A Birthday Present

My eldest brother paid for my first tattoo. It was a birthday gift for when I turned 19. I had gotten the word "In all our imperfections, we found ourselves" tattooed on my wrist as a reminder to not be so hard on myself. I am my own worst critic – I believe I am all the viruses of the world trapped in the body of a post-adolescent girl.

But the long, drawn out meaning behind my tattoo isn't the point of this post. My brother is.

About a month ago, we got into a huge argument. I had snapped at my younger brother for being an ungrateful brat. I don't deny that I may have been unnecessarily harsh on him (though I maintain that he was behaving like an ungrateful brat) but I was in a very bad headspace at the time. I'm not making excuses, physical force/abuse is unacceptable, but that was what kicked off my lapse of judgment.

My eldest brother confronted me about it. I would rather not divulge the words we exchanged but it was anything but civil and derogatory slurs were uttered/screamed.

After retreating into my room, and hearing my eldest brother tip over the contents of a shelve outside, I decided to cut myself.

It wasn't the first time I had done so; I started cutting in high school and picked it up again about two months before this incident. I went for my wrist. My tattoo tried to work its magic as it always has before; it seemed bolder than usual. It spoke to me "Don't do it. You're only human."

I sat for long moments crying and completely indecisive. Finally, in a moment of vulnerability, the turmoil in my head just piqued and I drew the blade in a diagonal stroke just below my tattoo. It was bleeding quite badly and I had a show to perform in 4 hours so I bandaged up and got ready to leave for the theater.

A month from the incident and the gash is still there. In fact, it is the most noticeable of all my self harm scars.

When I meet new people and they learn that I have a tattoo, I can never show them. When they ask, I tell them what it reads and I say to them "Yes, it was a birthday gift from my brother." While the scars were still fresh and red, I even made the conscious effort to wear something long-sleeved every time I went out.

My dad and eldest brother have noticed the scars but I never told them the specific reason behind them. Whenever I get into minor arguments with my eldest brother nowadays, I back away as soon as possible.

But sometimes I wonder how he would react if he knew that the worst scar I have, the scar that could have with slightly more pressure landed me in the hospital, is a result of the things we said that day. I'm not saying the scar is his fault. My mind is tragically not my own and it gives me bad thoughts.

I'm looking at my wrist now and I don't think the tattoo says as much about me as the scar does.

So. Here's one more flaw to add to the growing list of my imperfections.

A Race to Nowhere

It was coming for him and no matter how hard he told himself to wait for it, to embrace it, he found himself running. Running as far and as fast as he could. Not me, he thought. After all I’ve done, not me. He tried to outrun this force but he knew he would eventually tire. Still, he ran...

Until he didn’t. He was spent. He stopped, turned around, ready to accept his fate like all the others. To his surprise, it was gone. His pursuer was nowhere to be found. The realization that he had beaten the ultimate test, however, did not come with elation.

He had been prepared to celebrate, to bask in his glory. After all, a whole new world of possibilities was now open to him. But, shockingly, none of them seemed that spectacular anymore. He found himself without purpose. He was prepared for anything but this. All he felt now was loneliness. An infinite degree of isolation and un-being.

His triumph, if he chose to call it that, had outdid him and suddenly he became immensely aware of how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of things.

And then finally, he understood. Life is nothing without death and immortality is the ultimate curse. He had not won; he was being penalized.

With this in mind, he tightened his laces and started walking back, searching for the one thing he had been trying so hard to escape.

He no longer feared mortality; he craved it.

Give it time.

So. What are you going to do, Belinda?

Are you going to continue pretending or are you going to come clean? Coming clean seems like the best option but right now I can't see much good out of doing anything. People will say the same things and as much as you don't want to care, you know you will. It will affect you. You will feel weak. You will feel like a loser, a child. You don't want to feel like that, do you?

The question remains. What to do next?

You cannot deny that you've been feeling a bit better. It's easier and simpler now for you to get lost in laughter and cheer. You haven't forgotten though because when you're alone, your mind still brings you back to where you left off. But around people now, you can be somewhat happy okay.

It's unfortunate then that what matters most is you being comfortable all by yourself and you are not there yet, Belinda. Not yet.

Throwing in the towel.

I have defeated myself in so many ways.

My fight is gone. You must never give up on yourself. But I am not who I am anymore.

Whose life it this? It can't be mine.

fatigue.

Don't make imagine that I am not trying. I try. But these voices are not easily suppressed.

I'm very tired.

I realise that is what I've been the past 2 months. I  continuously say I'm tired. I don't know why I feel this way, if I did, it would all make sense.

I am a mess. I am tired.

You get what you need.

"Bottom line, couples that are truly right for each other wade through the same crap as everybody else but the big difference is they don't let it take them down. One of those two people will stand up and fight for that relationship every time. If it's right and they're real lucky, one of them will say something." – Dr Cox

Scrubs, the TV show of life lessons. I cried once or twice or a few times. Comedic characters always have the saddest stories to tell. What was it? Comedy is humor masking pain? Perhaps.

Anyway, I don't know if I agree with everything Dr Cox said. 'truly right for each other' and all that. I'm not sure if I believe a hundred percent in this true love concept. It is a possibility but unlike most people who rejoice at the idea of 'the one', it worries me.

I wrote a very long rant about true love versus hard work just now but I realise after reading it through that it's all beating around the bush and this is actually what I was trying to say;

I'm (partly) terrified that there isn't someone out there who is just right for me. And if that's the case, no amount of work I put into a relationship will make a difference because with true, everlasting love, comes also the notion of true, eternal loneliness.

Long due epiphany

I'm a fool for wanting things with someone who doesn't feel the same way.

I'm a fool for still wanting things with someone who very obviously isn't interested.

I've only ever wanted to be good enough for someone. I would like to be loved as I love. I want a relationship, a something, whatever, that will make me feel worth it. For once, I'd like to feel equally important, equally beautiful and equally lovable.

A life without love is a life not worth living.

ugh.

I hate it when you make a decision, and you know it's the right one, but still you regret it. I hate it when the right decisions are the hardest to make.

I had to make a decision. And this is decision is the best for now. But please, please, please… don't write it off as absolute. And please continue to work and get better. I wouldn't have made this decision if it wasn't in your best interest.

It's hard to accept this change though. I still catch myself in denial at times because I still feel it all. Don't tell me it's unhealthy; I will learn in time.

Blocked.

There was a reason I had crap relationships. And the reason is me.

Yes, my exes were douches. I can't say I'm too proud of the relationships I've had. But when I think back, were they not better towards me at the beginning?

Maybe they were feigning. Maybe there were only nice to me until they knew for certain that they had me on a leash and let's face it, I'm the kind of girl who falls hard. I'm pretty pathetic.

So maybe… maybe I was played.

Or maybe I deserved everything I got from them. All of them. Even the first. The very first.

I asked to be treated that way. I was willing to sell myself so low that it only made sense for them to treat me the way they did. I tempted them. I asked for it.

I turned them into the things I now hate.

There must be something about me that is toxic. Or maybe not. Maybe it's just the way I am. I am bad for relationships. I am bad for people. There hasn't been one relationship that I haven't screwed up. I'm a shit girlfriend. I'm needy, I'm controlling, I'm clingy, I'm disgusting, I'm manipulative.

I'm everything… I'm everything love should not be.

So maybe I don't know love. Maybe I think what I have is love, but maybe all I'm offering is chaos.

I don't have the right to blame anyone for leaving.

I understand now that they all leave not because they're unreasonable but because I push them away. Because no one could ever love someone as vile as I am. The things I do, the things I say. And it is all my own fucking fault. I'm unlovable because I refuse to reform.

I shouldn't even bother. They say love is sometimes around the corner. But I live in a state that love just cannot survive in.

I'll stop playing the victim. The previous guys in my life weren't terrible people; they just made the mistake of hanging around me too much.

Actually, no. I said I wouldn't blame them. They didn't make a mistake. I forced myself upon them.

I infected them. And if you don't leave me soon, I'm afraid you're just going to end up hating me even more. I'm sorry

I worry.

Will I be able to go two weeks without seeing you?

Perhaps under different circumstances, I would. But with yesterday's incident, I'm not too sure.

What's worse is not only will you not be around, but I'll have almost no way of contacting you, except online for ten of those days. I think the disconnect/lack of communication is what scares me the most.

But I promised. I promised that I would let you call the shots. I promised to ease off. I won't impose.

I'm just going to miss you, that's all.

 

It's funny because ten days hasn't started yet but it feels like you've already left. You're still here, but you're not really.

Self esteem points…

negative four million.

Countdown: 25

I have 25 days but I may not make it through.

25 is a long time. Maybe I will not need to wait that long. Maybe I just have to wait until I, too, snap. Then it'll be over and done with and I'll stop being a disappointment.

More than ever, I want to disappear. I wish I was numb but I'm just super aware.

It would all be so much simpler if I wasn't such a screw up.

I am sorry I don't have the strength and willpower to let you go.

I tried so hard to keep you happy. But I guess I wasn't enough. I guess I should learn that some of us are just meant to be alone.

Nightmares and things that go screech.

You, Omar, Rosheen, Calvin, Dorian and I were at this KFC near my house, where the Subway usually is. Rosheen and Omar were explaining to me how they got their car and Omar was grumpy because Rosheen was hogging the mash potato.

Opposite our KFC, is HSBC and this small burger stall just in front of it. Omar Jr was sitting by the roadside having a burger. Calvin and Dorian went out to sit with him. We remained in the KFC.

Suddenly there was a huge crash. There was chaos. People were running everywhere, trying to hide from these machine-looking aliens with laser guns. We realised we had to get out. Omar Jr ran into the KFC and told us we had to get away, far out of the city. And that's when we realised there wasn't enough space in the car. Calvin and Dorian were gone and we came in Omar Jr's Kancil. I looked to you, realising that I couldn't come with. You said "I'm sorry. I love you." and all four of you left. I remember very distinctly the sound of the tires screeching as you guys drove off.

I'm running in a crowded mall. I think, for now, the mall is relatively safe. It hasn't been invaded yet. Everywhere I go, people are breaking into shops to get provisions. I decided I'd better as well. I had to fend for myself.

I got to the lower ground floor and went into the supermarket. I grabbed as many canned foods as I could carry. Suddenly, the whole supermarket was hushed. We started hiding in the aisles. A group of three, maybe four aliens walked past us. Once they had left, I decided it was best I leave the supermarket to find a better hiding place. I was on my way out when I dropped one of the cans I was holding. When I turned around to see if I had dropped anything else, there you were. You didn't see me. I dropped everything I was holding, ran to you and hugged you for the first time in what felt like forever (though I'm sure it was less than a day). I remember repeating your name over and over.

I can't tell if I woke up right after because of all the crying I was doing in real life or because an alien shot me; I did after all give away my position, what with all the hysterical wailing and the sound of tin cans falling to the floor.

But whatever it was, I'm glad I found you first.

I'm sorry for being sorry.

I must stop apologising. It's a habit I have unwillingly picked up.

Wait. Why did I use the words "picked up"? It's not like I got it from someone. In fact, I'm surrounded by people who rarely apologise… I think. Well, I know at least that I do not have any close friends who apologise profusely. So this habit is probably a result of my psych.

BUT I DIGRESS.

My point was that I have started to apologise way too much. I apologise for everything, even mistakes that aren't mine.

Funny though. I'm all for apologising, but I can't find it in myself to forgive this one person, no matter how many times she says she's sorry.

OOPS, I DIGRESSED AGAIN.

I think this habit I have is actually doing me more harm than good. I have to stop setting my value so low; why do I have to apologise if I'm not to blame? Why should I be the one to bow down?

….

Hmm. Actually, I think that is the reason for my constant apologies. It's to give power to the person I'm apologising to. It's to appease the other party. I bow down so that you can feel more powerful, more in control. But why do I do that?

FUCCCCCKKK.

This rant just got all circular logicky.

I don't foresee this habit dying off soon. But I guess it doesn't matter what I see. For all I know, starting this very minute, it may take me days before I apologise for anything at all.

However, there is one thing that I am truly sorry for…

I am not sorry that I feel the need to control and plan everything. However, I am sorry I expected you to do the same.

Out of all the other apologies, this apology, I promise you, is the sincerest.

I am a complicated person.

I wish I wasn't a jealous person. I wish I was one of those people who are so self assured, so confident and trusting, that they would not get jealous. They believe in themselves and they know there is no reason for jealousy, because they know where they belong.

It's just… sometimes, I read things. Or see things. And immediately my mind starts conjuring up memories that are not mine. Possible memories that belong to a time when you didn't know me, to a time when she was your world.

And I have to say this because it's just going to eat me up from inside if I don't; it bothers me slightly that we're in a relationship but there are these comments by other girls (some exes, too) on your profile.

It's not all the comments though. These are the comments that are suggestive. Comments from a time when you were in a relationship with her. Comments from a time when you were single and flirting was fine.

It's your past, I get it, there's no way I can deny you that.

But the notion that other people may be reading these comments with the knowledge that you're in a relationship with me… I don't know. It upsets me. I know this relationship is ours and I shouldn't care what people assume, but I feel.. it makes me feel embarrassed.

And when I think about it, I can't help but get slightly teary-eyed.

Ugh. Stupid, stupid Belinda.

The number one.

I don't want to be here. Right now, I would kill to be elsewhere.

There's so much sense of community here. So much warmth.

I just want to mope. I want to be alone with my depression and nurse it till it is satisfied. That's what I need.

I'd also like to bawl my eyes out but I don't want people to start consoling me. It only makes it worse.

Well,

I want you to console me. No, not console me. I want you to just be around me. I want to be around you. Because, believe it or not, sometimes the things you say make sense and resonate with me. But these are the simple things, not the preachy things. Sometimes, your words help move my own depression along.

CNY BLUES

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tork6WZWh-0

She's a pretty girl
She's always falling down
I think I just fell in love with her
But she will never remember, remember
And I can always find her
At the bottom of a plastic cup
Drowning in drunk's insanity
A sad & lonely girl
Quit crying your eyes out
Quit crying your eyes out
Baby, come on
As if there's something familiar about me
The past is only the future with the lights on
Quit crying your eyes out, baby
And she said;
"I think we're running out of alcohol
Tonight, I hate this fucking town
And all my best friends will be the death of me
but they will never remember, remember
So please take me far away
Before I melt into the ground
And all my words get used against me"
A sad & lonely girl
Quit crying your eyes out
Quit crying your eyes out
Baby, come on
As if there's something familiar about me
The past is only the future with the lights on
Quit crying your eyes out, baby
Quit crying your eyes out
Quit crying your eyes out
Baby, come on
As if there's something familiar about me
The past is only the future with the lights on
Quit crying your eyes out
as if there's something familiar about me
Quit crying your eyes out
The past is only the future with the lights on
Quit crying your eyes out, baby

There.

There are all these things that I want to tell you about, but you don't want to listen.

So you shut me up and you shoot me down.

I feel like I've lost my voice sometimes. And when I do get it back, I feel guilty for using it. Because nobody wants to hear. Because I am being immature and… everything I go through is trivial.

So fine.

I'll pretend to stop caring. I don't want to bore you. I'll just keep to myself then. I'll let my thoughts and worries implode. I won't inconvenience you. because if you see it as an inconvenience, I don't want to go through with it.

You hate me. You just don't know because there is a fine line between love and hate and, half the time, the line is blurred.

I'm going to disappear now.

Goodbye.

*If this post sounded a little bit suicidal at the end there, it wasn't meant to be. See? It wasn't meant to be.

If it makes you feel sad.

I think you have a right to feel the way you feel. I believe you have a right to your emotions. It's one of those things that you should have control of, even if you feel out of control, you know?

No one has the right to order you to not feel a certain way. They may ask, they may try to persuade or coerce, but ultimately, you decide on what you're feeling.

I'm not saying that it's the best option to wallow in your emotions, but if you feel like it, no one can stop you. Never underestimate a person's will or drive.

I don't know what I'm feeling now. I suppose it's a mixture. I'd like to feel better, but at the same time, I feel like just layan-ing this crappy feeling till I breakdown. Because the moments after the breakdown often see me at my most liberated.

And that's what I want to feel the most; liberation.

But I feel, no matter how many times, I break my self down and build myself back up, there will always be this residue of dissatisfaction. There will always be this weight that keeps me emotionally heavy and perpetually in turmoil.

 

It's funny, I often feel like I'm watching my life from the view of a master puppeteer. Like, I (the puppeteer) am in control of the chaos I (the puppet) go through. As if I create the uncontrollable and volatile emotions, not for myself, but for the story, for the outcome. for the journey.

For the puppet! Just so happens that puppet is me.

So. Can the tears and yelling and pounding and frustration just commence so I can get it over with? So that I can feel the worst before I feel a little better?

House.

I crave conversation. I'm that kind of addict. I feel more at home, more at ease, I feel happier there than here for that one reason. There's communication. There's conversation. I feel less lonely there, than in my own home. so disjointed.

It may not last, but still. I feel… it's warmer there.

I guess I'm going back to cigarettes.

I had my first stick in 4 months just about 5 minutes ago. I just need to be doing something. But it's 7am. There's not very much to do.

I need to be active. To get myself busy doing something. I can't sit here because then I'll start to think.

I'm trying to be very strong. I'm trying to make the hard decision and make it stick. Because I… I believe its for the best. We'll look back on this decision and we'll see it was. Now, it feels like shit, but a month from now, you'll be glad for it. You'll be happy. I can't give you happy.

… Ok. That paragraph is a perfect example of me trying desperately to be objective. The heart wants what it wants but I can't give in to its wants because I need to starve it. Then it'll learn that there are some things it will never get. And that it can't get so attached.

It's surprising. I have been able to keep myself together, mostly. But I know it's because there's a part of me that doesn't believe this is the end. Because of what I feel. And what you feel. Because unlike times before, this is happening because…

I don't know why this is happening. Maybe for the first time, it's really just because we're not compatible. Just like that divorce term. Irreconcilable differences?

During Parah rehearsal yesterday, Jo said something to the actors. It went something along the lines of -

The more you want to connect, quite paradoxically, the more mortified you are when you do have a fight.

And immediately, I thought of this situation we're in. Maybe this is what led to it.

Fuck, Belinda. Keep it together. You can. You mustn't cry. You've done way too much of that already. Be a big girl and stop crying.

Trait(or).

Inadequate. Pointless. Self-centered. Selfish. Naïve. Stupid. Childish. Sensitive. Insensitive. Hard-headed. Rude. Useless. Good for nothing. Screw up. Disappointment. Bad. Hateful. Despicable. Malicious. Evil. Cruel. Inconsiderate. Mean. Horrible. Revolting. Disgusting. Indulgent. Bratty. Immature. Insufficient. Time waster. Mood changer. Destroyer. Let down.

There are days when all I feel like doing is turning in on myself. There are even more days where I wish, just somehow, someone will take mercy and terminate the system that keeps my brain running.

There are so many days when I wish I didn't make you unhappy but it seems that I have that effect on people. It would seem that all I am capable of is inciting anger frustration annoyance rage blind fury.

I am cancer to the people around me.

These days are just no good.

I wonder if my writing style has improved.

But how do you improve a style? With refinement, of course.

Style is individual, so you should never force a change into how you write. At the same time though, there's always room for improvement; learn to enhance and strengthen and modulate your unique way of writing. It's not changing or renouncing your individuality if all it does is give more value to your words. It will help others appreciate the uniqueness.

I'd like to think I am creeping forwards and making progress, in this area and others, too.

Hmm. I realise that progress is very important to me. Progress and growth. I'm pretty sure it's a good thing; it keeps things fresh and it keeps me going.

And here's a haiku I thought up earlier today to wrap up the night.

I still want to love
But you refuse to back down
We're back to square one.

Goodnight.

All I Have.

These words are all I have.

They are warm and simple.

But simple is not enough.

Simple can expose, but it cannot explain.

 

I need to find the words.

The words to explain.

The words to make you understand.

The words to... the words to...

The words that I do not have.

Because, to be fair,

not everything can be explained.

 

These words that I have now are all I can muster.

Because to me, they are sufficient.

Because to me, they are complete.

Because like these words,

my heart is warm and my request is simple.