sometimes my sister would tell me and other people that she'll get married after i get married. she is thinking that by that point, our parents would write her off as a lost cause, or maybe she's deluded into thinking that gay marriage would be legalized by then. she does not take into consideration the fact that i might want to get married to a girl, too. she does not take into consideration the consequences of her actions. i don't either, but i've got a long way to go.
sometimes i want to come out and when i think of that, i think of telling my sister and other people that i'll do it after she does. so she can come out after i'm married, and i won't be the one facing the heat. sometimes it's a comforting thought to know that i won't be alone in hell. i'll have my brother and my sister.
nisa thinks i am a bitch because i have a terrible home life. that is, at heart, the quintessential story of a bitch's origins. she thinks i don't communicate with my parents and her mother thinks so as well. i choose to think of it this way: first, i don't talk about my friends with my parents because that would be rude. my friends have their own secrets and i am protecting them as much as i am helping them. second, what the fuck do i possibly have to talk to my parents about. "hey ma, you know how you're always talking about ellen degeneres being a lesbian? well sometimes you have two lesbians living under your roof. how do you feel about that?"
you are nothing, nisa. your life is pretty damn FUCKING average. you are neither smart nor stupid, popular nor unpopular, pretty nor unpretty, fat nor unfat, athletic nor non-athletic, you simply are. the only pressure you have on your life is regarding being average so i don't know, for once can't you think of what it might feel like if you were gay? i am not a closet case, this isn't about fear of anyone or anything. it's the simple fact that i have outgrown my parents just like i've outgrown my cousins and my friends and my harry fucking potter
you don't get to talk to me about my family life because you don't know it. it's not fun, sure, neither is having to keep two humongous secrets just so you know. neither is having no fucking clue what to talk to your parents about. neither is being in love with someone who was once you best friend. neither is having people expect you to do great things just because you're a self-certified genius. neither is having the constant inability to like people. really, you feel sorry for me and that's fine if you lead such a perfect life.
just shut the fuck up.
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.