(no subject)
Part 1: Update
I got done with my exams about a week ago, I've been working everyday since; to try to save up some money for my trip back to Singapore. I leave tonight and I feel less excited than I did the last few times before. For once I feel like maybe Australia wasn't the worst thing to happen to me and for once I feel like me leaving means me leaving certain people and things behind. I wish now that I could go back later, or that I might not even go back if forced to choose. Its like, the more time I spend isolated from everything I have back home, the less I feel like I have to go home to. I can't give full credence to feeling this way to my silent or indifferent friends. There are those who've helped me through all of this, giving me courage, lending me support, telling me how much they look forward to my coming back. They make me feel loved, wanted and cared about. I would do the same for my friends who left, for those that mattered enough to me, so that leaves me wondering if I don't matter all that much to them.
But it isn't time for me to get hung up on this. I told myself that I would get better at this. This being all the things that hurt or upset me. This is where I take my reference point, for everything I write or say or want to express about myself here. That's what this blog is, you know? A safe-deposit-box for my thoughts. Somewhere I go to lock away happy memories, so that I might come back later to reminisce. Somewhere I go to lock away all the hurtful things, so that I might purge them and forget them over time. For people who come here and see this, I imagine them judging me and thinking that I am a tiny person made out of porcelain. Pale, fragile and delicate.
If being strong means never ever having an outlet to express yourself, then I guess I must not be strong. Even if whatever I write and where ever I write it all down is as remote as this little obscure blog that hardly anybody ever reads. Then I guess I must be wrong. I could say "but I am not like that in real life", and I am confident that people who know me would vouch for me. I've taken things in my stride, wrested control of my own life from unpredictable fate and inevitable doom. Whatever I wanted, I went out, worked hard and got it with my own two hands. If anything I would say my only fault would be being overly dramatic about all of it.
***
Part 2: Progress
I had a dream a couple of days back, the night my exams ended, before I fell asleep I was thinking "what did it feel like after my exams a year ago?". I thought about it and realised that then, I felt so anxious to come home. I wanted to finally be with the people I wanted to be with, kiss the girl that I loved, drink with my friends and feel like I mattered and that I wasn't forgotten. And in my dream I was able to confront all those people who'd forgotten about me, they were all standing around a room. Some kind of dinner party; some of them had champagne flutes in their hands, some of them were eating hoity-toity hors d'oeuvres (crackers with cheese and caviar) carried around on silver trays by waiters in cheap blazers and white gloves. Music was played by a simple string quartet. They were playing a surprisingly upbeat rendition of Portishead's Roads.
I was waiting outside the room and I was reading off of what I had written on a piece of paper, a script that I had penned hastily to address these people with. I scribbled down arguments, catchy phrases and quotable quotes and brought had brought them with me. A man came up to me and gave me a hand sign, gesturing me to come into the room to say what I had wanted to say. When I entered, people stopped doing whatever they were doing, the band started to pack up. They all started staring at me.
When I was sure that I had gotten everyone's attention, I took out my piece of crumpled paper speed read the first few lines and decided to tear it up instead. Then I started screaming at these people. "What the fuck's wrong with you!? Huh!? Why the fuck are you all so heartless!? Why do you not fucking care if I live or die!? I care about you, don't I!? I've been a good friend, haven't I? I've fucking been there for you, right!? Or are you trying to tell me that whatever we had meant nothing!? So why can't you do the same for me!?". I repeated myself over and over, screamed till my throat gave out, till I was sore from the effort.
Everyone stared on at me, looking disgusted, looking like I performed the most incredulously foul and/or lewd act on a baby goat and took pleasure in it too. I knew what they all thought, in my dream their thoughts were my thoughts. He's over-reacting, again and oh my god, why does he always lose his temper like that?, their faces told me that much anyway, I didn't even need that psychic link to figure it out. Though I was the one who was hurt, me reacting like that just made me look like the dick in the end.
I don't want to be the dick in this situation. How do I not be the dick in this situation? Swallow my pride, tell my friends that I want to see them even though they put in zero effort into maintaining any semblance of a relationship between themselves and me? Tell them the truth, tell them that it hurts without having to scream it at them? It feels like that's the only way I know how, or the only way I can make sure that it reaches them, that the louder the sound the more assured I am that it will travel the distance between Australia and Singapore.
I can't afford to be that screamy guy, that everyone looks at in disgust. The guy that ends up feeling like the big douche at the end of the night. I've been there before and it isn't the best feeling in the world. So, I have to be cool about it. Forget about the people that forget I exist or continue to be the one to mend bridges and try to let friends cross over seas so that I won't feel so immensely isolated. I am determined to build a causeway that dissects the Indian Ocean, spanning from a tiny island country to a monolithic continent. I'll do it all by myself even if I have to.
***
Part 3: Rebuilding
I am tempted to say something cheesy here like "work in progress" and leave it there. But I want to go back to Singapore and do it in person, face to face. So it really has to be seen, how well and how far this determination will go. I've got my tools out, I am ready.
Anyway, I have to say that I am not the best person at tying up loose ends. I'll be leaving Australia and in itself I'll be leaving certain aspects of my life unfinished. I'll be back in a month, and hopefully everything will be the way I left it when I get back.
Everything is so fuzzy in my head right now, I just need to go back and think things through properly. I'll be back in a short time, barely even a month, I said. I never thought I'd be the one leaving behind friends.
I got done with my exams about a week ago, I've been working everyday since; to try to save up some money for my trip back to Singapore. I leave tonight and I feel less excited than I did the last few times before. For once I feel like maybe Australia wasn't the worst thing to happen to me and for once I feel like me leaving means me leaving certain people and things behind. I wish now that I could go back later, or that I might not even go back if forced to choose. Its like, the more time I spend isolated from everything I have back home, the less I feel like I have to go home to. I can't give full credence to feeling this way to my silent or indifferent friends. There are those who've helped me through all of this, giving me courage, lending me support, telling me how much they look forward to my coming back. They make me feel loved, wanted and cared about. I would do the same for my friends who left, for those that mattered enough to me, so that leaves me wondering if I don't matter all that much to them.
But it isn't time for me to get hung up on this. I told myself that I would get better at this. This being all the things that hurt or upset me. This is where I take my reference point, for everything I write or say or want to express about myself here. That's what this blog is, you know? A safe-deposit-box for my thoughts. Somewhere I go to lock away happy memories, so that I might come back later to reminisce. Somewhere I go to lock away all the hurtful things, so that I might purge them and forget them over time. For people who come here and see this, I imagine them judging me and thinking that I am a tiny person made out of porcelain. Pale, fragile and delicate.
If being strong means never ever having an outlet to express yourself, then I guess I must not be strong. Even if whatever I write and where ever I write it all down is as remote as this little obscure blog that hardly anybody ever reads. Then I guess I must be wrong. I could say "but I am not like that in real life", and I am confident that people who know me would vouch for me. I've taken things in my stride, wrested control of my own life from unpredictable fate and inevitable doom. Whatever I wanted, I went out, worked hard and got it with my own two hands. If anything I would say my only fault would be being overly dramatic about all of it.
***
Part 2: Progress
I had a dream a couple of days back, the night my exams ended, before I fell asleep I was thinking "what did it feel like after my exams a year ago?". I thought about it and realised that then, I felt so anxious to come home. I wanted to finally be with the people I wanted to be with, kiss the girl that I loved, drink with my friends and feel like I mattered and that I wasn't forgotten. And in my dream I was able to confront all those people who'd forgotten about me, they were all standing around a room. Some kind of dinner party; some of them had champagne flutes in their hands, some of them were eating hoity-toity hors d'oeuvres (crackers with cheese and caviar) carried around on silver trays by waiters in cheap blazers and white gloves. Music was played by a simple string quartet. They were playing a surprisingly upbeat rendition of Portishead's Roads.
I was waiting outside the room and I was reading off of what I had written on a piece of paper, a script that I had penned hastily to address these people with. I scribbled down arguments, catchy phrases and quotable quotes and brought had brought them with me. A man came up to me and gave me a hand sign, gesturing me to come into the room to say what I had wanted to say. When I entered, people stopped doing whatever they were doing, the band started to pack up. They all started staring at me.
When I was sure that I had gotten everyone's attention, I took out my piece of crumpled paper speed read the first few lines and decided to tear it up instead. Then I started screaming at these people. "What the fuck's wrong with you!? Huh!? Why the fuck are you all so heartless!? Why do you not fucking care if I live or die!? I care about you, don't I!? I've been a good friend, haven't I? I've fucking been there for you, right!? Or are you trying to tell me that whatever we had meant nothing!? So why can't you do the same for me!?". I repeated myself over and over, screamed till my throat gave out, till I was sore from the effort.
Everyone stared on at me, looking disgusted, looking like I performed the most incredulously foul and/or lewd act on a baby goat and took pleasure in it too. I knew what they all thought, in my dream their thoughts were my thoughts. He's over-reacting, again and oh my god, why does he always lose his temper like that?, their faces told me that much anyway, I didn't even need that psychic link to figure it out. Though I was the one who was hurt, me reacting like that just made me look like the dick in the end.
I don't want to be the dick in this situation. How do I not be the dick in this situation? Swallow my pride, tell my friends that I want to see them even though they put in zero effort into maintaining any semblance of a relationship between themselves and me? Tell them the truth, tell them that it hurts without having to scream it at them? It feels like that's the only way I know how, or the only way I can make sure that it reaches them, that the louder the sound the more assured I am that it will travel the distance between Australia and Singapore.
I can't afford to be that screamy guy, that everyone looks at in disgust. The guy that ends up feeling like the big douche at the end of the night. I've been there before and it isn't the best feeling in the world. So, I have to be cool about it. Forget about the people that forget I exist or continue to be the one to mend bridges and try to let friends cross over seas so that I won't feel so immensely isolated. I am determined to build a causeway that dissects the Indian Ocean, spanning from a tiny island country to a monolithic continent. I'll do it all by myself even if I have to.
***
Part 3: Rebuilding
I am tempted to say something cheesy here like "work in progress" and leave it there. But I want to go back to Singapore and do it in person, face to face. So it really has to be seen, how well and how far this determination will go. I've got my tools out, I am ready.
Anyway, I have to say that I am not the best person at tying up loose ends. I'll be leaving Australia and in itself I'll be leaving certain aspects of my life unfinished. I'll be back in a month, and hopefully everything will be the way I left it when I get back.
Everything is so fuzzy in my head right now, I just need to go back and think things through properly. I'll be back in a short time, barely even a month, I said. I never thought I'd be the one leaving behind friends.