I danced my way out

I have a curtain that hides my face away from the world. I'm not sure what I want people to see anymore. The truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth.

Wait. That sounded like a line out of a debate speech I gave when I was 15.

Didn't your nightmares begin then? I vaguely recall one night when I was a baby. I couldn't sleep, and my mother held me in her arms and sang songs to me. She pointed out a lizard to me. Perhaps that is why I find comfort in such things. A song. Animals. Strong arms that hold you through your pain.

Only my arms could hold me now. But they will suffice.

I know this sounds so jaded. But maybe I truly do not need a man. I know I hang around a lot of guys, and this is probably why guys always see me as one of them. I'm always a dude. But in reality, I'm not. I have a heart that can only belong to a woman.

And oh, how much more of a sexist can I be?

I can't be fooled, I thought.

I crossed the road, looked behind my shoulder. I saw you.

You followed me down the street.

We held hands. We laughed.

Then the world stopped spinning for a moment.

I kissed you.

Run away with me, you whispered.

And reality came buzzing in.

I was trapped. I was trapped.

I am me, in my skin.

I found my way out.

I danced my way out.

Some days I feel like I've lost everything but my mind.

Other days I feel like I've lost nothing but my mind.

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.

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.