a fake handshake

words last forever but these ones are so empty.

do they come in an alienated form that only a few can understand?

sometimes it feels like this is an accident that was made to happen.

i'm sick of feeling this way, like i'm not sure of myself anymore, good enough anymore. if it's the way you really feel, i'd prefer if you'd just rip it off and make it clear. i'm tired of wondering whether it's all in my head or whether i'm reading the context clues the right way.

hold steady. 

act natural.

it blurs. 

sometimes things fall together; most of the time, things fall apart. 

this night that came again

The irritating thing about A is that she keeps trying to get me to talk about what happened with C, like this all stems back to those hellish eight months I endured six? years ago. And while maybe she has a point because I know that the entire situation fucked with my perceptions and ability to trust myself and set boundaries and ruined relationships, it's not all about the things that C inflicted on me and made me think. Years before we even met, it's always been me and my fucked up brain doing stupid shit and wanting everything to stop.

Some days I don't know if I even want to get better. How fucked up is that?

and many countless days later

i spoke to V on Sunday night for the first time in three? years. honestly, i wasn't really sure if we'd ever come back to each other especially since we haven't met often. but she's been there for me through... a lot of things. a lot of years.

i've been thinking a lot since then. the guilt and resentment weighs, thick and heavy and cloying. everyone was so worried. they tried to help but they couldn't understand.

there was a time where i didn't have the words to talk about myself. where i didn't understand myself. where i was more anxiety than myself. more scared of myself than anything else.

a time where the only thing i knew to do was to either lash out or hide it.

sometimes it's easy to touch and just imagine. what if, once more, would it help?

the scars may have faded but i know they were there.

there was (is?) a time where that was the only thing that helped.

let's step up

Happy November ! The weather skips between gorgeous and depressing; it's playing havoc with my moods though I really should be used to temperamental weather by now.

I know I said that I would backlog entries, and I will, I promise. I'm feeling a lot better than I was a week ago, so I actually have the time and energy to spend on doing all the things I was supposed to do last week. I should be grateful that my body chose last week to give off fighting my sickness. I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did - I've been feeling like I'm going to get sick for a good two months, at least. Anyway, I got knocked out for about five or six days where all I really did was just lie around in bed and alternate between complaining about being sick to people and just sleeping away the entire day.

I managed to Skype with A and E for the first time in a long while. I'm not particularly good friends with E - mostly I like her because A likes her so much - but she's always fun to talk to. She had to leave for work not long after, but I got to talk to A for an hour or so longer. A is still one of my favourite people, for all that we haven't talked much this year, being so caught up in our respective lives. She is the type where I know that if I reach out to her, she'll always respond. She demo'd something that she's been working on to me, which I really loved, even if it wasn't the best sound quality and I didn't quite understand all of it. She's always been able to find, to make the time for what makes her happiest. She compartmentalises in a way that I can only envy.

C and R left on Tuesday for Bali, so we've been charged, as always, with the responsibility for B, H and P. The more this happens, the less enthused I am about it. Although we did receive oranges and lemons and coriander from C and E prior to their leaving. I don't think I'd like to have pets. They're fun to play with but I think I am too concerned with being clean to be able to care for them and play with them on a regular basis.

I caught up with S on Friday for the first time in a while, mostly because we needed to trade items. Every time I see her, I'm reminded of how different we've become. It's strange to think about how just two years ago I would have counted her among one of my closest friends. Two years ago, we could spend at least six hours together and not run out of things to talk about. Now, it seems an accomplishment if we last 30 minutes without any awkward silences. PT was particularly terrible, so instead of the two or so hours that I'd allocated, I ended up being with her for something like four hours - accompanying her to the orthodontist, and then just sitting around in the city for a while.

I love my mother but, as most if not all of us do, I have a complicated relationship with her. Tonight, I just want to complain that she's driving me up the wall in a very shallow, standard mother kind of way. I understand that she says the things that she does because she cares about me, that she's just trying to look out for me, but sometimes it feels like she thinks I have the intelligence of a child under ten in the 1800's or something. I don't want to sound unappreciative, because it would suck if she just didn't care about what I was doing, but there is no enjoyment in being made to feel as though I am somewhat incompetent and reckless.

Now that it's November, it's officially NaNoWriMo. I'm nowhere near where I should be in terms of metrics though, which is depressing, since it is still early days. Does this herald how the rest of the month will pan out? I certainly hope not. I'll just have to work harder. At the very least, I don't have exams to worry about studying for simultaneously. I've (tentatively) planned a TC session with S and L in ten days, just to talk about how we're all doing. Hopefully I'll have something of substance by then.

ETA: This entry is all over the place. I apologise to anyone and everyone who actually read it. The saddest part about it is that I really don't have any excuse as to why it was so...disorganised? Well, I'll try and do better in the future.

trying emotions

For the stalkers who stalk (who is even reading this out there?): FUCK Y'ALL. EAT SHIT AND DIE.

I'm pretty sure that accurately sums up about 80% of my feelings over the last week. The things people have been saying to me, I already know, and they're the last things I want to be hearing. It's aggravating in the worst way, because I've (almost) never judged them in that way. Don't do it to me.

I feel like shit, physically. Please don't let me actually get sick.

A snippet of something that I've been working on recently:
Fear makes your tongue swell, damming up all your cries. She strokes your hair back off your forehead, dirt and sweat and blood matting it to your skin. You blink away the film across your eyes, stare up into eyes rimmed with red, a mix of saltwater tears and desperation. Her voice is faraway and distant, like a foghorn out at misty sea. You can't concentrate but her mouth is moving and you struggle to push the words and letters back into their places; English and French and German and Thai that you learnt the taste of before you knew the sounds. Her hands are shaking. There are thirteen bits of green in her eyes and each part is tinged with a little bit of insanity. 

NaNo's just over a month away. I need to start putting some thought into what I want to write 50,000 words of.

Real updates later, I guess.

dear so-called friends

If you have a problem about my being friends with certain person/s, then that's too bad. Don't question or interrogate me like I owe you anything because I'm not obligated to talk about it or defend myself or explain myself. I have my own reasons, and none of them have anything to do with whether or not you have problems with said person/s and whether or not you're happy with it. Nor am I responsible for talking to them on your behalf about whatever problem you apparently have with them. I don't like or agree with everything that they do, and I don't defend everything that they say, but that's not the point.

The point is: you are not me, and you don't have the right to question my judgement in friends. It's upsetting that you think I should be or think or react a certain way when a) you are not me, b) you don't know my motives or thoughts or wishes, and c) you don't really know all that much about me, not when it comes down to it.

I don't really want to talk about this with you because it makes me angry. I don't have the time to be involved in something this ridiculous.

I had a good day last week. Thanks for ruining that.

listen up, because i'm making a statement

FUCK YOU.

We've spoken for all of two minutes, in a situation where I am clearly feeling out of place, yet you think this gives you the right to judge me as 'such a boring person'. To my face, no less.

Okay.

You can fuck right off, tyvm.