Thursday, May 13, 2004
Pieces of Me
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Wow. When was the last time I posted? Feels like ages ago.
Life goes on. Like it always does. Oh btw had been going thru exams the past week or so.
I get the feeling that I screwed up somewhere. As usual. When do I not screw up?
Answer, hardly ever. I'm a walking catastrophe. I'm a disaster waiting to happen. A ticking time-bomb.
Every step I take is just another mistake. Every breath I draw is a waste of precious oxygen. Every thing I touch crumbles and fades into ashes. Everything I love ends up broken and abused.
Why does someone like me exist? Because I am. Because of a fluke maybe, but I'm here, and I can't change that.
I exist. My existence is an offense to the natural order, but I don't care anymore. I live, simply because I must. There isn't any reason for me to, I just am.
I move on. Like I always do. Like I always have. There is no reason for me to do otherwise. I just keep going.
Running. I just keep running. Trying to run away from others. Trying to run away from reality. Trying to run from my problems. Trying to run from myself.
I can't accept myself. No matter what I've said, no matter what I've done to try to justify myself, I can't accept who I am.
Who am I? A confused 16 year old, with delusions of grandeur. An unrealistic dreamer trying to be something I'm not. A scared little girl hiding behind a mask. A manipulative, selfish, greedy little bitch trying to gain the upper hand in any situation, but failing miserably.
Good and Evil are human terms. I don't believe in them, nor do I disbelieve in them. Am I good? Am I bad? I really dunno. Depends on the judge.
I really want to be a good girl. Really. Somewhere deep down there I'm just seeking approval from others. I'm just insecure. Why am I psychoanalysing myself? I have no idea.
It's safer to remain a skeptic. Sure it's harsh, but you can't always have everything. I learnt that.
Some things are really strange. You never know what one action means to any given person. What you did may not affect you, but it may affect someone more deeply than you think. I have absolutely no idea what my actions are doing to other people, and I don't want to know.
I have experienced something like this. Someone I once trusted hit me. Granted I probably deserved it. I always deserve something like this. But back on topic.
I was on my knees. Then the umbrella came whooshing down. It hit my shoulders. I don't even remember if it hurts. It doesn't matter if it hurts. What was more important was what that stroke meant to me.
The very instant it connected, something shattered. It wasn't anything physical. It was my trust. My faith in that person was broken. And the incident has been branded into my memory. I don't think I ever hated anything more in that instant.
But it was gone. And I didn't even realise it until much later. My relationsip with that person would never be the same. I would never be able to trust her compeletely ever again.
It doesn't even matter if I deserved it, whether it was my fault or not. All I could remember was what the stroke meant to my inner self, no strings attached.
To her, it may have been well-deserved for me, that she was trying to bring me to my senses; but to me, the only thing that registered was "She hit me. She HIT me.". If I had any hope left it was broken that instant.
Like I said though, I probably deserved it. But the effect she wanted was not the effect it had in reality for me. I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, but sometimes it's strange the way things work. What we want to do or say may have reverse effects of our original intention.
Sigh. I can't stand how maudlin I am sometimes. Bah. I'll be back.
]
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........
Wow. When was the last time I posted? Feels like ages ago.
Life goes on. Like it always does. Oh btw had been going thru exams the past week or so.
I get the feeling that I screwed up somewhere. As usual. When do I not screw up?
Answer, hardly ever. I'm a walking catastrophe. I'm a disaster waiting to happen. A ticking time-bomb.
Every step I take is just another mistake. Every breath I draw is a waste of precious oxygen. Every thing I touch crumbles and fades into ashes. Everything I love ends up broken and abused.
Why does someone like me exist? Because I am. Because of a fluke maybe, but I'm here, and I can't change that.
I exist. My existence is an offense to the natural order, but I don't care anymore. I live, simply because I must. There isn't any reason for me to, I just am.
I move on. Like I always do. Like I always have. There is no reason for me to do otherwise. I just keep going.
Running. I just keep running. Trying to run away from others. Trying to run away from reality. Trying to run from my problems. Trying to run from myself.
I can't accept myself. No matter what I've said, no matter what I've done to try to justify myself, I can't accept who I am.
Who am I? A confused 16 year old, with delusions of grandeur. An unrealistic dreamer trying to be something I'm not. A scared little girl hiding behind a mask. A manipulative, selfish, greedy little bitch trying to gain the upper hand in any situation, but failing miserably.
Good and Evil are human terms. I don't believe in them, nor do I disbelieve in them. Am I good? Am I bad? I really dunno. Depends on the judge.
I really want to be a good girl. Really. Somewhere deep down there I'm just seeking approval from others. I'm just insecure. Why am I psychoanalysing myself? I have no idea.
It's safer to remain a skeptic. Sure it's harsh, but you can't always have everything. I learnt that.
Some things are really strange. You never know what one action means to any given person. What you did may not affect you, but it may affect someone more deeply than you think. I have absolutely no idea what my actions are doing to other people, and I don't want to know.
I have experienced something like this. Someone I once trusted hit me. Granted I probably deserved it. I always deserve something like this. But back on topic.
I was on my knees. Then the umbrella came whooshing down. It hit my shoulders. I don't even remember if it hurts. It doesn't matter if it hurts. What was more important was what that stroke meant to me.
The very instant it connected, something shattered. It wasn't anything physical. It was my trust. My faith in that person was broken. And the incident has been branded into my memory. I don't think I ever hated anything more in that instant.
But it was gone. And I didn't even realise it until much later. My relationsip with that person would never be the same. I would never be able to trust her compeletely ever again.
It doesn't even matter if I deserved it, whether it was my fault or not. All I could remember was what the stroke meant to my inner self, no strings attached.
To her, it may have been well-deserved for me, that she was trying to bring me to my senses; but to me, the only thing that registered was "She hit me. She HIT me.". If I had any hope left it was broken that instant.
Like I said though, I probably deserved it. But the effect she wanted was not the effect it had in reality for me. I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, but sometimes it's strange the way things work. What we want to do or say may have reverse effects of our original intention.
Sigh. I can't stand how maudlin I am sometimes. Bah. I'll be back.
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