Hey sunday

When was it that I turned into such a dependent, desperate, batty girl? I want nothing more than my room to cease being horribly empty. That's about it. It's not a wish easily fulfilled, but neither is it difficult. I could ring up someone, but it's running through my mind that you've subjected me to this hopeless lack of inertia and willpower . I liked having my bed and my chair and my table and everything as mine and mine alone. It was lovely, kind, liberating to spend time with myself. Now I don't know what to do with myself because I know deep down I'm much more of a bore than you might have wistfully believed. I should get out of the bed, at the very least, pick up some tissue and stop being such a shit about it all.

Afternoons

It's interesting (in the sense that documentaries and other phenomenon are interesting) that I have not felt like pushing you away yet. Maybe it will change, maybe it won't, and it will simply continue being lovely. You know I'm fickle, love. But it makes my fingers tingle to think of staying in all day with you like we sometimes do - like today, when I doubt it's fair to ask for more. And I usually have too much pride to tell people how interesting they are.

You have lost time

Imagine if life was an hourglass, and you're on the edge of the table, anxious to will the beads of sand from swimming down a little canal to the past - that little bulb at the bottom. You're hoping, praying, wistfully musing over the possibility of a miracle. Imagine if you didn't need that little analogy and every day your time was such a gamble, cards laid bare on the table. Think quick, on your feet - or have you lost that ability already?

What do you spend your life doing? Studying, working, eating, sleeping, on the toilet, in the bed, in front of the computer? Are you like me - do you spend time staring into space wondering if there's life outside of life, if this is reality, if you're truly in love with what you're doing... Every minute you waste is your life wasted, there's a race going on, between you and everyone else. It's never too late to start.


Things that rob you of life: 

1. Being in Love. This is a terrible killjoy, I know. It sets your stomach fluttering and your fingers clasped in hope. Being in love with anything is a terrible gamble. Sometimes it makes you happy, sometimes it makes some people happy. Your lover, your child, your job, your hobby. And sometimes it seems like it's way too difficult to imagine your life otherwise. But it's stealing your time. How could you let it go on, even if it feels so sugary-sweet, lilting touches of fingers pressed against lips?

2. Sleeping. Sleeping is a waste of time. I always assumed so - why couldn't we be made without the need to become catatonic for a third of the day? It is glorious sometimes, when dreams take you away from what you have always known to be truth, and it gives you a wonderful ticket to a vacation all in the safety of your head. But imagine - ! What could you accomplish without the need to sleep... if you were a machine that worked towards a brilliant goal...

3. Reading. Why bother with the words of others when you could be making things up for yourself? Being well-read is overrated today - I read only because I cannot be bothered or motivated or inspired to get up myself and write some words of wisdom. I assume (rightfully) that I am incapable, that I have not reached a situation whereby my words would have become golden to the reader. They have always been unpolished, impolite... the only good thing that's rough is sex. Words belong to the elegant.

4. Friends. Why would we need to have people around us all the time? It is a je ne sais quoi that company makes the day brighter, mure luxurious. But then you deal with the aftermath. The post-party cleanup, loneliness starting to settle like a thin layer of dust. And it accumulates over life, because you never want to dust off the remains of fucked up friendships.

5. Worrying. I am guilty of this. The turtle knows that God probably plucked me from his rib, decided it was really ugly, and settled for moulding me out of some troublesome worrisome nature. It takes up space in your mind to think of possible "other scenarios". Such as imagining people in trouble, dead, alive, talking to me... things I want to avoid and I try to do so, even though they might not even be a promise as much as a fantastical nightmare that all unfolded in the churning cesspool of my mind.

I know you read this list and shake your head at how immature I sound. How could she dare to dream of a life without love, friendship, rest, knowledge and the daily trials! How silly! To be honest I can't either. It's not as though I could raise a complaint with a celestial being to switch off the passion in my heart for certain things and people. I'm content to watch my hourglass trickle. A life wasted is a life lived to the fullest.

So yes - I'm happy. More than I've ever been.

On Being Sick

Illness feels like Singapore. It feels hot and bothersome, crude and clumsy. It staggers around the back of your throat looking for a way to expand, to get deeper under your skin. It's almost comfortable in its familiarity, yet every time it hits I find myself wistfully thinking of Singapore. It's like the lover that forgot how to let go - latching on for weeks at a time and sending one into another. I hope springtime brings sunlight and the needed immunisation. Today I got up, went back to bed, forgot about things and remembered irrelevant bits of life.

Cheers.

Can you hold all this affection?

Dear turtle,

It was the moment when I stepped into my flat again that I realised what it would look like if you left. The entire air was palpably empty - that familiarity of loneliness and solidarity is no longer enjoyable after that tense atmosphere formed with you around, where the air needs to be shared between the two of us and there isn't enough space to leap from one dream to another. Now I feel like my ceiling is too high, the distance from the bed to the table too small. I miss moving two steps to have my arms around you, as though somehow I wish you'd never leave. 

To be honest, this is impossible. It's taking up too much of my time to cry and wonder and worry, and not have enough time for the real life I need to have. I think I'm doing the same to you. It's taking up too much willpower to hold you at arm's length every now and then and be pulled back into this. I'm always the problem, always the first to break at the slightest touch, and I'm beginning to understand why you still hold me together without my asking. Some people say materiality isn't an issue. It always is with me/us. From the immediate to the future, sometimes the dynamics of this makes me laugh, and yet sometimes it's what pulls me to turn away. 

I still feel guilty when I remember I never meant to fall for you. And now you're my boyfriend! Haha. That was such guilt-ridden, uncomfortable laughter, but I know you won't fault me, because the present is way more important. You'll probably never read this before I delete this blog anyway. 

/////

And also I feel guilty for the fact that I don't seem to blog and write much more about my life because it's become a bit nonexistent - between being ill and having my hand held or crushed against the bed I'm just enjoying taking a bit of a break from reality it seems. The leap year date went by without me realising. I say it's a break but I don't know when this will end. I swear I'm usually less of a bedridden shithead. 

I actually wonder if anyone's still reading - not in the way most people have a crisis of self-importance. I actually wish nobody was reading, yet I like having a public blog because it feeds my ego to some extent and gives me a semblance of responsibility. I like taking care of things, as the turtle noted. 

You'll be safe and sound

I didn't know I could be so thirsty for revenge!

Paddling Out

I hope you're going to be okay. I always do - I wish I get to see you and tell you how much I want you always to be at my side, forever, in permanence. I do not want to grow old so you don't have to either. I want always to live in that moment when we looked across the pond at the gardens, wishing upon a brighter future for me. Why would you do so in the full knowledge that you might not be here to see me succeed? Why do you not realise I can't do it without you beside me?