It is never fun dealing with enigmas. Perhaps at first it will be, fun, as with all novelties. But novelties fade, like how wall paints dulls with the passing of weather, but faster, much faster. Only as long as human patience & whim can stand it; only that long. After that it becomes tiring. You are stretched to every fibre to just stand there and appear civil, heavy to the bones to just smile and appear understanding. When really.
Sometimes I wish I have a phone number which I can call just to cry and cry and cry. Without any restraint. & sometimes is turning into a lot of times.
What I wanted to say but couldn’t is that I want to be the previous person: nice & polite, undemanding & patient, non-chalant & unperturbed by changes or inconsistencies. I only see one way to do that: undoing all these. We are sensitive because we are affected. We are affected because we care. I don’t know why we care. But there must be a way of undoing all these. Until the time comes.
I find it heartbreaking, not funny or sweet or warm and fuzzy - heartbreaking. Heartbreaking how we send encrypted signals back and forth. I don’t know what we hope to achieve, or not achieve. It is heartbreaking how difficult it is. It is difficult. I don’t know about you, but it is very difficult for me.
People who say they will never leave will leave you. People who promise to make you always happy will constantly make you sad. They will do it the way amnesic people do: with an innocent smile as they turn back on their words. It is good that you are used to it.
It is true that when I’m sad, I write a lot. I write almost everyday nowadays, despite my poor little mostly keyboard who probably wish I’d leave him alone given the heavy hint he dropped - by not bloody working. Sorry. I don’t usually swear, and say sorry, which is both stupid and pretentious.
But it is also true that when I’m sad, I write poorly. It follows a simple logic: they didn’t come from inspiration, but rather the need to vomit words to keep myself sane. Uninspired collection of words which came from a ranting heart that refused to heal. People expect it to heal so quickly. Are we created equally? Did we go through the same pain? Am I wrong to take my time?
I am however deeply thankful today, and proud of my own self. If I can kiss and hug myself I would, it is a cause for celebration. For receiving the news and not being affected, in the very slightest. Things happened which I thought affected me deeply, and it felt like a monster waiting in hibernation, to sneak up when the time is right. But it didn’t. The water was still. I killed the monster. It was nothing. The realisation shuddered me slightly, by how cynical and unfeeling it probably made me. Perhaps I needed that, going through that. So that,
Perhaps I can repeat that again this time around.
My heart sinks every time. For every glimpse I see. They’re not for me. And for each I don’t. Another place, another time, a different crowd.
I wait but I don’t know what I’m waiting for. At times I get a fleeting chance of what I thought I wanted. But as quickly as it passed away, I realised, that I don’t really want it anyway. Doesn’t that make it mutual? Doesn’t that make it easy?
Perhaps it’s an illusion. Of wanting. Perhaps I don’t want anything. Doesn’t that make it easy?
Then why is it not easy at all?
But I want to talk.
It’s a weekend of high fever and unnecessary drama. Maybe unnecessary fever and high drama. I keep hoping people would forget what a dramatic person I can be. But playing it on repeat doesn’t help.
I suppose our choices reflect our priorities; & how they shift and change. How they slowly do so, whether we choose to admit it or not. I suppose some things are transient, and some constant. And one is more than the other.
& people who care will care.
I have a case to present. But nobody to present it to. It is right for one to be angry; but is it not only fair to listen to the whys. Why do we always assume we are right over everyone else. I want to know both sides of everything. But nobody to glean it from. It is right for one to blame the other, but is it not only fair to understand the cause of every act, before simply dismissing it on weak character. Is that not arrogance. Perhaps I do have a weak character; explains why I let my guard down.
This is becoming dangerously didactic and sad it scares me.
