// I write you read but don't expect much

Sunday, June 17, 2012

为何会对C心动呢？
可能是因为已经很久没有人那么关心我了。

the boy with a dead heart. posted at | 3:57 PM |
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
It is what it is.

Life as of now has been what it always was. And I should be thankful for that. School's out. Graduation is up next. Followed by a new chapter in my life - but that will be another entry for another time.

I never have been a person whom believe that music or lyrics will be able to influence one in their behaviour, determination or mentality. In fact, I often have much skepticism - and will practise much internal eye rolling - when ever I hear people go, "XXX's song inspired me to blah blah blah." Yet of late, there has actually been a deviation from this stance. Events arising from the recent school semester, amalgamated with the usual shits have actually saw me drawing strengths from two songs -and not much from my limited friends (to be subsequently mentioned)-, namely Mariah's Through the Rain & Whitney's I didn't know my own strength. Perhaps as one age, he will find solace from different sources. I was not built to break. Indeed, I am not.

And this brings this to my next point - my limited (number) of friends. Being one who bends more towards the introverted sphere, together with that potty mouth, my circle of friends has often been limited to those few; namely the MPs & the Chers. But for what it is worth, I have always believed that quality supersede quantity. For that reason, I have never really made an attempt to actively socialize or form friendship(s). With the two aforementioned groups, it was circumstances that brought them closer to me, or me closer to them. Either or. Socializing has always been a dreary, if not fake process for me. For example, during my university days, I may have made a couple of friends, and have even gone for my graduation trip with them, yet these friendships in my humble opinion are nevertheless somewhat superficial. In fact, Wesley once commented that despite being mates for three years, he didn't know much of me. To an extent, he felt that there seems to be this wall surrounding me, making me enigmatic. While I simply brushed off his comments, deep down, I acknowledged it. Why? Self-protection. I would not want to subject myself to the scenario whereby a person whom I once had so much to talk to would eventually be reduced to one whom I would only be able to exchange awkward 'Hi-s' or 'Bye-s' in the years to come. I have been through this scenario and am adamant to avoid it; perhaps until I fully am able to comprehend the fact that some people are just meant to be in our live for a certain period of time. When they are, celebrate & enjoy their company. Thereafter, move on.

On this page, I am thankful for my bff. On a side note, it baffles me as to how the two of us can even be friends to begin with. We have bi-polar personality; I'm introverted, aloof, pessimistic and smart while she's extroverted, outgoing, optimistic & bimbotic. She clubs incessantly (Reads: like a slut), while I don't - I recalled vaguely how her boyfriend once expressed surprise when she mentioned that I didn't club. His comment was a "How did you two even be best friend when he does not club?" How judgement. Tsk. Most importantly, bff does not really give a flying fark about me; she treats my nagging as verbal diarrhoea, often ignoring my grouses, brushing me off with the usual annoying 'idk' or 'orh'. On my part, I have subjected her to much of my 'customized' insults. She should be honored.

Back to the main point. Recently, I needed her help, or rather guarantee, for something major. A relatively huge sum of money was involved and I was initially somewhat reluctant to involve her. But I had to and I did. The only grumble that she let out was, "Must I wake up that early on a Saturday? Can I be late?" In retrospect, I didn't thought of asking the rest of my friends, namely the MPs or even S simply because I was afraid that I may get a response synonymous to the axiom on how the truth may hurt. That said, this doesn't undermine anything. Days later, I did asked why wasn't she hesitant in providing her guarantee. I wouldn't want to get all sappy by typing out her reply; in tandem, the only thing I can say is that this is something I will remember. And as what TW once said, friends will not take up your time because they know your priorities. Well, something like that. Nevertheless, thank you for giving me your time and trust when I needed it the most. With that said, as much as I treasure and appreciate you, I doubt I would stop with the insults anytime soon.

Elsewhere, two of my friends have gotten married and I am happy for them. I was so excited over Huili's wedding -it was the first time I am attending a good friend's wedding- that I started thinking of my outfit months ahead. J even christened my preparation as 'Z's not so secretive outfit preparation.' Whatever. While I was unreservedly touched by the love shared between the couples, I actually could not foresee myself experiencing such joy. In fact, when friends rush me to get a partner, I will respond with an overt eye roll. Towards love, I am jaded. It has been eons since I have met 'anyone' or 'someone new'. Perhaps, this lack-of can be attributed to my locks problem, which has severely impacted my confidence, or even to the fact that I would not want to subject myself to the 'customary' dejected process all.over.again. This fear has led to self-talks that have ultimately made me willingly eat out of the hands of fate. I concede defeat.

[I] finally have the thing I need to be happy. And then you forget. So then what happens is instead of waking up every morning and shouting "Somebody loves me!", you start looking around and thinking "What do I want now? What's the next thing I need to be happy?" So you look & you look, and you keep thinking that you've found it, but nothing works. The reason that nothing works is because the hole in the heart that you're trying to fill is already filled. You just forgot. Don't ever forget. Always remember how much you wanted to be love and how much you're loved. And when you do that, you will stop looking and realized, you already are happ[y].

I extracted the above paragraph from a scene in Desperate Housewives. The conversation struck a cord from within. Regardless of a fucked love life or a laughable social circle, I still have wonderful memories whereby should I ever feel cold and lonely, I know I can wrap myself in those memories and I will be contended. Instead of looking enviously at things that I do not have, I will try to look, with gratitude, at the things that I do have.

I am bad with conclusions. And this may be why I usually do not conclude when I should. Nevertheless, till then.

the boy with a dead heart. posted at | 2:05 AM |