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Recent Entries 
1st-Feb-2010 01:57 am(no subject)
I'm back writing again. I miss my writings. Been away for a bit looking for something more tangible, I suppose.

14 weeks since last post. Time flies quickly.

Went on a trip to Cambodia and Bali, decided backpacking is my LIFE, met a whole lot of new people, fell in and out of relationships and love. Got an STD, went for an operation, moved to a new office, found a new gym... there's comfort in the new me.

Been right back into the art of dating, and Daniel shares a parallel view. We're both going for it again, a healthy change from Mr Finland who made me regress a few years into childhood. Going online has never felt this new - phrases like "depends on the chemistry" and "open to experimentation" are so not me, but they work, at least for now, in explaining my lack of care for the uninitiated.

I recently got into crushes with roughly the same TYPE of people - the bimbos. They're good to look at, to smell and to fuck, but venture into the topic of conversation and they fall short. What's with that?
23rd-Oct-2009 01:05 am(no subject)
It's been a while to get where I'm at. I've been wondering why this breakup has been so difficult to me - If someone doesn't love you anymore it should be easy to walk away from the relationship, call your hates against each other and be done with it. Instead I've been walking around with a burden on my shoulders wondering why I feel like shit.

And then today I realise the reason why I'm angry is not because we broke up or because he stopped loving me. It was because for two months of our relationship he had already felt he could not love me but did nothing to tell me. There was no discussion about problems, his problems, until it was all too late.

I'm angry because he lied to me. For two months it was just a show, and I was in love with a shadow of the real person who had fallen in love with someone else.

Recovery is tough. I've let him know how I feel and maybe it'll burn him but that's his cake. I need to move on too.
7th-Oct-2009 10:36 pm(no subject)
I'm learning as I go along. There are so many expectations attached to a friendship in this city. At its best, most friendships are superficial; people are quick to add you on FB but run as soon as trouble is on the horizon. I cling on to the ones I know will go the extra mile in both good times and in bad.

Everybody has an agenda. The key is managing your expectations before you put out your hand to say hi. Expect too much and disappointment sets in, expect nothing and you are often surprised at simple acts of kindness.

I am hurt by the constant bickering and backstabbing in these circles. Within minutes, whole networks can crumble because someone said something about someone else, and the strained relationships can take forever to repair. Has gay culture become so self-absorbed that we can't look out for each other?

It is easier to confide in a total stranger than someone you've known forever. I seem to bite my tongue when speaking with the latter, overly cautious maybe, or baggage from the past makes it more difficult to be honest when times are hard. But as I witness the fall-out from my failed relationship, and the twenty-something contacts on my silent Nokia, I'm left to wonder if the past nine months have gone by without me really giving a damn about other people, because right this moment it seems, few give a damn about me or my existence.

It's almost as if the names are telling me, "you reap what you sow", and reality bites.
27th-Sep-2009 09:20 pm - we said our goodbyes
It's not his fault he stopped loving me. He had the courage to tell me it was over and I thank him for that. Time to go back to being myself for a bit, one step at a time.
26th-Sep-2009 11:18 pm(no subject)
Past ten years has been quite rough. The most important people in my life were either absent or willingly departed from my life. Naturally that left me convinced everyone was out to get me, to walk right out of my life and never come back.

Seeing him leave at the airport every second weekend triggers the same panic button in me. I've become so accustomed to abandonment that I cling on to dear life. Naturally that leaves the other person asphyxiated and they do eventually leave and the whole fiasco becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

What I went through as a child was abuse and that was not acceptable. The trouble is realising I'm doing the same to my loved ones by not letting go.
3rd-Sep-2009 08:25 pm(no subject)
Death. It's scary how close it comes.

A friend passed away today. He's been in the ICU for weeks, heavily sedated and not doing too well. A lot of people I know are mourning. Ok in our culture we use the word 'friend' too liberally; more accurately I've met the chap twice, both by accident, and never had the chance to chat for long periods at a time. Who was this man and what was his story? I may never know.

I'm wondering what I can say to the people around me who knew him but nothing comes out sounding like it should. There is no RIGHT thing to say, only silence and a deep understanding that sometimes pain doesn't need to be conveyed in words. I'm really bad at these things; it should be easier to empathize for someone you didn't know well. Or is it?

Brings back thoughts from my own childhood. Then, I was still young and had to grapple with the whole concept that someone could just disappear out of your life like that and never come back, not even when you NEEDED them to.
27th-Aug-2009 12:49 am(no subject)
Nightmare again. Stupid thing made me cry.

I am seated on a chair. A brush of hair on my legs and it's pusscat, he's come to say hi.

I gently pick him up by the belly. Immediately he rolls his back into my shoulder and starts kicking his way up my forearm. Front paws up in the air like a little child, with head in anticipation of a good rub.

That's OUR pusscat.

I notice there's a water feature in front of me, not unlike those Made-in-China contraptions you buy at the $2 store. The fountain is spilling milk over its sides and pusscat is busy making paw prints on the floorboards with all the milk. Stupid boy, I yell. Stupid, stupid boy.

He jumps onto me and tears into my shirt, rubbing his milk-soaked forehead against my chin. He wants a hug. A familiar voice calls out - it's my counselor. He's saying something but I can't seem to remember what it is. I wake up in a daze; it's half past midnight and I have goosebumps. I miss Shifty, I miss them all.
22nd-Aug-2009 08:44 pm(no subject)
The catch is, if you're prone to depression then it's best to stay the fuck away from Facebook. Because when you start dwelling on that place, and spend hours looking at the wonderful brilliant photos from all around the world across all your friend's profiles, count the number of pokes and superpokes other people are sending you and go gaga pressing the Refresh button to see what's the latest thing on your news feed... well that's when you get depressed and crazy and you eat your fingers out. Because the grass usually seems greener on the other side, of course it should, when half the time people spend on that site is to make themselves (and their sordid lives) look good.

It's a clear sign you need to go out, meet some real people and get a real life.
17th-Jul-2009 04:32 am - Incredible Slope
I remember as a child my first ever BMX bike. It was red, had sponge padding on the rails for safety and was about half my height and weight. The bell was cast-iron and had a dial attached to a contraption which spun when suppressed, hitting the underside of the bell to make it chime.

Back in those days pedestrians and cyclists still had the right of way so it was safe for a kid to ride around town. Like most things the bike was Made in China and it came with two training wheels - these are two plastic wheels which are attached on either side of the rear bike wheel to provide support for novice riders.

The training wheels gradually got removed, one at a time, until I was forced to balance the bike on my own. Like a cripple I remember falling and scraping myself against the hot, dry tarmac; the crashing sound of my bike followed by a scream of pain, my scream. I still have the scars on my legs for show-and-tell.

Today while digging through the store at our family home I came across two plastic wheels, one slightly cracked and the other intact, both in a dusty box wrapped in thick brown paper. For some reason dad had decided to save them and they've been lying here for all these years just waiting for a chance to be found.
17th-Jul-2009 03:36 am(no subject)
I am a bitter spoil sport.

I need to stay away from Facebook and blogs for awhile. Reading about the travels of others is not encouraging as I reexamine my own life: what have I done? where have I been and who have I met?

I am stuck in KL with a desk job to a boss I hate and a salary that is not enough. I work for hours for a company I don't love and the few holidays I get are spent recovering from the long hours and stressful weekends. My friends, they are most just hi-bye ones because I have little time to build real relationships.

I am a wage slave.

And stories of fantastic travels even if the place is somewhere near like Bangkok really makes my blood boil. I am bitter inside because I've struggled all my life, struggled for a good education struggled to put food on the table struggled to get recognition, respect and love, while others glide right past me ever so seamlessly. They either build their lives on the fortunes of their parents or have a really great series of events that take them out of a hole and into heaven.

Travel. My boyfriend does a lot of it. His friends are travel freaks too and they have more passport stamps than I have hairs on my head. It is disheartening. I am impatient.

Now my boyfriend is in some fantastic lake setting in the middle of buttfuck Finland with another friend of his, doing god knows what but I'm sure it's lovely. I am here on my bed, waiting for his call because I've not heard from him and he hasn't replied my emails and his phone doesn't work because of the poor connection... waiting just to hear his voice, and maybe I can't let go

Maybe I'm so trapped in this bitter cycle of blame, jealousy and anger towards the people who have it 'better' than me, who are not limited by their pockets and their time to go places, to enjoy life, to be free.

It's all about being tied down, and I'm tired of always being the one who gets to say 'I'm so happy for you', because deep down inside, I'm probably not; I'm probably just giving excuses to avoid feeling insecure and unwanted.
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