Oh how I try, to be just okay

As I was scrolling through Facebook I noticed someone shared a Rachael Yamagata song and it reminded me of my favorite song of hers. Be be your love.

Want to be your everything. Everything. 

Everything is falling and I'm included inside. 

Call it true

Tell me you love me, if you don't then lie, lie to me. 

Listening to Coldplay's ghost stories can be quite depressing. Magic is still my favorite, but True love latched on my mind with it's lyrics. 

Felt so much better after telling odelia how I feel. She always gives me the advice I know I should heed. She knows my problems and my worries and she tries to help me to walk through it and I'm very grateful for that:) 

I guess we thought that's just what humans do

I was having lunch with a colleague today and she told me about her boyfriend, how they've dated for 3 years and the problems they have gone through over the years. They are both from different countries, totally different native language but they both spoke English. She told me how she has caught him with countless woman before, I ask how would she know when she's in Singapore and him being in Korea, she say she just know, intuition. She would confront him and quarrel over it. I don't get what she is trying to say sometimes but I can guess the rough idea and point she's trying to being across even at times she didn't have the word for it. She said that men like that, players, they will want a faithful woman, loyal to the end, one who will always forgive him for his mistakes and never leave his side. She said nobody is perfect and that's the only flaw she sees in him and she can tolerate it to the end because she believes that to be the last woman in his life, she has to stay with him to the end and continuously forgive him and accept his mistakes. I'm slightly shocked but I surprisingly understand her point of view. I've heard my crazy share of stories so maybe this is why I don't find it ridiculous. Or maybe it's because I am not close enough to her to feel for her. I realized that there is no one type of love, or obsession or whatever you call it. Nothing is right or wrong, just because it's not love to me it doesn't mean it isn't love to others and how would that affect my definition of love or life anyway. Over the years, I've seen love repulsive, cheapened and degrading but I've seen love that is strong and quiet, love that is true, giving and faithful. There are so many people in the world, so many love stories. Someone once told me everyone would have a different story, a different ending and no one would end like how others would so why wouldn't I try. I still see it in my way. If it ends, it ends. No matter how many happy moment and love, everything has come to naught. Even with the lessons learnt and the memories gained, everything has come to nothing. I don't enjoy processes, I want good endings. I don't need to be whisked away to a castle on a horse with the prince. I just need it to be simple, loving and lasting. 

I think sometimes when people ask me for advice, they already know the answer.  They ask me, even when I'm void of experience, practical and realistic, I don't get it why. I am not saying I'm right, I just don't get why they bother asking me then. Actually I don't like listening to people problems. They make me sad in ways that I could never be repaired, they make me scared and afraid of taking a step because of how I might end up. People like to say how I wouldn't be like this when I'm in love, I wouldn't be clear headed and logical but I know I can. Because how can I not when I've seen how hurt other people get, how they slowly lose their innocence and faith. And the worst thing is I would never know because I would never be able to make a decision purely on my own, everything I think and do has been influenced by what I've listened and see others gone through, I would never be able to not doubt what others say, I would always be skeptical and disbelieving. All this for nothing I've physically gone through, isn't that in some way equally pitiable. 

Are you sad Jocelyn?

Recently I wrote Lynette her birthday letter. Told her all the jumbled up thoughts in my mind. Write so many times how sad I am, how sad i feel sometimes. There are days I doubt that. I function normally, I eat, I smile, I sleep and I do what normal people does. Murakami books remind me of how one can be functioning normally. "Going bad", not like an apple or tomato whereby I rot physically. But you grow bad over time, some thing eats at you inside and you can't help but be absorbed by the holes in your heart. I am so sad, so sad. I chant repeatedly at some night hugging my pillow tighter but at the same time I am not. I am only selectively sad. I am only half sad. I'm only part time sad. I know that's normal. Nobody just wakes up one day and declare he can't bother to live anymore. He slowly gives up living, but by bit everyday. I wonder what eats at the pieces of my heart. Besides the sadness I hear, besides the sadness I see happening around me. There must be some other thing in me, some thing that can be removed. Then maybe I will feel less punctured, i will feel like there is meaning, I will feel that there is hope. Are you happy? No. Sad? Yes. Why? I'm just sad. 

Maybe we don't need that. We don't need someone who understands our pain, our hurt, our sadness and our regrets. Maybe we need someone who badly wants us to be there, so we have a reason to look at our reflection and see why living is not only for ourselves, but for the people we care more about than our pain. Maybe this is why everyone continues living. Office, 9 am, work work work, lunch, work work work, finish work, dinner, -, sleeps. 24 hours a day. Some people spend it fully involved in realizing their dreams, someone out there working on the next technology product that will change your lifestyle. Some spend it watching videos, letting their mind be engaged by action while staying inactive. Some go out, start running and climbing mountains. Some fill their hours meeting someone who would similarly fill their hours in company, talking, listening, lack of listening, quarreling, crying and hurting. Some, think about all the action, all that could happen at once and wonder which would be a wiser choice without thinking how regardless of what one chose in the end, one would have lost the time spent on choosing, on waiting and on blind belief that what is yours is yours. I've seen how some people steal things, right under the noses of the owners, so self righteous and fighting with demons only in spare hours left alone to their thoughts, the thrill and glamour and declaration all enclosing what happened and what did not happen. You know how there was a lady Rosalyn before Romeo met Juliet? You know how in a seemingly smooth political  rally there are writers and analysts behind the scenes planning each step, the words, the color of the ties, the pace. Everything is and could possibly be orchestrated. This is why everything has value. And why even when a beautifully wrapped gift is right in front of you, you don't unwrap it, you wait and unwrap it when it has the most value. Don't cheapen it, don't cheapen yourself. What is yours is never yours, don't realize it only after you lose it. 

Kernes keep

I'm so tired but I don't know why I can't peel myself out of the sofa to wash up and go to bed. My eyes hurt from scrolling aimlessly around web pages/Instagram/tumblr. I tell myself mentally to put the phone down but I can't. I don't want to sleep. I don't want to leave my spot. I don't want to not look our and see some apartment lights lit, some dark and rested, the night sky without stars and the comfort of tall trees. Some trees grow so tall, few storeys high, towering over the shrubs and other probably less vertically blessed trees. They may not be older, they may not be bigger and have larger fans and stronger branches but they are so tall, reaching out higher, as if being a little closer to the skies would give them what they need. I suddenly thought of the missing plane and the Korea ferry incident, how the news have barely spoken about the progress recently, how the spotlight has shifted. But the pain remains, the horror and the hurt and the cries, can you imagine these being constantly replayed in the families of the victims. The unaffected ones moving on with their lives, sucked into their own problems and mildly concerned with other current news. Do people care?  Do people ever care for anyone but themselves? 

Do you wonder why people have candlelight dinners? 

I've never had one but I do wonder. Does the food taste better because you would taste better with your visuals dimmed? Maybe it's not about the food. Food had always been an excuse for people to meet, as if you need a reason to sit down to have a proper conversation. Maybe it's looking at each other over the flickering flame, seeing instead of merely looking. Or maybe it's the atmosphere, the occasion, the celebration. But then I guess it's the person you are dining with. Isn't that mostly the reason, love. If love could be the reason, why is it not the answer? 

Ok breathe don't stress

I don't know why I choose to put myself in uncomfortable positions even when I reminded myself not to the previous time I'm in it. Sighhh 

H

I'm sorry, I think it takes more than words to let a person know how much you appreciate them. Sometimes words can mean so much to you but to the person receiving it, it's just words,letters out together nicely to spell out your half thought through intentions. 

To what point do I stop doing what I hate so I can continue being healthy inside my head

I'm trying to not notice how I'm not absorbing all these information. Letting the words skipped past the rows and rows. Words, lines and lines of explanation with nothing making any sense. I give up re-reading, going back to paragraphs before,checking on the title to see what I'm actually reading about, flipping to see how many pages I have left. I am trying not to let the panic rise up, trying not to let it get to my head, trying not to let it increase the growing doubt I have. Times like these I feel so dark. I feel so upset I have to study something I am not interested in, feel so upset that I am not interested in what I'm studying, feel so upset that I am not good at what I'm studying and I feel so tried and doing average or poorly for each module and looking at it as if it's a benchmark for my intelligence. Sometimes I wonder why am I given such opportunities when all I am is a mess who has been failing to put herself together for years. I am not even going to try to talk about passion and interests. Nothing lasts. And after all, if results is all that matters, everything would eventually give in to the numbers and the skinny alphabets I'm obsessed about. 

To what point do I stop doing what I hate so I can continue being healthy inside my head

I'm trying to not notice how I'm not absorbing all these information. Letting the words skipped past the rows and rows. Words, lines and lines of explanation with nothing making any sense. I give up re-reading, going back to paragraphs before,checking on the title to see what I'm actually reading about, flipping to see how many pages I have left. I am trying not to let the panic rise up, trying not to let it get to my head, trying not to let it increase the growing doubt I have. Times like these I feel so dark. I feel so upset I have to study something I am not interested in, feel so upset that I am not interested in what I'm studying, feel so upset that I am not good at what I'm studying and I feel so tried and doing average or poorly for each module and looking at it as if it's a benchmark for my intelligence. Sometimes I wonder why am I given such opportunities when all I am is a mess who has been failing to put herself together for years. I am not even going to try to talk about passion and interests. Nothing lasts. And after all, if results is all that matters, everything would eventually give in to the numbers and the skinny alphabets I'm obsessed about. 

Ig

It's worth it. I need to constantly remind myself everything I have to do despite my unwillingness to do it is worth doing.