Creep

my phone rang. and then it was just a missed call. I called back and said hey, i haven't heard from you in a long time. Yeah, i just thought of calling to say hello but I wasn't too sure if you'd want to hear from me. My partner looks at me witheringly and I bid you goodbye, speak soon, the usual conversation ending bits. Who is that? Why is he calling? Why? Why? And I just clam up. What do I say? The truth? Some lies? Well, this person saved me. I was on the verge of falling in a depressing dark dank ditch. This man, gave me his time and tried his very best to be with me. To just keep me company. He never asked any questions, never asked for anything in return. We never spoke of 'love', because it was a different feeling. 'Love' was for dizzy couples, high on adrenaline and can't stop kissing the other. It was far from it. I'd say affection and a genuine care for my well-being. He accepted my flaws and thoroughly enjoyed my company. He respected my decisions. Which is so much more than I can say for some people that I know today. I regret that I broke his heart, I regret that I wasn't able to reciprocate in the way he deserved. the typical story is as such 'it's not you, it's me.' Some days, I wonder how is he doing, and I know I can call and just say hello. But I suppose it's better to leave the buried Pandora's box where it is.

All of the lights

Please draw a comparison chart and have a look at where your time goes and what activities you may be doing. Clearly, if you're placing X time in Y activity, you'd want the same in return. folks, who invests cotton candy and waits around for gold bars? I look at how relationships fail and how they are all inevitably doomed. It's rather depressing but I suppose it's hope that keeps some of it going. Horribly cynical, but what's left to give? It's so easy to say, hey i'm yours. but what really demonstrates that is an action. or two. what you put on your list of things to do, is what you have the heart to do. what you don't have on the list, in my opinion, isn't important anyway. also, i give too much shit and really need to organize my priorities. i hate getting the shorter end of the stick. i despise being the kind of lumpy sack of tofu that you are free to mold when you decide to give a hoot about me. fuck it, hand me a beer and put some music on.

I need to write this shit down because I can then analyse what is in my subconscious.

She must have had met him previously at some party. One of those awkward moments she doesn't really know what to do when at a party alone. He spotted her though and struck up small talk, easing his way into her phone. Smart move, I see what you did there. He called and she was out with her friends. Going barhopping downtown with the boys and girls, why? I'd like for you to come around and hang out with me for a bit. Sure thing, I'll tell you where to meet, she said. And so she had a good time with the usual suspects. Her partner isn't always keen to party together. Well, I understand as much. Walking along the streets like a bunch of fools strapped together at the waist. He gets down from his chauffeured ride and catches up with them. Girl, you ready to go? She smiles and says goodbye. She gets in the car and realizes that there's someone in the front seat that she doesn't recognize. He doesn't say anything either, just a glare. Well, we're off to a good start. The driver is a friendly face and starts chatting about random facts. (here's where it gets fuzzy). She asks about dinner, and had her words trampled over by Mister Sourface. They arrive at a place that resembles the Coliseum, and head straight to the room. A movie is playing and she settles in bed. Sourface takes place on the couch without any notice. She wasn't sure what to say, so nothing is best. He gets in bed and starts doing work-related things, i.e. scroll down smartphone for emails, reply messages etc. At some point, engrossed in the film, he sidles over and says that he needs it. Of all awkward moments, this takes the cake. Sorry, I really don't think I can tonight. Actually more I can never do you. He curls up with rejection and now, well you'd better go. Yes I think I should. Well you need to make plans for your friends next weekend right? Touche. She leaves, stumbling across the dark room. Concierge sends up a lady who announces departure times and that the car will arrive two hours later. Heading downstairs, she seeks for a loo, and finds the staff toilet. A girlfriend was in the next cubicle and they start talking about anything else but. They head out and reach the dining table. But my family is here, so this is fucking weird. What are my parents doing here as well having a meal? Why this restaurant of all places? Doesn't even make sense. Well, sit down and have something. But she's afraid that he'll come down with his son (!) and have dinner here too. Dilemma diamonds. I suppose there's no hiding what's happening or what had happened or what was supposed to happen but didn't. I'm still intact. He really does show up with his son and wife (!) But hey, no awkward moments. She really liked chatting with him, who knew he could have so much baggage? Well, this had to end. She got up to leave. A midget was trying to shelter her kid from the drizzling shower outside. Here, let me help you out. Walking to the car was tedious, wrong shoes taken in the dark. The chauffeur drives past, hey what happened? i was going to come and get you two. Sorry, it just didn't work. It wasn't what I wanted. She was ready to just explain everything but her family is calling. Here, let me key in your number. Why are there so many digits? My phone is busted. So is mine. How will we contact? gaddamnit i can't remember my own number. how well..... I woke up with the first four numbers I think, 0173.

It's late. I should be asleep. It's been rather exhausting, the past week and I am feeling empty. The talk of change, of loss, of damage. I am not entirely whole because I had to sacrifice and there isn't any true valid return. But escaping is temporary relief. Delving right into this painful mess is not my first option. Maybe at some point I'll feel better. maybe there are other losses greater than mine. It would be unfair to compare. After all, there isn't a benchmark to begin. It doesn't have to include time and effort to develop a connection. It was just inexplicable, the tenderness and reciprocating was everything. Now I need to pretend that it never happened. It cuts too much to linger, everyday. I get to keep the memories but that's all that remains.

So I've been having hideous dreams for the past week. I don't remember all of them. There was one where my father died and I was inconsolable. Naturally. And I woke up and my day was ruined anyway. I didn't know how to save the rest of my waking hours. Like a zombie, minus the tattered clothes and oozing goo, I was just a massive blur. No, I haven't been alright. I don't want to talk about why I'm not alright. I just resent this moment, because it's irritating and gloomy. i feel like a sack of melted trash. But even melted trash has some sort of form, some scent to identify that it's trash. I lack even that. That's a new low I discovered of late, in me. In any case, I wanted to jot down this dream before I forget entirely about it. Apparently, you forget 90% of your dream within the first 10 minutes of waking up. So, folks. I could just be making it up as I go along. For some reason, I was in a junky Nissan/Honda. And I had stopped by my house (which isn't my house in real life) to pick up the kitty. I co-owned a cat that loitered in my back alley for a couple of months. She belonged to someone else but I took her as partially mine anyway. I picked her up, she's nameless by the way. And I drove to the airport. I'm not sure if airports allow pets in the vicinity but no screws given. So, I hug her and cradle her between my shoulder and elbow and walk through what looks like KLIA. She starts digging into my shoulder and she starts to look more like Hank. And then I become sad because it's not him. So there really isn't a replacement for what is lost. I walk further and come across a group of pilgrims who look like they are on the way to Mecca. They wanted to pray and had laid out their prayer mats. As I was standing there watching them get on their knees, it occurred to me, I am in the way of the kiblat. I stride off but feeling slightly confused because there should be suraus in the airport, right? Here is the conflict of which I am not certain. What does it mean to give up something dear in exchange for something else? Except that there's no guarantee of any affection. Would you love me less if I did otherwise? I can feel my resentment building and it is heavy. One day, you will lose something very dear and you'll be able to relate what it felt like to be here. Frankly, 2012 seems like a huge up and a huge down, simultaneously. I haven't felt any middle ground in awhile now and I can't remember what that is like.