Once in a long while

Talked to mom about everything that had ever happened before to us.

I cried.

She reminded me its been long since i ever did cry in the face of family.

I REMINDED HER I WAS HUMAN.

She told me she could sense how hurt i was.

"No, I was SO Angry" i ARGUED.

"YOU WEREN'T. You were Disappointed. HE BROKE YOUR HEART."


--


I DON'T MEAN TO MAKE THINGS DIFFICULT.

ITS HER, YOUR LIES, YOUR INSENSITIVITY, AND THE THINGS YOU TRY TO HIDE.

WHAT WAS I TO DO?
I WAS CONFUSED.

everytime i happen to remember, i can see every second of it.
I can watch the faces of us and try TO stop my sentences.
I can feel the tension, i can hear you just trying to coax me and get over your wrong doings.
I can smell my complete disgust for you- but much more for me because i took all your words in.

Worse, i can strum the same pain like a guitar.

And when i'm done, i wonder if you really are here.

And look, when people say mean things about you in my face behind your back or in front or whichever,
How much would you like it if i simply kept silent or ignore defending you a single bit?

Since you would do it to me i'm figuring it will be completely okay to do the same.

So you get jealous over other boys who try to get at me easily enough to be defensive and protective but you cannot utter a single helpful, constructive word when others ARE BEING FUCKING DISRESPECTFUL OR bitch about the person you claim to love everyday?

What believable love you have. Oh and what a man. THANKFUL FOR HAVING SOMEONE I CAN RELY ON WHEN I'M NOT AROUND...

Seriously, what did i ever do to them for them to be such horrid bitches? Who are the truly fucked up ones who would BE SO MEAN OR talk shit about your girlfriend in your face or behind your back and think its just a second opinion?

I need a person who will protect and defend me.
What's a boyfriend for, if a boyfriend doesn't feel for me at all?

ANYWAY I'M ONLY POSTING MY ACTUAL THOUGHTS BECAUSE YOU ENCOURAGED ME TO SO YOU'D KNOW MORE... PLEASE DON'T GET OFFENDED, LOVE.

AS YOU probably already noticed, NOTHING much HAPPY COMES ON THIS BLOG.

The phobia that could break the strongest

"You say you love rain, but you use an umbrella to walk under it. 
You say you love sun, but you seek shade when it is shining.
You say you love wind, but when it comes you close your window.
So that's why I'm scared when you say you love me." -Bob Marley

I have been thinking about changes... The soon to occur ones.  My fears do not want to resonate with sensibility. As always, I am certain things will go wrong. They always do. Affect one another. Fall after one another. Like dominoes. 

Where should I begin to pick myself up then? 

Or maybe its just you.

Maybe I'm afraid of going through everything again. Maybe I'm afraid of feeling the way I felt again. Maybe I'm afraid of having being so afraid. Maybe I'm afraid of ever having to be alone- Right from the exact second I lose you. Maybe I'm afraid of changes that are untold- That keeps churning the lies that every day is the same as it was every other yesterday... Until the facade fades and I see for myself and I feel I might die all over again. I'll be afraid I'm still alive.

Or maybe its just you.

I don't want to feel locked up. To feel like I have to shut the gate and toss the key in an abyss. Just so I will feel better. More at ease. More peaceful. More comfortable to cry and shout and break and think and think and think. 

And when that happens, loneliness shall engulf me. And barricade me. And I know I'll feel better barricaded, protected, all in my highest tower. With no one able to watch me struggle as I cope with what's different.

But that I'd always be alone.

Or maybe its just you.

Forgive me, for when I write, if I do not get to you. If I do not tug at your heart strings and make you reconsider what you will not consider. If I do not strike a chord yet I sound fascinating and completely at the tether of my sanity all at once. If I'm okay on the outside when my mind is one dark wonderland.

Forgive me, for thinking you should know your place before your actions carry you further.

Your place in a person's heart.

--

It was late night when I replied to my sister's cry for help over the motivation to study.
This is my personal reflection: 

Then I was somewhere else, and it was bright. A voice said

"If you'd carried on practicing that song you almost got right, you would've been great. Bigger than the Beatles."

It continued

"If you'd carried on working on that book you almost finished, it would've changed the lives of many, many people."

Then it said

"If you'd tried to reach the one you loved just a little bit more, when you almost had them, your life would've been completely different."

And I asked

"Is this what happens when I die?"

And the voice said

"Almost."

And to all  in my past, I say:

I'm not the person you left behind anymore. There's no one here to miss.  

Actually I think you shouldn't read this

There is so much more I want to say. Each and every day. Increasingly.
But I'm holding so much back. If I said it all I'd start to think you would turn complacent. Yes, cocky.
Then there are the days I'd want to stop restraining myself and pour so much love and concern into you.
I never really did.

Coincidentally- Today was one such day.
I wanted to write feelings and decipher my soul into this very space. And I knew it'd be all for you. And that you'd find it eventually. (Stalker) I wanted to share notions and talk about me. I'd even dissect myself for your anatomical study if I could.
But every moment my fingertips lower itself over the keyboard ready to form its first confession, believe it or not- I THINK OF THE BREAK UP #OMFGWTFSMLJBBQBAKUAKNNYOUTHINKIWANT2THINKOFITMEH.
Yeah, I'd very much like to fucking snap my fingers, feel fucking glorious, and take it clean off from my memory too.

......I got a bit vulgar. This isn't my usual way.
(K my point is, I never got around to explaining how I really feel via a write up.)

My voice when I asked you what kind of fucked up decision that was....
My very own voice. Choked.
I heard something break that exact moment you mouthed the words.
I knew the answer.... Knew it all along.... You never proved me wrong....
You knew it would wreck me so much didn't you?
How much...How much... Did I really matter 

The moment. I could not fathom a single question.
Did not register any feelings.
There was no space left to be feeling any emotion than all the hurt already there.
I think that may have been why I cried so much....
So I could get rid of all the bad feelings....
You never understood why I still kept crying either....
Did you try to? To put yourself for a second in my feelings?

I know when I write about my heart I always sound like I am tortured to death.
Go ahead, laugh. Mock. Jeer.
Just maybe, right on the inner side, I really am. I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing.

The reason I wanted you to know so much more about me and my history is because each and every person in my past makes a part of who I am today. There is so much more to learn. (Do you remember when you'd always say you refuse to hear about a past relationship or that you did not care for them?) I don't mean to distrust you. What I meant by "no trust" (considering you consistently hear me grumble about it), is actually emotional dependency.

There is a certain time when the overwhelming existence of each hurtful experience bites into and catches our soul on fire.
When you feel you might fail yourself the very second the next blow hits.
The heart would like a companion we can be dependent on-
While reality and jobs and people and moving nations try to eat us all alive.
I just want to stay peacefully silent for a long while, all for the one person that makes it all worth it

I've grown. I've learnt to let a lovely stranger into my life.
To appreciate just having one other person being a part of me.
My mind has grown. My heart has grown.

Even now, as I sit, submerged in the very same scene, I do not know how to express anything for you. I do not know how much I want to give to not be risking it all if any thing happens again. I do not know how you are going to feel for how short a time. Will you love me? How long? Will you be frustrated but silent? How long? Will you be angry? How long? Will you be angry enough to forget that maybe you love me? How long? Will you be angry enough to forget this is not how a relationship works and end this again? How long?

I'm at my fucking wit's end.
You can blame me for trying.
I blame myself.
For thinking so much over what you told me shouldn't be thought...
Therefore, I blame myself... For ever being thoughtful of you.

(I wanted to send you a good night text. I think I chickened out. I'll send you your soccer score instead)

The underlying questions

How do I know if you are the same?
How do I know if you are the same?
How do I know if you are the same?
How do I know if you are the same?

How do I know if I may keep loving you? How do I know when the next time will be for something to go wrong? How do I know you are not saying things just to keep me from crying? How do I know if you are still serious? How do I know if you want me as much? How do I know if you are willing to put in any more? How do I know if this relationship still has two hands that clap? How do I know if you still meant for this to work?

You are always silent. And I am always afraid. I am certain about non of your ever changing feelings. So, I weep.

Why would I cry so much, if you meant any less today than you did yesterday?
Stop and think for a moment about the days and times and tears that always fall...
Now the question.
Who has it ever been for?
Who has it been for but you?

You cannot choose not to believe.
Trust me, crocodile tears don't last that long, over so many occasions and for the same person.
My feelings are yours, the tears- A bonus.
Its like handing you the gun against me, and trusting you to never pull the trigger...


I would do my taxes. Fill out insurance forms. Count grains of rice in a bag.
Whatever made time pass the slowest with you.

The honest personal side

To the people reading this who never really knew me.


Adores:

Late night talks. Movies and cuddling. Sweet messages. Texts I read for a good morning. Supper. Holding hands. Being led the way. Protected and secure. Emotional assurance. Kisses. Nibbles. Inside jokes and riddles. Poker. Snuggling under the covers. Cute boys. Gentlemen. Reading and writing. Wicked humor. Sarcasm. Alcoholic beverages and loud music. Hugged to bed. Midnight kisses. Good sex. Comfort darkness. Comfort food. Gifts. Word games. Feeling special. Closing perfection. Fluent articulation. Silence that isn't awkward. Your scent. Naps. Fashion. Quick wit. Surprises.

Loathes:

Awkward silences. Grumpiness. Impoliteness. Impatience. Dishonesty. Unhygienic. Lack of initiative. Disagreements. Self indulgence. Selfishness. Lack of ability to reflect. Incommunicable. Lack of ability to think before talking. Stupidity. Bad memories. A broken heart. Mistaken infatuation. Pretentious people. Sad goodbyes. People I genuinely care about not giving enough of a fuck to reply to my texts. People walking way in front of me not because I'm slow but more like they came alone. Inconveniences. Can't keep a secret. Loneliness.

 

Persuasive Methods That Work (Choose one only):

Recommended Options

Cajole/ Coax/ Flatter/ Entice/ Sweet Talk/ Wheedle/ Mollycoddle/ Inveigle/ Charm

Alternate Options

Fuck Off

Persuasive Methods That Do Not Work:

Scream/ Shout/ Reprimand/ Make a big fuss/ Frustration/ Complain/ Whine/ Threats/ Give me "the look"

We Both Lost Something

It is past four in the morning and all that is on my mind is a long, trailing, film of bad memories and a golden song sung by Christina Aguillera - titled '4 In The Morning', of all coincidences. All that is swarming through my mind makes my head pulsate and my nose crinkles up, very mildly affected by the sour pinch I feel before I know I must want to cry. I can feel the bitter aftertaste.

I remember vividly when I accompanied the boyfriend to our first Chinese New Year visitation trip where alcohol and gambling seemed very much the only main source of entertainment. I had never felt so neglected and disappointed at the same person during the entire night. I did not understand where my worthiness stood while I was there. My personal capabilities were useless.

Within an entire crowd of people, I felt my loneliness engulf my emotions and tear me apart. I remained meek as I already was, trying so hard to keep my composure in check.

I wondered why I ever came. I felt tired and helpless at ever having known a man so irresponsible and inattentive to his female companion. I pondered at why I still tried to pull through this bullshit, why I did not just up it and leave. I realized my only reason was that it was impolite. I experienced a lack of interpersonal companionship from the sober boyfriend to when he became nothing more than another man in a drunken stupor.

In a nutshell, the boyfriend was never there. He merely drifted in and out of sight and focus. Every time a scene was created, I hoped it would jolt him to his senses- Hoped that me being there would eventually mean something, that he'd remember "Hey, I'm a grown man and this relationship does not revolve around me", or maybe even "Could someone holler back if the girl I came with is dead yet?" But no, he remained busy downing alcohol with the girls and completely losing the one he came hand-in-hand with.

That night came as a hard knock at my head in the form of being ditched and rude remarks. All his actions and words proved a complete insult on my person. I can only imagine what others thought - "The seasoned play boy with a new face, completely unable to get his attention or his company out of so many others. And yet she had the whole night. He never bothered until they were all leaving. Pertaining to this treatment, he's never going to last with this one. Next."

I remembered just wanting to leave. I couldn't care less what or who was left behind.
One long night is sufficient to reflect a man's true colors.

However much I did not want to be stuck with this person, we took him back to his place. He threw a hissy fit, a tantrum, a sudden explosive reaction, whatever the fuck you'd like to name it. He thrashed his belongings all over the flat, breaking and toppling things over. I tried to coax him into bed. I was met with nothing but a bad tempered troll. I broke down for the third time that night. As the floodgates opened, I silently walked around the house, picking things up and replacing them back where they belonged.


I was belted up in tolerance and cleaning up this man's shit after his drunk ass.

I coaxed him a fifth, sixth, seventh time through his hot-headedness and managed to, literally, drag him into his room. I was so upset that I felt so terrible and was in tears and yet I still had to swallow my last bit of dignity and mollycoddle the one person who made me feel so horrible yet remained completely oblivious to my feelings the entire night. My heart broke. Thank you, for showing me how much this meant to you. I wanted a break up. I didn't want this happening a second, third time. I never liked waiting for the same repetitive bad behavior to happen before I ever regret the chance given. A chance, not for changes. A chance, for the same repulsive negativity to strike again.

I wonder if I ever really forgave him. It really boggles my mind...
Why would anyone have the person they love and am concerned about feel so much fucking hurt?

Things accumulate together. Everything that has happened is going to build itself and take a toll on me. You cannot snap your fingers and forget all that is emotionally involved. It is in human nature to have something add up and form clusters and clusters of thoughts that would break you without warning. So do mistakes and feelings. Nobody is receiving an eviction notice that everything you have been holding inside of you is going to come shifting out. Or that you might make nasty decisions at some point of time. I never got my warning either.


"I never meant to hurt you."
But I guess that's what everyone says.

The correct and proper way to feel

"Did you see them? With all their feelings hanging out? With their emotions exposed?"

"I know, what a freak."

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Crying myself to sleep, wondering why I never truly feel loved. You?"

"Same."

 "Is this how I'm supposed to feel now?"

"I don't know, I'll check the manual."

"And?"

"It says that you're feeling the right way."

"What way is that?"

"It says that there is no right way to feel but, right now, after something like this happens, you do need to feel however you're feeling and that feeling this way, however you're feeling, is healthy."

"That doesn't sound very scientific."

"It has nothing to do with science."

"Does it say anything else?"

"It says you'll break something if you beat yourself up for the way you feel and that you won't be able to feel differently until you've finished feeling this feeling."

"Ok. How long will that take?"

"I don't know. How do you feel?"

Make better mistakes tomorrow

I thought I'd write a piece for the year 2011 as it plummets toward its end at breakneck speed.

Things change. Big things. The people you used to love, mean nothing to you.
You wear the clothes you used to hate. You do the things you thought were silly. You develop feelings for someone you barely know. You do things you're scared of. You fool around as if you were a child. You make new friends. You get sad for no reason. You smile for no reason. You get drunk.
You regret things you've done. You don't know who you are.

Just to seem a little more participative and less critical this year...
The overrated 2012 new year's resolution cliché for everybody around me:

Please don't expect me

to always be good and kind and loving. 

There are times when I will be cold

and thoughtless

and hard to understand. 

And for the people I love but have unknowingly left doubts in their minds...

When I say, "I love you," it's not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, and how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've been the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are.

An optimist stays up until midnight to see the New Year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves. Which one are you? Food for thought while you raise your glasses to your lips and begin the ironic count down for the remaining minutes to the count down...

The drifting man

Eventually the fast text message responses will become slow.
The long conversation will cut short.
The attention they give you will become neglected.
The comfort they give you will become something awkward.
The time they have for you will become non-existent.
The feeling of being close to them will become distant



Everything changed.
Not all at once, but slowly. So slowly that I never realized it. But in a moment's time it was all different. Then I guess I opened my eyes and saw how much everything had changed.
The people, my friends, the girls, the boys. Everyone and everything was different.
Some people got happier, some got sadder.
But here I am, still wondering how we got here.

At what exact moment is it that people change?
You don't see it happen overnight, but rather gradually.
You start to notice things are slightly different. And one day you wake up and realize nothing is the same. The person you loved changed. You changed.
Everything you once knew is gone.
Just a distant memory from the past.

And the World begins to cry

It is November

You disappeared
so many moons ago,
I can't keep track
but I'm sure
I could

If
I tried.

Lover,
when you ran,
was I supposed to

follow?

And I can't remember
the smell the air made
the sound of you breathing
the time the sun rose in the spring
the dances we did when we brushed our

teeth.

Lover,
when I called,
did you know
it was

me?

And did you sit
and
let the phone
ring and

ring?

 

For as long as I can remember

my bed has been my favorite place.

It feels safe. I feel safe under the covers.

The World is scary a lot of the time.

I want everyone to like me. I want to look good. I want to be exceptional.

When I am in my bed I feel good just laying there.

My life is not very exciting. I do not go out to parties or bars or shows all that much.

There is too much to want and not be able to have.

So I hide, and my life is pretty simple. I eat some cheetos. I make some mac & cheese. I wish you were not so far. I get lonely. I think about sex a lot. I make to-do lists I never get to doing. I could be anything I wanted, I'm capable, I'm intelligent, I just don't have that much motivation. I'm drinking mountain dew (code red). I should take a shower. 

I just want to lay down.

I want to fall in love and then lay down.

That's about it.

Questions and curiosity

Every time I went somewhere or did something, I thought, "You should be here with me." Then I'd think of all the things we had promised to do, all the places we said we would go. Then I'd get angry, and then I'd feel sad, and then I'd forget about it because what else is there to do?

It is a curious thing,

the death of a loved one.

We all know that our time in

this World is limited,

and that eventually all of us will

end up underneath

some sheet, never to wake up.

And yet it is always a

surprise when it happens to

someone we know.

It is like walking up the stairs

to your bed room

in the dark, and thinking there

is one more stair

than there is. Your foot falls down,

through the air,

and there is a sickly moment of

dark surprise as you try

and read just the way you thought

of things.

We'll never understand

How you can smile all day long but cry yourself to sleep at night.
How pictures never change but the people in them do.
How your best friend can become your worst enemy, or how strange it is when your worst enemy turns into your best friend.
How forever turns into a few short months that you'd do almost anything to get back.
How you can let go of something you once knew you couldn't live without.
How even though you know something is best for you, it just hurts the same.
How the people who once wanted to spend every second with you, think a few minutes of their time is too much to spare.
How people make promises despite knowing how common it is for promises to be broken.
How people can erase you from their lives just because it's easier than working things out.

Painting a dozen words

I often look at pictures of strangers and wonder where they are right now, what they are thinking, if they are doing all right. I look at the eyes that give up their secrets, I let myself wonder if they are the same people they were in that moment.

Are they alone, are they struggling, are they lost? Are they breaking, are they free? Are they someone I would have loved had I gotten the chance? Are their crooked eyes and wrinkled foreheads screaming behind a twisted smile, trying to tell me something? Who are they?


Not just their name or their identity, but really, inside the crevices of their souls and in between the cracks and memories and broken bones- What kind of being, what kind of soul are they carrying? I do not know that I will ever get the chance to find out. I do not know that we will ever walk the same road or find our lives miraculously intertwined, because fate has made it so.

Or will that face always just be that single face, that single picture, that single moment in a timeless life I will never know?

Running on empty

I close my eyes

and I let my body shut itself down

and I let my mind wander.

It wanders to a familiar place.

A place I don't talk about or acknowledge exists.

A place where there is only me.

A place that I hate. I am alone.

Alone here and alone in the world. 

Alone in my heart and alone in my mind,

Alone everywhere,

all the time,

for as long as I can remember

That being said...Now I just need a cigarette

And if you were wondering how my days are going since I have not talked about anything to any of you on any platform, then tell me...Do you feel the same way I do? You smile but you're not really happy. You ask but you don't want to know. You talk but you aren't saying anything. You laugh but you don't find it funny. You cry but it doesn't really mean anything. You get up but you're not really awake. You sleep but you aren't resting. You're alive but you're barely breathing. 

You are the guide

Just a short mushy message, out of the blue

I figured most of you drifted over from my older blogging platform.

I wanted to give my thanks to all my readers who very consistently garner the page views I have and to those who would contact  me to share your kind thoughts and sincere appreciation. Also, the confused lambs who went in search for a fan page in my name (No I still do not have one) Last but not least, even the strangers or acquaintances who stumble across my site and checked it out, out of nothing but sheer curiosity.

I appreciate every minute from you, because I understand each minute that you spend is a minute from your life you will never get back. I know that in some corner of some comfortable place right now, you, person weary of the smile you constantly put on, are reading this.

This is for you. Take off that facade and communicate.

And for the people who have showcased their eloquence of language and dialect usage by showering me with hates/insults/verbal slurs/etc, each shitty minute you spend telling someone who doesn't give a fuck that you hate them is also one you'll never get back. Congratulations, you have managed to impress me with your cowardice.

Today's post

Outside the station, she stands with her child on the side of the street, taking pictures of cars.
You think she's insane. Until, one day, you notice that she's taking pictures of the license plates of the cars her child gets into.

Because you look. But you do not see.

And she walks out the shop with bags full of cat food. You think she's some crazy cat lady until you find out, she has no cats.

Because you eat. But you do not taste.

It's been a while since their last album but he assures you, he's doing just fine these days, white flecks in his nostrils. Then he asks you if he can spend the night on your couch, even though it stinks.

Because you sniff. But you do not smell.

And they say "Just OK" when you ask them how school was. Then you wonder what they're hiding until you find their diary and the last entry reads "I wish you'd give me some privacy."

Because you listen. But you do not hear.

And they've got a bruise over their eye and you run the tips of your fingers over it and ask them how it happened. You believe them. Until it happens again.

Because you touch. But you do not feel.

And they walk past you everyday, one million stories, each waiting to be told. Waiting for you to ask.

Because you live. But very few, love.