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.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Call Me Dumb, Call Me Wild

Maybe we should rewind. Because there's no way any of this would make sense if we didn't go back to the beginning. It's been a tissues and acoustics week, filled with trash bins overflowing with Kleenex and bleeding fingers (just kidding about that actually. My fingers are fine; my face, however, is not, considering the fact that darn cat just scratched me in the eye). Through it all, I've been listening and playing Jealousy since Sunday and I hate that that song just so happened to be the one I accidentally listened to while I was bored and shuffling around my iTunes library. Hate it.

1. i hate where i'm at, acting crazy like that, i know that i've been wrong, it's something i've been working on

I spent nearly all of my free time last year either writing or thinking about that whole Darwin thing. I mean, yes, I know it can hardly be considered a thing anymore because I've decided to (once and for all) let it go and that, I think, is a good decision. Is the best decision. The earlier parts of this year were filled with this as well and then later on as I journeyed through my zigzagging paths of self-actualization, I started talking more about, well, other people. Other specific persons. But if you read and if you read back, I don't write about Nadiah. 

Which is odd. Very odd. I'd call up a psychiatrist and ask for his or her opinions on the matter if I could, but if I remember correctly, I had hired Nadiah to be my psychiatrist last year so... dead end, we meet again. I mean, it's not really (truly) that I don't care about The Situation. It's not even that I don't care about Nadiah herself as a person, because I've learned my lesson, mister, and I've learned it well.

I guess the lesson from this story (and also last year's story, but I was too stubborn at the time to accept what had been staring me in the face for, like, half a year) is: a) treat your friends well, b) don't have fights with them over texts because we all know that can only end in disaster and heartbreak (especially for those passive types) and c) there is no c) but it would be weird to put just an a) and a b), now wouldn't it? 

2. and i don't know what to do, it's changing me it's killing you, i'd tear out my insides if i could, but i don't know if it'd do me good

Sometimes I have to stop and think, "Ho hum, do I actually like this person, or am I just using them for my own gain?" and that's not a lovely thing to stop to think for because it makes me out to be this big, raging asshole (that I most certainly am). It sickens me a bit some days, mornings, when I wake up and am reminded once again of how terrible a person I am that I just want to hibernate forever. But hibernation doesn't work for me. I'm not a light sleeper by any means, but I wake up at intervals for no reason whatsoever. 

Maybe there will come a morning in which I won't think of things like this. I have had reassurances. I have been told I am not as bad as I think I am, but what kind of a reassurance is that, when you don't even hear things like, "You're good," or even a, "You're good, at heart." It's not my kind of reassurance, that's for sure. So I call up my friends and lovers in the middle of the night and we talk and halfway through I start to wonder, why are they talking to me when I could very well just be using them? 

And I don't understand trust. How it could exist between two people who have had the world spit in their faces and told them to come back again for more tomorrow. And they came back. And they weathered the storm. And they came out stronger. But he's just a shell now, isn't he? 

3. i'm sorry friends, i'm sorry lovers, to put us all in this mess, i know we still got each other, but i'm in distress

You've got to realize that when you're in pain, it sort of affects others as well, and not in a positive way, my friend. I have dealt with the residues of passive aggressive romance this year, and it reached a somewhat messy peak this weekend and I hated it, loathe to even think about it. What I hated the most was how nonchalant I was about it, like it didn't matter. Like it didn't really matter that I just wanted a chair to come to life and either eat me up or beat me to a pulp with its legs.

And people realize that. And they say comforting things, or at least they try to, but I'm just making things more and more miserable for them. I am dragging most of you guys into a world of politics and self discovery most of you don't want to enter, regardless of whether or not you're ready to. I've seen people flail around when I tell them some things, I see them avoiding my gaze. I know what they're thinking sometimes because it's etched clear as day across their features. They do not want to get involved. I force them to. 

And it's a wonder, the resolve and determination I have when I myself don't want to be a participant in something. If I don't want to do something and I set my mind, set, to that, that is what's going to happen. I am not going to do it. And shout hypocrite if you want, you dictionary fiend, because that's not what I am. If you were half the go-getter that I was, you would go get. You would go do. You would go and not do what you don't want to do but I had forced you to, wouldn't you?

4. 'cause every time that i feel like i've figured it out, i can't seem to figure it in

Yes, she can say mean things sometimes. So can I. And, yes, there's a difference between spouting out crap and actually meaning the stuff that you say but she stood by me when people asked why. We couldn't be each other's support system and that's fine. That totally is. What's not fine is what happened after all of that. Words, sticks, stones; what can really hurt you? 

5. in absolutely no position to be so needlessly unkind, when i'm the one writing this fiction, make it real in my mind

I used to make excuses. As to why I was like this. Why I did the things that I did. Those days are long gone. I can't just explain away a simple thought or feeling with a simple act. Those things are heaven and earth different and I'm not even going to justify my actions or my ideals. I'm just stating, simply, outright, that I think I'm right. What is so wrong with that? What is so wrong with thinking that you're right? 

Until proven otherwise. Until you present to me the proof of your disagreement on a silver platter with some mosquito hearts or something. Until then. Then, well, then you can just do whatever the hell you want to do with me, right?

6. it drives me crazy in the morning, who is this monster in the mirror? i try to get the steam to fog it out, but i just can't get it clear

It still bothers me, of course. It still bothers me that it bothers people. A lot of things tick me off, actually, but that's nothing compared to the list of people who just wouldn't understand if I decided to tell them my problems. Well, it's been ages since I've considered this thing to be a problem. It's not. Not really. I'm good. I think I'm fine. Don't you?

7. i can't stand what i'm feeling, it's like poison in my veins, i know that i'm speaking, but i don't know what i'm saying

I should have planned it better, properly. That second speech we did for Dare To Speak. My second speech for Dare To Speak. All I know was that one minute, I was memorizing pointless keywords to my extremely passionate speech on the whys of school rules, the next, I remembered all the blood boiling conversations I had with friends, family, and strangers alike as to why... as to why I liked Chris Colfer so much. And I decided to open my yap and get the ball rolling. 

It ended, much like most controversies (of which, this isn't one), in a disaster. My mind was blank, my tongue dry, and all I could stare at was Elyza and her encouraging 'go on's' and Divyia and Pri whispering God knows what and that Captain guy's face and Nisa who looked like she might just stand up and walk out through the door and Hanna who couldn't quite believe what she was witnessing (a shocked speechless me) and Khairina who wouldn't meet my eyes, the only person in the room who wouldn't meet my eyes.

The next day was worse. I didn't actually cry at school but I got home, took off my clothes, stood under the shower and decided to have a half an hour crying marathon.

(Won two rounds, though. Yay! A teeny bit unfair, though, don't you think?)

8. 'cause every time that i feel like the world just got lighter, it seems like my muscles give out

You've got to understand two things: first, that as humans, we only start to value the good after going through the bad; and second, that (also) as humans, we are intrinsically taught to set bars. And what happens when the bar's set too high? 

It happened twice. It ended pretty much the same way both times, with me crying and feeling like I don't belong and wanting to just cut off all my ties and start afresh. It happens when there are friends. It happens when they're too nice to you that you don't think they ever will be as nice ever again. Often, that assumption would be proven correct. 

It happened last year. It happened this year. I didn't learn my lesson last year, maybe I still haven't this year. When will I ever? When will I ever stop saying "block, block, block" to all the emotions that run across my mind?

9. now i can't get it out in the shower, or drink it off at the bar, this sugar's gone sour and it's gone way too far

I think so, too. I think it's gone way to far, too. I wouldn't give her love, I wouldn't say she's a love. I'd say she's a friend and sometimes we realize only when it's too late. Sometimes we realize only in hindsight. 

There is no more future for us, as much as I want to kid and humor myself. As much as I want to torture myself with "I should have done this instead's". But for her, for her there might still be time. For her, I could still salvage this wreck yet. 

Undetermined, the status of how much I actually care about her, about getting her back. And yet last year I thought that I could live without you. (I was wrong, wasn't I?).

10. 'cause every time i feel like i'm riding so high, feel on top of the world, the bitch just keeps telling me no, it's got nothing to do with me, it's not even you, you see, it's part of my chemistry, it's this jealousy

When I see groups of fours, when I see that. Them. Whatever. When I hear groups of twos, when I hear them. That. Whatever. It's not as bad as prior, when everyone thought that I was blind, stupid, deaf and a whole host of other inabilities. But I would prefer it if people were honest with me. Upfront. Tell it like it is. And not the way Violet did it this morning. I don't need to be told of something I so obviously know. I don't take kindly to being the ass end of condescension. But the other thing, the constructive thing, the thing in which friends help each other by telling one another what they could do to improve, as people, as a contributing and loyal member of society, as a friend.

Yes, I feel jealous because it should have been me. Yes, I feel jealous because after everything that happened, I kind of expect to be on some pedestal or another. Reality and fiction, mind and life, they don't mesh well with me, do they? 

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