I know I should, you know. It's not really a hard concept to grasp. You've disappointed someone, you feel sad. You've done something wrong, you feel sad. Really. But I can't bring myself to do it. And you know what, it really isn't my fault, not technically, because you brought me up this way. You brought me up to be impenetrable, impervious, and it's really not my fault if I can't really feel anything for other people. It shouldn't be my fault that I don't care about anyone other than myself because you raised me that way.
And shout at me all you want but it's not going in. I know it, you guys know it. All I ever hear is the shouting part, not exactly what you're saying. And I know I should feel ashamed or sorry for whatever wrongs I've did but I honestly don't.
The only person who can disappoint me is myself. And that's why I'm here right now, isn't it?
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.