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.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Part of My Chemistry

I'm just so pathetic. I remember last year (no, here we go again, I know you might want to say and I've got to stop. I don't know how to stop.) on a car ride home from school, I remember telling myself that I've got to choose? And that I can't have it both ways? I mean, of course, it's ridiculous because it's people, not animals or television shows or fandoms or whatever. I was talking about people. But I got it into my head that I had to choose. I had to choose on whom I had to try the hardest. 

And some days I chose. Most days I didn't. It ended with me realizing that maybe I need a wake up call. Maybe I needed the goodbye, the v-card incident and the fuck you's. Maybe without all of that I still wouldn't have moved on. So to the powers that be, thank you. I've prayed for just this very thing to happen and it's not an everyday occurrence, to know that your prayers have been answered. Just, maybe I might have prayed for the wrong things. 

I should have said this needed to stop, period. I should have said I want to wake up and not be this. I should have said she needed to go. But I didn't. Just like I've become accustomed to, I chose. And I chose the wrong person to focus on. I chose the one that slipped through my fingers so easily, and not the one whose eyes still stare out at me through the dark. 

Earlier in the year, I used to feel like I was missing a limb, missing a something. I used to turn around in my chair and expect a ghost to be sitting behind there somewhere, smiling, nodding in encouragement, winking. Now I can't help but wonder, did I turn towards the back, or did I turn left?

And it's all on me. I know. It's always all on me because I am always the one to blame. Blame it on me, not on sticks, not on stones. Blame it on me. And I won't believe you if you say you blame someone else. Even I blame myself. But look at me, why did you turn away? 

I'm just so pathetic.

No comments:

Post a Comment