I wonder if I have some sort of Electra complex.

For all my life, I’ve been channeling my energy towards strange places. Y, for instance, I was madly captivated by him. And as I pledged to myself, I was insanely in love with him. I thought dumping all my emotions into the relationship would bring forth endless joy. Strangely, it did nothing to eradicate the emptiness in my heart. I continue to stare into space and question, “What is it that I’m doing today? What have I accomplished?” And the answer to both is more than obvious.

Did nothing. Not accomplishing anything. Does sex count? No it doesn’t. Of all the ‘productive’ activities that one can be doing, sex seems to be the most base. I don’t have anything against it. I enjoy it of course. But it does not lend meaning to Life. I want to make love, not have sex.

However, given my present emotional makeup, it seems that all I can do is to have sex. Making love is still miles away. I think that I have a habit of creating imaginary goals so as to distract myself from the life that I actually have right now.

Perusing some child developmental pages the other day gave me some insight about myself. Clearly, I am a victim of disassociation. The role of a victim, is once again, debatable but it seems as though I am indeed forcing to undergo the eighteen stages of hell day by day. Am I the protagonist of Catherine Lim’s paperback colonial romance? Of course, you will be sharp enough to point out to me that it’s not even reciprocal. A word that has special meaning for me.

Dullness strikes at my heart. My brain feels like a brick of lead. Over-saturated yet malnourished. Or maybe that’s my heart.

Floating

Suspended in mid-air
I look around me
and think
this must be heaven

Indeed.

blood drain from my fingertips
come Rushing to my head
thumping
like solid lumps of chicken feed

kind of beautiful up there
no sound

and i fall right through
webs
nets

and the world that i’m looking at
looks right back at me

silly me.
i’m just bouncing on a mattress
wait
all sides are mattresses…

whitespace.

Variations on a Theme

I feel it. Again.

The creeper-like hold it has on me, strangling all reason out of me. I struggle against its powerful clasp; kicking, pushing.

Like a needle, I plunge into the deep. Falling. Falling fast. Not yet landing.

Am I playing with fire again? After getting my fingers burned…do I still…? And this time, it’s different, yet the same.

I suspect…I suspect I may love him.

Nesting on a Couch (and thinking about bullet trains)

Sitting and just dreaming, I float in and out of consciousness…

Thinking of how the past day was spent and fretting about how to spend the next day. Shall I have eggs and sausages or should I have waffles with ladles of maple syrup?

And while I’m at that, perhaps I should just tilt my head ever so often to make sure that he’s not there… But of course he won’t be there, he’s still playing World of Warcraft. As expected. He will never be here, he will never be back. And even if he comes back, I would have left.

Funny how a cartoon in my history class applies to real life. It was a cartoon about how a Japanese man in the 1920s viewed modernity – as a speeding train no less, with no end in sight. Similarly, romance is like the bullet train to me. Sure, it’s supposed to be your one path to heaven (or so hollywood romance moves would have us believe) but the question that arises is, so then, how do you get on board?

All I’ve gotten so far is a few nasty nips in my heart for trying too hard. And guess what? I’m happy to stand aside as an observer. For the time being.

One Month into School with Two Fucked-Up Relationships.

So girls,

there are a few lessons you can take away from my experience.

1) Don’t start a relationship based on sex.

2) If it’s gonna be based on sex, don’t put any effort into maintaining the relationship.

3) Do not be startled if they turn out to be complete sleazeballs.

So… I got back with Y during the summer.

Why? Loneliness. And loneliness coupled with horniness does not go well. At all. So I end up leeching onto him again. And we fucked. And we fucked. And we met his parents. Who turn out to be really great people actually. And I also really liked his sisters. Guess what, or rather WHO, I didn’t like, was him.

Things I Hate About Y:

1) Inability to be a man in times of crisis

Evidence- When that stupid bitch hui called me and ‘confronted’ me, I was the person in charge. I had to comfort him and tell him that everything is gonna be okay.Like…whaaa….???

2) Does not have ambition nor ability to succeed.

3) Loves to accuse me as the source of all his pain.

4) Is poor. I mean, VERY poor.

5) Ah…this is the best part…

He is a connoisseur of prostitutes. And wait! The best ones only! Ones that cost 150bucks! In fact, he writes REVIEWS on these places!!!

Can you imagine anything more laughable than that? And of course, by laugh, I mean laugh-stop in disbelief-laugh at self-laugh at him and so on.

It’s a recent vice that he’s gotten himself into. Of course, he claims that it’s MY FAULT. Of course! SURE!

Well, fuck you and good luck to you.

And so, after coming back to my second year of college… I got together with D. Which is a complete mistake given how he ditched me during RF last year and J had to take care of me in my drunken state.

So again, this relationship was purely sexual EXCEPT he asked me to be his girlfriend which caused me to throw myself into this thing wholeheartedly. I did everything I thought a perfect girlfriend should do. Buying him coffee in the morning, getting him food, fussing over him, organizing my schedule around him.

Ok, in retrospect, this does seem kind of scary. But it didn’t seem so at that point of time! I was just so happy to be in a relationship again…(the irony of it all).

However, problems started to pop up. First of all…he is a HARDCORE gamer. A very important fact that I had completely no knowledge of…until I stayed with him. His life is centered on *raiding*. A term which must be very famiiar to all of you World of Warcraft fans. Second, he doesn’t care abou me. At all. He doesn’t ask me questions. He ask me questions only because he feels that it’s polite/right for him to ask such questions. Which is horrible. I felt so fucking used. Still do.

And so he broke it off with me. Saying that he doesn’t feel the need to put in the extra effort to make this relationship work.

Er…sure you don’t…afterall, between school and WoW, where do I fit in? Trying to fit in weekday sex would be a stretch!

And so…we ended. After 2 weeks!

The problem here is…when emotions are involved…I find it hard to extract myself from this mess…

Even though I hate the both of them to the core (exaggerating a little here), I still care about them… A little. Alot. Depends…

Right now…I’m just trying to deal with this by physically separating myself from them. In the case of Y, it’s simple…since he’s 17.5 hours away by flight. But D… he’s gonna be such a easy hookup. And the worst part is BECAUSE he said that he doesn’t want to be physically involved anymore, I WANT to make sure we get physically involved at the next available opportunity…Just to spite him.

Sigh.

Lyrics and Glances.

He seemed like everything perfect. Great voice, nice eyes, tall, handsome, intellectual in the way I want it.

Problem is. I’m theoratically someone else’s. I’m a piece of marked property.

Right now, I just want to rant about how good it felt… How I wanted it to just go on and on and on… But no fucking way. All good things come to an end. Sleeping with him during RF, and then last night…

Oh God………………… I’m truly a most horrible person. It’s true, I’m fucking torn.

On Being In A Small Room

Being in a small room calms my heart and soothes my soul. A glance concludes almost as fast as it begins and it assures of the absence of space. Treasured trinkets litter the table top and academic books and other necessities add volume to the three bookshelves above which reminds me inkblot tests.

Lying in my supertwin bed, I feel comfort in the fact that there is simply no more space for a second person. The queen size blanket and me; we rule the roost here. Snuggling under the sheets, I indulge in the trapped air molecules and drift swiftly into sleep.

A small room is also convenient. Everything is within reach. Phone; check. Water; check. Seems like everything is in place.

Now I’m a large room. A room too large for my body and soul. Wishing for Mother’s hand to hold me the night, what I got instead was a single blanket for a queen sized bed. Barely wrapping my body, I twist and turn to find various comfortable positions. Funny how I almost never did that before.

A Gold-digger’s Tale

Am I a frivolous, pragmatic, materialistic bitch?

Perhaps I am.

Don’t know why he’s so concerned about his best friend coming here. So much so that he’s willing to spend extra money having french food. Don’t get me wrong, I love foie gras. Problem lies exactly here. I love foie gras, he knows it and he complains that he has no money and has no intention of bringing me there any time in the near future.

However, at the first call his friend gives him, he asks if I know of any french restaurants near town and suggests that we join his friend. Whom we shall call p.

Maybe I’m just jealous that p has the ability to bring his girlfriend to a french restaurant while my boyfriend is only capable of asking my to fork out the money at the chinese restaurant because they didn’t accept credit cards.

Strangely, at a very very deep place in my heart, I harbor some bitter resentment towards him. He is incapable of doing any great, has no plans for the future. Well he does have some plans. Which are well, in the extremely preliminary planning stage. I’m so frustrated.

On the other hand. He’s a wonderful companion. A rock for me to lean on when the water is choppy.

So. I have to work damn bloody hard to climb up the corporate ladder and provide for my own decadent needs.

The Last Lecture

As I was browsing through my usual dose of tmz, a piece of news stunned me.

The Carnegie-Mellon professor who gave motivational talks coined ‘The Last Lecture’ is dead.

Dead.

His death was not an unexpected one. However, the amazing strength and bravery that he has displayed conferred a certain kind of immortality upon him. At least, I believed that the more I read about him, the less likely he was going to die. It’s as though he’ll be one of those miracle patients who are given three months to live but ended up living for decades.

Well, seems like reality has triumphed after all. He is dead. He has died from pancreatic cancer.

I still remember one thing he said, don’t ask me about my wife because I haven’t figured out how to deal with that part yet.

I think about myself. What if I died without warning. What will happen to y? Will he be devastated? Or is a slow death better than a quick one? Because the slow death allows you to say goodbye…

Hard questions. But whatever it is, life is a gift. It just happens once. For all of us netizens, it is amazing that we can all gather at wordpress to share our joys and sorrows. And I’m glad that we did that. Don’t live with regrets and always follow your heart.

love

Summertime

I’ve returned to the Island for my three month break.

After holding out for a month, I couldn’t resist it anymore and dialed his number. The service provider informed me that the user was ‘unavailable’ and advised me to ‘try again’ later. As it turns out, he was taking a holiday in Vietnam. Or rather, fucking his way through Hanoi.

Even though he claimed later on that he did not do anything unbecoming in Vietnam, I find it hard to believe. For one, he is embarking on a quest to write a book on the escapades of men of the island in Vietnam, accounts of which is filled with lurid details and steamy sex scenes. According to him, his accounts are inspirations of the famed sforum which allows for exchanges of such experiences among men.

Indeed.

How can I bring myself to believe him after he revealed that at a point of our three year relationship, he was just using me for sex? His attitude, as it seemed, was that as long as he gets to fuck me, he’ll put up with anything.

Aye… Putting up with me was the vibe I received from him. His nonchalance. One word grunts. And claims of “I love you”s before urgently ripping my clothes off and burying himself in me.

However, we are sentient beings. How long can such a trend continue before it brings a toil upon all of us?

Perhaps it is the fact that I look down on him. The way he failed to play up to my expectations of a Renaissance man. Despite being equipped with the potential to be someone that I can truly admire, he is only a guy of island. A small town boy who pretends to be global by feeding me useless pieces of unsupported trivia. A homebody who’ll drop everything for his family but pretends that he only needs me.

He asked me, “is food and pleasure everything that we talk about?”

What else is there to talk about? Like how your family is obviously different from mine? A house of six holed up in a tiny house with its very own patriarch and matriarch reigning over everyone else and expecting me to kowtow to them as well?

Perhaps it’s also the way he looks completely stupid whenever he does anything. The stupid exaggerated grimace he gives or the quiver of fear he had when y called to harass me about my relationship with him. Incidentally, he is very good friends with y now, saying that she was there for him when he needed someone the most.

I’m currently in a difficult phase in my life. I have no idea what I’m doing or attempting to achieve. Sometimes I feel like dying but am scared back to life but the prospect of death. It’s a funny world, yes it is.