The glorious and triumphant return of now-19 year old Blogger, the revival of a once-grand and dare I say influential webspace that produced daily content, and the crippling anxiety of a young woman who no longer has any time or motivation to write, and feels like any ability she had acquired in the past through repetition and sheer will alone is now slowly slipping out of her grasp. Brief history of the Blog and Blogger can be found here.

Here be personal journal entries, observations, slices of life, questions and conclusions, as well as exploration of social and political topics seen through the lens of a Malaysian Muslim, feminist, lesbian, Marxist, and horse enthusiast.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Golden Guns

I haven't written about my thoughts for a while now so I think now would be as good a place as any to start rambling.

You'd think that I would have something to write about us? About us being us? Blank, nothing. That's what I feel and I hate feeling this way, I hate feeling nothing. What is wrong, people ask? What's wrong? Nothing. There's never been anything wrong, not ever, not really, and yet we're better apart instead of together. Doesn't that thought scare you? I mean, who wouldn't be scared? Why is this paragraph so full of unanswered questions? 

Oh, God, that sounded so stupid, even to my ears. I hate hate hate this so much. This feeling of not being able to describe my feelings and I'm not even sure if I have any in the first place. What can be so bad about being numb all the time, some people might ask. Sometimes in the dead of night, I'd be wishing that I felt nothing. But that was the time when I laid on my tear soaked pillows and prayed for a dreamless sleep. Now I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the dry as a desert pillow. I sleep and I dream and I don't feel anything and I don't talk unless I have to and I don't even want to. 

I read your blog posts, you know. It's a rather intimate way to stalk someone, like reading their diary. And I know the reason you kept shifting through URLs is because you don't feel comfortable with anyone reading any of your material but it's all so beautiful. Every time you change your URL and refuse to tell me, I would stalk you straight to hell. 

You don't know how much it hurts to read your posts about them. Those other girls. And I know that I don't have a right to say anything against them, against her, who you have been in love with for so long, I would never stand a chance. And why am I even talking about this when my happily ever after exists, albeit in frozen form. They're the outcasts, just like you, just like me, and they're around you all the time to talk to you, comfort you, touch you. I never get a chance to see you anymore and you take everything, everything for granted and I'm always left singing in the rain. I shouldn't be saying any of this because I enjoyed my break from you, but now that I've discovered about them, I just feel... lost. You were always there for me. Now you're just not anymore. 

I know I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life. When you leave and walk out of it forever, I'm going to regret not mustering up enough nerve to just stand up on my tip toes and do it. Just do it. I don't think I've fully comprehended how really inappropriate and weird it is to think of my best friend like this but I can't help it, not really. I mean, I try to put what's in past in the past but really, all I feel whenever I think about you and never seeing you again is (please please please don't take this the wrong way) desire. Not lust, just a... general want. 

Because I want to kiss you. I want to be near you and hug you and bury my face in your neck. When you said what you said that day about our friendship, I didn't feel anything and for that I'm eternally grateful but lately, I know my chance is slipping away day by day and I know I'll regret it if I don't take it but this is drastic and horribly dramatic, even for me. I know I'm a freak and this is one heck of a freaky thing to want to do but I'm allowed to wish for the impossible, aren't I?

Remember that conversation we had in the classroom about raising kids? I know it was one of the weirdest conversations I've ever had, ever, but it really got me thinking about you, as a person. I really think you're a pretty unfair, prejudiced, biased and, dare I say it, kind of a bigot. I mean, not a big bigot. Just a smallish one who's not fully developed yet and doesn't even know what a bigot is, probably. It's just that the things that you said, the people that you quoted. When I said I wanted to, well, bring my kids up in an anti-Malaysian way, you asked me whether or not I really wanted to raise my kids up the American way, or as you called them (quoting our English teacher), 's-t-u-p-i-d people'. I don't really think you have a right to say this as, well, what have the Americans ever done to you, you're barely fourteen year old? I respect my English teacher's point of view and I agree with her on some aspects (not all) but you just seemed to take it all in, without coming to your own conclusions or forming your own opinions. 

And what you said about those gay kids. You have absolutely no idea how they grew up, the environment in which they grew up in. You just made a random observation followed by a random accusation based off of no factual evidence. I understand that you want to be a devout Muslim and follow this all Islamic lifestyle and I greatly admire you for that but at least have an open mind. You're not supposed to be prejudiced, you're supposed to at least respect other people's opinions. 

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