Incoherence

Dear D,

I wonder if you still remember what this tumblr post means. I wonder if you’ll even check this space. Because things right now are not all right. I miss you. You ask me why you weren’t chosen, and to that I have no answer but one - feelings. I can’t control my feelings about who I fall for and I can’t explain why. I can expound upon all the qualities I like, all the tangible reasons, but it isn’t sufficient, because every other person has good to recommend too, you even more so than others. At the end of the day, it isn’t the things you can count, qualify or measure. Because if it were I wouldn’t be able to choose anyone. It just happened and I can’t explain why. What I can control and choose though, are the other people that matter to me, the people I care for and how I treat them. You matter, I care. And for that I want to respect you and do right by you, so I will abide and understand your decision to be left alone. After all what right do I have to be so selfish and to hurt you more than I already have. I don’t want to and it sure as hell isn’t going to be easy, but goodbye. And hopefully, see you soon. You will always be dear and have a place in my life whenever you’re ready to come and take it, if you ever want to. I miss you already.

Love, Russell

Grow up.

Two words that I’ve heard so many times. Two words, contrary to popular belief, that not everyone wants to do. Two words that I don’t want to listen to.

Yes, people all need to grow up, to deal with things, to take some responsibility. But when I look at you, all stately, wise and standing for everything that grown ups do, maybe I don’t want to be a grown up.

You tell me that I need to grow up and be happy with myself. But really, if I’m going to grow up sooner or later and will eventually settle for being simply me, can’t I stay a child and wish a little longer for things I would rather be? Why can toddlers wish to be astronauts and policemen and firemen and I can’t wish to be something else I’m not - a little better looking, a little taller, a little thinner, a little closer to the ideal. If it’s going to happen either way, let me alone for just another minute without your grown up worries or your grown up happiness.

Can’t I be happy without growing up?

I am a hypocrite. I don’t practice what I preach and at the end of the day I’m just the same as everyone, a blubbering, desperate fool in front of the one they like but unfortunately doesn’t like them back. I tell people that they’re worth more, I tell my friends to start treasuring themselves a little more and not to bother with people who can’t see what amazing people they are. I truly believe that though, that my friends are all brilliant special people who deserve the world and then a little more. But I can’t seem to take my own advice, despite telling myself the same thing, despite throwing up my facade that I really am fine by myself.

I guess I’m just tired of being alone, tired of trying to always be strong and deal with things myself. I know I can, but it doesn’t mean I want to, or find it easy and I just need a break sometimes. And I don’t think I’m asking for that much. Am I?

And here’s what I’ve found out over the few years - I’m desperate, terribly so. I realise I fall too fast and I rarely use my brain in such situations. I’m not desperate per se, as in I wouldn’t date anyone who comes along, but I’m desperate for someone that fits. And I think the reason why I’m desperate is because these people who fit are so few and far between. It’s like the moment you come along and tick my checkboxes, I’m in already. Hook, line and sinker. And I realise I sound terribly Junhung-esque in my expressions, but they ring so true, so pardon me if I took too many of your words and wrote them down as mine.

So, here’s the crux of this post - You. I would like to scream at you, because I was actually quite okay with the position I was in, getting used to it and making my stay comfortable in the safe zone out away from relationships. But no, life doesn’t work that way. Life doesn’t settle with simply satisfied. Life has to throw in something, anything, whether you like it or not. And so life threw me you, waltzing in all pretty and perfect, filling all my criteria. Actually no, I was disinterested, I couldn’t see anything in you at first, you stood for everything I didn’t, you were meant to be the person I wouldn’t like regardless. But in your contrariety, you somehow managed to toe the line, cross it and then proceeded to spit on it and the arbitrary boundaries it set. You became an idea I could fall in love with and that’s exactly what I did. I fell in love with the idea of somebody. But if only things were that simple, we’d never have any broken hearts. And if we didn’t have those, we’d never have art, we’d never have the epic poems and speeches, echoing everything we felt more eloquently than we would ever be in our lifetime. All this I can deal with, I’ve done it before.

But what really hurts is the fact that I see how good you could be for me and more importantly, how good I could be for you. But you don’t see that and I doubt you ever will.

So this post marks, hopefully, the start of someting, or if not, probably, my getting over you.

I’ll learn and grow and maybe one day, my worst enemy won’t be myself.

And so I sent some men to fight, and one came back at dead of night.
Said he’d seen my enemy. Said he looked just like me,
So I set out to cut myself and here I go.

First post after BMT.

It feels like ages ago, but in actuality, I haven’t moved an inch. I’m having my teenage life crisis. I’m into my last year as a teen, my last chance that I’m afforded the privileges of youth and irresponsibility, my last of many; the beginning of few and more of good and worse. Everyone’s growing older and everyone’s changing. But beyond that, what scares me is the speed of change, that it’s happening so rapidly I don’t even have the time to catch my breath, and it’s suffocating. It feels like every single time I blink, I lose moment that could have been worth so much, because nobody’s ever the same after that flicker in time. Not only that, but it’s even more excruciating when I’m chasing after all of you but you’re only getting further and my feet just hit hopelessly on the floor, stuck on the same damned tile like a sick, twisted joke meant to wrench my heart away and send it off on a journey with you. Then with this new blinding cavity, I struggle to fill it up, but nothing fits right, because right is so hard to find and I’m worried I won’t ever find right before I get too old and everything starts feeling more useless and hopeless than things already do, when the pale and wan starts to fade into grey and white. So I continue to grasp at straws, at you, at everything, at strangers, at nothing, to anchor me back to something, anything, everything, that meant, that felt, that had worth. So much anaphora, and rule-of-three. I am desperate, not desperate in and of itself, but desperate for what I know ought to be mine, for what used to be mine.