31 December 2010
In well over an hour, the time when many Singaporeans, Malaysians and Hong Kongers will, I presume, welcome, with all dazzling, blinding though naive graciousness, the new, inevitable and questionable set of 365 days in several, different manners and fashions, I will be starting...
The Reestablishment.
10:41 PM
20 December 2010
My sister asked me if I had turned nocturnal.
I believe so.
Anyway.
Yesterday (early morning, late night), me and my sorry ass cried.
And I thought that it was important that I noted the reasons I cried.
I also realized that I've cried more than 5 times this holiday, perhpas more than 7. Details.
And when I cry, I don't just cry and stop after a few moments.
I cry. Let it wear off. Then I cry again.
So anyway.
Yesterday, I cried because of the following (think of them as triggers):
The thought that for so long I love the idea of having a younger sibling, sepcifically a baby, to take care of. And seeing as how that is something I can't control, it just remains as a lesser possibility. I thought, then, that I want a child/children when I grow up. You know, through any means necessary (and legal, of course.) If I had to, I don't mind surrogate mother, insemination, in vitro or any other artificial means. Adoption seems to be okay with me too, though the baggage (and I mean the day which the parent has to reveal the truth) is a lot to handle. But you know, I don't mind. So. Yesterday, I got to thinking, thinking how horrible a person I am, and as much as I know I'm capable of smothering another life with all of the care and love that one could possibly master, I don't think I can live with the fact that I'm creating another life. Me. The person who's full of problems, who's so screwed up, so dirty. I don't want to pollute and contaminate another life before it even gets to live its life. But the desire, the longing, the yearning to hold a child in my arms and call him my own will forever be there. And there I was, thinking that perhaps adoption wouldn't involve the passing down of my filthy genes and it would make it somewhat more okay. I wonder who I was kidding. The idea of me as a father, of me bearing someone else's responsibility scares me. It scares me that I have the potential to turn him evil, unhealthy, stupid, lost, sad, unhappy. All of which I believe I am. I just don't want that. I would never wish that unto someone else because it's not a good fate. It's pitiful, it's horrible, it's ridiculous and ultimately... Simply. Frankly. It's sad.
I just cried.
Literally.
I just cried writing that.
It's 6am and people are starting to wake up.
And I cried.
So.
I also cried because I was confused and torn and upset and angry. You know, when my parents set me down to confront me about my condition, they felt, dreamt, perceived that something was wrong with me. But they only isolated the fact that I watch such material and I'm oriented that way. That I lied and that I changed, that they didn't know who I was anymore. I told them that I was lonely. And that was that. They told me I may be lonely but I'm not alone. And I thought everything would be okay after that intervention of sort. But I'm still lonely and I'm still sad. And I'm just so upset, so torn and so frustrated at the fact that when they pointed out what they did, when they felt and sensed what they did before approaching me, they didn't realize that underneath all of that, there's a bigger, more collossal issue. The only one that matters. They could tell that I had superficial issues, but they didn't dream at all that I was miserable. Miserable with my life. With everything around me. I cried to this out of the realization of how lonely I am. That they didn't realize that and that they still don't. That they don't know me. That I cry in silence while everyone makes assumptions about me. That my chest hurts from all the times that I hold myself back from crying. That I have no one to turn to. That, as much as I fear death and w0uld never take my own life, I keep thinking of death and how it could actually easily end my suffering. It may not solve anything, but it could end everything.
I cried and I'm crying still.
I cried wondering how I want my funeral to be. Some say they want people to be happy and not cry and not be sad. Some want to be remembered as they are, not embellishments, no exaggerations. That sounds good to me. If I were to die in this miserable state, I want family and friends to not cling on to a false pretense of how I'm a nice friend, a caring son, an understanding brother. With all modesty, a lot of times, I do see myself as those things. But I keeps these to myself. I keep a lot of things to myself and I don't show a lot of myself. All that my family has seen of me lately is how tardy, lazy, tired, sorry, messy, sloth-like, uninspired, pretentious, incapable a loser I am. I don't try the slightest bit to prove them wrong at all. All my life, I've never othered proving myself to anyone. And thus, everyone takes me as the simple, unknowing person that they see in plain sight. So I urge all of you, in pethatic silence, to rememeber me as the piece of shit that I am. Not the person I never was, nor the person I could've been, nor the person that, in a pure, beautiful, specific and lucky moment, you like to remember me as. I'm unfortunate and horrible and please remember me as that. As the one who dies not doing anything. The textbook example of letting fate take run its course. The one who's been cards has been dealt but chooses to quite before even looking at them.
I've stopped crying for now.
And there's one thing that I'd like to leave here this morning (This isn't a death note, I'm not going to kill myself after this. I'ts just a, well, death note that is only relevant and appropriate for once I'm dead in the future and someone finds this.):
If by some chance, God has led you to this blog after I've died, I want you to know, I need you to know that when I was alive, I wasn't a very happy person. I wasn't happy at all. I may have seemed apathetic or indifferent, uncaring and unmoved by the things around me, but behind closed doors (metaphorically speaking of course, because I never physically hid my pain; I didn't have to. No one noticed. At all.), I was hurting. I was in pain for a very, very long time. I was lonely and I was angry but most of all I was sad. I've told myself that I blame no one for my shortcomings. No one but myself. But perhaps one thing that I could blame you or anyone else for that matter, is that, you never asked. I know I didn't tell, but really, do you remember asking? Or do you remember assuming that I acted a certain way, I wasn't showing any signs of depression and therefore, I was okay, that because I'm not doing anything that it makes me simply helpless and purely that. Nothing else. For such a long time I've lived in secrecy and I only hurt myself. I love talking to myself. I spoke of fantasies, of practicalities. And I also talked myself out of being overly sad, out of crying too much. I was my own pathetic therapist. But I can't help myself, it's hard. I isolated, alienated myself thinking that I'd be my own best friend because no one gets me. And yes, I still believe that, to this day, no one gets me. You know, I'm rambling. And the sole purpose of this death which is simple. I've lost everything, and if you're reading this and I'm dead, then it makes my point all the more easy. I need you to know this, just this, you don't have to trouble yourself with reading the whole blog, no need to analyhze all of my depressing posts, because it all trickles down to this simple, unassuming and sharp truth. I don't know what difference it'll make to your life once you've read it but if you want to know me and to understad my whole existence, it's this: I am sad.
5:44 AM
07 December 2010
I find night-time to be very precious.
I made a pact (with myself) that I would sleep early starting today.
Instead, I spent it doing nastiness and reading the introductory pages to Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis.
At least I'm spending it wisely, right?
As a Literature student, I am being more proactive in surrounding myself with more literary works.
You know, know the classics and whatnot.
Okay, you know what, I actually don't have the energy to pronounce my thoughts on the blog right now.
I'm feeling a shade of lazy.
I'm going to watch WILAY.
And for the record, I think I've watched the wholse series AT LEAST 5 times already.
It, along with Alias and Popular, is my favourite show.
EVER.
And for all I care, you are not allowed to say otherwise.
Good night.
3:13 AM
