Now that I am rid of the disease and my karma for the month, I can think clearly again. This weekend was spent lying through late nights with lots of weird tension and no moves. Not so cute. At some point, I simply couldn't concentrate my vision enough to even look at the words on the screen because my mind couldn't get past the idea of my life and how I screw around with it. I think the first step is to stop painting myself in a bad light, and the second is to actually change my ways. It's harder than you'd think. I've lived like an explosive teen for too long. It's high time I've learnt that at the rate I'm going, I will (probably) regret doing something more than I'd regret not doing it. Two things come to mind. The first time I actually said no to something exciting I questioned myself, but I know that in the long run it's more strategic. Walking away last night was not hard (lol). It's fucked up but I don't feel guilty so much as I feel annoyed and suspicious. Which makes no sense. It's really true that I just need some thing (read: person) to obsess about because quite frankly, most of the first week's thoughts have strangely disappeared. On that note: god you're a fucking bitch. Moving on. This paranoia is not unfounded, I know. It's what I spoke of before - about how feelings never seem to be real and that boys simply wish to conquer and possess me as some sick proof of their manhood. Of course with all these hours spent talking cock and chasing the wind, I'd like to think that somewhere, no matter how fleeting, that some part of that connection and that jealousy is real and is true.. but I know better I guess.I heard you found out
that he's doing to you what you did to me
ain't that the way it goes?
Finally, we are at the end of the first week in our winter wonderland - cooking Asian food, endless grocery shopping, bitching about randoms, rolling around in the white blankets of snow and making snowmen in the front yard, both sober and semi-drunk. Honestly, it's felt like a holiday so far and I'm happy to say that I feel like I have actually integrated fairly well, having spent most of our nights getting to know each other while the falling snow covers our tracks. Having said that, when I'm alone, my mind has been wrought with thoughts of my future and the person I am supposed to be. Rolling around in this tiny bed 7000 miles away thinking, why am I always such a mess. The worst cramps as punishment for this month's debauchery. Who even comes up with things like pink vodka anyway? I feel like a psychotic person. Three hundred things to run from and absolutely nowhere to go. The problem with my life is that I never think of the consequences. Not the awkward morning-after consequences because it's always never that awkward but kind of is but not really anyway. What I never consider are the ones that stay with you for like, ever. For example, things that happen in Singapore should just stay there, which is of course impossible because the world is just too fucking small. I can't deal. I just can't. I want to grow and be better but I don't know how or where to start or even where to stop.
Greetings from Birmingham city, the most random place in the history of the world. New beginnings lead to a new life.. yes? I wonder. This journey is not so much supposed to be one of self-discovery, but more like getting my act together ie to stop kissing chinese boys. Mission accomplished so far, though it has only been like two days. I remember the last morning in the place I call home - waking up in the syrupy afterglow of the night's sweet shenanigans and thinking: fuck I wish you were here with me. I remember because I actually reached over expecting the warmth of your body as I have done so many times recently. But of course since the return of your significant other, things changed between us. Also, I needed to spend that time with more important people who would spend the night stroking my hair, helping me and you know, who actually love me. I want to believe that because of the situation, the distancing was necessary for both of us (me because of how I feel and you because you never want to deal with how I feel) but I don't know anymore #bitter. Whatever it is, I am surprised to say that a billion miles away, I am thinking about it and you. Other than that, things have been semi-exciting what with the cooking and the meeting new people and the cold and what not. Although I almost feel like I haven't had enough alone time, save for this morning's pocket with Everything was Illuminated and prawn dumplings. I sure hope that I wasn't too quick to say that. I just think it would be nice if it were you and me and prawn dumplings.
I don't really know where to begin since I've been missing from this space for ever now. Seoul was a truly amazing experience but that's a different post for a different night. I rang out 2012 by letting go of all the horrible things of yesteryear. He simply doesn't exist anymore. Anything that involves him is automatically blacked out, because it simply isn't important enough. This is the last of any proof that he has ever existed from now on. And the other one, well. One doesn't stop caring about someone because of a little disappointment. Over the years, I've built you up in my head to be this magnificent person who was wise and matured and great. And I don't doubt that you can be that, darling, and I'm not mad for the way that you acted. I just don't want to be part of whatever semi-incestuous crap you're trying to pull. I just want you to be happy. 2013 for me began in a downright mess. I had intended for this post to be a sentimental one about my one and only but thinking about everything fucked up made me realize I don't want to taint my infatuation with this cynicism. Since december, one two three four five mistakes and three hundred excuses. I was in a blind rage. I didn't know he has a girlfriend. It's nothing serious. If he doesn't care that he has a girlfriend, why should I. I was really drunk. For the first time in years, I actually really feel that my life is spinning out of control. It's not misplaced affection, I just wanna have fun and I think everybody takes things too seriously. Because if no one takes their relationships seriously (and evidently, no one does), why should I or anyone else? If you don't feel guilty, why should I? I don't know where your misplaced affection stems from, but you had the most surprising confession of all. I'm not naive enough to believe and hang on your every word, but I guess it was nice to hear someone I've always sort of had a thing for ish I guess whisper dangerously sweet nothings. And then some. Society dictates that I should feel terrible, but my question is: do you? Because let's review the situation here. I have nothing to lose here, I'm a free fucking agent. And yet, apparently because my reputation precedes me (cue eye-roll), I'm sure it'll end up being my fault somehow. Anyway, I'm not stupid. Sadly, I am simply, and have always been, just a prize for you to fight for. When these jealous eyes and mouths appear, I know they're not fighting for me but over me. And if whoever is reading this and thinking, well that's fucked up, let me tell you that it's not. Because every fucking person is like this. I'm not being cynical or jaded, this is just the fucking truth.
