Ha, Expectations.

[And I wanna believe you, When you tell me that it'll be ok, Ya I try to believe you, But I don't When you say that it's gonna be, It always turns out to be a different way, I try to believe you, Not today, today, today, today, today...I don't know how I'll feel,tomorrow, tomorrow, I don't know what to say,tomorrow, tomorrow Is a different day It's always been up to you,I t's turning around, It's up to me, I'm gonna do what I have to do, just don't Give me a little time, Leave me alone a little while, Maybe it's not too late, not today, today, today, today, today...I don't know how I'll feel, tomorrow, tomorrow, I don't know what to say, tomorrow, tomorrow Is a different day Hey yeah yeah, hey yeah yeah, and I know I'm not ready, Hey yeah yeah, hey yeah yeah, maybe tomorrow Hey yeah yeah, hey yeah yeah, and I know I'm not ready,Hey yeah yeah, hey yeah yeah, maybe tomorrow And I wanna believe you, When you tell me that it'll be ok, Yeah I try to believe you, Not today, today, today, today, today...Tomorrow it may change]

It’s a funny thing really, expectations and beliefs that totally get to people and be that of a wicked wicked wreck. Growing up, I had a lot of expectations and beliefs. No doubt I still hold them true to my heart and stood firmly my ground but I've covered myself with self-inflicted wounds inflicted mostly by broken promises and these so-called wonderful expectations. All cut up inside because I didn't wanna give up. I just wanna feel alive but yet I've never felt more vulnerable in my life. And it is so so painful. I can't even put it in words (so obviously I took someone else's).

After years of just feeling numb, I now have a wonderful person E, constantly feeding me with huge unattainable dreams, at least by my standards and to believe in them. 'They may be unrealistic but they are still 'realize-able', if only you would believe in them.' Well, these dreams are only realistic because they are for you. I thought I found salvation. Lies, were the words she has spoken with such steely faith. Faith that is now burning fiery holes inside of me, rendering me ashes as I fall so swiftly from great heights. And she doesn't even have to try. Ain't it all pretty and gray? She has her own right to life and for some reasons, she brings people along with the ride. She just do, whether she knows it or not and right now, this tall, charming guy hailing all the way from Spain has fallen deeply under her spell. And don't get me wrong, I've got no complaints about that, it's their lives, no way near mine. I'm merely an audience who got suck into the whole shit.

With expectations comes even greater disappointments, that I've learnt so well. And while I'm not the only person in this world who has lost the light of their world and existence, I sure seemed to be the only idiot who can't snap out of it. Instead, all this pain and sorrow and grieving has become of the mainstay of who I am. If I were ever human, the wonderful bundle of pain is oxygen and blood. I might have actually invited the bundle to stay. I am neither genuinely happy nor devastated about anything. I have never found the reason to smile anymore but lots to cry about. I gave in into the enthralling allure of silence without a fight yet on a good day I sometimes cling to whatever light that was offered, a thread of hope. And E gave me that thread of hope. That of course meant she could leave me out to bleed in cold darkness whenever she feels like. That why I can never blame her.

If she decides to move to Spain, i'll let her. I'll even visit her.

Words are just such patronizing bullshit...

You tried to show me the good things in life
But you are also the one who took it away

Dear Fucking Santa...

I don't feel a fucking 100% right now.

So maybe a pre-Christmas wish list could do me some good.

I wish I could cry, even if I don't know why
I wish I could run, so far that even if I fall, even if I'm lost
I wish I could scream and shout and yell at everyone and anyone because I wanna
I want Tara alive and breathing in front of me, telling me it’s ok, that she’s back
I want to have tattoos all over my body because that's how I live
I want to be gay til' the day I die
And then I want the fucking world to fucking shut up about it
Can Santa do that for me?

Time Heals but Also Takes Away

These days I've been on a search, a lookout for certain things. I don't know exactly what I'm looking for but I know it's important. It could be a moment, a very short one to remind me of things, to remind me to feel things and say things, intelligent things.

I keep thinking that time is running out and that I'm not doing anything productive to justify that. Maybe it has something to do with my age, and what I've been through and is going through now. I want the good in things which I can't have, most of the time, I wasn't allowed. I don't even know what I'm writing about but I just feel like writing.

I wanted to write about her but there are things that are beginning to fade and I'm afraid of that. I'm afraid I wouldn't remember. And if I really forget, I forget. And I'll be alone. And she'll be gone. For good. I don't want her to go but I don't wanna be selfish. I can't talk about her to anyone because I can't. I have to get her back..

I shall never rush into the secret room

"I shall never rush into the secret room, not for her, and only because of her..."

It's a phrase taken from one of Shakespeare's works, I'm not quite sure which, was hardly the Literature person but I added a lil' more me in there. But anyway, the act of rushing into the secret room implied taking things in your own hands, committing suicide. And for a whole second some couple years ago, it felt like the only sensible thing to do. But I didn't. It was because of her that I quickly snapped out of it. I can't die, not because she did. I have to live, for the both of us, for what she believed in and wanted to do, for doing right for this cruel world.

I don't know how I got through or if I could continue. There were moments of good and not so good and really bad times. There were ways 've tried to express myself but only to futility. I would write long letters sending to an address long gone. I would imagine tracing the name of my dead lover with my finger on her tombstone and saying hi, sharing with her my day. I would smile, or cry and often say things no one gets. I could never stand another with the same name. And I would kill anyone who said I should just move on. I was stubborn and quite stupid I would say but no one's me. No one will ever go through what has happened in my shoes, as me. I know how tragedies struck everyone everyday, I know a mother who loses her kid to a drunk driver, I know shit. But no one has gotten to know her like I did and then feel her slowly slipping away in your arms. No one has to cry late at night, at a song, or while watching television, or be locking themselves in the darn toilet just so you could find a moment of peace and to vent. No one has to keep a secret and live life like nothing has happened.

Pain, it comes in huge doses and for free. For the swells of happiness I used to feel in my heart, I now trade for pain. It has become a part of me. And I think it's a good thing.

221186 - ??

Ok, so today's the day when I finally have to go out into the world and be like 'ok, I'm all grown, hit me, only not...'

I've always liked birthdays. Birth is a present thing, so it has to be a good thing. I used to have little parties when people I know and I didn't came and ate food and drank and laughed about something I'm quite certain isn't as amusing anymore. My mom would put me in dresses that I absolutely detested simply because the material was too annoying. But I smiled, I would, in most of the photos taken then. These days, I've stopped doing that and for whatever reasons.
As I got older, like 7 year old kinda older, people went away, my parents buried underneath work, obligations and insecurities and my own brother doing something entirely different on his own etc...birthday parties are the past.

I don't know if I like birthdays anymore. It gets so alone and it brings pain. It forces a reason or rather an obligation upon you to be happy and celebratory, even when you don't necessary feel like it. I'm not saying I wasn't happy that people remembered and that I actually received tangible gifts that I know I didn't deserve. I was elated, in ecstacy. Really. But something is terribly missing. And things will always be so, for as long as I live and she's not. I know, I know, people are going to be like 'oh come on, fucking shut up about her already, she's freaking dust but you're still here!"

For a long while, she wasn't the first and last thing on my mind, which I guess an indication of my still intact. sane and sound mind. At first, I felt guilt and then sort of a relief; that things could still be ok. Yeah, it was exactly how I felt, that I'm getting better, moving on to wherever. School was doing an excellent job at keeping my mind off things, it still is, with tests and projects and whatnots. As a matter of fact, I should be sleeping right about now for a test in the morning which I'm sure half the class might fail. And then when I had to write something about today (22 Nov, Thursday), I saw her face again. I didn't lose her, I'm glad. I didn't kill her.

It wasn't the most pleasant half a day. It was the first day of operation, 42 pax and as the captain, i've made an absolutely stupid mistake and it implicated the whole of the restaurant and I was terribly apologetic about it and if guilt were a tangible thing, I would have been crushed to death. But I did so much better on Friday albiet rooms for improvement so I think it's a good thing...I would continue to do better, I promise.


Happy 21st to me.

let's Eavesdrop to God's Plans

It was said, that languages and words are created just so human beings could shed the burden of having to tell what's really they are feeling and wanted to say but can't or don't want to. When a person stops talking, that's when a conversation really begins, that's when a picture or rather body language paints a thousand muted words.

Human beings lie, human beings distract, human beings create, break and then mend with words but sometimes, shutting up says so much more. And sometimes, one should not speak anymore but do.

It might just change the world.

I'm sitting right here and now and I don't know what to do. I wanna do something, before time runs out, before my bones turn all gray and no one remembers my name. I have a proficiency test up and coming, and I can't be sure if I were prepared. We never really had a chance to practice and we never really had to be in that situation. But we will pass, because we had to and we will. Service Bootcamp actually made me wanna be in the kitchen, for good, like a long-term occupation for life kinda for good. Maybe it's the way I'll go.

I'm reading about Japanese Etiquette & Ethics in Business (the book's exact name) now for a project and it dawned on me just how long I've stopped reading anything. It is extremely uplifting for me to pull out a book which previously I have zero juice for and started reading, even if it's for school. Right now, I'm understanding. It's a good thing, especially when the psychological and romanji elements came into play. I'm understanding a particular race of human I never did before.

If I wanna write, I have got to reflect and read and experience things. I'm not, don't think so. I lead a boring life, that of a student who's not involved in anything except being stuck in early and sometimes rainy mornings in buses, a post-teenager girl who's nowhere near the passing chart of 'hey, i think you're pretty and really interesting, wanna fuck?', and subconsciously, adopting a 2nd or even 3rd personae whenever I'm placed in a different and often tedious situation. The Service Bootcamp is one such apt example. I wanna learn so bad I'm not anymore. I'm just filled with contempt at times, for myself, for the way things have to be. Am I just this worthless? How could I have lost all my common sense, all the answers? I knew the answers. I knew I know. I'm not stupid, I've got a brain, I've got conscience and I've got both hands.

I blacked out all the time, in classes, in life. I lose my concentration to something unknown and I've wanted to change it with sleep and attitude. What something I could do become something I can't. And I hated that. I hated that me. Where is my comfort zone? I don't know. Where is me, the better part of me? It's nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be located and keep.

My 21st is coming and all I wish for is that I'd wake up from this life, to perk with excitment and anticipation. I'd not make mistakes again. I'd try to keep everyone happy with sincere love, with my jokes and sarcasm. And maybe I will find someone, among the stars, in the crowds, to love me before my time's up. And I'll die for her. I want a fresh start is all. Will anyone grant me that?

So far, I'm never quite prespicuous but I've worked with that. I'll repeat myself as many times as it'd take. And I think the people are secretly glad I'm bilingual. When I'm only talking to me, it was so easy. I might have a problem, otherwise. I love people, I've moved out of isolation but I'm not mingling with the right people enough. I'm not mingling period. See why I needed a birthday wish now?