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, November 24, 2011

i tie my hands up to the chair so i don't fall that way

This is what I was talking about, you know. When you bottle it all up inside and you have no one else to talk to, but who knows, maybe you do. Maybe you do have someone to talk to but no one to understand. Maybe you talk to them about it and maybe they agree and maybe the whole wide world is conspiring against me. But it's not the first time and it won't be the last. At the end of the day, I won't be lonely because I have myself. Who do you have? Who really understands you? You don't.

You're taking this out on me. You want them, you've always wanted them, not me. And when they got closer together and shut you out, all you were left with was me. And you honestly think I was happy about that? I didn't want to be friends with you, I wanted her, I've always wanted her. It was my semi-psychopathic climb to the top. My failed semi-psychopathic climb to the top and you were just in my way. It's not my fault that you got saddled with me. It's not my fault that you had to "deal" with me. And I don't care either way whose fault it is. If it's all the same to you, they left and guess who's still here? 

Me. So don't take this out on me. I know you'd rather be with them because they're your friends, aren't they? The ones who left? They're your real friends? Right. I understand that and I understand that I'm just someone you picked up, nothing more than a hitchhiker. And that's great. Really. For all involved, that's fantastic, because at least you understand that much. What you don't understand is, I'm okay this way. I'm fine and I'm not going to change, least of all for you. So be a child. Cry because all you've got left out of the holy trinity of your teenage dream is me. Cry because I am a terrible person. And regret what you did to your friends, the ones who left, because you would do it to me in a blink of an eye.

You're not trying. You're crying. You're literally sitting down on the floor and bemoaning your life. You're keeping it all inside. Isn't that what I told you not to do? Because of what? What are you trying to protect? Who are you trying to protect? Because it sure as hell isn't me.

They come back. They come back and I leave and at the end of the day, I don't have a reason to feel lonely. You don't know me. You came into my life at a weird time, a weird place. You don't know what happened with any of my friends last year and you have absolutely no say in any of the things that I've done save for what I have done to you. And let me ask you, what is it that's so terrible, that's so disgusting, that I've done to you to make you hate me so? Because I live my life defending my lifestyle and I'll continue to do it until my dying breath.

How do you live your life? By not saying anything and waiting for other people to initiate? I can see where people get off calling me this, but I can also see where I get off calling you this as well: coward.

And if you have any dignity left, then you should.

You should. Really.

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