26.5.06
phone is not my friend.
first of all, HAPPY B'DAY TO NI!
today is one of those days where you ponder if you should sit there waiting for a call, or throw the phone away so you are not allowed to be expecting calls from anybody, because your hope seems to cling on a little longer.
i may put my phone on silent just to avoid this conflict. and avoid the phone. "i did not hear it". and see what happens...but i'll be sad if the person i am hoping for a call from never calls back, or has found someone more willing.
i will be upset.
which brings me: would you rather them never calling you so you never have to know and slowly the whole thing drifts away from your memory, or would you prefer to be told "no" and to be allowed to let go of it?
i have a tendency to cling onto anything and not let go until i am told to. a bit like a pitbull (what an analogy). so criticisms, pointing out my faults, telling me i am wrong, goes deep into the bone at this current stage.
reminder: it's not about me.
had a weird dream.
a friend from primary school appeared and locked me in the bathroom and stabbed me through the arteries in my limbs. i cried and stood there, afraid of moving. she thought it was a fun game, and she ran a bath, and i undressed and stepped in. the bath went red. i close my eyes and waited to die.
i open my eyes. someone is moving me. the red water was gone, and someone kneeled behind me outside the bathtub, sponging me down, with fresh warm ankle-deep water. eyelids went heavy...
i open my eyes again to the bathtub fullof clear cool water. leaden, i drag myself out of the bathtub and put on a towel robe. i stopped bleeding. i walk to my dad's room, knock on the door.
everything around me was grey, and full of looming shadows - my old house.
i walk in and sit at the corner of the bed and asked why people do mean things to me, why i let bad things happen to me. i wanted answers, and he seemed to have them...
he is frail and sits up to explain to me that life is just a cycle, that life is just chains of interlocking cycles and this is the past, not present. he told me not to be scared of the girl because she will never come back again. my wounds started to bleed uncontrollably again.
he doesn't seem to realise what had just happened. i explain to him that they physically stabbed me, and i could be in real danger. i could die. he smiled and said nothing.
flashback: a frail figure entering the bathroom doorway and unplugs the tub of water.
i ask him if he was the one sponging me down and stop me from bleeding. he asks me to pass him a book, and shows me a map of places that do not exist...
i woke up. 3:30am. ken's bed. i woke up to my inner child weeping with blood-stained hands, hiding in a cave in the darkest areas of my mind. i didn't quite know why.
i used to go into dad's room when i was little, while he was napping and ask him for solutions to my problems. in early high school, i would write to him when he was overseas, and he would send cassette tapes back. but we stopped when i stopped talking to him.
sometimes i wonder how many times he had secretly come and saved me from my own demons and cushioned many falls through those times and i just never realised...
i feel like i'm in that dream again, bleeding, naive, helpless and frozen. overwhelmed. i don't know what to do. he's not here to save me anymore...
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today is one of those days where you ponder if you should sit there waiting for a call, or throw the phone away so you are not allowed to be expecting calls from anybody, because your hope seems to cling on a little longer.
i may put my phone on silent just to avoid this conflict. and avoid the phone. "i did not hear it". and see what happens...but i'll be sad if the person i am hoping for a call from never calls back, or has found someone more willing.
i will be upset.
which brings me: would you rather them never calling you so you never have to know and slowly the whole thing drifts away from your memory, or would you prefer to be told "no" and to be allowed to let go of it?
i have a tendency to cling onto anything and not let go until i am told to. a bit like a pitbull (what an analogy). so criticisms, pointing out my faults, telling me i am wrong, goes deep into the bone at this current stage.
reminder: it's not about me.
had a weird dream.
a friend from primary school appeared and locked me in the bathroom and stabbed me through the arteries in my limbs. i cried and stood there, afraid of moving. she thought it was a fun game, and she ran a bath, and i undressed and stepped in. the bath went red. i close my eyes and waited to die.
i open my eyes. someone is moving me. the red water was gone, and someone kneeled behind me outside the bathtub, sponging me down, with fresh warm ankle-deep water. eyelids went heavy...
i open my eyes again to the bathtub fullof clear cool water. leaden, i drag myself out of the bathtub and put on a towel robe. i stopped bleeding. i walk to my dad's room, knock on the door.
everything around me was grey, and full of looming shadows - my old house.
i walk in and sit at the corner of the bed and asked why people do mean things to me, why i let bad things happen to me. i wanted answers, and he seemed to have them...
he is frail and sits up to explain to me that life is just a cycle, that life is just chains of interlocking cycles and this is the past, not present. he told me not to be scared of the girl because she will never come back again. my wounds started to bleed uncontrollably again.
he doesn't seem to realise what had just happened. i explain to him that they physically stabbed me, and i could be in real danger. i could die. he smiled and said nothing.
flashback: a frail figure entering the bathroom doorway and unplugs the tub of water.
i ask him if he was the one sponging me down and stop me from bleeding. he asks me to pass him a book, and shows me a map of places that do not exist...
i woke up. 3:30am. ken's bed. i woke up to my inner child weeping with blood-stained hands, hiding in a cave in the darkest areas of my mind. i didn't quite know why.
i used to go into dad's room when i was little, while he was napping and ask him for solutions to my problems. in early high school, i would write to him when he was overseas, and he would send cassette tapes back. but we stopped when i stopped talking to him.
sometimes i wonder how many times he had secretly come and saved me from my own demons and cushioned many falls through those times and i just never realised...
i feel like i'm in that dream again, bleeding, naive, helpless and frozen. overwhelmed. i don't know what to do. he's not here to save me anymore...
Post a Comment