the impossibility of forgiving
perhaps i can forgive how amos came down so harshly on me. but myself, i can’t forgive myself, it’s…not humanly…possible.
i think resphigi’s a genius. listening to his danze suites now, and it’s so calming.
dontcha make my brown eyes blue
people have commented that i look different recently. i hope it’s nothing to do with me eating too much. maybe it’s my eyes. the past few days i’ve been blessed with double eyelids, thanks to my cycle of sleepless nights (and suddenly oversleeping). for once i can wear eyeliner hahah.
attended a wedding today. the bride looked like an angel. during the ceremony i thought, i want to make things work out with amos so bad. and as sudden as that desire came another, the hopelessness that it’s never gonna work out. im too proud, i’d admit that much. most of the time, and im not sure whether amos understands this, i am angry at myself, and not at him. i am angry that i cannot control my temper, i am angry that i cannot control myself, i am angry that i can’t help being upset all the time. and i am incoherent in speech, so i end up telling him to f off when i don’t really, and more exasperatingly he really leaves. he can’t read my mind, i can’t read my own either. but i can’t see how the relationship is gonna work out when im like this, be it with him or anyone else.
more than once some people have told me to seek professional help to check whether i have add or clinical depression because i fit the stereotypes. i’d do it, only it costs too much, in that medical bills aside i don’t want to put my career prospects (if any..) on the line.
h’s ex checks herself in at imh when it gets bad. their relationship was a tough one, he was ever patient, but she proved too much for him to handle…in the same way amos is buckling under the pressure, he does insist that im shirking responsibility for my actions (mis-actions, rather) by attributing them to possible clinical depression.
how does sleep reconcile?
my life is in limbo. or purgatory, in that i try to purge amos from my thoughts and my life.
during the stress period i stuck a piece of paper on my wardrobe, a list of post-exam activities that i’d fill in whenever..
amos wasn’t on there, but his presence is written into the activities. how do i strike his trace out? haha by tracing it in. which doesn’t make anymore sense anyway and probably makes things worse. still, i remain a derrida fan.
in bed for flu
i think, once im well, i need to march around the house being trigger-happy with the dettol spray.
i would love to take yenn’s advice, but i don’t think im strong enough. perhaps if i hated him to the core it’d be easier, but a love-hate relationship is tricky.
on tuesday night he said he camped at my place. i was out, and he said he’ll wait. a half hour later he said he wouldn’t force me to meet him if im not prepared to. what a loser! tell me if it doesn’t look like he just got bored of waiting. i told him as much, and he said i always think the worse of him. what am i supposed to think?
granted, of cos, even if he tried explaining why he had to leave i don’t think they’d be valid enough for me anyway, because clearly the other reason compelled him more than me. he had a chance of reconciliation that night, but he blew it without me having done anything.
scorn, however, does not make a break-up any less lonely nor unhappy.
disgusting, all disgusting
depressing day today. studied a little with r and xy. have already forgotten everything i did today, which was not much to begin with. very tired. mentally, emotionally. physically – i still can’t sleep. all night last amos messaged me tons of horrible things until he dozed off while i continued to lie awake, crying. today he told me he loved me. i showed the message to r, who patted my back, and deleted it. how dare he, as if the past two days never happened.
sick and sickle
feeling nauseous. nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach. waking up with salt encrusted eyes, as if they were a cocktail glass.
Salt water is
NaCl dissolved in H2O
derived from blood
tremulous in its potential
takes the path of least resistance
Final destination, the cheek, beak,
Wet pillow in the wash
Down the pipes, into the sewers.
Pin pricks of a conscience.
Out into the sea,
Desalination, put into food
There it goes again, salt water cycle
In the eyes, always the eyes
ripped by tears.
retail therapy
a wasted day. i finally got out of the house late at 9 and went to town. the only place still open was borders, and i went in and bought three books, books i doubt i’d have the patience to read if i continue to be this down and out. catcher in the rye, a hundred years of solitude, lolita. classics, all, canon too. i don’t know what im trying to prove, or even whom im proving to, my status as a lit student. as if by reading all the classics my life would be made better! as beckett has always tried to present, the poverty of the human condition is too rampant.
life sucks
i was supposed to meet rose and xiaoyi to study today, but i couldn’t bring myself to go out. i couldn’t do anything today, not even read. my exams are done for. i hate that man.
history repeats itself
we broke up just now, after a quarrel. i don’t know what im supposed to do with the cake. eat it for breakfast i suppose.
i haven’t cried so much since…the last time we broke up.
old, new, old
we sang in groups of 6 for today’s choir exam, ssaatb. while practising together i had a flashback of life in band, and with a pang i realised that i miss my section. it’s just not the same anymore. now i meet up with people individually…like meeting yenn in the uk, having dinner with justin, having lunch with amirah, promising to have lunch with fiz in school, but it’s not the whole group anymore, and that makes me sad. not sure if anybody in the section talks to jun now, the last time i asked him whether he wanted to meet up he was hesitant (as i think he would be), hah i wonder whether he’s already written us all out of his life, which would be very sad considering the very long two years we spent together formally as a section.
i prefer band to choir, but today, for a while, i remembered what it felt like to belong, and making music together. for one of my groups i was the only none choir person around, and after the exam they started singing their choral music (ie ask any band person, whoever they trained under, and they’re likely able to harmonize parts for, say, alvamar or ross roy or sth similar) and so i felt left out again because all the music was so foreign to me. until they sang 76 trombones and i could hum along (although the big band version is nicer, but eupho isn’t part of a big band so ha-ha i feel left out of both choir and band huh).
best get back to my essay. wrote only 1/5! what a long night, sigh. i might need that red bull.
