Comfortable - john mayer
I just remembered, that time at the market
snuck up behind me and jumped on my shopping cart
And rode down, isle 5
you looked behind you to smile back at me
crashed into a rack full of magazines
they asked us, if we could leave.
Can't remember, what went wrong last September
though i'm sure you'd remind me, if you had to
Our love was, comfortable and
so broken in
I sleep with this new girl i'm still getting used to
my friends all approve, say 'shes gonna be good for you'
they throw me, high fives
She says the bible is all that she reads
and prefers that I not use profanity
your mouth was, so dirty
Life of the party
and she swears that she's artsy
but you could distinguish
Miles from Coltrane
Our love was, comfortable and
so broken in
she's perfect, so flawless
or so they say, say
She thinks I can't see the smile that shes faking
and poses for pictures that aren't being taken
I loved you
grey sweat pants, no makeup, so perfect
Our love was, comfortable and
so broken in
she's perfect, so flawless
I'm not impressed, I want you back.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Sunday, October 24, 2004
everywhere i turn i see the issue of feminism. For mondays i read penguin classics, i read virginia woolf and her rage towards the disparity between the genders, the female being the inferior. i see magazine articles ranting about the hiphop culture and how demeaning many of its components are for women. i hear of friends shunting rap and its sexually crude lyrics. on fridays, i listen to TAs fume of disney and its way or perpetuating sexism in the modern western society. i watch people on tv gasp in horror at the traditions of some primitive societies that obviously worked against women. i read the bible and i see the glaring differences between the male and female. i look at my own bookshelf, and i see books addressing this "problem". and some how i cant stop thinking about it sometimes.. such as now.
i know feminism isn't about exterminatig men and punishing them for the generations of torment and repression, like the manifesto called SCUM by someone (i forgot the name). rather, its simply an attempt at obtaining equality between the sexes. i am not here to argue for or against feminism.. i just want to talk about it :) and yes, of course i see a problem.. i just dont FEEL it.
throughout the years of my childhood ( i mean like.. till now :D),suprisingly, brought up in a considerably still very conservative place, i never experience any difference in the way i was treated and the way BOYS were treated. i never thought boys had cooties, or if any differece in their body parts matter one bit when im trying to kick them in the shins or when i am wrestling them to the ground. instead, i was one of THEM. i wore ties(sometimes) for kids, i ran around in shorts and boycotted skirts and dresses for a good 4 years of my life probably. i rolled around in dirt, scrapped my bloody knees a few times a day from tripping and running. and i punched anyone who made fun of me. yes, i did wear a skirt to school.. but who said i couldnt wear my shorts inside?
on the other hand,during quiet moments at home, i dressed dolls up and enjoyed watching my mom dress up(she used to do that alot when she had lots of work and all that). i played with plastic miniature cooking utensils and used lego as substitutes for "food". all this while, my parents said nothing.
maybe u can say i wasn'tbrought up in an awfully "traditional" "chinese" household in which mommies tell their daughters to sweep the floor and behave like a girl. that your body is a treasure and weak structure that existed for your future husband. that you should do the chores and let your brother sit around and munch on chips. you had to sit a certain way and speak a certain way. i know i have some friends who had that at home, or at least had that said to them at some point of their lives. i never had that.
once, during dinner, my mom told me and dawne(we were poking at each other and giggling madly) to behave like girls and that she made a mistake and has three sons instead of one. at this point,most kids would sullenly stop what they are doing and sulk. we didnt actually, we rolled our eyes and told her maybe she did, and who cares really? and no, we didnt "behave like girls"and ended up with bruises and pouts. and that was the end of that.
i read of corsets and fainting spells the victorian women perform as a form of feminity and laugh with humor. my family makes fun of the whimsical details of the ideas of feminity from when the dinosaurs roamed the earth.. and in other societies, they were just "different" who is to say if something is "good" or "bad"?. my parents never pointed out scantily dressed females and labelled them. they never dismissed "rough" women either. sure, i didnt want to wear skirts.so they buy me pants instead. i did what i wanted and got what i wanted. i cried the same amount for a barbie doll or a set of plastic swords.
somehow, from watching people and reading and growing older(obviously my body changed), i naturally and inexplicably transformed into a GIRL. teasing from BOYS stopped and they stare atme with widened eyes at what i had become. "what the hell happened there?" people like Ben would still punch me and challenge me to a duel with bamboo sticks, others like patrick, starts hitting on me and calls me his babe. what happened to sharing band aids for bleeding blisters from climbing monkey bars?then again, im blessed to be put in co-ed schools for my entire life. it helped in opening me up to many more ideas.
by then, i am so accustomed to the "equality" i had been enjoying for the past 14 years thatit took me quite a long time to see the "reality".
for a good whole year, i became an angry teenage girl, who stood by her "girls" and condemmed every evil male i encounter. books with any hint of sexism disgusted me.. i had outbrusts even when my friends say something about what a girl should and shouldnt do. well, i guess things changed again.
its cliche, but when u find yourself blushing at your crush, or shortening your hems so you look better, or dresing up to receive positive attention, you realise you are enjoying this. who cares if i had to sit this way or speak softer? im getting all the attention from boys! who cared if sleeping beauty had to be beautiful and stupid? she got the prince she wanted didnt she? who cares if men couldnt have babies? ask the mother who cradles her babyboy in her arms right after labour.who cared if you tittered in highheels? theres someone to open the door for you.
and all of this comes from the seven deadly sins.. but thats another matter entirely.
maybe i just got too used to this.
most times i take for granted that everything is still equal. so what if the top ten favourite people in canada were men? the women who didnt make it probably werent good enough. that was my actual first instinct. realising the difference and pondering about the possibility of biasness came later.
i have difficulty putting labels on girls. bitch. slut. hoe. i dont care. so what if she doesnt wear any clothes? so what if she screwed a differnt guy everyday? so what if she grinds her crotch against someone else's? it is her choice isnt it. its not that i ignore it all and i dont see how demenaing it is or if it is bad or good. its ultimately her choice, and really, thats just another person doing what she does. i let it all slide by me. to me, you have it, you wnat to flaunt it? go ahead. enjoy.
well yes my mom seem fond of giving me talks about respecting my own body and that being a girl DOES have its biological disadvantages or differences u can say. but then its all just biology and my own choices no?
of course, i glad and proud for what the feminism has accomplished so far to allow me to have such a neutral-ish childhood and for me to take so many tihngs for granted. of course. *salutes*
after all, im someone who enjoys being a girl now. i dress up, talk about boys, enjoy university and probably relatively huge amount of freedom in many other more important things in the future and rush home from school every thursday to watch the America's Top model on tv.
for now, even though i do sound awfully "passive" and petty, in the society i live in, its all good :)
i know feminism isn't about exterminatig men and punishing them for the generations of torment and repression, like the manifesto called SCUM by someone (i forgot the name). rather, its simply an attempt at obtaining equality between the sexes. i am not here to argue for or against feminism.. i just want to talk about it :) and yes, of course i see a problem.. i just dont FEEL it.
throughout the years of my childhood ( i mean like.. till now :D),suprisingly, brought up in a considerably still very conservative place, i never experience any difference in the way i was treated and the way BOYS were treated. i never thought boys had cooties, or if any differece in their body parts matter one bit when im trying to kick them in the shins or when i am wrestling them to the ground. instead, i was one of THEM. i wore ties(sometimes) for kids, i ran around in shorts and boycotted skirts and dresses for a good 4 years of my life probably. i rolled around in dirt, scrapped my bloody knees a few times a day from tripping and running. and i punched anyone who made fun of me. yes, i did wear a skirt to school.. but who said i couldnt wear my shorts inside?
on the other hand,during quiet moments at home, i dressed dolls up and enjoyed watching my mom dress up(she used to do that alot when she had lots of work and all that). i played with plastic miniature cooking utensils and used lego as substitutes for "food". all this while, my parents said nothing.
maybe u can say i wasn'tbrought up in an awfully "traditional" "chinese" household in which mommies tell their daughters to sweep the floor and behave like a girl. that your body is a treasure and weak structure that existed for your future husband. that you should do the chores and let your brother sit around and munch on chips. you had to sit a certain way and speak a certain way. i know i have some friends who had that at home, or at least had that said to them at some point of their lives. i never had that.
once, during dinner, my mom told me and dawne(we were poking at each other and giggling madly) to behave like girls and that she made a mistake and has three sons instead of one. at this point,most kids would sullenly stop what they are doing and sulk. we didnt actually, we rolled our eyes and told her maybe she did, and who cares really? and no, we didnt "behave like girls"and ended up with bruises and pouts. and that was the end of that.
i read of corsets and fainting spells the victorian women perform as a form of feminity and laugh with humor. my family makes fun of the whimsical details of the ideas of feminity from when the dinosaurs roamed the earth.. and in other societies, they were just "different" who is to say if something is "good" or "bad"?. my parents never pointed out scantily dressed females and labelled them. they never dismissed "rough" women either. sure, i didnt want to wear skirts.so they buy me pants instead. i did what i wanted and got what i wanted. i cried the same amount for a barbie doll or a set of plastic swords.
somehow, from watching people and reading and growing older(obviously my body changed), i naturally and inexplicably transformed into a GIRL. teasing from BOYS stopped and they stare atme with widened eyes at what i had become. "what the hell happened there?" people like Ben would still punch me and challenge me to a duel with bamboo sticks, others like patrick, starts hitting on me and calls me his babe. what happened to sharing band aids for bleeding blisters from climbing monkey bars?then again, im blessed to be put in co-ed schools for my entire life. it helped in opening me up to many more ideas.
by then, i am so accustomed to the "equality" i had been enjoying for the past 14 years thatit took me quite a long time to see the "reality".
for a good whole year, i became an angry teenage girl, who stood by her "girls" and condemmed every evil male i encounter. books with any hint of sexism disgusted me.. i had outbrusts even when my friends say something about what a girl should and shouldnt do. well, i guess things changed again.
its cliche, but when u find yourself blushing at your crush, or shortening your hems so you look better, or dresing up to receive positive attention, you realise you are enjoying this. who cares if i had to sit this way or speak softer? im getting all the attention from boys! who cared if sleeping beauty had to be beautiful and stupid? she got the prince she wanted didnt she? who cares if men couldnt have babies? ask the mother who cradles her babyboy in her arms right after labour.who cared if you tittered in highheels? theres someone to open the door for you.
and all of this comes from the seven deadly sins.. but thats another matter entirely.
maybe i just got too used to this.
most times i take for granted that everything is still equal. so what if the top ten favourite people in canada were men? the women who didnt make it probably werent good enough. that was my actual first instinct. realising the difference and pondering about the possibility of biasness came later.
i have difficulty putting labels on girls. bitch. slut. hoe. i dont care. so what if she doesnt wear any clothes? so what if she screwed a differnt guy everyday? so what if she grinds her crotch against someone else's? it is her choice isnt it. its not that i ignore it all and i dont see how demenaing it is or if it is bad or good. its ultimately her choice, and really, thats just another person doing what she does. i let it all slide by me. to me, you have it, you wnat to flaunt it? go ahead. enjoy.
well yes my mom seem fond of giving me talks about respecting my own body and that being a girl DOES have its biological disadvantages or differences u can say. but then its all just biology and my own choices no?
of course, i glad and proud for what the feminism has accomplished so far to allow me to have such a neutral-ish childhood and for me to take so many tihngs for granted. of course. *salutes*
after all, im someone who enjoys being a girl now. i dress up, talk about boys, enjoy university and probably relatively huge amount of freedom in many other more important things in the future and rush home from school every thursday to watch the America's Top model on tv.
for now, even though i do sound awfully "passive" and petty, in the society i live in, its all good :)
Saturday, October 16, 2004
i told
unforgiven lies
yet i crave
for everything you are.
the night no longer offers solace
but the medium in which my
pain
manifests itself upon
my worm eaten heart.
im sorry i
disrupted your life.
im sorry i
dug out a hole in my soul.
im sorry i
shoved you aside and went outside
to rot.
im sorry i
cannot weave words of rhythm and magic
of lemons and other words that do not
distract me.
im sorry i donn
your t-shirts - just
because.
im sorry you let me get away
im sorry i
got away.
im sorry i
need you.
unforgiven lies
yet i crave
for everything you are.
the night no longer offers solace
but the medium in which my
pain
manifests itself upon
my worm eaten heart.
im sorry i
disrupted your life.
im sorry i
dug out a hole in my soul.
im sorry i
shoved you aside and went outside
to rot.
im sorry i
cannot weave words of rhythm and magic
of lemons and other words that do not
distract me.
im sorry i donn
your t-shirts - just
because.
im sorry you let me get away
im sorry i
got away.
im sorry i
need you.
You glance at the glasspanel.
she sits alone in the corner, staring into space, big teardrops rolling down her pale complexion, her lips of the same pallor. You wonder what is wrong, if she had a reason to cry, if she even smiled at all.
you eyes remain fixed on her, listening to the laughter that rings against the hollow of this freezing lounge, where people of dazed expressions or big laughing mouths sat huddled in their sweaters and coats. she does not make one move, except for her trembling wet eyelashes. For one fleeting moment, you wish she would come to you, touch your warm hands with her icy ones and look at you.
Then you look up at the sign on the wall. "Not more than 70 persons are permitted in this lounge at any one time". if there were 70 people milling around, would she even notice?
what broke her heart? what made her shake so, her lips bloodless, the pain seized in the her iris, unobscured by the tears that constantly flooded her reddened and swollen eyelids before spilling over and crashing upton those soft cheekbones?
you smile humorlessly. Ignoring the non-smoking sign, you lit up, hoping she might notice, the obnoxious fumes, the swirling grey smoke. But she did not look up. instead, she sadly whipped the tears off her face with her sleeve, wearily piacked her bag and left.
You keep on smoking, a tad disappointed. BUt well, life goes on, there are things to do, people to meet.
Just another broken soul, another broken girl today.
she sits alone in the corner, staring into space, big teardrops rolling down her pale complexion, her lips of the same pallor. You wonder what is wrong, if she had a reason to cry, if she even smiled at all.
you eyes remain fixed on her, listening to the laughter that rings against the hollow of this freezing lounge, where people of dazed expressions or big laughing mouths sat huddled in their sweaters and coats. she does not make one move, except for her trembling wet eyelashes. For one fleeting moment, you wish she would come to you, touch your warm hands with her icy ones and look at you.
Then you look up at the sign on the wall. "Not more than 70 persons are permitted in this lounge at any one time". if there were 70 people milling around, would she even notice?
what broke her heart? what made her shake so, her lips bloodless, the pain seized in the her iris, unobscured by the tears that constantly flooded her reddened and swollen eyelids before spilling over and crashing upton those soft cheekbones?
you smile humorlessly. Ignoring the non-smoking sign, you lit up, hoping she might notice, the obnoxious fumes, the swirling grey smoke. But she did not look up. instead, she sadly whipped the tears off her face with her sleeve, wearily piacked her bag and left.
You keep on smoking, a tad disappointed. BUt well, life goes on, there are things to do, people to meet.
Just another broken soul, another broken girl today.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
woops too many typing errors in that LONNNNGG previous blog..
hmms.. i guess i feel a tad better.. im just not looking forward to fridays and the weekend. tried to look more energetic today.. with the effort of wearing fuzzy shoes and happy clothing.. and i did put in extra effort to stop crying. it takes up alot of my energy.. but yeah.. i still have "wild horses" on.. aparently my eyes still are poofy and my skin crappy but.. oh wells.. the down times.
last night was funnnnnyyyy.. no one flirted with me in that circumstance before.. haha.. but yeah it lasted a bit too long (a whoollllee hour and 3/4 of the bus ride~) .. and he got too touchy.. phewies hammy was there :)
today's tutorial lasted half an hour~ tats retarded.. and we only talked about birds and apes.. OK.. *rolleyes*
mm there is no reason for me to transfer to U of T no more.. mmm sigh.
im bored.. why did i come home so early and dawne isnt even at home.. ARGh being home sucks these days.. *sighs*
my mom came into my room to talk to me about boys again last night.. how does she know these things about me?? its not like i ever tell her anytihng and somehow she senses when things happen.. hmms..well she gave me the usual dont settle for anyone who isnt worth it.. and how im stil young and i have plenty of time... and i should let people meet other people and i should meet people too before making serious decisions.. bois do come and go.. maybe one or two will stay and be even more.. but just keep my heart open and all that.. and never let myself get hurt. then she starts boasting about how many bfs she had before my daddy and that she understands coz shes been through all that crap and her mommy never told her jack. mmmm.. yes mommy, i know.
you know how u get to the age where you realize how your upbringing influenced the way u are? well im seeing more and more of it as much as im trying to ignore it.. well.. i dont really have any blame to put on my parents.. after all they spoilt me rotten for a decent 15 years at least.. i grew up tihnking my daddy is a king and im a princess.. and my apartment was the center of the universe. hahaa.. the day i found out it wasnt true.. i chose my cinderella dress and dragged my maid out to walk me around the block.. simply because there is so much more beyond the roads that never seemed to end to my little eyes. then my parents came home with a set of toy bowling pins for me. :)
i wonder where im going now. what am i gonna be? so far i have transformed from a princess to a girl swallowed and trampled upon by the indifferent crowd.. what happens next?
i need you still
hmms.. i guess i feel a tad better.. im just not looking forward to fridays and the weekend. tried to look more energetic today.. with the effort of wearing fuzzy shoes and happy clothing.. and i did put in extra effort to stop crying. it takes up alot of my energy.. but yeah.. i still have "wild horses" on.. aparently my eyes still are poofy and my skin crappy but.. oh wells.. the down times.
last night was funnnnnyyyy.. no one flirted with me in that circumstance before.. haha.. but yeah it lasted a bit too long (a whoollllee hour and 3/4 of the bus ride~) .. and he got too touchy.. phewies hammy was there :)
today's tutorial lasted half an hour~ tats retarded.. and we only talked about birds and apes.. OK.. *rolleyes*
mm there is no reason for me to transfer to U of T no more.. mmm sigh.
im bored.. why did i come home so early and dawne isnt even at home.. ARGh being home sucks these days.. *sighs*
my mom came into my room to talk to me about boys again last night.. how does she know these things about me?? its not like i ever tell her anytihng and somehow she senses when things happen.. hmms..well she gave me the usual dont settle for anyone who isnt worth it.. and how im stil young and i have plenty of time... and i should let people meet other people and i should meet people too before making serious decisions.. bois do come and go.. maybe one or two will stay and be even more.. but just keep my heart open and all that.. and never let myself get hurt. then she starts boasting about how many bfs she had before my daddy and that she understands coz shes been through all that crap and her mommy never told her jack. mmmm.. yes mommy, i know.
you know how u get to the age where you realize how your upbringing influenced the way u are? well im seeing more and more of it as much as im trying to ignore it.. well.. i dont really have any blame to put on my parents.. after all they spoilt me rotten for a decent 15 years at least.. i grew up tihnking my daddy is a king and im a princess.. and my apartment was the center of the universe. hahaa.. the day i found out it wasnt true.. i chose my cinderella dress and dragged my maid out to walk me around the block.. simply because there is so much more beyond the roads that never seemed to end to my little eyes. then my parents came home with a set of toy bowling pins for me. :)
i wonder where im going now. what am i gonna be? so far i have transformed from a princess to a girl swallowed and trampled upon by the indifferent crowd.. what happens next?
i need you still
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Haha wrote this while waiting at some nice dark spot in the Ross building today.. its not just about these few days,, but a bit of the thoughts(although very retarded and in bad English) that have been bothering me for a while..
Leaving someone so fused into your life is never easy. With the utterance of a few words and tears in the middle, everything changes. Suddenly the world empties itself, like a kid pouring sand out of a pail. The days seem to go on forever, and there seem to be no reason to live past the next day. Voices bounce off the walls of the room, swirling in your head while you curl up on your bed, shaking, trembling, like an addict in rehabilitation trying to wait out the intense craving and the panic of loss in the hollow of your stomach.
Everything loses its taste, its smells, its touch. The environment around you a bleak cell and strait jacket - probably the only things that keep you sane so far during withdrawal.
Suddenly your existence is not complete. You laugh and smile, but there isn't anything around your finger or neck to fiddle with. You come out of a hot shower to find reaching for the usual shirt inappropriate. You instinctively reserve Fridays, ready to great him, clean and fresh at your door at 4, after school with a grin on your face. Now you watch MSN connect, but u know you should not click on his name.
suddenly you come home late at night, you get ready for bed, contacts off, tucked in your bed, to realize you don't have anyone to call anymore. The night becomes too long and sleep doesn't come. You stare at your computer monitor, soundless, as a obnoxious number of popups spring up, you realize you just have to learn how to get around it.. there isn't anyone to complain to. You watch your sister wolf down popcorn and icecream.. you stare at the unwanted rice or pieces of meat on your plate.. and it hits you that you don't have anyone to help finish it, and you are entirely on your own. So you run from the dinner table to slam your room door shut and crouch behind it to dissolve into tears when your parents mention his name.
but familiarity and natural tendencies to care isn't love right? Love when you are young is supposed to be about explosions of passion, energy and freedom? Isn't young love supposed to be liberating and not engulfing? Love doesn't include having selfish desires to seek something that eludes him.. right? Love is about even giving someone perfect up and telling him to explore and learn about everything and then perhaps later get back to you after you do the same?
Edward reminds me I chose this. I chose for my bed to be empty, for that pair of shoes to not sit on my shoe rack. That I must not sink back and I must go through with my decision. That the decision was made for a new start, a better one infact. Funny what literature does to us eh, ed? To think to understand and encounter foreign heartache translated into words would help. That analogy of the lady with the saggy boobs made me smile. Thanks for being there.
"confusion rules this shifting age"(dawne, 2004)
She tells me this after I crawled to her on my knees after realizing how much I needed someone to talk to. She regards me indifferently and tells me I will survive. That I am only 18, with a brand new world now to explore and somehow I will find myself. Hurting is just part of it all. How did she become so logical and wise? Did she just grow up so much with my back turned?
Maybe I should pay more attention at home.
Then you meet someone else. Your heart flutters at his name, you face lights up at the sight of his. You long to reach out your broken arms and offer him your damaged heart. You long to hide him under your skin, hold him in your heart, praying for someone who will for the first time decipher the codes embedded in its walls and ease the pain and loneliness. You want to possess his every fiber, with the morbid desire to lock him in a cell and absorb every breath he takes, every word his lips would murmur.
But you hold back a little, playing for time, sipping hot chocolate, knowing that asking him to be part of your life a huge step. A commitment that would, with time, render you helpless and so powerful at the same time, both physically and emotionally. Fully aware of the excruciating consequences when things fo fall apart, you contemplate the possibilities and factors. furthermore, its no longer just about you, you take in account his wants and expectations – yet you hestitate at the thought of tying someone else down again.. and that would conflict with those books that confidently convince you to keep on moving.. and constantly find new experiences in every aspect of your life to truly "live life" and find out what you really need and want.
There is no room for mistakes, apparently. You cannot keep stacking up all the guilt of wasting people's time and effort and feelings and find more and more reasons to loathe yourself a little bit more every time you steal a glance in the mirror. Oh how you abhor that reflection! Somehow, you keep a tiny silver of each memory in your heart. They never leave you. And you are tired of crying, tired of the "weirdness" in your nose, the puffy eyes and exhausted shoulders. Tired of that strange dark shadow that follows you everywhere. You thought you had it under control, didn't you? You thought u watched it from the corner of your eye. But sometimes you get distracted and it pounces on you when you are not looking.
Yet, you are still enamored by him. What do you do now?
I have been sobbing my puny heart out for the past 2 days and it seems like its never going to end. Well, Of course when no ones looking. I don’t even know wht I feel so bad, why that ache refuses to leave no matter how hard I fight it. I tell myself agin its just another one of those phases and I have been and will be fine.. soon enough. But its so hard when I don’t have a soul to whisper to.
HY tells me I carry too many scars and I hold too many secrets. Maybe its true. I dunno. Its only been a few years since that weird shadow started trailing me around, occasionally leaping out from lurking in unexpected corners. I still always manage to keep a straight face. I say im going through a sort of self conflicting discovery and maybe everyone else goes through this too. That all this confusion and sheer hurting for no peculiar reason, my habit of interpreting everything pessimistically and my disturbing peace and willingness to disappear or die is merely part of growing up. Is it?
Is it normal to feel so worthless and insignificant? How you can vanish one fine day and no one cares? Is it normal to be so absorbed in your own battles of frustration, self hate and depressing thoughts and not notice the red velvet chairs, the love shinning off his face?
I always thought im good at blocking out emotions, that my skeptism towards happiness would prevent myself from hurting more when it ceases.
Sometimes you wonder if those books were wrong. That perhaps sometimes holding on to something, however mundane and routine at present, may turn out the best thing you have ever done in your life. You wonder if not utterly embracing your current relationships and ongoing experiences and planning everything restricts you instead of maximizing the use of your life span as a modern goddess. You wonder how much you may be missing out.
You look around a lot too, and compare yourself with the people you talk to, the people you offer a slight polite smile to, the people who walk on by, oblivious to your existence. Oh, alas! The green eyed monster! Besides the plain good ol' jealousy, you feel inadequate, rejected and socially flawed all over again. As much as it is unhealthy and unpleasant, you cant help and still do it. Isnt it funny how you let the most superficial details break the kneecaps of your self esteem?
I sit in this corner, watching a light flicker and I think of seizures and horrible it is to have one. How horrible it is to have not the slightest bit of control of your body! Then I try to find my place, while I cause this black pen to spell out the floating words that are running in my consciousness – while I feel so detached from. Im causing this pen to move, with sufficient pressure, following the rules of conformity to write on the blue lines. Yes, of course it helps the reader and all that order crap comes it. But who am I to say im in control? Am I even in control when he tells me something funny and I burst into hysterical giggling? Am I in control that I sit here, my khaki covered legs crossed under me, the ache in my third finger and the "weridness" of my nose and the usual hollowness I feel being the only things that remind me im here?
God, I talk too much.
Leaving someone so fused into your life is never easy. With the utterance of a few words and tears in the middle, everything changes. Suddenly the world empties itself, like a kid pouring sand out of a pail. The days seem to go on forever, and there seem to be no reason to live past the next day. Voices bounce off the walls of the room, swirling in your head while you curl up on your bed, shaking, trembling, like an addict in rehabilitation trying to wait out the intense craving and the panic of loss in the hollow of your stomach.
Everything loses its taste, its smells, its touch. The environment around you a bleak cell and strait jacket - probably the only things that keep you sane so far during withdrawal.
Suddenly your existence is not complete. You laugh and smile, but there isn't anything around your finger or neck to fiddle with. You come out of a hot shower to find reaching for the usual shirt inappropriate. You instinctively reserve Fridays, ready to great him, clean and fresh at your door at 4, after school with a grin on your face. Now you watch MSN connect, but u know you should not click on his name.
suddenly you come home late at night, you get ready for bed, contacts off, tucked in your bed, to realize you don't have anyone to call anymore. The night becomes too long and sleep doesn't come. You stare at your computer monitor, soundless, as a obnoxious number of popups spring up, you realize you just have to learn how to get around it.. there isn't anyone to complain to. You watch your sister wolf down popcorn and icecream.. you stare at the unwanted rice or pieces of meat on your plate.. and it hits you that you don't have anyone to help finish it, and you are entirely on your own. So you run from the dinner table to slam your room door shut and crouch behind it to dissolve into tears when your parents mention his name.
but familiarity and natural tendencies to care isn't love right? Love when you are young is supposed to be about explosions of passion, energy and freedom? Isn't young love supposed to be liberating and not engulfing? Love doesn't include having selfish desires to seek something that eludes him.. right? Love is about even giving someone perfect up and telling him to explore and learn about everything and then perhaps later get back to you after you do the same?
Edward reminds me I chose this. I chose for my bed to be empty, for that pair of shoes to not sit on my shoe rack. That I must not sink back and I must go through with my decision. That the decision was made for a new start, a better one infact. Funny what literature does to us eh, ed? To think to understand and encounter foreign heartache translated into words would help. That analogy of the lady with the saggy boobs made me smile. Thanks for being there.
"confusion rules this shifting age"(dawne, 2004)
She tells me this after I crawled to her on my knees after realizing how much I needed someone to talk to. She regards me indifferently and tells me I will survive. That I am only 18, with a brand new world now to explore and somehow I will find myself. Hurting is just part of it all. How did she become so logical and wise? Did she just grow up so much with my back turned?
Maybe I should pay more attention at home.
Then you meet someone else. Your heart flutters at his name, you face lights up at the sight of his. You long to reach out your broken arms and offer him your damaged heart. You long to hide him under your skin, hold him in your heart, praying for someone who will for the first time decipher the codes embedded in its walls and ease the pain and loneliness. You want to possess his every fiber, with the morbid desire to lock him in a cell and absorb every breath he takes, every word his lips would murmur.
But you hold back a little, playing for time, sipping hot chocolate, knowing that asking him to be part of your life a huge step. A commitment that would, with time, render you helpless and so powerful at the same time, both physically and emotionally. Fully aware of the excruciating consequences when things fo fall apart, you contemplate the possibilities and factors. furthermore, its no longer just about you, you take in account his wants and expectations – yet you hestitate at the thought of tying someone else down again.. and that would conflict with those books that confidently convince you to keep on moving.. and constantly find new experiences in every aspect of your life to truly "live life" and find out what you really need and want.
There is no room for mistakes, apparently. You cannot keep stacking up all the guilt of wasting people's time and effort and feelings and find more and more reasons to loathe yourself a little bit more every time you steal a glance in the mirror. Oh how you abhor that reflection! Somehow, you keep a tiny silver of each memory in your heart. They never leave you. And you are tired of crying, tired of the "weirdness" in your nose, the puffy eyes and exhausted shoulders. Tired of that strange dark shadow that follows you everywhere. You thought you had it under control, didn't you? You thought u watched it from the corner of your eye. But sometimes you get distracted and it pounces on you when you are not looking.
Yet, you are still enamored by him. What do you do now?
I have been sobbing my puny heart out for the past 2 days and it seems like its never going to end. Well, Of course when no ones looking. I don’t even know wht I feel so bad, why that ache refuses to leave no matter how hard I fight it. I tell myself agin its just another one of those phases and I have been and will be fine.. soon enough. But its so hard when I don’t have a soul to whisper to.
HY tells me I carry too many scars and I hold too many secrets. Maybe its true. I dunno. Its only been a few years since that weird shadow started trailing me around, occasionally leaping out from lurking in unexpected corners. I still always manage to keep a straight face. I say im going through a sort of self conflicting discovery and maybe everyone else goes through this too. That all this confusion and sheer hurting for no peculiar reason, my habit of interpreting everything pessimistically and my disturbing peace and willingness to disappear or die is merely part of growing up. Is it?
Is it normal to feel so worthless and insignificant? How you can vanish one fine day and no one cares? Is it normal to be so absorbed in your own battles of frustration, self hate and depressing thoughts and not notice the red velvet chairs, the love shinning off his face?
I always thought im good at blocking out emotions, that my skeptism towards happiness would prevent myself from hurting more when it ceases.
Sometimes you wonder if those books were wrong. That perhaps sometimes holding on to something, however mundane and routine at present, may turn out the best thing you have ever done in your life. You wonder if not utterly embracing your current relationships and ongoing experiences and planning everything restricts you instead of maximizing the use of your life span as a modern goddess. You wonder how much you may be missing out.
You look around a lot too, and compare yourself with the people you talk to, the people you offer a slight polite smile to, the people who walk on by, oblivious to your existence. Oh, alas! The green eyed monster! Besides the plain good ol' jealousy, you feel inadequate, rejected and socially flawed all over again. As much as it is unhealthy and unpleasant, you cant help and still do it. Isnt it funny how you let the most superficial details break the kneecaps of your self esteem?
I sit in this corner, watching a light flicker and I think of seizures and horrible it is to have one. How horrible it is to have not the slightest bit of control of your body! Then I try to find my place, while I cause this black pen to spell out the floating words that are running in my consciousness – while I feel so detached from. Im causing this pen to move, with sufficient pressure, following the rules of conformity to write on the blue lines. Yes, of course it helps the reader and all that order crap comes it. But who am I to say im in control? Am I even in control when he tells me something funny and I burst into hysterical giggling? Am I in control that I sit here, my khaki covered legs crossed under me, the ache in my third finger and the "weridness" of my nose and the usual hollowness I feel being the only things that remind me im here?
God, I talk too much.
Monday, October 11, 2004
"Two Beds And a Coffee Machine"
and she takes another step
slowly she opens the door
check that he is sleeping
pick up all the broken glass
and furniture on the floor
been up half the night screaming
now it's time to get away
pack up the kids in the car
another bruise to try and hide
another alibi to write
another ditch in the road
you keep moving
another stop sign
you keep moving on
and the years go by so fast
wonder how I ever made it through
and there are children to think of
baby's asleep in the back seat
wonder how they'll ever make it
through this living nightmare
but the mind is an amazing thing
full of candy dreams and new toys
and another cheap hotel
two beds and a coffee machine
but there are groceries to buy
and she knows she'll have to go home
another ditch in the road
you keep moving
another stop sign
you keep moving on
and the years go by so fast
wonder how I ever made it through
another bruise to try and hide
another alibi to write
another lonely highway in the black of night
there's hope in the darkness
I know you're gonna make it
another ditch in the road
keep moving
another stop sign
you keep moving on
and the years go by so fast
silent fortress built to last
wonder how I ever made it
and she takes another step
slowly she opens the door
check that he is sleeping
pick up all the broken glass
and furniture on the floor
been up half the night screaming
now it's time to get away
pack up the kids in the car
another bruise to try and hide
another alibi to write
another ditch in the road
you keep moving
another stop sign
you keep moving on
and the years go by so fast
wonder how I ever made it through
and there are children to think of
baby's asleep in the back seat
wonder how they'll ever make it
through this living nightmare
but the mind is an amazing thing
full of candy dreams and new toys
and another cheap hotel
two beds and a coffee machine
but there are groceries to buy
and she knows she'll have to go home
another ditch in the road
you keep moving
another stop sign
you keep moving on
and the years go by so fast
wonder how I ever made it through
another bruise to try and hide
another alibi to write
another lonely highway in the black of night
there's hope in the darkness
I know you're gonna make it
another ditch in the road
keep moving
another stop sign
you keep moving on
and the years go by so fast
silent fortress built to last
wonder how I ever made it
i am so alone.. sad isnt it? how i stranded myself on a deserted island all alone.. while my stupid tears splash around my arms and face and makes a sea.. yay.. i dont even have anyone to talk to anymore.. oh wells.. boohoo poor me i hope i get hit by a car tomorrow.. or like i trip and fall into a bustling highway and get smashed to bits.. or maybe i should just do a permanent submarine. sigh
i shall be cold
i will swallow the swords which will pierce the skin of the
vessel that bleeds the tears.
i shall be indifferent
the blood that stain my nails and lips will
evaporate like wisp of smoke
with the trick of my mind.
i will be strong.
that the cuts along my face and shoulders will heal
the scars well painted over.
but i cant.
i shall be cold
i will swallow the swords which will pierce the skin of the
vessel that bleeds the tears.
i shall be indifferent
the blood that stain my nails and lips will
evaporate like wisp of smoke
with the trick of my mind.
i will be strong.
that the cuts along my face and shoulders will heal
the scars well painted over.
but i cant.
Friday, October 08, 2004
everything you are,
i crave.
she noticed him from across the playground, a rock clasped in his intertwined fingers, staring, his gaze steady, ignoring the puddle in front of him and the voices that echoed and bounced off his impenetrateable bubble. she wanted to talk to him, but people took her by the hand and led her away, telling her stories, offering her honeyed words and all the popsicles she wanted. the little girl agreed, confused. she never knew what to do anyway.
sometimes it rained. sometimes she cried and sometimes he did. sometimes the mist grew and draped a shroud over their eyes. sometimes snow would fall and settle and form icicles in her heart. but his remained warm. he still stood at the corner, rock in hand, staring. he was always there.
yet she returns and leaves time and time again, pretending not to see the tears in his eyes and how weary his hands were. she was selfish and mean and couldn't understand why he would still stay there, knowing well how little she was worth and often asks why. she thought she wore her guilt and pain on her sleeve, so no one would talk to her. even so, months go by and he still stands there quietly, staring.
but now she stands on the other corner staring back. they watch each other silently, smiles slowly spreading across their flushed faces for the first time. For the first time, a stare said everything.
i crave.
she noticed him from across the playground, a rock clasped in his intertwined fingers, staring, his gaze steady, ignoring the puddle in front of him and the voices that echoed and bounced off his impenetrateable bubble. she wanted to talk to him, but people took her by the hand and led her away, telling her stories, offering her honeyed words and all the popsicles she wanted. the little girl agreed, confused. she never knew what to do anyway.
sometimes it rained. sometimes she cried and sometimes he did. sometimes the mist grew and draped a shroud over their eyes. sometimes snow would fall and settle and form icicles in her heart. but his remained warm. he still stood at the corner, rock in hand, staring. he was always there.
yet she returns and leaves time and time again, pretending not to see the tears in his eyes and how weary his hands were. she was selfish and mean and couldn't understand why he would still stay there, knowing well how little she was worth and often asks why. she thought she wore her guilt and pain on her sleeve, so no one would talk to her. even so, months go by and he still stands there quietly, staring.
but now she stands on the other corner staring back. they watch each other silently, smiles slowly spreading across their flushed faces for the first time. For the first time, a stare said everything.
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