly, pretending you're too busy, and ultimately no longer see each other that way.

At least have the courtesy to let me know to my face, like a man to a woman, that you want to go. And likewise, I'd afford you the same courtesy, like a woman to a man, to go without a fuss.

My world wouldn't crumble without you in it. But your presence did make a difference. I was happy. But as we all know, happiness doesn't last forever.

You. I wouldn't change you. I wouldn't change this. But it's got to end sometime. Better now than later.

And I hope you're happy. I hope you'll be happy enough times in your life to enjoy it fully. Even if we become strangers. Even if we don't speak to each other anymore. I'll always hope you have the best things life has to offer. Good health, a satisfying job, the love of a lifetime, and a family of your own. Such things fills you, stretches you. Gives you opportunities for growth as a person. I will always wish you well.

For what it's worth, even if we become strangers, I'm glad you were part of me. My life.

No matter how brief. No matter how unsettling. No matter the outcome, whatever it may be.

I wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't wish to erase it anymore. I'll remember.

The Icarus Project

i'm sorry.

i know you've seen me put myself on self-destruct for years now.

i know you know more secrets about me than almost anyone else.

you know i know you're the only one i trust almost fully.

i know it pains you to watch me put myself through the silly roundabout shit that i put myself through.

it deprives you of your sleep. it makes you weary listening to me.

i know you feel like slapping me and giving me a good round of kicking in my ass for not listening to all your advice.

i know you think i'm an idiot for going out with the guys that i have. to quote you: they've all been shit.

i don't know how you knew about the latest, but you seemed to know.

you always seem to know the right things to say. at all the right times.

and for all the times you've stood by me, and advised me, and listened to me, thank you very much.

know that i've tried. know that i'm trying still. harder than you can ever know. know that i'm forever grateful.

you say i deserve better than i've got. that i'm one of those who needs love more than sex. that i should stop giving in to men who don't care. who aren't worth my time, and care and attention, and devotion.

that my self-discovery doesn't have to be in shit.

that fatalism isn't attractive on me.

that i shouldn't wallow in the mud of the plebs when i'm patrician.

that no one else matters but me. nobody. none of their opinions.

that it's true we may all live together but ultimately we die alone.

that shit isn't for me. the sun is.

i know not what to say. know that i appreciate your vote of confidence always. that i may not tell you often enough, but i do. thank you for thinking i'm beautiful, and worth the sun.

call me icarus from today henceforth then.

i'm aiming for the sun that's rightfully mine.

if i fall, i can at least say that i've come close to greatness.

so i guess this is goodbye

so i lied.

so i couldn't do what i promised i would.

i'm not sure if i love you. maybe i'm starting to. maybe i do, in a way. maybe i was charmed by you, in your own way.

but i don't want to spend the rest of my days being constantly on tenterhooks about where i stand.

and seeing how you are when it comes to things like this, i'm not sure i want to take the chance.

you're always running away. hiding behind your situation or the people around you.

blaming every bad thing that happens on any other thing but yourself. you take no responsibility for what happens.

or when you do, it's only hearsay, lip-serving.

NATO: No Action, Talk Only.

you're a coward. other people have gone through worse shit than you have, there are some things in their lives they can't change, but they make the best of it.

you whine about the things that you CAN change, but refuse to.

you pride yourself on your patience, but is it really? is it patience or cowardice that holds you back from the things that you want? from reaching out for your own happiness?

is it really your consideration for other people's feelings? your own self-perceived empathy? or is that just an excuse you make for yourself, because you know yourself way too well, but is afraid to face that part of you?

is it fear of change? is it fear of maturity? responsibility? loneliness?

you haven't got the balls. you haven't got the spine.

and i haven't got the time.

i'd rather be alone than be unhappy.

we all need time.

time to learn to stand up on our own.

time to move forward.

time to let go.

time to grow up.

time to reach out.

and yet sometimes time runs out on us.

and i find that i am running out of time.

i've spoken to you.

not once, not twice.

many times.

you asked me my opinion. you asked me my advice.

why ask, when you don't listen?

so i shall speak no more. i've said all i could. all i needed to.

you're wasting my time.

time i don't have much of.

time i would rather spend on people who appreciate it.

time for people who really wants me. and my company.

and not make use of me for whatever sick, little, twisted reason.

i'm tired of your little psychological tests. your little emotional blackmailing: 'Do this for me... (let's see if she does it)'

if you don't think much of me in the first place, then why did you bother?

if i hadn't cared for you, i wouldn't have bothered spending so much time with you.

but i guess it wasn't enough.

what you took from me wasn't enough.

yes, i care for you. but sometimes a girl has to care for herself more.

if i don't afford myself the self-respect i deserve, i wouldn't be getting it from you, or from anyone else, for that matter.

after months of observation, i suppose i could conclude safely: especially not from you.

after all i've told you, i would've expected you to know better.

but i guess not. maybe you've never really listened to me.

maybe you've never really wanted to.

that's ok.

time to learn to stand on my own.

time to move forward.

time to let go.

time to grow up.

before time runs out on me.

i have reached out.

i can honestly say i've tried.

i can only hold my hands out to a man who's gonna fall. whether or not he wants to grip it is of his own volition.

i've held out my hand.

now it's up to you to reach out and grip it.

but if you don't, it's ok.

though some friendships are meant for a lifetime, some kind of friendships are meant to last for only a while.

maybe this is one of those.

i guess was wrong about you. i guess i'm disappointed in you. i'm disappointed to see so much potential go to waste.

but that's ok, too. you weren't the first to disappoint me, and i reckon you wouldn't be the last.

i'm not sure i could do what i promised you i would.

i'm not really sure you really want me to, either.

so i guess this is goodbye.