Sunday, November 11, 2007

Forgotten Bliss

I've reached a point where I look at you and I have trouble mustering forth the emotions that used to gush through every fibre of my being; where I look at your number and I have difficulty wanting to answer or read your messages; where i read the words you write and I feel like I'm a third party - I'm no longer part of the two.

So I asked you, what about all the reasons you gave me? Are they still there? Are you really sure of what you want?
Do you really want to be with me?
Why didn't you answer?

No, I don't accept "I was too hasty, I was under a lot of strain, I'm messed up". And for goodness sake, stop saying you'll pray about it and seek answers. God's not going to appear in your dreams and tell you that yes you do want to be with me.

Don't make me fall if you're not prepared to catch me.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Do it to me one more time..

What's worse? New wounds which are so horribly painful or old wounds that should have healed years ago but never really did?
Maybe old wounds teach us something. They remind us where we've been and what we've overcome (at least tried to). They teach us lessons about what to avoid in the future. That's what we would like to think right?
Some things we just have to learn over and over and over again.

I look at my previous post and I wonder.. I'm amazed at how much a single month can change you completely. From sweet kisses and delirium to awkward limbo to psychics to ovarian cysts to emails that crush you to madcap online dating to the final most painful of all, history repeating itself, an attack.

All you can think about right now is WHY? God damnit, why me? Why again? Does God or fate or whoever really enjoy cutting me up over and over?

And so now I'm moving in slow motion - and everything around me is just moving so fast and you want to go back to when things were well.. not quite normal but not like this. But I can't and I'm stuck. And there's all this pressure (from police to aunt to mother to brother to sister), hovering around waiting for me to do something. Sab's waiting for me to be angry - to be fiery. Dom's waiting for me to start studying and preparing for exams. Aunt's waiting for me to be strong and fight. Mother's waiting for me to show that I'm a tough cookie - to go back to work and to stop staring at the wall, to snap out of it. Bryan's waiting to get back with me. Everyone's waiting. Everyone's got their own agenda. And I'm happy to play my part. I'm happy to say the lines and do whatever I'm supposed to be doing if it makes everyone feel more comfortable.

But I can't be this person. I don't even know who this person is. And you just wish you could bleed just to know if that old you is somewhere in this shell.