I wish I could

get into your heart

and take away

the pain.

Advertisements

School’s out for summer

School’s out for summer. I feel like I’ve just graduated all over again, and I’m not even studying. I think I win, 2017. You’ve been an absolute bitchass fucking asshole, and so have I, but you’ve also had your ever so radiant moments. Thanks for the snow, thanks forevermore for Andy, thanks for Nicole, thanks for Narelle, thanks for the blankets of love during my darkest times and most importantly thanks for showing me so many other different forms of love I wasn’t even aware of.

There were two key moments of my year. The first one was when I found out my mother had breast cancer, and the second one was when I sent out my desperate plea requesting ideas for joy on Facebook. How final things felt. How in that moment of time, it was the end, that’s it, don’t bother. Nothing else mattered. Why am I still breathing? Someone just come up from behind me and slit my throat now. Please. There were a number of dark moments littered throughout the year but in hindsight they were only repercussions of the above two sources.

But I’m more than pleased, understatedly ecstatic actually, to be able to inform, that she is recovering well, and I am too. We are both making fantastic progress.

I have so many people to thank. I am so so fucking grateful to have met these people. I am currently alive because of these people. I don’t understand why they’re in my life, I don’t understand how some have managed to stay for this long. 10 years. A decade. A tenth of a century. But I’ve never felt worthy. Maybe it’s time to just go with it? I’ve got to be doing something right, right?

Just be yourself, chan. You can be fun and interesting too. And kind and considerate. And patient. And innocently badass. Maybe not so innocent. Would you like to find out more? 😉

You’re enough, just as you are.

Remember to be kind to yourself as you are to others. You fucking gush over others every chance you get, even without alcohol in your system.

Being kind to yourself will also allow you to be kinder to your loved ones when your shadow comes out, when it takes over, because you know it projects – it projects with fury and shits on the people you love most, the same fucking way your mother does, even when you know you don’t mean it but somehow it’s happening and you can’t stop it.

Like a fucking supernova that wipes out everything in her path and then implodes.

Be kind to yourself, chan.

In a way that is sensible, forward-thinking (planning), healthy-adult-stringing-a-bratty-child-who-needs-negotiating kind of way. Find healthier forms of fun, of indulgence. Your future self will not only thank you, but kick more butt.

Uh, 6-pack?

Do it for you. Do it for him.

Here’s to a calmer, healthier 2018.

My world is not of this realm

Currently playing: It’s Hard to Speak Without a Tongue, Parkway Drive (piano cover)

For my entire life, almost 30 years, I’ve felt detached, disjointed, disbarred from the places, the people and the situations around me.

Like a ghost, floating by on the sidelines, feeling nothing but the emptiness of death. Like vapour, desperately trying to cling on, to keep up, to observe, to learn, to hope to one day catch up with everyone’s natural social graces. I have the intelligence to do so, surely.

I’ve never been able to.

My developmental years were spent ignored, overprotected yet neglected, freak-ified, pushed too hard, because I’ve never had a voice. I was a sick child, I was never meant to have one. My voice was always overridden by hers. In the name of love. She was my fucking voice no matter how hard I tried to make my own. But she protected me well. She gave me food, shelter, a good education, merciless rules of virtue, comfortable, hypoallergenic clothes and surroundings, the knowledge of music, protection from the cruel gazes and comments from strangers, and most of all, expensive treatment for my lifelong illness. I am so grateful. I will forever be grateful to an extent. But I needed certain things to survive the emotional trauma that came with the dictatorship, the shitting-on because I was never good enough – my illness, my intelligence, my academic capability, my musical prowess, my capacity to find love because of my illness. It was especially difficult when the dictator, in hindsight, was very unwell, plagued with anxiety and depression and a sprinkle of narcissism, and could only cope by trying to control those she loved. She still denies it when there is so much undeniable evidence. I’m so scared to become like her, in some ways I think it’s happening. I am fucking terrified.

She tried to take away from me the crucial things I needed to survive during those years. The years of utter darkness, despair, almost a decade of daily suffering – both physical and emotional daily suffering. We had maths tutoring every second day, even though I was one of the top students in the fucking year. She would come home angry, completely frustrated from work and force me to learn maths for the grade above, telling me my A’s on my report card were laughable because they were not the same level of maths as the local schools in HK/Singapore (yet funnily enough was completely adequate for British schools across the globe). I had vocally questioned at the age of 13 whether it was condusive for her to teach me after work and me to learn from her in such a conflicting, stress-filled environment. Surely the A’s were enough, it wasn’t a bad school either, surely the cost of our ‘private tutoring’ was greater to our relationship than any math-related gain I would have in the future.

The tutoring went on for years.

I have so much trouble, then and now, trying to forgive her for it.

I just needed a friend that understood. I just needed some music that allowed the release of the debilitating rage of the unfairness of it all, the illness, the confusion of why aren’t I good enough when I’m getting top grades?, the utter despair, the hopelessless for the future, the godless life I’ve had to come to terms with despite being brought up within a devoted Catholic household. I just needed to release the poison that was brewing, stewing, in every single minute of my existence. The poison was consuming me. Why did you deny even such small requests, especially when such large demands were made? Were you really that ill-equipped?

I was a good child. I was fucking clever, caring, cute, sweet, kind, diligent, smart, musical, opinionated, creative, curious, considerate, maybe even overly considerate because I knew and still know what it’s like to feel bad and unworthy.

There’s a part of me that wants you to know exactly how much fucking PAIN you have caused me, how much trauma, how the train-track incident was actually triggered by you. How you’re a fucking large part of my depression, how you contribute to my will to die. You’ve previously commented about how I don’t seem to have many fond memories of you, and it surprised me that you were surprised by that. I often think you should have aborted me on your damn honeymoon because it really feels like it’s not fucking worth it in the long run. You and he should have known better. But that’s still so unfair for me to say: how could you have known? You’ve suffered a lot too, and I am very sorry that you had to go through all of that Bullshit because of me.

My baggage is infesting every relationship I have, especially the ones I hold dearest. I have an underlying ethos that I’m never good enough and it makes me push people away to save me from wasting their time. I can’t shake it off. I’ve tried so damn fucking excruciatingly hard to shake it off, to see myself as worthy.

Help.

I hated you so much at one point. I took the first opportunity to get the fuck away from you when I could. I have learnt to calm it to Indifference and try build things back up and just go with the mandatory reports every weekend.

But this year. With your cancer.

And hers too.

It’s too much.

I’m so broken. I really don’t know how to fix me, let alone support you.

I just want to disappear, let Sir D take me away. I fantasise about the friendship He and I could have away from this world.

If I could Obliviate, I wouldn’t hesitate.

They are just visitors

Anger, sadness, resentment, red hot, blinding, scathing, annihilating fucking rage.

I earned these emotions and it’s okay to feel them.

But just know they will go just as they came.

It will be okay. I am not defined or controlled by my emotions. I can manage them healthily because I am the knower of them. I am not them.

Move, create, write, unleash an ungodly growl if you want to.

Give yourself permission to feel the ‘bad’ emotions so they can be let out. You’ve buried them for far too long.

Hoping for the spirals to be less frequent and less intense.

Figure out who you are. Figure out the different personas you have. Love them all the same, like they’re your children. Then you can figure out if your interactions are leading to the person you want to be.

Healthy detachment. Mirror talk. Not my business, not yours either 🙂

There’s something about watching

There’s something about watching

the world go by.

Even a small world,

of one street that curves,

broken by a pedestrian strip

Streetlamps littered along the way

Casting anti-shadows

Taxis waiting earnestly for their

first passengers of the night

Pink and purple shades have dimmed

Fairy lights seemingly floating on the top of the building adjacent

Fireflies of the urban playground.

Waves of tourists march by

Curious, anticipating, filled with wonder

Individuals

Waiting on the street corner

Waiting by the red telephone booth

Waiting alone at the table

Looking hopeful, somewhat anxiously at their phones

A date maybe, they’ve yet to arrive

Anxious to be seen alone, by themselves

Everyone’s looking at their goddamn phones actually

So who cares?

– dudette with a fraying hat

Friday night

City lights, smiles bright, everyone’s out for a good Friday night.

Sandstone walls, tiled halls, all in the name of l’amour.

Strolling through, weekend’s due, time to paint this town

Red

-anonymous with a fraying hat

Everytime it rains

Clouds of insecurity obscure me Assure me

The mist of desperation

Dripping down my skin

The crushing storm will break me

And take me from this state I’m in

Everytime the rain comes calling

I can’t stop myself from falling

Into the darkness, into the madness

Of a world devoid of fear and pain

Everytime it rains

The waves of isolation crash around me

Around me

The loneliness of silence echoes in my brain

With shore in sight I’m under

And wonder why I fought in vain

Everytime the rain comes calling

I can’t stop myself from falling

Into the darkness, into the madness

Of a world devoid of fear and pain

Everytime it rains

https://m.soundcloud.com/fahd-mohamed-3/primal-fear-feat-simone-simons