There's nothing interesting about me, except the fact that I really should stop switching blogs.
bitch de nuit
Another pretentious way of saying "Bitch, please."
clickme
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Radar.
Green lights, red lights - jesus fucking christ - just throw me into pitch black and I'll colour my way out. Facades belittle my imagination; subtlety seems better left untranscribed.
Smile, because you're worth it. Smile, because a frown is wasted hung across that cherished frame. Smile, because life's too short. Smile, because he's probably not worth your tears. Smile, because life is easier to live with a smile. Smile, because it's almost time. Smile, because people you love want you to. Smile, because people who love you need you to. Smile, because your lips don't crack easily that way. Smile, because the day is reaching the next. Smile, because trouble is not your forte. Smile, because time will tell.
"I’m just going to keep my eyes closed, because this is like that moment in the morning when you first wake up and you’re still half asleep and everything seems… things are possible, dreams come true and for that one moment between waking and sleeping, anything can be real. And then you open your eyes and it suddenly hits you and you realize that… I’m just going to keep my eyes closed."
I sniffed and teared and bawled to the last half hour of Grey's. I guess I really am intense after all.
1 anal amy
Thursday, November 20, 2008
An Old Entry Dug Out of an Old Blog
*dug the entry out of my old wordpress, I still think it's beautiful and rather appropriate*
This.
This is an entry for you if you ever had your heart broken. This is an entry for you if you ever had to watch the person you love walk away. This is an entry for you if it ever struck you that this was it. This is an entry for you if you once loved someone who couldn’t love you anymore. This is an entry for you if you ever stopped loving someone who couldn’t stop loving you. This is an entry for you if the ache in your heart wouldn’t stop. This is an entry for you if you ever shed a tear for loss. This is an entry for you if you ever had to place your palm on your chest secretly believing that’d stop it from hurting too much. This is an entry for you if you ever allowed someone to enter your life, only to watch him leave. This is an entry for you if your remedy is cynicism and a bottle of scotch. This is an entry for you if circumstances has lost your faith in love. This is an entry for you if you still believe in love, despite everything. This is an entry for you if you ever closed your eyes and were so bloody afraid to open them again. This is an entry for you if all you need right now is a hug. This is an entry for you if you ever had to make a choice that didn’t leave you with much. This is an entry for you if you ever trusted anyone with your heart. This is an entry for you if you can never trust anyone with your heart again.
This is an entry for you if you ever took a good, long look at the wreckage your heart has been reduced to and didn’t know where to start.
This, whoever you are, is for you. This, like the mythical belief of love, is timeless, and will stand strong in case you’re not capable of doing so. This isn’t the rainbow after a storm, but rather, this is the dew resting on the leaf blades, bathing in the aftermath. This is me telling you that you, you will be okay. This is me believing that after every possibly wrong thing that has ever happened to you, you will be okay. This is me knowing that because you survived, because you made it through, albeit slightly wrecked, but because you came out of it still in a loosely fitted piece, at the end of the day, you will be okay.
This is me holding your hand all the way through, until you we reach the end of the day.
I'm scared, pretty damn fucking scared; there's so many things I don't know that I wished I did. Somehow, it's slowly creeping in and I don't want to overdose. All the suffering and misery for the seemingly few seconds of high.
I need a good trip, one that is worth the ridiculous aftermath.
Kitty: God, Sarah, you can't even say it. Just say it, I can say it. I scared away our birth mother, I lost us a baby. Why didn't you guys just ask me how I was feeling, instead of this convoluted plan to get my mind off things?
Sarah: Well, to be fair, Kitty, you didn't seem like you wanted to talk about it.
Kitty: Well no, of course I didn't. I still don't. It's painful, and all of you scheming to keep me occupied isn't going to change that. And just for the record, your plan didn't work. The whole time I was revising your stupid proposal, I was beating myself up about Trish. It doesn't matter how much I try to keep myself busy. It isn't going to stop me from going through what I'm going through. I screwed up, plain and simple. It's just something I'm going to have to deal with.
If you ever did or are planning to leave a tag on butchface's blog (read post below), please don't. I really appreciate the love but the finger will end up being pointed at my direction and for fuck's sake, I've graduated from secondary school three years ago - I don't play with tagboards anymore. Let the ugly cunt say whatever he wants, he doesn't know me at all to judge me. In fact, he doesn't know shit. Leave him be, he doesn't deserve your time.
The past weekend saw me pretty drugged up, attempting to bask in the legions of gay boys and Mariah Carey, and then failing pretty miserably anyway. The meds are fucking me up in the worst possible way, one which starts with the letter Z.
The flashbacks are getting more surreal each time it happens, the lapses tightening it's shift. I don't know what this is supposed to mean, to be remembering all the little snippets of our relationship in such vivid details it might as well have been technicolored. The memories are more haunting than they are bittersweet, and I have no intention of taking a stroll down memory lane. In fact, it's more like a go-cart race with faulty brakes and a penchant for speed down memory lane.
I don't know how to make it stop, or go away for that matter. I want it to, so badly, and I don't know how. The helpless itch is killing me, and my subconscious seems to dives right back without even giving me time to catch my breath. I need help, but I don't know that either.
I thought being in love was all about never truly knowing, but since when did that become a prerequisite for a broken heart?
1 anal amy
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Brown Eyes
When love falls apart, and your life unceremoniously follows suit, there's a mandatory three-step dance that follows. There's the self-loathing when you question your role in every wrong committed; the grieving, unfortunately obligatory for a love lost, and then comes the healing bit which according to every book ever written, "takes time".
What the books forgot to mention, are the moments. The moments when in a split second, occurred by the slightest scent or sight, throws you from utter oblivion to an insane spiral back to square one in volumes unfit for the human heart. The flashbacks are cruelty at best, and the words to define what I feel for you are lost on my fingertips.
You won the break-up, hardly fair nor square, but you won anyway. You won before I even had a fighting chance, scratch that, I wasn't even given one. You stole my perception of perfection, and destroyed, along with me, the best 8 months of my life. You crossed my heart with lies, leaving me speechless and wounded beyond repair.
And with all that, you still have the cheek to ask me what I really want from you.
You will never know as clearly as I did 10 months ago as I do now.
0 anal amy
Saturday, November 8, 2008
GETTING DRUNK TONIGHT!
I slept most of today away, dreaming that I was in a play that took place in Malacca. I was Boy #3 and I kept going back and forth Singapore and Malacca because I forgot to bring my toothbrush.
Someone, I can't remember who, but someone proposed this cynic-driven adage to me during my past month of pathetic. I was hopeful and hopeless, both painfully coexisting at the same time. I believed in the good, yet none was within my grasp. Yes, the adage - "Fake it till you make it". I shrugged it off, my last standing pride of honesty to others, much less myself, fiercely standing in the way of such an abomination.
But in sight of recent events, I see the point now. I see the truth that lies in those five words, I see the 'it' in "fake" and "make", I see the glass half full, I see the burden of the truth, and more than ever, I see the "L", "I" and "E" in "LIFE".
You, you and you. You destroyed me, in ways I never thought someone who loved me as much as you did could. You, on the other hand, threw me into this constant state of self-awareness to compensate for your lack of a personality, slowly slicing the little confidence I have left away as if I was a helpless kebab spinning into an overdone roast. And you, you were my last straw and you bent me so out of shape for your own selfish desires, your own little games and gains.
Perhaps, this is change. This is the change I need, none of that celibacy and waiting I forked on my plate a month ago. My life is at stake here, and I'm done letting all three of yours matter more than mine ever did. If I have to go through the rest of my years plating my pan seared lies around you, over you and under you, so be it; if anyone is ever going to destroy me - it's going to be me.
You know who you are, but here's the head start none of you deserved anyway.
0 anal amy
Do you stop a war by starting another? Do you run into the ocean as the flood nears your feet? Do you heal a wound with an infection?
I don't know - what to know, what to understand. I've walked too far left to start walking right again. One rung down seems a lot easier than another rung up.
Spin, spin, spin, goes my world. Tell me please; I've ran out of ways to play this game.