145: water you weighting for

when you struggle to stay afloat
and reminding yourself to breath
makes no sense
as you suf
fo
cate on
thoughts of EVERYTHING
and feelings of n th ngn ss,
reach for your headphones
and r e l e a s e
the dammed music
you've been collecting
for over three decades.

let the soundwaves silence
the tsunamis tumbling within you
in full volume.


20170920 11.30am
- don't drown just yet.

132: wanederlust

how is it
that everyone else is onthego and underpressure and overworked and inbetweenjobs and inthemidstofeverything and
are constantly running and falling and getting back up and spinning and running and getting back up and spinning and running and getting back up and spinning spinning running running running spinning spinning faster and faster and faster and faster going oh so fast oh so steadily
and all i seem to do is spin and spill tears and run and ruin away?

how is it
that i can be full to the brim
and spill out only gas and steam?

how is it
that i constantly find myself tiptoeing at the tip of my sanity
and drown in dreadful nothingness?

131: nts

in case you forgot,
you are more than blood and bones and tinglings and thoughts.

in case you forgot,
you are a complex being, fragile but loved but tired but brave.

in case you forgot,
you are human.

it's okay to just be.
it's okay to just feel
hell, it's okay to just feel sorry for yourself
sometimes
it's - okay, breathe, breathe, breathe
in
and
out
and in
and out and
internalising toxicity has never done you any good -- no matter how many times you replay all the guilt of the past three decades making you constantly feel like you are
out of time
out of control
out of your mind
but of all the things that you stop yourself from doing out of fear,
please don't stop yourself from living because you're scared of being burnt.
sometimes facing your fires is the only way to let out steam,
so go ahead:
shout at the sea at the top of your lungs at 2 in the morning --
use vibrating showerheads on lazy sunday mornings or lonely weekday nights --
down llaollao generously topped with rainbow sprinkles and crushed graham cookies --
let tears extinguish your flaming eyesmindtongueclenchedfists -- just
let it
all
out
and give yourself
permission
to accept that you may be an organised mess
that you may lose yourself in
but will eventually find your way out at some point.

instead of fixating on the hands of the hours and minutes and seconds tick tick ticking away
as you tick tick untick no tick get ticked off by the things in your neverending checklists
try to accept that you'll only be able to see yourself in retrospect so you can't timetravel back to fix your future but also
try not to worry too much if you can't seem to live in the present the way self-help books keep telling you to.

i know your eyes are covered with layers of open-burn smoke disney-tinted lenses underneath half-eyelids wishing they could remain closed
and it's okay that the only thing you can see most of the time are your hands wiping away frustrations from your eyes, creases from your forehead, and snot from your nostrils
because your sweaty palms and farmer-like digits and unpolished nails
have helped you verbalise what you think and want and need,
have clawed into your aggressor's hands at your most vulnerable,
have cupped water for you to gargle after supermintyhot mouthwash,
have on countless occasions placed antiseptic and plaster on your scraped knees,
have pushed yourself up after kissing the earth from falling down, thanking god, or both,
have touched and tickled and been tingled by those who have returned your love - no matter how brief; despite
having been born or shaped or grown or scarred in ways that are unacceptable in other people's eyes,
they are a part and a reflection of what you are and what you are capable of:
perfectly flawed but able to do and carry and protect and heal
more than you can possibly believe.

so please,
forgive yourself
as much and often as you give excuses for other peole being the way they are
for you not being more
for the times you regress and fall through
for all the opportunities you probably missed because you couldn't get up right away or in time or at all.

because really
it's okay
to not be okay all the time.

2017-04-19 6.26pm

💜💜💜115: uncyclereduceabuse

The thing about abusive relationships is this:
you don't always end up with scars.

At least, not ones where you are left
beatenupbloody
brokenboned
blackandblue.

He had a way with words.
He was pleasant,
thoughtful,
sweet.

He said I was special.

It started off so well --
calltxtwhatsappskype
timeschedulesdistance
marriagedreamshomes;

He said I was special.

But then special
turned salient.

The grim atmosphere.

The undercurrents.

The addictions.

The dark side.

His past.

The present.
Our future.

What used to make my heart skip a beat
Made me forget how to breathe;
What used to give me butterflies
Gave me sweaty palms and goosebumps.

"If I just did a better job at making him happy, he would be nice again"

The mission to please became an obsession.

And I turned into an addict in denial

just like him.

At one point, I jokeconsoleremind myself,

"Hey, it could be worse.
At least he doesn't hit you."

This made me sober.

I've heard the stories,
I've talked to the women,
I've seen the horrors.

I had to leave.
And I felt free.

I wish everyone else in the same situation has the chanceabilityprivillege
to do the same.

---




The thing about abusive relationships is this:
You don't always end up with scars.

Not beatenupbloody blackandblue brokenbones ones, at least.

For me, it was a classic case of, "I thought only other people go through this."
simply because
"I should have been smarter than to let it happen to myself'"

Now, I'm not sure if it's necessarily about smartness.

Maybe it's smartness intertwined with or messed up when emotions come into the equation. 

Because looking back, it wasn't really obvious when I started feeling trapped.

He had a way with words.
He was pleasant, thoughtful, sweet.

He let me know how much he needed me.

He said I was different.

I'm special.

I lapped it all up.

I guess in retrospect
I should've known better.

But it started off so well --
we did the whole calltxtwhatsappskype
went out some despite timeschedulesdistance
we even had talks of marriagedreamshomes;

Things were pretty good
at first.

It was not long
before other things crept in.

The slow, but sure, 180 turn.

The grim atmosphere.

The undercurrents.

The addictions.

The dark side.

Then, more things became salient.

His past.

The present.
Our future.

But i had to be kindacceptingunderstanding, i kept telling myself.
And so i kept readjusting my bearings to where he was. To what he was.

It took me a while to realise what this actually meant:

that I was adapting myself to him.

I can't be the way I am.

Because I'm not good enough.

But I still had to make him happy.
By hook or by crook, even if it meant I had to be someone else.

And so my feelings, thoughts, and actions started to be (sub)consciously dictated by
how he would feel ifs, 

what he would do ifs, 

what he would say ifs...

And the little things he did that used to give me butterflies started to give me goosebumps...
And the lively calls slowly became more and more one-sided...
And the jokes turned into accusations or insults.

But he wasn't always like this.
He wasn't.
Honest.

And this was the fuel that kept me going.

Because I'm different from all the other girls who left him, you see.

I'm special.

And there's always that voice at the back of my head:
"If I just did a better job at making him happy, he would be nice again"

The mission to please became an obsession.

I didn't realise that it was an impossible one.
And so I turned into an addict in denial

just like him.

It was only when I began to jokeconsoleremind myself,

"Hey, it could be worse.
At least he doesn't hit you."
... that I realised the gravity of this situation.

I've heard the stories,
I've talked to the women,
I've seen the horrors.

I had to leave.

It wasn't easy.

The lashback was painful
The pleas were guilttripping
The callsmessages had to be blocked
but I managed to escape what has been caging me.

And I felt free.

I wish everyone else in the same situation has the chanceabilityprivillege
to do the same.

86: Maximum volume on mute

So I laugh a bit too loud.

and i can get a bit clingy
and am too distant at other times
and i like things that don't matter much to others
and anything out of the ordinary
and i get excited about fictional characters
and over people who will never know who I am
and i hate unrealistic expectations
and being told what to do and when to do it,

But

nothing pisses me more
than someone
believing
they can control
what i do.say.think;

I am not blind
I am not stupid
I am not that naive

So

i've been waiting for you to notice
that you are not talking to a mirror
though you might as well be
since you're trying so intently
to fix your own reflection
in the form of me.

I am not blind
I am not stupid
I am not that naive.

flawed is the least I could be
but to change me completely
is robbing me of my individuality
and
i'd rather be
chained and
gagged and
shackled and
beg
on my knees
than to apologise for
what i never was,
things i can't possibly be,
for being who i am
not who you want to see --

I am not blind
I am not stupid
I am not fucking naive.

Seriously,
i shouldve known better
than to stop laughing
when you said

I laugh too loud.

---

remembering things and a certain someone who made me angry in the past.

71: boiling point

It's not fair that you
allow your eyes to wander, while
I simmer inside

It's not fair when you
let your eyes wander; it makes
me simmer inside.

Nov 3rd 11.52am

68: like them

why must i
respect people who could straight up lie
worry what everyone thinks until i want to cry
be forced to be a busybody when i hate to pry
work like an adult but be treated like a child
wear what they wear because it's in style
pretend i'm a tree, powerless and docile
listen to views that are far from fertile
have expensive taste and be in denial?

why must i
be sly
without making a sigh
and without feeling vile?

and why must i
do all this to beguile
and without asking why
like them?

60: estranger

stranger
th/æ/n fiction,
stranger

th/ɛ/n reality,

stranger(,)
th/æ/(ɛ)/n everything
i thought i knew

(about you) is

fiction-worthy, th/ɛ/n

reality sinks in, th/æ/t

you
are

(/ə/) stranger.

- 8/12/12 2.37pm

stranger
th/æ/n fiction,

stranger
th/æ/n reality,

stranger
th/æ/n everything
i thought
i knew

is the sudden awareness that
you
are
(/ə/) stranger.

- 8/12/12, 2pm

59: run away

i feel bad

not because
i
had

reciprocated

mistreated
laughed

smiled

cried.

i feel bad

because
i

fear
being
dispensable
dismissable
disposable.

i feel bad

because

i
would

rather

disappear

than 

confront.

this is how i preserve myself.
this is how i save my heart.
this is how weak i am.

and this is why

i 

always 

flee.     

58: why i am a feminist

i am a feminist
because
They keep reminding me
by touch
by humour
by education
by interaction
by observation
by prescribed obligations
that
it's a man's world out there,
and men and women
i am told
are as different as night and day
and we need to RESPECT that
men are the decision-makers --
women should only be drones --
because women can't lead, only follow;
we need to just stfu because we're hollow,
and if we disagree,
they'll make damn sure there'll be sorrow
because we're only good if we can blow,
right?

no,
i don't hate men.
i just don't trust them.

56: into thin air

would they notice, if
i disappeared into thin
air? no, i doubt it.

unworthy of being visible in their eyes.

55: pointblank

What is the point of
having both eyes open when
you choose to be blind?


What is the point of
having a heart and mind when
you keep them confined?

52: Submerged

Somehow,
I find myself in the middle
of the sunken fields of Despair
again.

But I am not stationary.
And I am not alone.
Because the weight of
pent-up tears and
the wrench of
dark undercurrents 

make me sink
faster, deeper

into the overbrimmed
realms of Dysphoria,

the dystopic home of

the rejected,
the tormented,
the dejected,

the fragmented.

Here is where

you will find those
who are in want of 

a teaspoon of Concern,

a big pinch of Gratitude,

a handful of Appreciation,

a morsel of Happiness,

a sprinkle of Hope;

from those whom
they care about the most

(from those who
care about them the least).

Struggling together in
solitude: suffocating in this
sea of hot ever-flowing tears and

sobs of endless desperation from being

souls trapped in lucklustre, unfulfilled lives

still trying to seek someone who understands, to
save us from ourselves. But there is nowhere to go but

Down.

And the lower I go, 

the more I give in

the more I give up

the less I give a fuck 

about the world.
About all this.

Will this go on forever? Will this abruptly end?

Will this just end up being a nightmare,
where I wake up drenched in my own sweat?

And ah, what if I'm able to save myself

But am unable to save the others,

especially those who dragged
me all the way down here?

Do I leave them?
Not an option.

I couldn't

I can't

I won't.


old:

in the middle
of the sunken
fields of
Despair,
the weight of
pent-up tears and
the wrench of
dark undercurrents 

make me sink
faster, deeper

into the overbrimmed
realms of Dysphoria,

the dystopic residence of

the rejected,
the tormented,
the dejected,

the fragmented.

Here is where

you will find those who 

lack and are in want of 

a teaspoon of Concern,

a big pinch of Gratitude,

a handful of Appreciation,

a morsel of Happiness,

a sprinkle of Hope;

from those whom
they care about the most

(from those who
care about them the least).

So I
suffocate in this

sea of tears as the

sighs of desperation from

souls trapped in lucklustre lives

seeking those who can try to understand.

But there seems to be nowhere to go but down.

And the lower I go, 

the more I give in

the more I give up

the less I give a fuck 

about the world.
About all this.

Will this go on forever? Will this abruptly end?

Will this just end up being a nightmare,
where I wake up drenched in my own sweat?

And ah, what if I'm able to save myself

But am unable to save the others,

especially those who dragged
me all the way down here?

Do I leave them?
Not an option.

I couldn't

I can't

I won't.

51: who i really am

from the depths of my soul,

at the bottom of my heart,

inside the core of my mind,

underneath it all, 

i am

afraid of being alone
of being left alone
of being left behind
of being left undone;

afraid of being apart
of being broken apart
of being broken inside
of being broken hearted;

afraid of being unloved
of being eventually unloved
of being eventually ignored
of being eventually forgotten;

afraid of being disappointed
of being predictably disappointed
of being predictably disappointing
of being predictably unneeded.

these 'irrational' fears                    

guide me

          restrict me

                    control me

                              force me

                              to

do the things i do 

think the way i think 

feel the crap i feel.

from the depths of my soul,
           at the bottom of my heart,          

inside the core of my mind, 

          underneath it all,                        

i am

Sca(r)red

49: monu_ental

the only spaces
we can fill in our lives are
breaks and intervals

1/11/12 3.23am

43; We are all experiments

Eureka!
I now have the solvent I've been waiting for,
the last element to support my hypothesis;
this mysterious concoction has now been dissolved!

Finally
I have found the key compound
which crystalises the fact that
you think of me as
Something
who can withstand your methods
who can be moulded as you wish
who will willingly trickle or ooze or solidify or crack or vaporise
as you determine the variables and set the standards,
as you manipulate the conditions,
as you dictate the process.

It's all crystal clear now, because
the pH of what you said is too low, and
the pH of what you mean is too high.

Since my own test has been proven positive, let's move on to yours:
I have identified a few assumptions of yours that need to be corrected.
(Although I am a mixture of things)
I am not your solution.
(Although I can be filled with substances)
I am not an apparatus.
(Although I do like to make people feel fulfilled)
I don't appreciate being part of a disposable experiment kit.

Objectively,
from one scientist to another:
better luck next time.


19/10/12 9am

"it doesn't matter", he says, "if we don't get to talk to each other that often".
since we are both busy.

42: damaged

why?

why are you in such a state?
why are you in so much pain?
why are you so... damaged?

what have you done to yourself?
what has society done to make you this way?
what have we all done to cause us to be like this?

i'm really curious to know why you are the way you are
and i'm also scared to know what you might answer.

41: oh no

"oh no --
i think you're mistaken, sir.
i think you've got the wrong person;
i know i'm not who you think i am,
i know i'm not who you're looking for."

i want to say all this and
i want to say it nicely, but
i don't know when and
i don't know how to make this less awkward.

oh, no --
i am not a heartbreaker,
i am just a tragic romantic.

39: convoluted

CONVOLUTED
are your words,
reasons,
excuses,
thoughts,
promises,
emotions,
flirtations,
and your whole
past, present and future.

i know you are well aware of
(and that you are sadistically watching)
me being overwhelmed by all this,

but come closer; there's something for you i need to whisper:

the harder i try
to figure you out,
the harder it is for me
to believe what comes out of your mouth.

so goodbye.

37: bloody vengeance

let's just move on and pretend
that everything that happened didn't happen,
because i do not fully understand
(and you can't possibly comprehend)
why these old scars have reopened,
but they hurt like fucking vengeance.