I haven’t blogged in a while, I don’t know whether it’s a lack of material or a lack of motivation to update. Strangely, I’m compelled to write something today, whether it’s the want to put a bullet between the eyes of every panda that doesn’t want to screw to save its species, the need to destroy something beautiful or just the emotional tumult inside my head, I’m just typing, and I hardly know what I’m saying.
Today’s phrase of the day is “fire playing with fire”. As I observed myself for the past 2 weeks, I’ve seen stuff I didn’t really like. I hardly like the fact that I get emotionally involved in things so easily, I hardly like the fact that when I open my mouth I just seem to offend someone or something. (lately it was a table) My writing has gone down the drain; I seem to have lost the ability of word manipulation. I’m eagerly overbearing and exceedingly dependent, hardly the characteristics of a self-proclaimed hedonist and I haven’t really fulfilled the hedonist part of my nickname lately. (Actually, the hubristic part too, but everyone perceives me as such so whether I act the part or not doesn’t really matter.) I’m swamped with work and I’m still at my computer typing…typing…
I’ve been trying to elicit some shred of forgiveness from a certain someone. Actually, I hardly know how to do that when firstly, that person doesn’t acknowledge my existence, and secondly, I am unable to procure the balls to talk to her. Most people treat me frostily, that person on the other hand, has a breath that will make a snowman cry in shame. I’ve talked to a few people, asked here and there, it seems the only medication for such a wound I’ve inflicted is time. And I once heard a phrase “The universe will unfold as it should”. Problem is, it’s not unfolding quick enough, and even with the universe unfolding, with all that bad karma stuck on me, I doubt it’ll unfold my way, ipso facto, I probably won’t get my forgiveness until I’ve been through about 5 reincarnation cycles and came back as a mosquito or something.
Lately, either something has opened my eyes or due to my new found freedom, I’m finding a large number of members of the female species increasingly alluring. However, it’s usually a bad sign when that happens. It means the Other is coming back. The symptoms are there, inability to concentrate, suicidal tendencies, the urge to kill everybody in the room, quick to anger, heightened perceived body temperature. Tyrael’s back and he does have good timing, the holidays are coming and mid years are coming right after that. He couldn’t have picked a better time to come back, perhaps just before my A levels, and that will probably be when the expression “shit hits the fan” will be most apt. Maybe I wrote this as a warning, or maybe to garner votes of sympathy, or maybe this was his idea. I’m not sure but all I know that is I have a very, very interesting year ahead of me if he sticks around till my A levels. The good news is, the usual bouts of emo has not come with his arrival, and I always thought emo was sine qua non with him.
I am perturbed by the sudden wave of niceties that came over me after drama. I have always lived up to the expectations of the people around me, keeping a few aces up my sleeve for people who I have respect for, but something, or someone blew it all bottoms up that day. Perhaps it was that someone that I hardly noticed but suddenly blew me away with how good she looked on that day, or perhaps it was how I felt in my own element French for Love Letter doing such a great job and such. (For those people who missed it, you missed a great show, Elena, Jonathan, Wen Jun and Clara were absolutely superb) It just felt nice to act like a 6 year old and not be stigmatized for it. Well prima facie, it seemed like it, I won’t know. I liked how everything just fell into place nicely. I liked how for once people treated me like I existed, like I was a human being. I guess since they didn’t really know me, they were civil. But that can’t be right, even people who’ve seen what I’ve done and am capable of treated me civilly. It was a nice feeling, especially catching up with Jian Yang on that day. Memories of my alma mater came flooding back, ah, the times of being in a place where the air was just so devoid of estrogen it almost felt liberating was good. Excellence was all we strived for, though I kinda fell short, but I digress.
There was a certain individual who I hardly noticed, but something turned my attention to her. Perhaps it was the way she handled everything, perhaps it was how she smiled, but something drew me towards her. It’s not anything sexual nor passionate but, she was…unique. I look forward to catching a glimpse of her anywhere. She’s probably afraid of me, so I have no fear of anything happening between us, but it’s just nice to look forward to something for a while. The more roses you notice, the more you enjoy observing. To all those who’re reading this and smugly thinking, “there he goes again, fucking jerk”. Perhaps you’re right, maybe you’re not. I once read something by Adrian Tan, the guy who wrote the teenage textbook. “Fall in love with someone” he said. “Don’t hope for reciprocation” he said. Well, I’m probably not falling in love with anyone, as most of you would have noticed, I hardly have the capacity to love. But I don’t hope for reciprocation. For all the years that I have refused to take no as an answer, this is something fresh. I know the person, she’s within reach but yet I remain static. And without attraction, without love, without like, without lust, just respecting and admiring, it feels kinda nice. Anybody who’s reading this probably won’t know what in the blue hell I’m talking about, cause I’m just rambling and rambling. But I don’t care, it feels nice to just type out how I feel and chuck it up there.
And now’s the time where the emo begins. When most of the people you know think you’re a jerk, moments like these do occur. Especially when you know the person you want to talk to so much, thinks you’re a big hairy asshole. Should I submit to my fate? Should I change? Should I stop trying to play nice? Should I take off my mask? I wonder. Sometimes I do wonder if there’s really something wrong with me, a deep seated emotional problem that has never been seen before. Someone recently told me that they saw something in me that was nice, and that it seems hardly likely that a person with the capability of bringing so much happiness to people, can bring so much pain, frustration and anger. I wonder that myself too. My writing’s degenerating to banal irrelevant nonsense. I’m tired, my mind’s at ease, and my heart’s in turmoil. People have a certain effect on me, especially people that give me hope. I grasp at hope like a starving man on a pineapple. It throws me off balance. As Morgan Freeman once said “Hope is a dangerous thing, hope can break a man”. I believe that is so, zealously, for it has broken me countless times. Many a time I’ve destroyed friendships due to a simple shard of hope.
Ah well, I’m tired, I’ve probably written an entire crock of nonsense, but at least it made my emotional storm calm down a little. I feel at peace, content with status quo, accepting of whatever comes my way. Whether she loves me, she loves me not, she hates me, she hates me not, I live, I die, I love, I don’t, it doesn’t matter. At this moment time stops, and for once, I feel at peace. I should thank my keyboard for giving me the opportunity to feel at ease, to feel so tired that I could curl up and fall asleep forever and leave the world behind me. I like that feeling.
And tomorrow, I’ll just wake up look at the room around me, the same room I’ve woken up for 8 years of my life, cry my fucking eyes out and head to school where the air is so thick with the rejection of my existence, you can’t cut it, even with a diamond bit chainsaw. What is worse, a person who hates everything, including himself? Or that person, wearing a mask, and pretending that he doesn’t? Should I publish this or should I not? I wonder what happens when you hang. I know I don’t have it bad, but for a person with a weak will, the situation cuts deep, and stays there. Best of all, the situation is of my own orchestration.
And here I feel my insignificant existence, 1 out of 7 billion. And here, where some people meant so much to me, here I pray that I don’t go out of this world where no one remembers my name. A ghost from birth to death. And here my emo has to end, shut away in a box. So many things in my head, not knowing how to express them.
