I Think We Have An Emergency.

If you thought I'd bleed, then you were wrong.

'Cos I won't stop holding on.

Getting over someone is easy, once it's done. Yeah sure, it takes a while to rid yourself of those whimsical feelings that surge in you everytime they wander about in your head. But after a while, and probably their prolonged absence, you (well at least for me) tend to forget them. Slowly.

Soon, they evaporate from your heart and you come close to forgetting they exist. And at least when you see them again, you will smile to yourself and think of all the stupid things that used to run through your head, when you still had a place for them in your heart.

And it seems to be easier to forget about them when it's been coupled with bad memories ... right?

Wrong.

Let me explain bad memories. They are the tiny spokes you leave behind when you clean out your heart. And before you can catch them all, they've seeped through the walls leaving no trace behind. So you think they're gone.

And soon it infects your body, your mind - like a cancer. And everytime those venomous spokes pierce flesh somewhere in your body, your mouth dries, your lungs freeze and your face pales - you're almost in a coma.

Except in a coma you don't feel pain.

The sensation lasts as long as you want it to, or as long as IT wants it too. And when it leaves you for that moment, you return to a normal state of being - waiting for the next attack. It's really a living nightmare, as it zones you out into a world of naivete, pain, hate, darkness, helplessness, weakness, lies, betrayal, trust (I have described this before as a false feeling)

... and fools - You being the biggest one.

You thought his novelties were funny. You thought he was just being 'eccentric'. You thought he was genuine. You thought he meant the world to you. You thought he was your key to being happy. You thought that giving him everything - was everything. You thought that showing him emotion would bring him closer. You thought that lending him time in your life was insignificant to any other favour you could give him. You thought listening to him was imperative. You thought sideing him over everyone else was noble because nobody else would. And most of all - you thought he cared.

There must be a way to rid yourself of these painful spokes. And that painful headache. The taste of vomit in your saliva. The swell in your chest.

But hey, there isn't a cure for cancer.

-xxx-

If you thought I'd bleed then you were wrong,

I'm bleeding on.

'Cos I won't stop holding on.

But I'm not holding on.

-No comment-

*To all those who are reading this post, I hope you've understood it completely. The one way I do know to bury all these memories is to never speak of them again. Bringing them up may lead you to join me in my coma.

No hard feelings, bitches.

I Have Two Bands!

This is to the Carver, the latest addition to my list of pyscho counterparts - complete with whacko personalities and aliases to match.

I have two bands.

The first one being Eyes Set To Kill, another awesome screamo band to join the ranks. And for which I am hoping they will desperately need another female vocalist and somehow stumble on little ol' me. -grin-

The Carver also said that the perfect smile only has seven teeth. Why this is relevant is a question of a magnitude on its own.

The other band is called I Am Ghost. Three words - I. Am. Obsessed.

Right. Don't forget, Carver! There's only space for one memory like mine on this turf.

-No comment-

Total Frustration. And It's Hardly Positive.

I need to say something.

ARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH.

OK. That didn't help.

I am frustrated about ... Everything. From A-Z. From my pain to my stress. From my mind to my heart. From my insanity to my sanity.

Either everything is giving me a fuck, or I am fucking everything. So let's start from A and then maybe I could work my way down to F, where I'll just be talking about fucking again.

I thought I had something substantial to document and to prove that I am even capable of passing tertiary education and making something of myself in the years to come.

Guess not.

All my toiling, blood sweat and tears, and hours and hours of glaring into the computer screen burning off godknowshowmany brain cells - went to a complete fucking waste. I am down to positively zero now and have lost all inspiration to even try and memorise lines and lines of meaningless garbage just so I can regurgitate it onto plain white paper sometime in the future.

And oh yes, my heart is filled again. No, it's not another retarded fucker who comes along just to have a little taste and then leaves when he's sick of your now bland flavour. My heart is full, because it was empty.

Huh?

Fuck yea, bitch. I'm gonna explain it now.

Everytime I clean my heart up from previous mutilation, I always seem to forget to close the door when I'm done. And things start to flow in, like dust over time, finding a shelter from the bitterness surrounding it. My heart is not filled with someone new, but rather Something new.
I have let my dreams and hopes of the future into it, and I have let them accumalate because they are just to sweet to erase and they guarantee me of some temporary sanity.

Dreams are like ecstasy - temporary happiness.

But as everything always does in my heart, it will turn sour. And no longer will it become the colourful wallpaper that lines the walls of your heart. It will turn a filthy green hue and form the texture of silt from a sewer and flow towards the door, pounding at it till it opens. And finally, the hinges will crack and the filth will slush out in an unstoppable flood.

And so now either my dreams have disappeared, or they give me a storm of worries to think about before I try to sleep. And it leads me to dictate the Chronicles of an Insomniac.

But as always, I realise in the end what causes the major degeneration of everything in my heart. Before, it used to be the hope of actually finding pure happiness with that certain someone. And now, it is the hope that I would find pure happiness with my future.

So, we've got it then. It's the dream of dreams. The dream that all of my dreams will come true.

And the bitch of all of this, is the fact that the future is never known. And all the soothsayers, astrologers, medicine men and the billions of people who claim to know what's coming - are clueless about the future.

That's why it's called future. You're not supposed to know.

It's the Fates' dirty little secret.

-No comment-

I Come Close, But Not Enough To Hurt You.

This is going to be the shortest post ever.

Yeah, I can hear your sighs of relief all the way here, thanks.

Anyway, I'm going to make this as indirect as possible because it's basically not something I want to discuss. It's an issue of mine and I need you to be as subjective as you can be when reading it.

It's like that episode in Friends. Rachel is having Ross' baby and because they can't reach an understanding - Rachel moves out and into Joey's apartment. Now, at first Joey assumes the responsibility of a father and takes care of Rachel as if she was carrying his own child. And then the problem starts.

Joey begins to develop feelings for Rachel. And being Joey, he would have immediately taken the chance to tell her how he feels and carry on from there.

Except that the father of her child is his best friend. This kills Joey inside, because he falls for her so hard - but his hand are tied; one ill move and his friendship with Ross is destroyed.

So how does this relate? There isn't a baby here in my case (except then I have no idea what's living inside me and why I am eating for two.)

I am in the same dilemma though. There, I've spit out my dirty little secret.

I fall for my best friends' potentials.

I'm not going to comment because it's not something I want to discuss - but I need all of you to understand one thing : I may look like I have no care in the world for your feelings and it really doesn't matter to me what happens between the two of you, but I fucking give a fuck.

I would never ever EVER cross that boundary. And neither will I allow anything to come between you and your potential.

I'll watch you two have fun and fall in love with each other, and I'll still be your number one cheerleader. Even if my heart is being ripped to pieces in the dark corner where I shall stand.

-No comment-

Envious. But Not Enough To Hurt.

I am feeling envious.


It's just like those scenes in the movies. It usually starts of with a guy or girl walking alone along a street, and suddenly he or she is completely overwhelmed by acts of ... love. People making out, dogs making out, and lovebirds making out (beak-to-beak, I guess.) And that person starts to feel alone, depressed and sometimes a little unwanted.


Well, I'm feeling a little left out.


My friends are all having little love stories to keep themselves happy. And all their escapades are going the right way - not that I have any intention of it not being that way. I just wish I could have a little bit of the fun as well.


I guess I kind of miss those little bursts of emotion I endure everytime I see my special someone. You know the one - all it takes is just one look at them and immediately you're spiralled into intense feelings of admiration, lust and of course - the always false but totally inevitable - trust.

They go home that day with a smile on their face, replaying the happy moments over and over again in their minds. It doesn't stop at home though. It is soon followed by moments of intense analysis - Should I have said that? Why would he tell me that? Was I wrong? Is it love? - as well as endless phone calls for those ever-essential opinions of their girlfriends.

After moving on, my heart - and mind - have been pretty empty. Ready for the next person to come along and fill it up with whatever is in their own heart, perhaps.

I'll stumble on for now, with my dried-out heart in my backpack, walking down the long road of uncertainty.

Destination Unknown.

-No comment-

I Quit.

I listen. I embrace. I think. And I worry.


I become the problem - menacing and raging, waiting to blow up any moment.


So there is something to be said about this job I have. You aren't your own boss, you have to admit full-time to it and yes, you do take your work home. You also have to be fully committed, draft lots and lots of thoughtful presentations and speeches as well as prepare yourself for the worst outcome of the situation. Which usually is the case. Even if it happens Over and Over and Over again.


Maybe I'm being plain selfish. I am the best friend, commissioned to deal with all problems of my counterpart, including listening intently and plotting her next steps of recovery. Even if it goes to waste, it's okay - I never expect my answer to be a prophecy for the world to follow. But it would be nice to get a heads up on whether my constant doting and strategy - planning would fall onto deaf ears.


I've decided. I can't stay to watch her beat herself up. I can't stay to watch her be mauled by heartless sinning souls that see no wrong in the torture they give her. And I can't stay to watch her take it as if she was destined to suffer that fate.


I can't fucking stay because it will break me.


So, I quit. I am denouncing my post of being the famed Problem Solver.


Hey, it's not that I am giving up. Heck, I gave it my fucking best : I plunged into the sea of problems without a life vest, I rescued those who wanted seemed to want rescuing and gave them my only support because it was OK if I died a little in the choking waters. But just as calmly as they got to safety, they dove right back in. Into the core of the whirlpool.


What am I to do but to strap on the tainted, bloody life vest thrown to me and swim to shore before I am sucked straight down to epicentre of the disaster - and hope that those who dove back would somehow soon find their way out? ... alive?


On a final note, I just need to say I am trying so hard not to be selfish. But if this is the way it has to be - then so be it.


It's like that episode in Friends, where Monica has to leave Pete because he refuses to stop hurting himself in his course of becoming the Ultimate Fighting Champion. Eventhough she loves him too much.


I love you. But I'm going to leave now.


And one last thing : even if she can forgive him for making her shed those tears, I couldn't. If I were her, he'd be planning his life of solitude right this very minute. Or considering a homosexual lifestyle - given his circumstances.


-No comment-

Whirlwind Romances - Just A Dream Of Mine?

Hi.

It's me again, blogging about what I think should happen, what I am mad at that has happened, and why I think that moving on is something people honestly want to read about on a blog.

I just need to say ... that that is really just too bad, and I am gonna post what I need to. Hah. However, this particular one - might relate.

As jobless and pathetic as this may appear, I like to lapse into reverie while staring out into the sky. Yes. People do that.

I think.

Well, it's all good dreams anyway. I dream of whirlwind romances actually. I dream of how I will meet someone later in my life (a soon-later, I mean - I'm getting old, you know) and he will be just so taken up by me. That nothing else in the world could defy his obsession.

OK , fine - I meant to say 'a hot-ass figure and a face that belongs to a model.' Let's face it ladies, the boys wanna see what's on the outside before they open up the package.

And of course after, we'll fall in love. Because coincidentally, he's just as gorgeous as I am. Oh - I nearly forgot - we both have such funny humorous personalities that it's impossible to stay away from each other.

And we can't stop making out. And we can't stop holding each other. And we can't stop -

I'm giving the widest grin right now. XD

But anyway, on a more -ahem- 'clothed' note, we basically are really happy with each other. And I finally understand what love means. I want to know what it's like, to have someone love you for who you are, and wouldn't have you any other way. I want to feel a physical closeness to someone - and a genuine one too. No buts. Just pure sickly sweet love.

And someone who can't get you out of their heads.

But as I asked - is it all a dream? Is it just me hallucinating in my head because of my constant gaze at the sun? Or somehow the clouds make me feel so psychadelically drugged?

Beats me. And there's only one way to find out.

-No comment-