And Everything’s Forgotten

Whispers of your broken promises, they haunt me like how the past haunts a sinner, taunting and blinding reality. It mocks my naivety, constantly reminds me of my inability to discern the cunning ways of humans. And I am unable to defend myself because I am broken, and I am ruined. I get through the days just barely, without anything left for the nights which seem to last for all perpetuity.

You buried deep in my hair and telling me that I am gorgeous: this is my moment for eternity. But this moment is the very one that mocks me, and I am torn. Torn between wanting to toss it away and keeping it buried safe in the depths of my mind and heart. These contradictions and conflicts tear my soul apart, bit by bit, and I now, I am nothing, existing only because my body is tangible…

I am no more.

Parentheses

I am weary. I feel like I have squandered what little I have left of myself, on attempting to be someone that fits in. My inadequacy in trying to explain myself to others have caused countless misunderstandings, and part of me resents this. But I am tired, tired of hiding my shortcomings, tired of pretending like I give a damn, when I really don’t. The only reason why I am bothered and annoyed by this is because I am horribly misinterpreted, and I guess there is always this instinct in us that kicks in when we are misunderstood, that forces us to give a shit just for the sake of it.

I make assumptions, but name me one person who does not? Who wouldn’t assume that night follows after day, or that we will awake the next dawn? I make assumptions based on valid observations, or so I hope they are. If I don’t, then how am I supposed to continue living in a place where nothing can be absolute? However, assumptions are one thing. Insinuation is another. One is something which a person makes after careful observation, the other has been implied by others before, in what they may say or do. It is because of this that I watch my words, and I would rather not say anything at all if I was allowed.

Then again, I am only human. Humans get tired, and this applies to me significantly. My brain lacks in attention, and it lets things slip by. Words slide off my tongue, accidental but nonetheless still wrong. I make mistakes. But apologies exist for this reason. Because we would undoubtly make mistakes in our lifetime, the word ‘sorry’ exists for us to use it, and gives us another chance to correct the wrong. I have apologized many times in my lifetime, and though it may be a difficult word to use at times, I would use it if it was warranted.

When I am silent, I am thinking. I am trying to understand. I am certainly not slacking. There is a reason why I like silence, it allows me my own space. To space out my thoughts, let them run their course. Like in the book “Tuesdays with Morrie”, I don’t understand why people must fill the air with words. What’s wrong with silence sometimes? When two people are tired and having a bad day, wouldn’t it be worse to have both parties talking? Words which don’t carry what they mean get passed around, and worse still, tempers fly. Often over the simplest and most stupid issues we can find, which shouldn’t have surfaced anyway.

This is why I like my silence, this is why I don’t want to be with anyone, much less you, when I am not in the right state of mind. I was upset, downright disgusted, speechless, when I read those things which you said, half of it that was not even true to begin with. But again, I will not contradict myself, because I have said, humans are bound to make assumptions. You have made assumptions about me, and I am not bothered by that fact. What I am bothered about is that you did not even bother to make a conscious effort to discuss things with me, to ask me what the problem was. Instead, to my utter surprise you went about your little ways, posting it all over a public space, with “subtle” references to me. It is this flagrant injustice towards me that has heightened my disgust at this behaviour.

I am not sorry that I am writing this, and I am not sorry that I might be angering countless more people with the views I have just expressed. But please do know, I am not a sucker for the act of “tit for tat”. I do not luxuriate in revenge. But my temperament for injustice is short. I have not been myself for a long time, and what I’ve been feeling may not be worse than how you have been, but comparison does not make things better. If things are bad, they’re bad. Right now, in this exact moment, I don’t feel like hearing another word. I don’t want to apologise. I cannot tolerate the slightest mistake. My temper is on a short leash. I want to be myself, my REAL self. And if you don’t like it, you can’t do anything about it, why?

Because I’m simply being human. And since it takes one to know one, the only thing you can do for me? Understand, and empathise.

Writings on the Wall

What invokes your senses? What makes you see and feel the world differently? What makes nothing matter except that moment in time, that momentary lapse when everything seems to stand still? Its different for everyone, and for me, it music. Music brings me to a different dimension, takes me on a vacation from this elusive world, and carries me to a place where only dreams matter. 

I keep my headphones on and there’s no music playing, sometimes because I just don’t wish to entertain. Not because I mean to be rude, and not because I mean to be unfriendly. It gives me some sense of security, an inch of sanity in this unstable world. People talk too much, too often, that they don’t realise that they hardly listen. You can see so much more just by listening, and not talking, because you observe what people are like and how they have no inkling of how they are portraying themselves when they speak mindlessly.

Words have no meaning – people have meaning. The assignment of meaning to a term is an internal process; meaning comes from within us. And although our experiences, knowledge and attitudes differ, we often misinterpret each other’s messages while under the illusion that a common understanding has been achieved.

 Don’t underestimate the value of doing nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering.

Despair

Things look different today
I want to be sunshine, but I’m pouring rain
I reach out to touch your face
but you’re like a ghost town,
slowly slipping away.
And I, I dont know what to do
Cos I, I can’t get through to you.

Hold me here one more time
cos tonight I’ll be going away
Running in leaps and bounds,
yet tonight I’ll be going away.
I feel your daylight fade
but I cannot seem to find the words
to tell you how I feel,
how I really feel. 

And we walked along so far in the desert,
with the sun that was relentless
And the promises often empty
We got lost along the way,
please know that I know it was not for love
but for that things ended in this way
Yeah you, you don’t know what to say
with me standing here this way. 

Hold me here one more time
cos tonight I’ll be going away.
Running in leaps and bounds
yet tonight I’ll be going away.
I feel your daylight fade
but I cannot seem to find the words
to tell you how I feel,how I really feel.

Things looked different today
Just like a postcard,
sent from a friend from so far away.

Staircase 70 has become my refuge, my time away from the world. To perch on the concrete steps and take drags from my cigarette is my escape, my little way of giving myself time to think and ponder on the complexities of whatever bothers my mind. 

These days, I worry over myself. And then I realise that I am being selfish and narcissistic, constantly fretting over what has become of me. Everything has to do with me; my obsession with having to spend countless hours with myself, my uneasiness when I am around people, my constant need to flee when I idle with my friends. It is ironic, when months ago I said I didn’t want to fly, that I wanted to stay grounded, right here and now.

Silence has become my new best friend, it comforts me when I am in need of warmth, cushions me when my memories stab viciously and without mercy at my heart. Another irony, how the heart and mind belong as one body, but seem incessantly at war with each other.

It is as though I am looking at my heart and mind like I am watching a movie or a play, both brandishing swords and lashing at each other. Most times my mind wins, and I watch with amusement as it brutally plunges the sword into the heart. Then I remember, it is my heart that I am looking at, and then I look down at my chest and I see a dark red spot, growing immensely. Darker and darker it becomes, then I sigh in resignation and fall to the floor. Laughable, it all seems. And I’m glad it is, because it entertains me, makes me smile at least, even though the smile is a bitter one. 

Does depression escalate into maniacal disillusionment? I am afraid now, extremely. 

Dear SuperShrink, please save me soon, before I try and save myself. Thank you.

Près De Toi.

Lying on a plaid tablecloth spread out on the dewy grass, the night stretches out above us, twinkling with stars that seem barely there, but somehow I imagine them eavesdropping on us, seeing through our delicate minds. I lie on my side, facing you, watching you intently with a propensity to touch you, to feel your warmth. 

What are you pondering about as you gaze fondly up at the stars, misty-eyed and focused at nothing in particular. Are you oblivious to my presence, the sound of my breath escaping, the mere sight of me from the corner of your dark eyes.

A penny for your thoughts. What are your hopes and dreams, your thoughts of anything and everything, your opinions on whether the stars are reflections of us in our oasis of calm. All these questions I ache to ask, but remain silent in fear of breaking this bewitching spell of which you have been overcome with. 

In this way you are beauteous and resplendent, the same kind of perfect that overwhelms me when I look at the stars. Yet, this perfect stirs up emotions deep inside my heart. A sorrowful ache, a heart-wrenching loss and a poignant yearning.

Even in my imagination, this is how you make me feel.  

Where damage isn’t already done.

 ’More than just temporary blue mood, the despondency of depression is unrelenting and overwhelming. Some people describe it as “living in a black hole” or having a feeling of impending doom. They can’t escape their unhappiness and despair. However, some people with depression don’t feel depressed at all. Rather than sad, they feel lifeless and empty. In this apathetic state, they are unable to experience pleasure. Even when participating in activities they used to enjoy, they feel as if they’re just “going through the motions.” ‘

I am afraid. Afraid that this change in me isn’t something temporary. Happiness for me is ephemeral, and the fleeting moments that pass are nothing more than specks of light in a darkened room. I feel more satiated when I am alone, when all I need are cigarettes and the company of my surroundings.

All along I was petrified of being alone, of having to be much more independent than I knew I was. Knowing that you only have yourself to guide you through every painful day and every neverending night – its something that instilled so much fear in me for so long. But things have changed, and whether it is for the better, I would not know.

Now I truly understand the meaning of the phrase: be careful what you wish for.

Unspoken

Two nights in a row the skies have been a coruscating dark purple, sort of like the inside of a magician’s cape, flowing and incandescent. The dark purples fade into a yellow-tinged skyline, caused by the numerous lights of the city, and the sight is just amazingly and thoroughly perfect. Perfect in a way that causes you to think of nothing else but, perfect enough to make you want it to stay like that for all perpetuity.

 Its a kind of perfect that makes you want to cry, but today the tears don’t come because before it does, a smile appears and takes its place.

The more I stare into this rabidly purple skies, the more I see those stars who keep their presence unknown. I wonder why it is, why the more I seem to lose myself in the scintillating darkness, the more the stars seem to come out from under their hiding places from the depths of this universe, and greet me with their winking dances and sparkling motions.

It is this unspokenness between us, it is in exactly these moments in time when I don’t have to indulge in mindless chatter, when I can truly understand why sometimes they say its always better to be alone. I luxuriate in the darkness, and sometimes I daresay that the stars make me feel more like myself than most of the people around me do.

Is it wrong to feel something so immense, so rapturous, and so satisfying from the darkness?

Breathless Exquisite Chills.

Out the windows of my bedroom
Through the backyards of our neighbors
But I didn’t leave you waiting
There was endless concentration

Then the moon swept down to greet us
It was warm and made of flowers
Into vines that barely reached us
Climbing higher than forever 

Mmmm, life has been nothing but monotonous days and amaranthine nights. So much of me suggests that maybe this is how its going to be for the rest of the semester, yet so much of me doesn’t seem to mind. Schoolwork comes and comes, perenially in a steady stream, and all I can do it accept it with my outstretched arm, inviting like a breeze on a sunny day. Its satisfying in a way, to see myself put my work above all else. But then again, a nagging doubt rustles in the depths of my mind. Am I just using schoolwork as a distraction from what I am unknowingly afraid to face in reality?

It comes to me less frequently now, but still, it comes. A feeling that tugs at my heart, making it ache with want, need and so much more. Feelings that I cannot deny, but yet my actions suggest otherwise. I know I am strong, and I know I’m able to take much more than what its been throwing at me now. But a part of me doesn’t want to be strong, a part of me wants to be able to break down and cease being cold and indifferent.

This coldness, this ignorance, I can feel it changing me. Days have passed by when I feel nothing but obduration toward people, nothing but constant annoyance coupled thoughts that they were childish, amateurish little people. I’ve become snappy, a grumpy old lady trapped in a youth’s body. I tell myself its just the workload, its just the fact that the nicotine might have stimulated this dormant part in my mind. Its supposed to make me feel better, but it only made me feel worse, because realising that deep inside you’re just a cold and insensitive person doesn’t make anything any better.

B, I miss being reassured. I miss being reminded daily that I’m not that much of an ignoramus, I miss being able to show some side of me that’s not ugly. Most of all, I miss being told I am beautiful, inside and out.

With love,
Germaine

Daughter

Well it’s you and it’s me
me with a drink in my hand.
The ice is tinkling like a windchime,
and late afternoon settles over the land
and you’re talking about things
interesting just slightly.
And things that matter too much
to say any way but lightly.

Did you know you’re so beautiful,
on the edge of summer?
That years from now
I’ll cry to remember,
how very close you were.
Knowing this will I reach for you,
knowing this will I reach for you,
the way you want me to.

Well it’s time to be wise
wise in the ways of the heart.
To come out from under the covers,
this voluntary state of apart.
From the faces, oasis
in this sahara of sorrow.
These graces that hold me,
it’s from you that I borrowed.

Did you know you’re so beautiful,
on the edge of summer?
That years from now
I’ll cry to remember,
how very close you were.
Knowing this will I reach for you,
knowing this will I reach for you,
the way you want me to.

i’ve finally found it.

I’m glad I’ve changed, not into someone stronger (maybe a little bit of that) and not into someone who’s more cautious and wary, but someone who finally doesn’t give a shit anymore. This is what I’ve been waiting for for a long time, and finally here it comes, and already I’m feeling so much better.

I’m glad I get to be the one to walk away from this, I’m glad I get to be the one to can finally look at myself and say I’m proud of what I’ve become, even though I’m dirty and dishevelled, with scratch marks and scars here and there. The wounds will serve as reminders, and not with an inch of regret do I bandage and clean them. Finally, I can do as what Zack said, I can look back at the times and just smile and say, those were good times. And this time, I can say it without deceiving myself.

 The feeling that I’m having now, most of you might say its only temporary, and maybe it is. To feel this liberated, to feel this immense cage in my heart open up and everything inside flitter away, its something that may only be provisional. But for now, its a feeling that makes me feel amazed at everything, because now I’m no longer looking at the world through rose-coloured aviators, pretending that everything’s peachy when it isn’t. Now I’m looking at the world with just my eyes, untainted and clear, and everything’s just beautiful.

 Everything is just beautiful.

Pencil Tracings

Security by Jon Chan
we are all here, looking for some peace of mind
choices unclear, we search for one piece we can find
someone to have, someone to have and to hold
someone to share, to share all your silver and gold

someone to have, someone to find
someone to give, your peace of mind,
someone to have, someone to hold,
someone to say yes, and to say no.

we are all here, searching for some peace of mind
voices unclear, we listen to what we can find
someone to have, for someone to have and to hold
someone to share, to share all your silver and gold.

someone to have, someone to find
someone to share, your peace of mind,
someone to have, someone to hold,
someone to say yes, and to say no

someone to have, someone to find
someone to give, your peace of mind,
someone to have, someone to hold,
someone to say yes, and to say no

share all your silver and gold

cos we are all here, searching for some peace of mind.
voices unclear, we search for one piece we can find.
someone to have, to say all the things we’ve been told
somebody to share, to share all your silver and gold…

 wow. wow. wow.

sayonara supergirl

If I had just one bullet, and a trigger I’d pull it
Shoot my cupid out of the sky
Break off his wings, and gouge out his eyes
And thank him for nothing, ’cause that’s all that he gave to me
Your love is my heart disease

Well the weekend was a blast, and I’d just like to wish Mr Idris Zee one last happy birthday. You’ve been a great friend and a good listener, and I don’t know how to thank you for the times you were always picking me up when things were down. I hope the submarine was good stuff, and even though the shirt I drew on for you wasn’t amazing, I hope it will be a feast for your eyes, even if for a little while. I’m amazed by your ability to bring me back down to earth, no matter how hard I wanted fly away as fast and as far away from it. Thank you for the talks, the endless jokes, the great times we spent just sitting and chatting about life (esp the time you brought me to The Gardens) and the sensibility of a matured youth. Truly, I am grateful for everything, even if its the smallest thing like sending me home even when you are not obligated to. There will be more good times (and bad) to come, and I really hope you’ll always be around to share the joy and relieve the pain.

Thank you Zack, for your existence, because if it wasn’t for you, I’d be a lost sheep in search of a purpose that wasn’t there in the first place.

So anyway, with regards to what’s been going on in my life, all I can say is its been pretty good these days. Home on friday wasn’t that great, but the company and soon-to-be-regular morning breakfasts with zee, jeff, jude and paul keeps me going. Saturday was basically a few drinks, der&cher and COD till late as usual. Sunday was just full of neverending essay writing and forgetful me missing ATC and Trella at Esplanade. Met Paul, Cher, Elizabeth, Zack and Shaun in town for a few hours of chilling and trying (unsuccessfully) to convince Paul he was never going to get any studying done for his test later on and stay on for great music just outside Indochine. But I have to say, Paul you have amazing willpower and if you can just focus all of that on not falling asleep at Home on fridays then you’ll be just great.

So now I’m back home listening to ATC and trying with all my superninja might to come up with some substance for my ComDi essays. And at the same time my mind is subconsciously worrying like hell about what I need to do for my boxart which is due on tuesday. But I’m glad for all this work, not because it distracts me from what’s been bothering me for months but because I’m finally able to design and draw and doodle all I want, and still use it as inspiration for schoolwork. This is what I’ve wanted my whole life, and I hope I won’t screw it up again.

Ogilvy & Mather, here I come!