ramblings at dawn
Mood:  hungry
Now Playing: Blogging. At Dawn.
i am awake before dawn again. Was it sleep that evaded me or I who evaded sleep?

A few random thoughts on my mind now :

1. Reading other people's blogs make me feel fascinated yet stupid. Especially those who write stuff that make you read them twice over. All in one line. I'm embarrassed of making mine look like nothing but a just-turned-16 high school girl's diary entry. All sappy stuff. But should i really care? It's my blog to bullshit after all. And i take comfort in knowing that hardly anyone reads it anyway.

2. What's for breakfast later? See, we basically wake up alive to eat and stay alive. That's the whole idea. I think.

3. I should stop listening to sentimental stuff. I'm already all soft at the centre. What's there left to melt if it's all coming out in tears? As much as I'm mad about James Blunt, it feels stupid sometimes. Hate myself for being so Bridget Jones.

4. But I still love James Blunt. He's my obsession now. Music. Lyrics. Given he's really quite cute too. Nothing best describes my 'episodes' than in "Tears and Rain".

5. I have 2 more assignments to be rid of. Due next week. Starting on one of them is of course.. my plan for the day. Sigh. I wish i had someone to push me around. I'm the only person who pushes myself around. So tell me how do i do that and not get mad at myself for being so pushy?

6. I won't stop wishing I had a life. I won't stop because I can't stop.

7. I really like this. Bullet-point style. I'l do it more often.

8. I will give up on claiming the rest of my sleeping hours. It's 8.15am and I have been awake since 5am. My body and eyes are feeling the effects now. I am gonna be so stoned for the rest of the day..

9. ....(stoning)....

lost & found..& lost again.
Mood:  blue
Now Playing: coldplay - trouble
Another brooding day at home. Another morning of trying to figure out whether it was the sunlight that woke me up or that daily internal cringing i feel inside once the fix of slumber fades out. yeah. sleep is a kinda fix for me. a free, harmless, legitimate and necessariy fix. but i need d help of my pills most of d time or it wouldn't work. it gets bad when the effect wears out at 5 a.m. in the morning..and i stay lying in bed with my raw thoughts and stewy emotions half immersed in the wake of consciousness and half of them still stuck in that space they call 'limbo'.. i struggle infinitely to ignore them and simply feel the softness of my covers and pillows. Mostly, i find myself sruggling to keep away from an invisible force of loneliness that seems to be most absorbent at that time of the day when everyone is asleep and you feel like you are the only person awake in the whole wide world..awake, alive and vulnerable to the world and its preying emotions.. loneliness if course the biggest perpetrator because it is the kind that not only seeps into layers of your physical being and then your soul..but it leaves a certain kind of marked presence in the bed covers that you lie in every night wishing for a non-existent company. it doesn't even spare the lifeless objects which you try to project your pleasures on. it wants everything of you and you are made to want everything that it cannot offer.

I'm afraid of holidays, breaks and weekends. I want them badly when i'm tied down to periods of endless assignments and daily routines of classes. But often they turn out very disappointing when there's nothing much to do and I end up feeling terribly bored, unproductive and depressed out of my mind. It's aways the same issue of not having enjoyed myself in the best possible ways i could think of..hanging out with friends (or rather, a friend only) and fun things to do..and of cos, there's that constant hope of being able to find someone special and worthy of spending all that idle time with. That's probably all that matters to me these days. I just wanna while away time in abandanment from myself.. but never in abandonment by others. I wanna spend the time of two, not one. But it's really just me, myself and I.. and my family, of cos. And my scant number of individual friends, of cos. And what to i do about it? I'd sit around having idle conversations with myself. I'd lie in bed recalling cliched phrases from articles and magazines i've just read. I'd blast tunes to spot a passing thought or describe a particular emotion. I'd keep reassuring myself of that someday i'd surely turn to the 'booky-nerd' phase in order to find distraction and salvation from what they call 'the comforts of literature' (i can't get into that now cos i've got to get past my assignments first before i allow myself the luxury of leisure reading). I'd wait by the phone for any friend to look me up, or rather i would be the one to initiate a meet-up just so that our friendship remains intact and i wouldn't end up 'friendless' after all. I'd avoid conversations with my mum as if we had a fight going everyday but it's not like that. I'm just bored and resentful and way too lazy to offer her my thoughts when i know she'll dimiss them in casual candor or interpret them as passing moods of a young adult daughter who's forver stuck in adolescent agony. I'd smile to my dad in obligation whenever he greets me in his indiscriminate affection and endearment.. indiscriminate because he doesn't see the pain in my eyes or the sadness in my smile or the expectation of something else that he would say or ask..because he always thinks that i'm doing okay..because he is too much of dad and not much of a friend.. as long as i answer his calls and show my presence at home, basically everyone think i'm okay. I guess I am. In the literal, physical, material sense of self. Noone in the family would really understand the extent to which i'm forever resisting the stuffy and depressing space of home life.. yet given six months when i had the personal freedom and independence to be away from it not so long ago, i relinquished it in a frenzy of psychological disillusionment. I gave it up and wanted it back right afer hating it for so long. And now i'm hating it all over again. I now realize that i was forever running from wherever i ran to in the first place. I wanted to be out of here then in search of that ideal phase in life when you are having 'the time of your life' in university. And because it didn't turn out that way..because i gave in to a dark force called depression.. because i didn't have the wisdom and strength and patience to fight it and go on.. i wanted the familiarity and physical comfort of home to mend my broken vision. i wanted to come home and heal. But have i really ever recovered? It's been one year from the day i returned home. It's been one year since that traumatic period of resisting a foreign space which was supposed to be my liberation front. It's been one year since i lost myself out there.. found my way back.. and now i'm lost all over again..

tragic logic
Mood:  down
Now Playing: james blunt - tears and rain
sometimes it just feels..hopeless.no matter how many feel-good cliches you pick up along the way, it just feels that way. no matter how much a good song does to make life seem bearable, it still feels that way. no matter how much you try to feel otherwise, it simply feels that way and no other way. Like one big blotch of misery that stains this emotional phase in life for good, marking it out loud and clear and carefully. you wake up wondering what you did that for. it was so good to be away for a while. Away from all things real, solid and static. Away from feelings. that's it. i wanna stop feeling this way. what's better than to stop feeling and start living. Stop feeling sorry for myself and start living, to be precise. it's a hateful thing. self-pity. it's a disability. it cripples and it mocks. it takes and never gives. i feel enslaved and i hate myself for it. but god knows how much i wanna just... feel like that without feeling bad about it. god knows how much it hurts myself.. to want so much out of life and wake up wanting it even more badly than the previous morning..and going to bed each night trying to dream it all away. god knows how much i just want someone to be here for me.. someone who'd make it alright and even worthy..someone who'd i live through this shit for. but my tears are simply telling me that i'd come to nothing close to anything like that tomorrow.. or d day after.. cos it never feels like it's gonna happen. as long as my heart beats on in pain and my mind runs on in abandonment. as long as i continue seeing black in colours and seeing disappointment in peoples, situations, myself.. as long as i stay hidden in the familiar darkness of my comfort zone. it is at once liberating and isolating. away from the presence of others whom i have to constantly negotiate my own existence with.. i feel safe, secure and free. But am i really? i figured that i'm mostly just entrapped in my own alienation from the outside world of possibilities.. with who? i just want to be alone, many times, many places.. others are exactly what they occupy as the 'them' in the subject-positions of my mind.. 'them' and 'me'.. i always feel it's easier to deal with 'me', 'i', 'myself' alone. friends are important. my social life is really big deal. I need someone. And only one. Because the truth is, i want to be alone, not lonely. I don't want to be lonely. I don't want to be anti-social and i don want to shun away from people who can be my frens.



god knows how much i find the meaninglessness in so many things that i do. i hate to say this and i know i will be reproached for saying this. But the truth is, i don't give a shit about whatever i'm doing now in life. I don't really care about having a university education and a future career. I don't really care about being a good girl at home and a likeable character outside of home. Given a choice, i'd go all bad and rotten and crap. Sigh. I don't know, really. That sure doesn't sound like me, huh. The people who know me would say. Yeah, it sure doesn't, i'd say, but it's whom i sometimes wanna be. i wanna be a girl that you all would not want to look at in the eye because you feel too ashamed and afraid to do so.. it just feels liberating that way, i guess. Like how people break themselves all out cos perhaps they know they'd make themselves better persons once they get fixed up after that. Like how some things work better after you send them for repair. But i guess i don't have the privilege of going through all that. I'm born into a family who has this tradition of making things look okay on the outside even though things don't really hold up that well on the inside. I grew up realizing and wishing that it can be so much better than this.. or sometimes,even more so that it can be so much more worse. And the latter holds a certain fascination for me. I'm always seeing the worst..but truer to myself is the obsession with having the best of things..that like many other hopefuls, i too can have big ideas about life and love without constantly feeling that i shouldn't.. i shouldn't because i am already halfway ahead of others in terms of given blessings. But everyone thinks their own situation most tragic, don't they.. i am of no exception.

it's all too easy to cry over what i do not have.. that's the extent of my discontentment. it's all too easy to feel lonely and unwanted if given a moment.. that's the extent of my desperation. And this is the confession that i have to make..before i lose it someday. cos confessions only matter when there is a need to let them out..not kept in. this is what i have to confess as a 21 year old who's single, desperate, bitter, overly-angsty and almost always suicidal.

existential bullshit
there. i've got the perfect argument for my contention to die. 'If there is no such thing as reality and we all do not exist out of the discourses that construct our perceived realities.. what is the meaning of being alive?'
anyways, that morbid crap aside.. i want to breathe a little, live a little, laugh and fool around a lot..like every other 21 year old gal who wants to enjoy life as it is. As it is? nahh. As how i want it to be. it all comes down to being a freakin idealist who wants to see a rosy-coloured picture with dark-coloured shades. i know my days won't get better with my self-inflicted dark moods, which more often than not, instantly follow whenever boredom sets in. i'd look hard at the people around me and wonder what goes through their minds when they see me like this.. 'oh it's just one of her moods again.' would be a right guess. i can't blame them. i live in my own isolation. but it is this self-awareness that makes me feel even more isolated sometimes. it is not just the brooding, the dread, the tremendous effort to NOT feel sensitive.. it is the overall indifference to life and its various discourses that pain me. i know i don't really give a damn when i know i should. but i act as if i do because i know i can. i hate my ignorance, my tendency to take things for granted. yet i consciously indulge in them when there is no way out of my emotional screw-up episodes.. i want to be practical and rational and clear-headed..but i end up aching, sad and empty inside. as they always say " live for the moment". well that's what i have been doing for so long and that's what is perhaps so wrong with me. I live too much for the moment that i expect so much out of every single one. And of course every moment just goes by without so much of being worth the attention i give it. i want so much out of this life that i have no regard for the past, present and future anymore. i am such a difficult being that i have stopped 'being'. i am what i feel, no longer what i think. as i am being taught, life is simply just a discourse itself. it may not even exist, except in our socialized minds which are fooled into thinking we'd get the better out of it if we try hard enough to envision it..

bloody fantasies
Mood:  down
Now Playing: marion raven - end of me
i woke up from a deep sleep this morning and felt exhausted. it feels so tiring to be awake. but i had to be up early.i had a doctor's appointment at the hospital.i felt cranky and grudgy and victimized my mother as usual. i felt frustrated with her throughout the visit. not that she did anything wrong..but she did everything wrong. these days i'm finding fault with every single trivial microscopic matter that involves her and myself.. every single ungraceful, 'aunty-ish' gesture she makes make me feel disgusted. every extra word she adds to her long-winded conversations that make me wait make me fume. every loud opinion she gives that doesn't sound right or favorable to me makes me wanna just snap at her in the face. sometimes i just wanna go hysterical..go bloody mad at her and curse her.....what is the hell going on with me? i am becoming so hateful. so spiteful. so full of bitterness. with everything in my life. not just my poor old mother who has become the daily target of my horrible tantrums and emotional displays..almost everyone is involved, knowingly or unknowingly. my sister, brother in law, brother, father and friends... on days when it happens.. i go mad at them..i am mad at them. Mad at them for not being able to make me NOT mad at them.. for not being able to see through me and help me to feel better..because i am fucking hurting but they have no idea what i'm going through..no idea at all.. and they seem to only do what they can on the surface and never do more.. i want them to do more and more and more until i have sucked out every single breath out of them..and yet til the end, they will realize that it's still not enough..
And they always seem so happy and normal and ok. i hate it when they are ok and i'm not. i hate it when they act normal when i feel anything but normal. i hate it when they say stuff that's supposed to comfort me but end up making me feel worse cos those bloody cliche cathcphrases about LIFE and how to live it just doesn't work for me. i hate it when they see me sulk and grudge and unhappy and they leave me at it and go about with their own lives as if i never made an impression. i hate it when i think of them in such negative terms because i know it's nothing but selfish and cruel and bloody NOT me.. but i would not even be pouring all these shit out if these thoughts weren't so bloody overwhelming and dominating.. i think i'm losing it..
But i'm just me as always..i can never bring myself to go mad outwardly..or as much as i need to express and explode and just act crazy. it is only my mum who is the main witness and victim of all my misgivings.. i throw my tempers at her, i show her the most bitter and miserable and hateful of expressions, sometimes, i just don't show any reaction at all, giving her a blank face, a pained expression, silence.. i have become so cold. I have become so unkind.
but during all those times, i always hold back the full extent of the storm that is boiling and threatening to blow me up on the outside.. cos i can never bring myself to put on a full show drama unless i really lose it. i can never gather the guts to stage a hyterical and tearful episode that will stike the people around me hard..because if i do, i would have crossed the line then. from normal to abnormal in a very evident manner that they can no longer ignore. and it will definitely lead to them to think that all i need is drugs and more drugs to calm me down, fix me right and keep me alive... but what do they really know..
i have in fact almost lost it so many times..i just lack a good reason so far to end it all..but i'm thinking of it all d time. i seriously am. and nobody in this world knows or care to know how serious i am with these thoughts.. perhaps until they see either some blood or wounds or pills.. some physical evidence of destruction that is so ambiguous, so dangerous, so personal inside of me...
When the car came close to be in contact with other cars today..i wish it would go all the way and get crashed. but the thought of my mother dying will dissolve that picture becos i wouldn't want her to die with me. i want to die alone. so i imagine that a big truck would come straight at m passenger side and get me good. me alone. and i'd end up in pieces in hospital and all that. tat'd be a quick one.
When the lab nurse poked my arm with a sharp syringe to take my blood, i watched the dark red blood being sucked up..and marvelled at how rich in colour it looked..how much of mess an amount like this would make on my bed or floor or in water..
When i got back home and flopped on to my bed crying like mad because of god knows what.. i was tempted to take d pills and go to sleep forever. how nice. i'd just sleep away to stay away with no need to wake up and deal with consciousness of being alive. that is the undeniably the best way to die simply because it is painless and timeless. unlike waiting for blood in your veins to drip dry, or bearing the pain of scalded wounds and twisted joints.. this method, if effective, leads you into a stimulated state of euphoric escape, minutes before your last remnants of consciousness connects with your emotions..giving you the feeling of floating and drifting on air..up, up and away from all your pain and troubles.. before it all goes black. then nothing. it will appear as if you died happy. Without pain, to be exact. it gives you the real sensation of escape without pain. with you timing out from the effects, you are gone forever but with the last remaining memory and experience of feeling OK. that stays with your forever in death.
i can't help having all these fantasies about death. but how am i supposed to make the people around me understand that these suicide thoughts are playing in mind even while i'm talking like a normal person to them? how do i tell my mother that a simple trip to the hospital had me wishing i was diagnosed with cancer and disappointed that it didn't happen? during my depressed episodes when i couldn't even muster the strength to lift a facial muscle to smile or open my mouth to answer questions..what are the odds that they will ever realize that 8 out of 10 times i don't actually just feel depressed, but also suicidal? Will they always take me and my gloom episodes for granted in their own ignorant ways and not see the intense need for my pain and frustrations to be discovered and relieved????? Will they ever feel the slightest hint of turmoil brewing inside me while they go around with their own business? Do they really think that my silence is real and my unhappiness is momentary? Do they really think that they can avoid my unhappiness on any day that they come visit just by leaving me at that and hoping that the next time around i will be different? if so, then they do not really know me. they do not know me well enough to know what's going on with me. they think they have me, but they don't..

walking dead
Mood:  sad
" I've been quiet, You've been silent, Daily routines make me tired, The loneliness keeps me vacant. Wherever your heart and mind is dwelling, Your presence will always be one i'm missing.." ~a litttle piece of inspiration that i got with my last bit of handphone credit, which i sms-ed to anselm(my virtual companion) "I woke up this morning afraid I was gonna live, I'm putting myself to sleep tonight with no relief.. Everyday we scratch and claw the surface reality, Often we bleed and end up aching, sad, empty.. If our dreams come with a saviour, May he turn into one of the stars that we favour.. May he shine on us with bright light, May we carry on with strength in this fight.." ~a heartfelt piece borne out of god-awful excruciating pain during one of those dark episodes when nothing less than thoughts of wrist-slashing and overdosing offer genuine solace... ..is there a psychological term for an intense desire to die but having no will to go through it? Maybe 'suicidal disillusions'? It's like walking around in this suicidal reverie every single day, yet knowing you aren;t gonna get down to do anything serious about it. What crap. This is purgatory on earth even before i get to die.

hell on earth
Mood:  down
Now Playing: jimmy eat world - work
I've been living through a psychological nightmare last week. I had a couple of anxiety attacks due to exam paranoia. It was like my heart was being gnawed and chewed up and knotted to pieces inside. I couldn't breathe at times. An overwhelming sense of fear and frustration took over everything i did. Depression took the chance to attack. The pain was intense and unmerciful. I hated myself, my lack of control, my inability to think, my obsession to feel. Day by day I was pushed to the edge. All i wanted to do was just fall and die. Take the plunge. Get out. End it all. Then I wouldn't have to take the horrible exams, go to work and face the snobs, go to university and feel stupid or live with disappointing parents.
And it all had to happen at this time. I was made to take up a bloody detoxification course that just made me feel sick all the time. Nausea, fever, dizziness, stomach discomfort. I felt like a half-operated lab mouse with my body split into halves, my heart and my brains dangling dangerously from whatever deformed structure that is left of me. I was walking around like someone was pointing a gun to my head and threatening me with something so simple yet so apt to my point of view right here right now - "Live or Die". I couldn't stop the mental torture of thinking it was all just pointless. I was going through this enormous breakdown of all sorts, yet day by day I reluctantly masked it all with an appearance of normality. I still went to classes though i skipped whenever i got the chance. I still went to work at times I should, though god knows how much i hated to be there and how strongly I felt displaced and unappreciated being there. I still went about living in this house with my usual dark clouds hovering over and helpless display of mood swings. I still went about functioning as I should. But inside, I just wanted to tear and wear. I just wanted to claim my right to being miserable, though I knew I really didn't want to.
It could have killed me. But there were a few people who showed they care. In fact, my parents too. But i was unforgiving and unsatisfied with every effort they made which didn't seem any helpful to me. They seemed to take my darkness and pain for granted. Of course I was being unfair. Of course I was being selfish. I even had a mad tearful confrontation with mum weeks ago, and dad, just days ago. But nothing is ever resolved because it's simple my own problem of not helping myself. As much as I can be assured of, I'm trying to convince myself everyday , that I cannot expect too much out of them in helping me in ways that I cannot comprehend or define myself. And they wouldn't cross their own line of parental authority, like the much-hated curfews at night. I wouldn't give in either on that. And it's gonna continue like this..me blaming them for all this shit when it's really unfair of me and really obvious that I'm on my own in finding solutions. At the same time, they are gonna continue to live their lives and carry out their obligations as parents just as they always did, assuming that I'm fine and I can actually make it through on my own. As long as thry refer me to the psychiatrist when i'm having one of those mental breakdowns, so they won't have a crazy, emotionally disabled daughter. Yeah they love me. But how does love feel at this time? It feels just like pain.
There's also the issue with this guy who claims he's fallen for me and he cares and stuff like that. Well i can really see him being sincere. Nice guy and all, and i'm having a good feeling about him. I just might love him in return. But I can't tell yet.. even though I must acknowledge his part in helping to cheer me up, distract my dark thoughts and counsel me at times during this nightmare period..I'm constantly pessimistic about things working out between us.The biggest obstacle - distance. He's there, i'm here. And i can't get past this thought. Cos i most obviously need a guy who can be here with me at most times, especially times of extreme vulnerability like this. I can't see him as being physically present during unpredictable times like this, I can't feel it and therefore I'm afraid of hurting him. Sigh. Whatever goes.. i can't tell now. But i guess it helps to have a 'savior' in whatever limited means.. even thought it's all just momentary relief. I just ask for too much sometimes.
There's the other guy friend, who's another type of 'savior', a 'dark angel'. He's going through the same shit of depression with me, and so that brings us close. We share details on our emotional struggle, how it feels to be an over-angsty adolescent mistaken for being a young adult on the outside, how it sucks to have a psychological condition in which we can only experience darkness and pain. We're in this together and we're trying to help each other overcome it. Again, he's far away. The virtual communication is the only way we can go about keeping each other company. It's great cos I've never had such a mutual friendship before based on our common ground of facing similar emotional battles. It helps to dispel a little of that attitude thinking i'm alone in this battle with depression. Like me, he takes pills and sees the psychologist. That is why we relate so well to each other. Noone would be better than him to understand all this crap i'm going through. This thing called depression that is dubious to some people around me as a condition, but which is a conviction that can save me from condemning this world and my own life too much, too irrationally.
My special friendship with him has been constant for the past 2 months that it's become part of my life right now. Though we insist on not expecting any obligations, there's the silent fear that we might fall over the line of being just 'friends in crisis'. But it's more for him, than for me. cos I can't lie about my emotionald dependance on someone which is distinctively different from one that includes romance when i really look into it. I doubt even if I were to fall for him in that way, he's unable to do it on his part for long either, simply again because of the distance that separates us. Things can only work out if he's here for me everytime i need him, just like the other guy.
I hate to think that this is all just temporary - love and hope and relief given to me by people who show it in ways that they can. But i know it is and at the end of the day, I know i still gotta come home to myself and my own life and my own pain. If i can no longer live for myself, who is the 'self' that makes me believe i can live for others? I know that's so wrong, I shouldn't see it that way. But i wonder what else makes sense to me at this time..

...
Mood:  blue
day in, day out..you go about with your daily routines.what you know about life is what you make of it now. but deep inside you know it is never complete. you dive and you dig and you go down under..and all the while you are struggling to breathe..struggling to stay alive..but still, you just do not know why you are going downwards in these waters of emotion and thoughts, instead of upwards to the surface. Out of it..where the real world is. Or is there one at all? You wonder all the time. And you hurt yourself all the time just by wondering about something so obvious, so objective. This is where you are, what you do, who you are.. how else can you change it? When you've clawed enough to see blood come out of your skin, you know it's real. It's really about getting through each and every day. That's perhaps all there is to it with life, isn't it? Something like tat cliche..'Live as if you'll die tomorrow..dream as if you'll live forever'. That I must live today because it's the only time I have before my death the next day.. that I will want to live forever in my sleep and in my dreams and never wanna wake up.. What do you do when you are incapable of feeling real? As if you are a ghost living among humans who see you and accept you and think that you are real.. and for a while, you forget you aren't real..and you take your human-ness so seriously..but when you are unable to feel the feelings that your human friends feel or do the normal things that they do.. you get wounded. Who says you can't feel a damn thing? Why, you can! What makes them think you are an unfeeling thing just cos you aren't human? The only thing is.. all you can feel is pain. Darkness. Ugly stuff. Simply cos you forgot d very fact that you are a ghost. You don't belong to this world, but down under at a place where your emotions thrive, where it's translated into what they call joy here, where it's perfectly okay.. Maybe I just don't believe in d future and what it holds for me anymore.. Maybe I'm losing all it takes to be just a girl in this world.. wanting too much.. lacking too much.. feeling too much.. but not going anywhere..not becoming anything. Angst is what it is, they say... if pain can be spelt differently that way, then hopefully it can be felt and experienced in a different way too.. Anything to change it or kill it.. perhaps another way to feel it is to feel joy tat's so real tat it hurts? A very unlikely fantasy.

d unknowingness of my needs
Now Playing: seether - fine again
Thinking about yourself, your life and that perpetual doom which takes up every breathing space you have...it's really tiring. You feel that you've had enough of analyzing, introspecting and counselling.. but the truth is, it's never enough. People talk to you, help you look at your problems, come up with suggestions and solutions..but at the end of d day, you stay stuck in d rut because the one thing you cannot take a hold on is your emotions. That wild destructive beast inside of you. What does it breed on? It all comes down to what you need but do not have..Nothing ever seems to be enough to satisfy that intense desire inside..for? For a whole lot of things. But you know you can't always have d things you want..and so day by day, you coerce yourself into the daily functional routine of going to classes and work in the marginal hope that you would feel normal, if not alright, if not contented, if not happy. That you would avoid going rock bottom to be a walking dysfunctional emotional time-bomb that would blast off at the spark of a horrible horrible negative thought. That you would simply do what you are required to do at the end of the day - get a degree, get a job and get out there. Get out there? In the future, yes. Right now, no way. Because of my vulnerability. My fears. My needs. Speaking of which, I do not really know them. It's this overwhelming angst of not knowing just what are my needs and how big they are. But sometimes I do know. I do know what I need everytime I feel lonely - a close and empathic friend, a caring partner. I do know what I need everytime I feel inferior - acknowledgement, assurance, confidence. But I do not know what i need everytime I just fall headlong into that unassuming darkness.. where all I feel becomes all I need..where only pain has meaning and is meaningless altogether.. How many times can a person survive a free fall like that?

They say all you need is love. Love? An undying myth that keeps people alive, but which takes life when its glory is not upheld. A myth some people are so willing to live up to on the outside. Under layers of make-up, disguised as fashion, read as paperback novels, voyeurised as romantic dramas. A myth some people use to justify some inexplicable complications in life that they do not understand..like the endless throbbing emotional pain..like the torturous thoughts of a self-destructive mind..like the serious inability to be on one's own..

If it isn't a myth, if it is something real and something worth of its name..it is something I need. Or perhaps, it is all I need. Isn't it easier to need one simple thing so badly, than wanting so much more out of life, so badly yet so blindly?
"I need someone who will love me so fiercely, someone who will love me to death and even then, he will know that that isn't enough to fulfill the unknowingness of my needs.." This is somewhat an edited version of Winterson's words..this is perhaps what's all this is about too..this dark, doomed delusion..

i'm in love with Winterson
Not Jeanette Winterson, actually. I'm not a lesbian and i don't intend to be one. I'm still very much a hopeless romantic who has always bought into far too many romance myths about falling in love with The Perfect Guy, perpetrated by this MTV-idolizing society. I've just recently developed this profound interest in her first novel - Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit. I'm reading it primarily as a prescribed text for a literary subject i'm doing this semester. But the more i read it, the more i'm reading it out of pure philosophical indulgence and emotional intrigue. It's simply moving. Very profound. As always, being a hyper-sensitive being unlike any other that i've known.. i find myself relating to certain truths in the novel. Put aside all the subcultural themes of religious psychosis, family ideology and ultimately lesbianism as intended signifieds by Winterson.. i find bits and pieces of truths and reality within them. Which are simply beautiful and so true.
I enjoyed my lecture of the subject today. I enjoy listening to the lecturer, Dr Andrew, dissect literary works, theories and arguments. He's a good lecturer. I never expected to like this subject. Not to mention i am able to sit through the whole lecture, actually interested and eager to listen and absorb while i madly take down notes. I would imagine some of my classmates to think of me as weird and 'uncool' if they hear or read this. It's really quite awakward, really, for a girl like me on the outset, who seems to be one of those long-haired, fashion-conscious, just-a-pretty-face girl to actually like boring stuff like this. I don't know, really. It seems like you can be as much of one thing or another in private or in public, but there is always a host of expectations attached to any one of those identities. Because you are confined within the imposed social circle of an institution like a college or university, which in turn is confined within the framework of societal myths and ideologies of which it can't really exist without..You ultimately do not possess the freedom to be anything. Yeah, all the theorists and philosophers who talked about how the individual is a social construction of society may be long gone and dead..but hell do I agree with them. I totally agree to my hypocritical existence in this world. What degree of individuality do each of us actually possess when every single breath we take, every move we make and every thought we process is subjected to society's whims and fancies?? It's so hard to belong to anywhere today. In any circle, any group, any community today...even in your own world, you can't run away from society's domineering shadow. You are constantly consumed into the spiral of ideologies and myths..which ultimately consumes your soul. We are all something like 'puppet souls'in this world.. forever incapable of making life our very own..but always given life instead, whether we want it or not, whether we live it or leave it. We are forever attached to the different strings which our very survival depends on. We might not like the holes mad in our heads or backs, arms and legs where each and every string is either drilled through, glued, nailed or simply tied to..occasionally we will twist and turn and tangle up in protest to the puppetmaster, or perhaps sometimes it's just technical error..but no matter what happens, the bigger picture of us all performing is what matters. Be it one of two screw ups. The show needs to go on and we need to go on.. even if some of us are left entangled by a few strings, or dislocated at one part. The puppetmaster says the show must go on..and it always does.