So I just realised that I've been missing my BC pills. I was starting to worry a little, and then I stopped myself from worrying when I realised that I probably will never ever need them again anyway.
Is it even normal to worry that I'll never get laid ever again?
I don't know. I'd probably go back on the pill but only because of my PCOS, not for any other reason(s). Because right now, I can't imagine anyone wanting me in that way.
And heh. Because who am I kidding? Most guys I encounter see me as a fellow dude, mother, or in latest news, sister.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Mirror, mirror, on the wall...
I have been fooled. Close to a year ago, on my birthday, we went to that "pig restaurant", El Cerdo. The one in Changkat Bukit Bintang. Remember? We ordered a whole suckling pig, and it was tradition to smash a plate and then use the broken plate to cut the pig.
The person who attended to us asked which one of us was going to have the honours of smashing the plate. You asked me to do it, because it was my birthday. You told me to bring us luck, because that was what it signified.
He asked me to wish for either one of these - relationship or wealth. I wasn't supposed to say it out loud. I made my wish, and smashed the plate. He used the plate to cut the pig up, and we ate it.
Later on, you asked me what I wished for. I told you "relationship". And you had that disappointed look on your face. You said, "We already have a relationship. You should have asked for wealth instead."
Close to a year later, I can't help but feel like I've been fooled. I wished for good luck in relationships. And you know what's funny? I don't have either right now. I don't have good luck in relationships, and I don't have good luck in wealth either.
From now on, I will not make wishes on my birthday. They have never, and will never come true.
I will no longer be the same person I was before. Because I will no longer be taken for a fool.
The person who attended to us asked which one of us was going to have the honours of smashing the plate. You asked me to do it, because it was my birthday. You told me to bring us luck, because that was what it signified.
He asked me to wish for either one of these - relationship or wealth. I wasn't supposed to say it out loud. I made my wish, and smashed the plate. He used the plate to cut the pig up, and we ate it.
Later on, you asked me what I wished for. I told you "relationship". And you had that disappointed look on your face. You said, "We already have a relationship. You should have asked for wealth instead."
Close to a year later, I can't help but feel like I've been fooled. I wished for good luck in relationships. And you know what's funny? I don't have either right now. I don't have good luck in relationships, and I don't have good luck in wealth either.
From now on, I will not make wishes on my birthday. They have never, and will never come true.
I will no longer be the same person I was before. Because I will no longer be taken for a fool.
Half of My Heart, Not My Brain
Things like these spring up on you whether you like it or not. I opened my e-mail inbox, and an e-mail came in with the subject: "I was blind, but now I see..."
It was a spam mail, I know for sure. But I opened it anyway. Turns out it's a quote from the movie "Limitless", which I believe is a movie I talked about with a friend earlier. But that's really besides the point. I feel like it's telling me something that I should have realised from the start.
This is now my safehouse, and I feel like this is possibly the one place I can turn to. I don't know if anyone's reading, and in reality I don't even know if I want anyone to read at all, because right now I'm in such a vulnerable position I don't like that anyone knows. I was sitting earlier in a restaurant with some amazing people, and we were talking about some amazing stuff, but all I felt like doing was curling up into a corner on the floor and disappear. I looked tired, someone said. But how do I explain this? I can't. In so many ways, one of my greatest fears has now came true. My hypomanic spell has officially ended, and people do not like me this way. So the people I've met while I was hypomanic will not be able to accept this "down" version of me.
I battle an illness that is eating me up from inside out, and no matter how many pills I take, this doesn't seem to go away. This past decade has been such a struggle, I really wonder why I still keep myself around. But every time I think I can't go on, I somehow push myself ahead, do things and not just linger around. I want to say that at the end of my life, that I lived the way I did despite having a disability. But right now fighting this is getting really hard.
My mum, before we all knew about what this was, called what I had "self-pity". It does appear to be that way. And some people around me say that I have no self-confidence or that I don't believe in myself. It angers me. I wish that they could, for just one day, live with what I have, and to see what I see, and to feel what I feel, and to know. Just. Know.
I don't expect sympathy. Not at all. Truth is, I don't even know what I want anymore.
I am less than a month away from my birthday and I've never felt so far away from everything I've ever wanted or dreamed of.
I am not saying that I've had it the toughest. I'm not at all. I just wish, every once in a while, that things would be a little easier. Just a little easier. But it's not. They're not. I was driving home when I realised that you can't fix what's broken. But what if what's broken really is me? What if I'm the one that's broken? Does that mean I'm beyond repair?
It's best that things are the way they are. I realise with what I have, I should stay away from people. It's not doing people any good to be around me. I always bring people down, I remember you saying. Maybe you're right. I'm not a ray of sunshine. I'm just that little bit of rain.
It's funny because I keep at it, you know. Like I don't know how, but I keep going. I remember a friend and fellow blogger, who, upon meeting me for the very first time after reading my blog for years (and this was years ago), said he was surprised that I was the way I was. "How is that?", I asked. "Spunky," he said. Somehow people seem to think that I'm this emo person who never smiles. I wouldn't be surprised. If I've never met me, I would think that too about myself.
But what really is the point of smiling? I see no future in myself. I am committed to productions until November, but once November ends, I would really be aimless. I had idea(l)s, but they have been crushed. Either by circumstance, or coincidence, or they have just been plain crushed. So I'm giving myself a reason to live until November, but after that, I see nothing, really. And that hopelessness is driving me crazy. Honestly, at this rate, in December, I would just choose to just disappear. That really isn't me or who I am, but who really cares at this point? I certainly don't anymore.
It was a spam mail, I know for sure. But I opened it anyway. Turns out it's a quote from the movie "Limitless", which I believe is a movie I talked about with a friend earlier. But that's really besides the point. I feel like it's telling me something that I should have realised from the start.
This is now my safehouse, and I feel like this is possibly the one place I can turn to. I don't know if anyone's reading, and in reality I don't even know if I want anyone to read at all, because right now I'm in such a vulnerable position I don't like that anyone knows. I was sitting earlier in a restaurant with some amazing people, and we were talking about some amazing stuff, but all I felt like doing was curling up into a corner on the floor and disappear. I looked tired, someone said. But how do I explain this? I can't. In so many ways, one of my greatest fears has now came true. My hypomanic spell has officially ended, and people do not like me this way. So the people I've met while I was hypomanic will not be able to accept this "down" version of me.
I battle an illness that is eating me up from inside out, and no matter how many pills I take, this doesn't seem to go away. This past decade has been such a struggle, I really wonder why I still keep myself around. But every time I think I can't go on, I somehow push myself ahead, do things and not just linger around. I want to say that at the end of my life, that I lived the way I did despite having a disability. But right now fighting this is getting really hard.
My mum, before we all knew about what this was, called what I had "self-pity". It does appear to be that way. And some people around me say that I have no self-confidence or that I don't believe in myself. It angers me. I wish that they could, for just one day, live with what I have, and to see what I see, and to feel what I feel, and to know. Just. Know.
I don't expect sympathy. Not at all. Truth is, I don't even know what I want anymore.
I am less than a month away from my birthday and I've never felt so far away from everything I've ever wanted or dreamed of.
I am not saying that I've had it the toughest. I'm not at all. I just wish, every once in a while, that things would be a little easier. Just a little easier. But it's not. They're not. I was driving home when I realised that you can't fix what's broken. But what if what's broken really is me? What if I'm the one that's broken? Does that mean I'm beyond repair?
It's best that things are the way they are. I realise with what I have, I should stay away from people. It's not doing people any good to be around me. I always bring people down, I remember you saying. Maybe you're right. I'm not a ray of sunshine. I'm just that little bit of rain.
It's funny because I keep at it, you know. Like I don't know how, but I keep going. I remember a friend and fellow blogger, who, upon meeting me for the very first time after reading my blog for years (and this was years ago), said he was surprised that I was the way I was. "How is that?", I asked. "Spunky," he said. Somehow people seem to think that I'm this emo person who never smiles. I wouldn't be surprised. If I've never met me, I would think that too about myself.
But what really is the point of smiling? I see no future in myself. I am committed to productions until November, but once November ends, I would really be aimless. I had idea(l)s, but they have been crushed. Either by circumstance, or coincidence, or they have just been plain crushed. So I'm giving myself a reason to live until November, but after that, I see nothing, really. And that hopelessness is driving me crazy. Honestly, at this rate, in December, I would just choose to just disappear. That really isn't me or who I am, but who really cares at this point? I certainly don't anymore.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
This little bit of confusion here...
I feel like this is the worst "season" to be going through any sort of emotional problems. I must thank each and every one of you who have been there and here for me, in so many different ways. I'm possibly just going through the motions, but right now I'm very confused.
Thing is, I'm very much of a people person. I used to say that people can really inspire me, make me feel like there is so much good in this world, make me believe in so many things, and yet people can really de-motivate you and put you down. People. Well, people are just too complex and this is driving me crazy right now.
I wrote this line (or something that sounds like this) in my blog when I was about 19:
Why is it that the same people who ask you to speak up are the same people to ask you to shut up?
Back then, I was referring more to my family, but right now it feels like this applies to people around me. I haven't really been able to open up to many people about what I've been going through. It's ironic that the people who ask you to tell them what happened, or asks you if you needed to talk, are the same people who seem annoyed by my troubles. There's no putting blame in here. I suppose that's normal. Nobody likes troubles. I know a few people who would always check on others, and take pleasure in doing so, but they are a minority, an endangered species. It's normal for other people to want to bother with their own lives instead of trying to understand someone else's life, or their problems.
It's just frustrating to me, because I feel like I didn't dare open up to people, and then people ask me if I want to, and then when I do, they start acting oddly. This seems like a rather silly situation, if you ask me. Because the truth is, I appreciate and love their friendship (and perhaps simple companionship) more than anything else. And if my talking about my problems somehow complicates that, I can choose to not talk to anyone. Since that bothers everyone so.
This is my press statement perhaps; that I only need your friendship, your listening ear (if you're ever willing to give me that), and perhaps some advice (if you could spare some), and stories. I'm not looking for pity or someone to "look out" for me, or to make this entire fiasco about "ME". Of course I realise and know it's NOT about "me". It's never about "me". The universe simply doesn't work that way.
Sorry that this post sounds so bitter. Bitterness is definitely not my best friend, and I'm trying to avoid it, but if my problems are somehow making one single person feel bitter or annoyed or bothered or angry or anything at all, I don't want that to happen. I don't want to lose a single friend in this entire process.
Please understand. I really do not want to lose a single friend. Every person who has come into my life means so much to me.
Please let me know if anything I'm doing or saying is bothering you in any way. I would appreciate that very much. At least I could also learn from it; and that gives me space to analyse if the way I'm acting is appropriate at all.
Lots of love to all. It may be a gloomy day, but I hope some sunshine will find its way into each and everyone of your lives.
EDIT: After laying off the confusion a little, I realised something and this was what I wrote to someone too...
I believe there will be an answer. Will continue to look for it or hold out for it, but until that happens, I'd be grateful if I continue to have great friends by my side. It's not an expectation, though. I understand when everyone's busy. I understand I can't make it about "me", too. Because everyone is going through something.
Thing is, I'm very much of a people person. I used to say that people can really inspire me, make me feel like there is so much good in this world, make me believe in so many things, and yet people can really de-motivate you and put you down. People. Well, people are just too complex and this is driving me crazy right now.
I wrote this line (or something that sounds like this) in my blog when I was about 19:
Back then, I was referring more to my family, but right now it feels like this applies to people around me. I haven't really been able to open up to many people about what I've been going through. It's ironic that the people who ask you to tell them what happened, or asks you if you needed to talk, are the same people who seem annoyed by my troubles. There's no putting blame in here. I suppose that's normal. Nobody likes troubles. I know a few people who would always check on others, and take pleasure in doing so, but they are a minority, an endangered species. It's normal for other people to want to bother with their own lives instead of trying to understand someone else's life, or their problems.
It's just frustrating to me, because I feel like I didn't dare open up to people, and then people ask me if I want to, and then when I do, they start acting oddly. This seems like a rather silly situation, if you ask me. Because the truth is, I appreciate and love their friendship (and perhaps simple companionship) more than anything else. And if my talking about my problems somehow complicates that, I can choose to not talk to anyone. Since that bothers everyone so.
This is my press statement perhaps; that I only need your friendship, your listening ear (if you're ever willing to give me that), and perhaps some advice (if you could spare some), and stories. I'm not looking for pity or someone to "look out" for me, or to make this entire fiasco about "ME". Of course I realise and know it's NOT about "me". It's never about "me". The universe simply doesn't work that way.
Sorry that this post sounds so bitter. Bitterness is definitely not my best friend, and I'm trying to avoid it, but if my problems are somehow making one single person feel bitter or annoyed or bothered or angry or anything at all, I don't want that to happen. I don't want to lose a single friend in this entire process.
Please understand. I really do not want to lose a single friend. Every person who has come into my life means so much to me.
Please let me know if anything I'm doing or saying is bothering you in any way. I would appreciate that very much. At least I could also learn from it; and that gives me space to analyse if the way I'm acting is appropriate at all.
Lots of love to all. It may be a gloomy day, but I hope some sunshine will find its way into each and everyone of your lives.
EDIT: After laying off the confusion a little, I realised something and this was what I wrote to someone too...
I believe there will be an answer. Will continue to look for it or hold out for it, but until that happens, I'd be grateful if I continue to have great friends by my side. It's not an expectation, though. I understand when everyone's busy. I understand I can't make it about "me", too. Because everyone is going through something.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Unsolved Jigsaw
This used to be enough. And now it has to be enough again. Once again, I'm going back to where I started. Healing takes time, perhaps. But enough of rebirths. I'm done.
I've been living on my own since I was 19, and at the age of 27, I move back into my parents' house. True, it's not the same house I was brought up in, but I can't help but wonder if I'm really that incapable of taking care of myself. I left the air-cond on when I went out. Came home to find out that I left it switched on. How could I be so careless? But when I think about it, perhaps that was how I've been treating my heart all along. Left it on a shelf for anyone to pick up, past its expiry date. It's over. I must now hide my heart away.
Call me a fool, for I am all but none, or all but one. Through tinted glasses, I see the world. I ran a billion miles to hold so many people's hands, and at the end, I'm left alone, standing at the starting line, panting and out of breath. I'm done.
Of opening sealed envelopes. Of keeping secrets. Till that fall I await. I await. Patiently. There was going to be none. I'm done.
Broken promises, nothing gained.
I remember a friend telling me, "You've been living a life of risks all this time. Perhaps it's time to tone down and live a life of comfort."
So, maybe after all these years, I have gotten that smack on my face. Who knows which is the lie I've been living? All I know is, now I have to forsake who I am and to learn to live like a normal human being. To fit into that 90% of people that he used to talk about.
90% of people in this world aren't happy doing what they're doing but they do it anyway.
Who knows what's next? Get a "proper" job. Forget my dreams because every time I dare to dream, I am taken down like a torn down poster. Stop this madness. BE NORMAL.
Because I am nothing but a hypocrite. To say years ago that I want nothing more than to be normal. Here, take it. Take it. TAKE IT. Swallow this spoon with your mouth wide open. Here's your normalcy pill.
If only I had the guts to swallow it.
Why does this confuse me so?
Sleep will continue to elude me.
I've been living on my own since I was 19, and at the age of 27, I move back into my parents' house. True, it's not the same house I was brought up in, but I can't help but wonder if I'm really that incapable of taking care of myself. I left the air-cond on when I went out. Came home to find out that I left it switched on. How could I be so careless? But when I think about it, perhaps that was how I've been treating my heart all along. Left it on a shelf for anyone to pick up, past its expiry date. It's over. I must now hide my heart away.
Call me a fool, for I am all but none, or all but one. Through tinted glasses, I see the world. I ran a billion miles to hold so many people's hands, and at the end, I'm left alone, standing at the starting line, panting and out of breath. I'm done.
Of opening sealed envelopes. Of keeping secrets. Till that fall I await. I await. Patiently. There was going to be none. I'm done.
Broken promises, nothing gained.
I remember a friend telling me, "You've been living a life of risks all this time. Perhaps it's time to tone down and live a life of comfort."
So, maybe after all these years, I have gotten that smack on my face. Who knows which is the lie I've been living? All I know is, now I have to forsake who I am and to learn to live like a normal human being. To fit into that 90% of people that he used to talk about.
Who knows what's next? Get a "proper" job. Forget my dreams because every time I dare to dream, I am taken down like a torn down poster. Stop this madness. BE NORMAL.
Because I am nothing but a hypocrite. To say years ago that I want nothing more than to be normal. Here, take it. Take it. TAKE IT. Swallow this spoon with your mouth wide open. Here's your normalcy pill.
If only I had the guts to swallow it.
Why does this confuse me so?
Sleep will continue to elude me.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Breakeven
You seem to be in high spirits today.
'Cos when a heart breaks no it don't break even.
I don't know how to feel. Happy, I should be. To see you happy this way.
While I'm wide awake he's no trouble sleeping.
This is probably why it's best that I move out today. I know a lot of people, especially women, when going through something like this, would try their best to show that they're strong. Vulnerability is a big no-no in a situation like this. But you know me. You've always known me. I've never been like most women. I wear my heart on my sleeve. This is how I feel, and lying to myself or even to the world is not going to make myself feel any better.
So I'm mourning.
'Cos he's moved on while I'm still grieving.
I'm torn apart inside. I was wondering what I'll be eating for lunch or dinner, and realise that I will not have to buy you food. I'll be missing that, for sure. Because somehow, within this innate part of me, I like caring for you. But neglect. Yes, I have made friends with the devil, and unfortunately you were part of the bargain. Or was I?
I'm very alone. I'm very lonely. I can't think of anyone I can actually call to come help me move. Or just come over to my new place and help me sort things out. What have I become? I don't know who I am no more.
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces.
How do I wipe my tears dry and just move on from this?
'Cos when a heart breaks no it don't break even.
'Cos when a heart breaks no it don't break even.
I don't know how to feel. Happy, I should be. To see you happy this way.
While I'm wide awake he's no trouble sleeping.
This is probably why it's best that I move out today. I know a lot of people, especially women, when going through something like this, would try their best to show that they're strong. Vulnerability is a big no-no in a situation like this. But you know me. You've always known me. I've never been like most women. I wear my heart on my sleeve. This is how I feel, and lying to myself or even to the world is not going to make myself feel any better.
So I'm mourning.
'Cos he's moved on while I'm still grieving.
I'm torn apart inside. I was wondering what I'll be eating for lunch or dinner, and realise that I will not have to buy you food. I'll be missing that, for sure. Because somehow, within this innate part of me, I like caring for you. But neglect. Yes, I have made friends with the devil, and unfortunately you were part of the bargain. Or was I?
I'm very alone. I'm very lonely. I can't think of anyone I can actually call to come help me move. Or just come over to my new place and help me sort things out. What have I become? I don't know who I am no more.
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces.
How do I wipe my tears dry and just move on from this?
'Cos when a heart breaks no it don't break even.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Quite the Opposite of Vindicated
There's a reason to everything in life, or at least that is what I'd like to believe. I've been blogging on and off since I was 15, first on bolt.com (which is now defunct), then on other platforms, before moving on to Blogger.com. And even on Blogger.com, I have two accounts. I chose this one because the other account contains more blogs that I went through. If you're reading the sidebar and notice what I've written, that was from three years ago. That is still me, so I decided to keep it. The only thing that's changed is my age, of course.
Somehow I came to the realisation that starting a new blog often signifies the start of something new in life (that's the more manic, positive side of me speaking) or rather, the end of something (and that's my bitterness taking over). I even had my own domain for two to three years, that was www.razzberry.org (which is now defunct, just like many other things/situations/people in my life).
I know the next few months, if not years, will be very difficult for me, and writing has always been a way for me to express myself. NOTE: By now, some of you who have been reading my old blogs/following me for some time will realise and wonder why I'm writing in such clarity, with no profound words or statements, but fret not, that is yet to come. So, as I was saying, I am now in a very dark place. Possibly the darkest, yet most bittersweet moment in my life, ever. By far, at least. That is, if I make it, but I don't want to go there. Not yet, at least. Not now, not when I am feeling this way. Because I realise that the madness ends when you are feeling this way. "What madness?", I was asked by a friend today. And I said, "The spunkiness. The spontaneity. The craziness. The zaniness. The sense of humour."
Of course, I can't promise not to torture anyone on Facebook (which seems to be my main mode of self-expression these days) with what I'm going through, but I will try. Which is probably why this blog came about anyway - so that I'm able to rekindle the old days of writing with no worry, and hopefully I will be able to find some strength in the words that I often find comfort it. With all that said, I will now attempt to journal.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's a reason to why things happen. It hasn't fully sunk in; the realisation of this great loss. I keep telling myself, this feels like a divorce. I spent the last two hours going through old blog posts, and encountered posts that touched on love, marriage, commitment, and my fear of them all. If only you knew. If only you knew how badly I wanted someone to strip me bare, strip me naked, down to my bones and touch me and expose me for who I am. And you did just that. I know now that you came into my life not by coincidence. You were brought into my life when I had become someone I couldn't be; the same person I talked about being three years ago, right before we happened. Unlike most people trying to climb out of their comfort zones, I had done exactly that, and I felt too much, saw too much, feared too much, and wanted so badly to climb back in. I held on to that fear for so long until you came along and you broke those walls I had built around me.
I am brought back to a Sunday more than three years ago when I was lying down on this bed in Ikea, and you snuck up behind me and planted a kiss on my arm. A small, gentle kiss. I couldn't help it. Along with the kiss, you planted goosebumps on my shoulders that crept down my spine. I could have easily turned my face around and faced you, and we could have kissed right there and then. Who cares if anyone was looking? It felt right. But it wasn't. Because it wasn't meant to happen there and then. Maybe because if it did, I wouldn't be able to walk through Ikea ever again. Stung by past memories, I wouldn't be able to walk past that same section or see anyone hanging around that area. Perhaps I would be enveloped with rage or confusion or just plain sorrow.
Disengage me from this battle, for you would have won. And in the end, I think you did. You won the battle but not the war. Because to me, none of us can really go home with a trophy.
Home. Right now I'm in transit it feels like there's no home for me anywhere. I cannot turn to you and say "thank you". Not now, not yet. Not when we're still under the same roof, and you're still sitting next to me, and everything could be the way they used to be, but they're not. Because we're not. You didn't just make an entrance into my life; you actually stormed into my life. Just like a hurricane, you swept me off my feet, turned me insane, and became the one person I could see myself ending up with. I stopped being who I was, you said. You said that I stopped making you happy. And for that I want to say "I'm sorry". I wish I could take myself away from your life in entirety because even if I brought small seeds of sorrow into your life, which I surely did, and in oceans, I can't forgive myself for it. And right now I can't.
Because you're the one person who could tell me that, upon discovering a T-shirt that says "Happily ever after was so once upon a time", it was the silliest T-shirt because it means that it happened once ago. But the thing is, it did. I probably never told you this, but before you, there were two other guys who proposed. Either jokingly or seriously, I'm not sure. But one had a ring. The other didn't. Both didn't go on one knee. And ironically, you didn't either, because you went on both. You had that look on your face. And I was this psychotic crazy person who went off on you the next day.
Because it's so hard for me to admit this to myself, but I know I have to, and I will... that I ruined everything. It's like I've been building an emotional wall with Lego pieces all my life, and you came along and stomped on them, and I ruined everything by slapping you instead of thanking you instead.
But that wall I built was perhaps the same thing that would have protected me against you. But looking back, why would I need protection? You opened my heart and made me feel. You took my heart out, repaired some of the broken parts, and gave it back to me. Or did you? Because I remember yelling at you just more than a month ago when you threatened to leave, and yelled out loud that "I gave you all my heart, and that is why you cannot go".
But now I see it clearly. Now I realise how some cliches are so true. When you love someone, you have to set them free. Especially when you have been hurting them so. Especially when you know they deserve to be with someone better than you.
I guess what I really want to say is that I made so many mistakes, and I wish with all my heart that I never happened to you.
Because I'm a damaged good from the start, and nobody deserves a damaged good.
Nobody.
Somehow I came to the realisation that starting a new blog often signifies the start of something new in life (that's the more manic, positive side of me speaking) or rather, the end of something (and that's my bitterness taking over). I even had my own domain for two to three years, that was www.razzberry.org (which is now defunct, just like many other things/situations/people in my life).
I know the next few months, if not years, will be very difficult for me, and writing has always been a way for me to express myself. NOTE: By now, some of you who have been reading my old blogs/following me for some time will realise and wonder why I'm writing in such clarity, with no profound words or statements, but fret not, that is yet to come. So, as I was saying, I am now in a very dark place. Possibly the darkest, yet most bittersweet moment in my life, ever. By far, at least. That is, if I make it, but I don't want to go there. Not yet, at least. Not now, not when I am feeling this way. Because I realise that the madness ends when you are feeling this way. "What madness?", I was asked by a friend today. And I said, "The spunkiness. The spontaneity. The craziness. The zaniness. The sense of humour."
Of course, I can't promise not to torture anyone on Facebook (which seems to be my main mode of self-expression these days) with what I'm going through, but I will try. Which is probably why this blog came about anyway - so that I'm able to rekindle the old days of writing with no worry, and hopefully I will be able to find some strength in the words that I often find comfort it. With all that said, I will now attempt to journal.
There's a reason to why things happen. It hasn't fully sunk in; the realisation of this great loss. I keep telling myself, this feels like a divorce. I spent the last two hours going through old blog posts, and encountered posts that touched on love, marriage, commitment, and my fear of them all. If only you knew. If only you knew how badly I wanted someone to strip me bare, strip me naked, down to my bones and touch me and expose me for who I am. And you did just that. I know now that you came into my life not by coincidence. You were brought into my life when I had become someone I couldn't be; the same person I talked about being three years ago, right before we happened. Unlike most people trying to climb out of their comfort zones, I had done exactly that, and I felt too much, saw too much, feared too much, and wanted so badly to climb back in. I held on to that fear for so long until you came along and you broke those walls I had built around me.
I am brought back to a Sunday more than three years ago when I was lying down on this bed in Ikea, and you snuck up behind me and planted a kiss on my arm. A small, gentle kiss. I couldn't help it. Along with the kiss, you planted goosebumps on my shoulders that crept down my spine. I could have easily turned my face around and faced you, and we could have kissed right there and then. Who cares if anyone was looking? It felt right. But it wasn't. Because it wasn't meant to happen there and then. Maybe because if it did, I wouldn't be able to walk through Ikea ever again. Stung by past memories, I wouldn't be able to walk past that same section or see anyone hanging around that area. Perhaps I would be enveloped with rage or confusion or just plain sorrow.
Disengage me from this battle, for you would have won. And in the end, I think you did. You won the battle but not the war. Because to me, none of us can really go home with a trophy.
Home. Right now I'm in transit it feels like there's no home for me anywhere. I cannot turn to you and say "thank you". Not now, not yet. Not when we're still under the same roof, and you're still sitting next to me, and everything could be the way they used to be, but they're not. Because we're not. You didn't just make an entrance into my life; you actually stormed into my life. Just like a hurricane, you swept me off my feet, turned me insane, and became the one person I could see myself ending up with. I stopped being who I was, you said. You said that I stopped making you happy. And for that I want to say "I'm sorry". I wish I could take myself away from your life in entirety because even if I brought small seeds of sorrow into your life, which I surely did, and in oceans, I can't forgive myself for it. And right now I can't.
Because you're the one person who could tell me that, upon discovering a T-shirt that says "Happily ever after was so once upon a time", it was the silliest T-shirt because it means that it happened once ago. But the thing is, it did. I probably never told you this, but before you, there were two other guys who proposed. Either jokingly or seriously, I'm not sure. But one had a ring. The other didn't. Both didn't go on one knee. And ironically, you didn't either, because you went on both. You had that look on your face. And I was this psychotic crazy person who went off on you the next day.
Because it's so hard for me to admit this to myself, but I know I have to, and I will... that I ruined everything. It's like I've been building an emotional wall with Lego pieces all my life, and you came along and stomped on them, and I ruined everything by slapping you instead of thanking you instead.
But that wall I built was perhaps the same thing that would have protected me against you. But looking back, why would I need protection? You opened my heart and made me feel. You took my heart out, repaired some of the broken parts, and gave it back to me. Or did you? Because I remember yelling at you just more than a month ago when you threatened to leave, and yelled out loud that "I gave you all my heart, and that is why you cannot go".
But now I see it clearly. Now I realise how some cliches are so true. When you love someone, you have to set them free. Especially when you have been hurting them so. Especially when you know they deserve to be with someone better than you.
I guess what I really want to say is that I made so many mistakes, and I wish with all my heart that I never happened to you.
Because I'm a damaged good from the start, and nobody deserves a damaged good.
Nobody.
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