On our way to sch, she said, “Don’t talk to him again, or I’ll kill you!”
I’m grateful to have people around me to remind me what I shouldn’t do.
Postscret Sunday/ Of shoes and birthdays. 30 August, 2009
On my birthday this year, I sadly learnt that you had no clue when my birthday is. Or put it bluntly, you never bothered to find out.
After getting over the initial negative emotions, I realised that not having you wish me on my birthday was the final straw for me to let you go, slowly. So, looking back, that revelation was perhaps the best birthday present I received this year.
Even though this comes a little too late, Happy Birthday to me.
2340 30 August, 2009
I’m experiencing interia. Finding it almost a chore to sit down, and concentrate on my readings and reports. Dang, I anticipated this to happen long ago, yet, I didn’t do much to prevent it from happening.
Somehow, I try to check my emails, and do the other mindless superficial stuff more regularly in order to buy time. In hope that somehow, some way, the tasks will get done.
Enough of procrastination. Time to get down and dirty with deadlines.
Postsecret Sunday/ email 30 August, 2009
I spent years feeling like this, wondering if each new place I went would be the home I was looking for. Then I realized that “home” is not something the universe is supposed to give me, a magical place where I’ll suddenly feel I belong. It’s a commitment I make to a place and to a community. I found a place that didn’t feel like home at first, but I decided to make it my home. Every day that I spend here strengthens my commitment. Every day it becomes a little more like “home”.
– Email from Postsecret Sunday
Snap snap 26 August, 2009
Opps. I snapped my hair real short.
But when I looked into the mirror, I feel like I should have snapped it this short long ago…
Guess we all have to look at why the bob hairdo came into vogue in the 1950’s/60’s. (hint: has got a feminist slant).. and if you’re wondering, hair is not just hair. It’s a form of self-expression.. afterall, your body, is a space in space.
You don’t need long hair to express your sexuality, really.
Last of you. 25 August, 2009
New haircolour;
new haircut;
new shoes;
new body clock;
and all things superficial…
To remind me of how well I’m moving away from you.
To say my goodbye bit by bit.
Yes, today ends the day of this long and horrible farewell. Enough of goodbyes.
This is the last of you, here.
A beautiful mess 23 August, 2009
It kind of hurts when the kind of words you write kind of turn themselves into knives.
Sometimes, I unknowingly crumble into an awful mess of emotions though I thought I’ve grown out of you. Perhaps not.
Perhaps, it’s just a bad week.
I need a good and healthy form of distraction. And maybe, I will progress to become a beautiful mess.
defence mechanism 21 August, 2009
As I was having a good laugh with Miss E yesterday, she said jokingly, “Look at the credentials, babe!”
Then I realised, I’ve been too uncritical, and without filtering you out, I let you into my life. Big mistake. Yes, so I’m paying for my mistake.
Little wonder I put on the “Cold bitch” front from time to time.
My defense mechanism, I’ll say.
1.5 steps back 18 August, 2009
I took six steps away.
You called out, and I faltered two and a half steps back.
Don’t be cruel.
Late-night musings 16 August, 2009
Things do not change. We do.
“I was building a connection with him, like constructing a house of cards, trembling with terror every time I added a new one, in case it sent the whole edifice collapsing into disarray”
– This Charming Man, Marian Keynes.
Some, you say. Never, we know.
The unwrap-pable 9 August, 2009
I was told, “There are many people around you who cares..”
And I would love to believe in that. Somehow, I still find that I belong neither here nor there. Like as if I’m still searching for my place. Not a physical place of cos. If only things were so simple.
I was only away for a few months, and yet, being back seem to be more difficult that being away. Being away, I had a place called “home” that I could look forward to returning to, people to miss, people to think about. Now, back in the place I should feel like I belong to, I strangely feel a little out of place. Misplaced, yes, I think that’s that appropriate word.
Perhaps, In a few days, weeks, or months, this feeling of being displaced will disappear..
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
p.s. Yup, I write when I’m in a not-so-cheery mood. It’s my cathartic release.
