The end of a friendship.
I've not completely cut ties with anyone since I was about 15. I rarely bond and make friends with people, so it would be a complete shame if I had to let one of my few friends go for petty reasons or small fights.
When I say 'cut ties' it sounds like I'm throwing a fit and refusing to communicate with the offending party any more, but there's more to it than that. Sometimes, a friend just stops being a friend. You know how they say some couples just fall out of love after a while? It's the same with friendship - sometimes it just doesn't last.
When exactly she stopped being my friend, I can't say.
The last friendship I terminated when Iw as 15 years of age, was when my Dota buddy got a girlfriend and put all his friendships on hold. He kept avoiding us to go out with her and couldn't stop talking about her when we WERE together. One day, we fixed a time to play together and surprise, surprise. He was late. He said he had things to do and would we please wait for him? Sure, we said. Since there were a few of us online we'd just chat and hang out until he was free. We waited until both conversation and patience ran dry. We called him 2 hours after the predetermined meeting time and guess what he said?
"Oh, my girlfriend asked me to go out, guess I'll play with you guys another time!"
It was the last straw in a string of broken agreements and abandoned appointments. At first it was fine - after all, the bloke just scored himself a girlfriend - a bit of distance was expected. But after a while, the constant rejections and making us wait for nothing just got tiring. And when it finally grew so habitual that he was no longer apologetic? That was the end.
I'm sorry. You are not treating us like friends any more. You treat friends with respect and care.
When you put your significant other so far above us that you cease to treat us with courtesy, that's when a friendship ends.
So what happened to him? I don't know for sure, but I think he's still happy with his girlfriend. The only times he's ever tried to communicate with me again was to ask me for favours - liking facebook pages and such. You know who you are.
I'm glad he got his version of a happy ending and I'm sorry to see our friendship crumble. But these things happen. Time passes, people change, their priorities change. One day, you just find that you are no longer part of someone's life. It hurts, but it's better to just let go than to frustrate yourself trying to 'repair' things, to revert them to the way things were.
This year, I've had to do it again.
We met in first year of my degree course. It was a tentative and unlikely friendship, brought together by one common denominator - a boy who was my ex-foundation mate and her fellow countryman. She was friendly and timid, but full of giggles and quirks once you got to know her.
At the end of that year, she found a boyfriend. The three of us became fast friends, scheduling our classes together, eating together, working on assignments together. They had excessive amounts of PDA - canoodling in public, lap-sitting, full on cuddles and kisses, but unexpectedly, I was fine with it. I liked the guy as much as I liked the girl, so it wasn't as revolting as you'd imagine. A friend asked me how I could stomach such gross displays of public affection; I just shrugged and said that I'm already used to it. And I was.
At some point in the second year, things started to change. She started demanding more and more from him. He couldn't eat a cookie by himself - she had to personally feed it to him. She can't work alone in uni - he has to accompany her at all times. He's not allowed to go to the toilet - can't you see she's sleeping on his lap? How dare he move!
I began to grow irritated with this behaviour, but for the most part I bit my tongue, hoping it was a phase that would pass. God knows some bystanders found it cute and endearing. In my perspective, it was a case of affectionate clinginess that seemed cute at the beginning, but began to spiral out of control into the twisted monster that is obsessive possessiveness.
She began to be more and more self-centered as the boy constantly catered to her every whim. Things that were done as favours began to be taken for granted.
One night, we stayed late at uni to work because we hadn't finished an assignment that was due soon. I finished mine some time around dinner time, so I asked if she was going to stay for dinner; if so, I'd wait and eat with them, if not I'd go and takeaway some food for myself on the way home.
She said she would stay and work, then go for dinner before she went home. So I continued to do stuff while waiting for her to finish up. She daydreamed between spells of productivity and was constantly distracted. She also complained she was tired when the boy asked her why she wasn't working. After a while, the boy and I grew hungry so we asked her whether we could go and eat first, then come back to continue working.
She refused to budge, insisting that she still had lots of work to do. So we continued waiting. 1 hour turned into 3 hours and I was almost past the point of absolute hunger. Fed up, I asked her if she was ready to eat now.
She responded by saying she was no longer hungry and wanted to go home.
I felt like throwing a chair at her. She allowed us to wait on the false promise of having dinner together, and when I grew fed up with her dawdling, she responded with 'fine, I'll just go home then.'
What the fucking fuck?
I slammed the door on my way out, hardly believing she could be so inconsiderate. The best part was she didn't even feel that she did anything wrong or was too stupid to realize it. Her boyfriend certainly noticed, and apologized to me when we got home. Why on earth was HE apologizing for HER inconsideration?
I should have known then I was facing something that I'm all too familiar with. My relationship with Sam has always been questioned using this term, and oh, how I hated it and all its implications.
But this was a true case of a pussy-whipped guy.
Further evidence:
When the guy and I worked a part-time job together, he had to ask her permission to eat lunch with me after work. She grudgingly gave her permission for him to lunch with me, but forbade him for staying for dinner.
I could understand if she intended to have dinner with him as a couple later, but NO, she just wanted him home. And why the fuck does he have to report to her in the first place? How truly powerless are you to have to ask for permission to interact with people other than your girlfriend?
I never ate alone with him again after that day. Even when I was with another female friend, he was forbidden to eat with both of us without her presence.
"She's doesn't like me hanging out with other girls when she's not around," he said apologetically.
I stared at him incredulously. I thought he was joking, but I soon found out it was all too horrifyingly, disgustingly true.
For god's sake, I'm supposed to be her friend! And I have a boyfriend, with whom I've had a relationship more than double hers in duration.
Are we both so untrustworthy that we can't be allowed to eat together without supervision? Is she really so insecure that she feels her boyfriend will run into the arms of another girl while she wasn't around? Is she just too selfish to share him with other people?
The two conclusions I came up with was that she was either jealous or insecure. Both of which are extremely unattractive traits. And what does it say about our friendship when you restrict my interaction with your boyfriend? Do I look like a cunning boyfriend-stealer? Jesus Christ, much as I like the boy, I have absolutely no romantic interest in him. Besides, anyone who really knows me will know how besotted I am with MY own boyfriend.
Anyway, I let that incident pass.
Fast forward 1 year and many whines and pouts later, I have become the camel with the broken back that was just whipped with that final straw.
The 3 of us and another female programmer teamed up for our important final year project. After our second presentation which went exceptionally well, we had a group meeting sans programmer, so it just the 3 of us.
The boy and I began addressing the feedback given by the panel of lecturers. While this went on, the girl just slept on the desk, only waking up once to show us a video that was supposed to be her way of addressing a visual problem of our game.
Fair enough, I was used to her being unresponsive during group meetings - last year, when pressed for her opinion by the guy, she retorted saying she had no opinion and she was TIRED, dammit! She threw her metcard onto the table in a small fit of temper, and then sported a sour face for the rest of the meeting. I wasn't the only one who noticed - in fact, this was related to me by my other friend and group member as I had only arrived after it had happened. The only thing I could testify to was her black face.
So, the fact that she was sleepy and unhelpful again during this meeting wasn't new to me. We continued to discuss further issues about the game when she interrupted, telling her boyfriend that she was tired and wanted to go home.
The boy told her that we were having a very important discussion and to please wait for a while. She grumbled and went back to sleep. After a while, I was voicing an idea halfway when she blatantly interrupted me and addressed her boyfriend.
"When can we go baaaaack? I've been waiting, and I'm tired and I want to go home nowwwwwww!"
I really felt like hitting her for being so fucking rude, interrupting me AGAIN as she often does when I am talking to the boy. However, I just told her, as calmly as I could (which wasn't very calmly, I admit), that if she wanted to go home so badly, then please do so - no one was stopping her from leaving.
Then she really lost it. She grabbed her bag violently and said FINE, she will leave now. As she got up, her boyfriend grabbed her arm and called her name. She shoved him back forcefully and hit him (with her bag or arm I don't know, his head obscured my view, but there was definitely the sound of impact).
"Let me GO! I'm going now, don't... *shove*...DON'T!"
She then stomped out, leaving behind a shell-shocked classroom. A classmate called after her, asking her if everything was alright; she responded by slamming the door. I think I may have shouted 'the hell is your problem?' as she left, but I'm not too sure, it could have been in my head. Everything just happened so quickly.
"Why is she so upset?" I asked him.
He seemed stunned. "I don't know."
After a brief silence, we continued and finished our discussion within five minutes.
Let's address the things that are wrong in that scenario.
1. Why does she get to sleep during group meetings and offer 0 feedback? Is she a group member or not? Does she really have no opinions of her own?
2. Why is she allowed to constantly interrupt other people's conversations with no repercussions whatsoever? It's fucking disrespectful and infuriating.
3. Why do we have to leave when she leaves? Her boyfriend doesn't live on the way to her home. Even if he does, walking her back is just a courtesy, not a privilege to be taken for granted and worth throwing a tantrum over if revoked.
4. Why is she allowed to throw tantrums like this and be forgiven without any apologies whatsoever?
5. Why the hell is she allowed to be physically rough with her boyfriend and he just sits there and accepts it? God knows if the roles were reversed, people would be horrified at a guy hitting his girlfriend. Furthermore, she had just caused a very big scene in public when he did nothing wrong. Doesn't he feel any indignation at all?
Perhaps she's just so harmless and vulnerable-looking that we constantly forgive her for all these terrible behaviour. How terrible could such a pretty and delicate-looking girl be?
Fucking terrible, that's how. I can't tell you how many times I've been ignored or interrupted in a conversation. How many times I've been made to feel like I wasn't there while she fully focused on talking to her boyfriend, who, to his credit, always tried to make me feel welcome. How many times we've had to compromise to suit her wishes - to eat at certain places, meet at certain times cause she can't wake up early, stay over at uni because she just can't fucking start her work early and focus when she's actually doing it. Though that only applies to her boyfriend now, because I gave up staying over with them after I realized she doesn't care if I do or not - as long as he doesn't go home, she is content.
And it's not all sweet requests like 'oh baby, will you stay over and accompany me tonight while I work on my assignments?' I know for sure that he dislikes staying over, but she just needles and guilts him over and over until he relents and agrees to stay over although his home and comfortable bed is a mere 10 minute walk away, not to mention that he has already finished his assignment weeks ago so he doesn't have to pull an all-nighter at all.
But I didn't care cause he was accommodating all her selfish and spoilt requests, not me. I detest her behaviour and treatment of him, but I never confronted her about it because he seems to accept it and he's the boyfriend and he puts up with it. It's really none of my business, is it?
But he's my friend too and I really hate watching a good, hard-working and smart boy being emotionally bullied by a lazy, manipulative girl who just pouts and whines when she doesn't get her way.
It's fucking tragic, if you ask me.
It was none of my business until she started affecting me with her growing disregard for me. Every time she interrupts a conversation by bringing up an inane subject like 'oh what should we eat, I'm hungryyyyyyy', I feel like pushing her face into the table.
Every time she does something so inconsiderate like letting people wait forever for her, and she feigns stupidity or is completely unapologetic about it, I feel like pulling her hair out.
I know, violence is very unbecoming of me, but when it's all confined in my head, I deem it completely acceptable.
She can't really be that stupid or ignorant to realize when she's inconveniencing people around her, is she? It's perfectly possible that she is - but when I feel like giving her the benefit of the doubt, that just leaves me to assume she just doesn't care about anyone but herself, which is just as bad.
So, this is a a goodbye letter of sorts. Goodbye to the good times we once had, goodbye to our unexpectedly formed and horribly ended friendship.
I wish you will grow up to realize that the world isn't at your bidding. That saying 'IF YOU DON'T WANT TO, THEN DON'T WAIT FOR ME' in an angry voice isn't excusing you from the fact that EXPECT others to wait for you. We are obliged to wait for you, because friends do wait for friends; but when you drag out the waiting time to 10 times the length it should have been because you are just SO sluggish in your movements, you ARE being inconsiderate. You get angry when we ask you to hurry up, and you get angry if we don't wait. It's always a lose-lose situation with you, isn't it?
I wish you will grow up one day to realize that pouting and throwing temper tantrums won't always get you your way in life. I wish you will grow up to realize that looking young and vulnerable will not melt everyone's hearts.
I would wish you a happy life and relationship ahead with the boy that is my friend and your boyfriend, but I won't, because I honestly believes he deserves so much more than what you offer him now - which is a life of indignity as more of a servant than a boyfriend.
Good luck to you. Unless you apologize and change your ways, we will be just classmates and group mates from now on; consider our friendship terminated.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Narcissism
"Stephanie, I have always said that you are a pretty girl, but.."
Your nose is too big...and it's crooked.
You're too skinny, like a scarecrow.
You have no boobs.
Your lips are too thin.
Your hair is a terrible mess.
You have big pores.
You're too tall for a girl.
Your teeth are not perfectly straight...and you had braces for 7 years!
You still get pimples sometimes although you're no longer a teen.
Your left ear is higher than your right.
Are you slightly cross-eyed?
Your wrists are impossibly tiny...I feel like I could snap them like twigs.
I know what thin privilege is, and I am honestly thankful that I am under- rather than overweight, because the flak people get for being fat way outweighs the snarks that skinny people receive.
My attitude towards negative comments towards my appearance is normally "I'm happy with myself, why should I let YOU make me feel bad?" But hearing relatives constantly talk about my flaws (in the 'YES you are pretty, BUT...' format) can take its toll.
I know no one is meant to be perfect, but do you begrudge me the hope that some day I will become perfect, at least in my own eyes? Yes, I am a bit of a narcissist and I know no one really cares about what I think and how I look, but I like looking at pretty people...and I just feel sad I can't count myself among them (the pretty people I enjoy looking at.)
Some days when I have nothing else to do, I like to just sit down in front of a mirror and observe my face in detail.
On good days (high self-esteem aka pretty days), I tell myself that petite lips are dainty and cute; my nose is strong and has 'personality'; I have big round eyes that defy the asian stereotype.
On bad days (low self-esteem aka ugly days), I wish for rhinoplasty and a tiny ski-slope nose, fuller lips, long eyelashes and a symmetrical face.
I guess ultimately it's not the way we look, but what and how we choose to see things.
Also, I admit to not striving hard enough to improve myself up to my own standards. That's why I salute those people who are go-getters, who exercise to reach their ideal weight, who work for the money to go for the double-lid surgery they've been wanting, who practise and perfect their make-up application to enhance their good features and hide perceived flaws.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not promoting dissatisfaction in oneself, but I do support in doing what makes you feel happier and more confident.
I do not understand those people who are against girls who opt to have cosmetic surgery or wear make-up every day.
If they look good doing so, they are 'cheaters.'
If they don't, they're 'such failures that even surgery and make-up can't cure their ugliness.'
:/
With these people as your critics, there really is no way to win...except to be born naturally pretty. (And even so, everyone's idea of beauty is different.)
If anything, THAT'S unfair. Why should someone who was born looking like a supermodel have more compliments and praise than a person who invests time and effort, and THEN succeeds at making him/herself look good?
You don't like imperfect people, and you don't like people who try their best to be as perfect as possible.
I have never been against make-up, surgery or so-called 'unnatural' ways of enhancing ones beauty. One reason I never wear make-up is because I think I actually look worse with it due to my lack of experience applying it.
Also, I'm afraid that one day when I actually succeed in applying make-up that makes me look better, people will still go: 'see that girl, she wear make-up also not pretty one.'
As unlikely as someone would be rude/brave enough to say that to my face, I'm still afraid of the possibility that I will never be good enough even if I try.
:/
I guess it all comes back to my fear of failure.
Anyway, this whiny, self-indulgent post has been long enough. Signing off now before I feel disgusted with myself.
Good night :P
Saturday, March 24, 2012
I've never felt as lonely, confused and depressed in my entire life.
It sounds ridiculous doesn't it? Aren't depressed people supposed to be to depressed to see that they are depressed? Being capable of recognizing one's condition does not make one exempt from it, however.
I can't sleep at night. I'm absolutely wrecked by bouts of crying for no reason. I probably know the reason, but it hurts too much to say it out loud. Saying it means acknowledging it, and acknowledging it makes it real and thus terrifying.
I can't eat. I'm hungry all the time but I don't want to eat. I can feel acid burning my stomach and I still don't want to eat. I do try forcing myself to eat, but everything tastes horrible and forced.
I'm taken over by fits of rage and negativity. I've always managed to swallow my rage and let it pass. But lately, I find myself unable to contain it any more, ranting about it to the nearest person and then feeling guilty about it for talking shit about people (though the rage made it seem perfectly justified at the time.)
After the guilt comes something even worse - realization that I really hate what the person has done. Realization that I was not exaggerating my feelings when it happened - it really upset me and I have been controlling it too long to keep it inside any longer.
So why do I still guilty for expressing myself?
I'm thrown into an endless cycle of guilt and justification.
I don't want to blame people for the way I'm acting. I accept any and all responsibility. The feelings I'm feeling now I cannot explain, but let me assure you they are intense.
I had a panic attack a few days ago.
I was embarrassed about it and didn't really want to talk about it. However, I confided in a couple of friends because I felt so shaken by the experience.
I was met with seemingly forced concern and apathy.
Perhaps it was my messed up feelings at the time that made me interpret their concern as false displays of care, but I honestly feel like they were too afraid to discuss it with me.
We just aren't good enough friends.
Well, I'll talk about it now. You don't have to listen but I'll say it anyway.
It started with difficulty breathing, which I interpreted as a recurrence of my childhood asthma.
I calmed down and dismissed it as a freak incident.
About an hour later, my heart seized up and I felt sharp pains in my chest, neck and jaw.
For some reason, I thought my heart was failing me. To distract myself from the pain and difficulty in breathing, I googled heart attacks and panic attacks.
As I read the articles, I concluded correctly that I was experiencing a panic attack.
It feels fucking stupid, but I KNEW what was happening, yet my brain was somehow telling me I was going to die.
I was going to die in under an hour and I can't do anything about it.
My fingers went half numb and the trembling started. It started in my fingers and gradually spread to my whole body. I started crying hysterically and hyperventilating.
I sat there and cried for a good ten minutes or so. I was filled with terror. Every memory of every one I knew and loved dying came flying back. My uncle's lungs gurgling their dying breaths as they disconnected him from the breathing machine. My other uncle dying in surgery. Sedated, never to know he was never going to wake up again. My dad, white and lifeless on the gurney in the hospital. Kissing him for the first time in a long time, kissing him for the last time. On the forehead. It was already cold.
And suddenly, literally mid-sob, the feeling of utter terror vanished. And it was replaced by a terrible feeling of emptiness.
I stopped crying.
I felt angry. I felt angry for losing control of my body. It felt like a foreign form to me now. It betrayed me by defying logic and reason and collapsing into a state of pure helplessness.
I am still angry.
And I am sad.
I am confused.
People who can help me already have too many problems of their own or simply don't care.
I wish I could say I'm strong and tough and can get better by myself, but this was probably a long time in the making, looking at the flashbacks that I've had.
If I had a cracking point, I probably just hit it.
It feels like my life changed; I feel so different from before.
Yet, for everyone else, the world continues to turn. I feel like I'm the only one that got thrown off out of orbit unnoticed.
From everyone else's reaction, my mind tells me that this is nothing, perhaps a severe case of PMS, also known as PMDD.
But inside, I know better.
I know I've been shutting myself off from intense feelings for a very long time. I think it's time to start letting them in again, for the sake of my own sanity.
I'm terrified by my new-found apathy. Besides hate and scorn, I can barely feel anything else.
I feel like the past 5 years of my life have been wasted. I push people away. Even the one I grew to love...my feelings for them have vanished, crawled deep into the recesses of my heart where I keep the rest of my feelings locked up. I just want to cry and cry and let it all out.
I'm afraid to love because I'm afraid to lose.
The sicker and more aimless he becomes, the more I push him away from me.
How can I abandon him in the time when needs me most?
Perhaps I'm selfish in doing so, but I feel obliged to see him through this difficult time. But what if the difficulty never ends? What if I spend the rest of my life being the life raft and let the resentment and fear grow like a plague?
Fear of losing him. Resentment for letting me feel that fear which I tried to banish for so long.
Maybe some people have the urge to slap me and ask me to wake up the fuck up and stop being a depressing little bitch. Maybe I brought this all upon myself. Maybe they're right.
But until I'm sure they are, I can only assume otherwise.
Please give me the strength to recover by myself. I will never believe myself to be an independent being any more unless I succeed in doing so.
I love you. Believe me - somewhere deep down in my heart, there will always be a place for you.
But for now, I have to sort out all these un-addressed feelings and fears that have gone unchecked for too long. For my sake.
For our sake.
To the friends: I've finally come to the realization that the hate I feel for all of you never being able to really, really talk to me stemmed from the moment none of my friends showed up for my dad's funeral. It's a resentment I still carry with me like an anchor. Sure, a bunch of them texted me, saying how sorry they were. BUT HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME WHEN I NEEDED YOU MOST? You left me so alone, with no channel to vent my grief that I didn't shed a tear for my father's death until YEARS later. No one ever asked if I wanted to talk about it. Am I ok? OF COURSE I'M NOT FUCKING OKAY.
...
Of course, all those friends are now gone. I don't trust them any more than I'd trust a starving thief with unattended food.
All the friends I made after that carried the weight of the crimes of my former friends. I didn't know it then, but I know it now. I have never fully trusted a single person since then.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I have never given any of you the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry I always treated everyone with suspicion. I'm sorry I always pick out the worst part of everyone to keep in my memory.
I feel better now, as blogging has always made me feel. Putting my feelings into words, I've finally sorted out many jumbled signals in my head. It's now clear where my problems lie, and I didn't even need a therapist.
Sigh.
Now all I have to do is be a champion and actually deal with it.
I'm a fucking adult this year so I will. I WILL.
I will never let the past get the better of me.
...I'm too strong for that.
Fuck you, emotions. I'll beat the fuck out of you.
Watch me.
It sounds ridiculous doesn't it? Aren't depressed people supposed to be to depressed to see that they are depressed? Being capable of recognizing one's condition does not make one exempt from it, however.
I can't sleep at night. I'm absolutely wrecked by bouts of crying for no reason. I probably know the reason, but it hurts too much to say it out loud. Saying it means acknowledging it, and acknowledging it makes it real and thus terrifying.
I can't eat. I'm hungry all the time but I don't want to eat. I can feel acid burning my stomach and I still don't want to eat. I do try forcing myself to eat, but everything tastes horrible and forced.
I'm taken over by fits of rage and negativity. I've always managed to swallow my rage and let it pass. But lately, I find myself unable to contain it any more, ranting about it to the nearest person and then feeling guilty about it for talking shit about people (though the rage made it seem perfectly justified at the time.)
After the guilt comes something even worse - realization that I really hate what the person has done. Realization that I was not exaggerating my feelings when it happened - it really upset me and I have been controlling it too long to keep it inside any longer.
So why do I still guilty for expressing myself?
I'm thrown into an endless cycle of guilt and justification.
I don't want to blame people for the way I'm acting. I accept any and all responsibility. The feelings I'm feeling now I cannot explain, but let me assure you they are intense.
I had a panic attack a few days ago.
I was embarrassed about it and didn't really want to talk about it. However, I confided in a couple of friends because I felt so shaken by the experience.
I was met with seemingly forced concern and apathy.
Perhaps it was my messed up feelings at the time that made me interpret their concern as false displays of care, but I honestly feel like they were too afraid to discuss it with me.
We just aren't good enough friends.
Well, I'll talk about it now. You don't have to listen but I'll say it anyway.
It started with difficulty breathing, which I interpreted as a recurrence of my childhood asthma.
I calmed down and dismissed it as a freak incident.
About an hour later, my heart seized up and I felt sharp pains in my chest, neck and jaw.
For some reason, I thought my heart was failing me. To distract myself from the pain and difficulty in breathing, I googled heart attacks and panic attacks.
As I read the articles, I concluded correctly that I was experiencing a panic attack.
It feels fucking stupid, but I KNEW what was happening, yet my brain was somehow telling me I was going to die.
I was going to die in under an hour and I can't do anything about it.
My fingers went half numb and the trembling started. It started in my fingers and gradually spread to my whole body. I started crying hysterically and hyperventilating.
I sat there and cried for a good ten minutes or so. I was filled with terror. Every memory of every one I knew and loved dying came flying back. My uncle's lungs gurgling their dying breaths as they disconnected him from the breathing machine. My other uncle dying in surgery. Sedated, never to know he was never going to wake up again. My dad, white and lifeless on the gurney in the hospital. Kissing him for the first time in a long time, kissing him for the last time. On the forehead. It was already cold.
And suddenly, literally mid-sob, the feeling of utter terror vanished. And it was replaced by a terrible feeling of emptiness.
I stopped crying.
I felt angry. I felt angry for losing control of my body. It felt like a foreign form to me now. It betrayed me by defying logic and reason and collapsing into a state of pure helplessness.
I am still angry.
And I am sad.
I am confused.
People who can help me already have too many problems of their own or simply don't care.
I wish I could say I'm strong and tough and can get better by myself, but this was probably a long time in the making, looking at the flashbacks that I've had.
If I had a cracking point, I probably just hit it.
It feels like my life changed; I feel so different from before.
Yet, for everyone else, the world continues to turn. I feel like I'm the only one that got thrown off out of orbit unnoticed.
From everyone else's reaction, my mind tells me that this is nothing, perhaps a severe case of PMS, also known as PMDD.
But inside, I know better.
I know I've been shutting myself off from intense feelings for a very long time. I think it's time to start letting them in again, for the sake of my own sanity.
I'm terrified by my new-found apathy. Besides hate and scorn, I can barely feel anything else.
I feel like the past 5 years of my life have been wasted. I push people away. Even the one I grew to love...my feelings for them have vanished, crawled deep into the recesses of my heart where I keep the rest of my feelings locked up. I just want to cry and cry and let it all out.
I'm afraid to love because I'm afraid to lose.
The sicker and more aimless he becomes, the more I push him away from me.
How can I abandon him in the time when needs me most?
Perhaps I'm selfish in doing so, but I feel obliged to see him through this difficult time. But what if the difficulty never ends? What if I spend the rest of my life being the life raft and let the resentment and fear grow like a plague?
Fear of losing him. Resentment for letting me feel that fear which I tried to banish for so long.
Maybe some people have the urge to slap me and ask me to wake up the fuck up and stop being a depressing little bitch. Maybe I brought this all upon myself. Maybe they're right.
But until I'm sure they are, I can only assume otherwise.
Please give me the strength to recover by myself. I will never believe myself to be an independent being any more unless I succeed in doing so.
I love you. Believe me - somewhere deep down in my heart, there will always be a place for you.
But for now, I have to sort out all these un-addressed feelings and fears that have gone unchecked for too long. For my sake.
For our sake.
To the friends: I've finally come to the realization that the hate I feel for all of you never being able to really, really talk to me stemmed from the moment none of my friends showed up for my dad's funeral. It's a resentment I still carry with me like an anchor. Sure, a bunch of them texted me, saying how sorry they were. BUT HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME WHEN I NEEDED YOU MOST? You left me so alone, with no channel to vent my grief that I didn't shed a tear for my father's death until YEARS later. No one ever asked if I wanted to talk about it. Am I ok? OF COURSE I'M NOT FUCKING OKAY.
...
Of course, all those friends are now gone. I don't trust them any more than I'd trust a starving thief with unattended food.
All the friends I made after that carried the weight of the crimes of my former friends. I didn't know it then, but I know it now. I have never fully trusted a single person since then.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I have never given any of you the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry I always treated everyone with suspicion. I'm sorry I always pick out the worst part of everyone to keep in my memory.
I feel better now, as blogging has always made me feel. Putting my feelings into words, I've finally sorted out many jumbled signals in my head. It's now clear where my problems lie, and I didn't even need a therapist.
Sigh.
Now all I have to do is be a champion and actually deal with it.
I'm a fucking adult this year so I will. I WILL.
I will never let the past get the better of me.
...I'm too strong for that.
Fuck you, emotions. I'll beat the fuck out of you.
Watch me.
Fuck this shit
I'm so fucking tired of getting pushed aside.
Getting pushed aside for another friend, a boyfriend, a game.
I'm so sick of penting up all my feelings and smiling cause I don't want to ruin a happy relationship, ruin a budding friendship, ruin happy gaming times.
Let me fucking push everyone aside for a moment and put myself first, since everyone puts me last anyway.
I've been having a fucking tough few weeks and all people can do is tell me their problems. Fine, I like hearing problems, I like helping a friend out, get things off their shoulders.
What I DON'T like is when no one ever wants to hear me out. When I'm having a rough time, people just go 'oh' and leave me alone, leaving someone else to lend a shoulder.
Fine, fine, fine.
I don't need any of you.
Friends? Don't make me laugh.
Getting pushed aside for another friend, a boyfriend, a game.
I'm so sick of penting up all my feelings and smiling cause I don't want to ruin a happy relationship, ruin a budding friendship, ruin happy gaming times.
Let me fucking push everyone aside for a moment and put myself first, since everyone puts me last anyway.
I've been having a fucking tough few weeks and all people can do is tell me their problems. Fine, I like hearing problems, I like helping a friend out, get things off their shoulders.
What I DON'T like is when no one ever wants to hear me out. When I'm having a rough time, people just go 'oh' and leave me alone, leaving someone else to lend a shoulder.
Fine, fine, fine.
I don't need any of you.
Friends? Don't make me laugh.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Annoying gamer archetypes
One thing a gamer - male or female, young or old, new or experienced - always has to face are clueless idiots. Shitstains so vile it makes babies diapers smell like roses. Idiots so utterly stupid that a negative range on the IQ scale has to be created just for them.
I've been playing DotA on and off since I was 15. That means I've seen my fair share of incompetent, incoherent, babbling morons and have developed mental immunity accordingly. However, some days an idiot just happens to be so amazingly rude or irritating that I go batshit and lose all sense of composure.
List of gamer-types that piss me off completely:
1. The Sore Loser
The sore loser, when getting thrashed, becomes increasingly agitated and in denial of his impending defeat. After all, who are these strangers to defeat him, a DotA veteran with a years worth of gold membership AND is a leader of a clan ? Therefore they MUST be hacking! To save face, he must quickly point out this injustice to anyone willing to hear, so that people will understand that his opponent's victory was obtained only through means of cheating.
In DotA, they will be the ones crying 'mh he mh sohai fuck so noob use maphack btr don play la!' then subsequently pressing alt+QQ and leaving the game. When he is then branded a leaver, he justifies it by saying 'there's no point playing with hackers.'
In CS, they will be the ones whining about aimbot, recoil and wall hack when they die inexplicably (to them). Usually, their cause of death is pretty obvious to anyone else spectating, but to the 'sore loser,' he must have died BECAUSE THE OPPONENT IS HACKING! They will then exit to the channel and whine about the person hacking while copypasting the offender's name repeatedly to make sure that no one falls prey to 'dat noob waller sohai.'
2. The LC kia
The LC kia will not shut up about how pro he is and will repeatedly insult you to establish how absolutely fucking godlike he is and how much better than you at this game he is. There are 2 types of LC kia. The first type are the noob LC kias, who talk a LOT when they can actually kill people, presumably to highlight the brightest part of their otherwise shitty gaming career. When they're losing, they will suddenly become extremely quiet OR turn into Unbearable Idiot Type 1 - The Sore Loser (see above). They will only break their silence to say 'FUK U NOOB HAHA' when they somehow manage to kill an opponent.
The second type of LC kia are the players who are actually good at what they are doing. They'd be pleasant players to game with if not for their impossibly big ego. Their favourite lines are: 'don't waste my time la noob' and 'play with you also make me wanna zzz la.' If you face an opponent like this, I'm sorry for you because basically you can do nothing to make them shut up about their achievements and just how bad YOU are at this game. Even if the Pro LC kia is on your side, it's fucking embarrassing to play with them because they're so unbearably smug and disrespectful to other players who are probably just trying to play the game in peace.
3. The 'I always win' guy
Examples of an IAW player in DotA:
- On the losing team playing a carry: Supporters don't know how to support and gank.
- On the winning team playing a carry: I'm awesome. You all won because I farmed so fast and am incredibly skilled.
- On the losing team playing a supporter: Sohai carries keep feeding! So noob go play AI la.
- On the winning team playing a supporter: Fuckers you think you can win without my support ah?
Examples of an IAW player in CS:
- On the winning team and is alive: Haha oppo fucking noob! o0o
- On the winning team and is dead: Sohai teammates dono backup one
- On the losing team and is alive: I'm not fucking camping la, not my fault u all so noob go die first!
- On the losing team and is dead: My team is fucking shit
4. The MCP
MCP being male chauvinist pig aka misogynist. The MCP will hunt down and harass female gamers like a homing missile. Typically, they will try to be friendly and soon move into creep-zone when they start to ask you how big your boobs are or whether you are a virgin. When they get shut down by the girls he approaches (understandably so) he will become a raging sexist who refuses to lose to a woman.
Examples of an MCP:
When he beats a girl, he will say that girls shouldn't be playing games cause they suck. Optionally, he will make a kitchen or sandwich joke if he is a 9gag retard.
When he loses to a girl, it's because 'I gave chance ma, since you are a girl. :)' If he played SERIOUSLY, she would obviously stand no chance against him. After all, girls have absolutely 0 skills in gaming, right?
*****
Obviously there are many more archetypes of gamers that are irritating, such as leavers, hackers and people who can't think of any insults that don't involve your mother/sister/entire family line. However, I find these 4 are the ones that grate on my nerves the most.
I've come a long way in anger management, but no one's perfect. Except maybe Mother Theresa or something. That said, let me end this post with a conversation I had today with an idiot who conveniently falls into at least 3 of the above archetypes.
This was after days of him alternating between ignoring me and insulting in public. I gave him a final warning to stop calling me a 'cb kia' for no good reason and he responded by hurling even more insults, including the all-time favourite 'o0o', 'lcly sohai like to bully noob' and 'xiao qi' (easily angered). I barely interact with him besides the occasional 'hello, wanna play with us?' whenever I see him and asking his age once.
I kicked and banned him from the game I was hosting and thought that was the end of it. Apparently not. He decided to show his 'non-rage' and how really very OK he was with me kicking him - by harassing me further via private message.
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:55):
pls ban me ok
Stephaniee said (23:55):
already done dear
no need to remind me
now go mind your own business pls
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:56):
lol
sohai
Stephaniee said (23:56):
:)
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:56):
u r gay lou lai xiao qi lai they bo lampa de hahaha
Stephaniee said (23:57):
when you can speak english come and talk to me
also, grow a set of balls and some common sense
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:57):
show english lo
sry pro english
Stephaniee said (23:58):
sry pro gary
i've been nothing but nice to you all along
and all you can do
is talk cock
then come diu me
again
and again
for no reason
fucking retarded
you so rude then call ppl xiao qi
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:58):
i got fuck u?
Stephaniee said (23:58):
go learn some manners la old man
now not fucking?
bo lanpa?
gaylou?
no fucking ah?
what is your definition then?
you're a fucking egotistical maniac
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:59):
nvm ba u not boy lai so sry u r girl go suck dick ba
Stephaniee said (23:59):
learn how to speak nicely and maybe people won't be offended
ha
bring up the topic of sex
typical uneducated idiot
go play some dota la
feed more rage more
now goodbye
useless dickshit
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (00:00):
goodblye lo see u i will run 1 u so geli
*****
Lowlifes must always have the last word, don't they?
Here's a useful pyramid of arguments that I found:
He basically bounced between the bottom three tiers before hurling that one last line that was probably meant to offend me, but just sounded hilarious coming from the likes of him.
I'm sorry that I lost my temper, my sometimes you have to lose your composure to avoid losing your sanity. That's just the way it is.
I've been playing DotA on and off since I was 15. That means I've seen my fair share of incompetent, incoherent, babbling morons and have developed mental immunity accordingly. However, some days an idiot just happens to be so amazingly rude or irritating that I go batshit and lose all sense of composure.
List of gamer-types that piss me off completely:
1. The Sore Loser
The sore loser, when getting thrashed, becomes increasingly agitated and in denial of his impending defeat. After all, who are these strangers to defeat him, a DotA veteran with a years worth of gold membership AND is a leader of a clan ? Therefore they MUST be hacking! To save face, he must quickly point out this injustice to anyone willing to hear, so that people will understand that his opponent's victory was obtained only through means of cheating.
In DotA, they will be the ones crying 'mh he mh sohai fuck so noob use maphack btr don play la!' then subsequently pressing alt+QQ and leaving the game. When he is then branded a leaver, he justifies it by saying 'there's no point playing with hackers.'
In CS, they will be the ones whining about aimbot, recoil and wall hack when they die inexplicably (to them). Usually, their cause of death is pretty obvious to anyone else spectating, but to the 'sore loser,' he must have died BECAUSE THE OPPONENT IS HACKING! They will then exit to the channel and whine about the person hacking while copypasting the offender's name repeatedly to make sure that no one falls prey to 'dat noob waller sohai.'
2. The LC kia
The LC kia will not shut up about how pro he is and will repeatedly insult you to establish how absolutely fucking godlike he is and how much better than you at this game he is. There are 2 types of LC kia. The first type are the noob LC kias, who talk a LOT when they can actually kill people, presumably to highlight the brightest part of their otherwise shitty gaming career. When they're losing, they will suddenly become extremely quiet OR turn into Unbearable Idiot Type 1 - The Sore Loser (see above). They will only break their silence to say 'FUK U NOOB HAHA' when they somehow manage to kill an opponent.
The second type of LC kia are the players who are actually good at what they are doing. They'd be pleasant players to game with if not for their impossibly big ego. Their favourite lines are: 'don't waste my time la noob' and 'play with you also make me wanna zzz la.' If you face an opponent like this, I'm sorry for you because basically you can do nothing to make them shut up about their achievements and just how bad YOU are at this game. Even if the Pro LC kia is on your side, it's fucking embarrassing to play with them because they're so unbearably smug and disrespectful to other players who are probably just trying to play the game in peace.
3. The 'I always win' guy
Examples of an IAW player in DotA:
- On the losing team playing a carry: Supporters don't know how to support and gank.
- On the winning team playing a carry: I'm awesome. You all won because I farmed so fast and am incredibly skilled.
- On the losing team playing a supporter: Sohai carries keep feeding! So noob go play AI la.
- On the winning team playing a supporter: Fuckers you think you can win without my support ah?
Examples of an IAW player in CS:
- On the winning team and is alive: Haha oppo fucking noob! o0o
- On the winning team and is dead: Sohai teammates dono backup one
- On the losing team and is alive: I'm not fucking camping la, not my fault u all so noob go die first!
- On the losing team and is dead: My team is fucking shit
4. The MCP
MCP being male chauvinist pig aka misogynist. The MCP will hunt down and harass female gamers like a homing missile. Typically, they will try to be friendly and soon move into creep-zone when they start to ask you how big your boobs are or whether you are a virgin. When they get shut down by the girls he approaches (understandably so) he will become a raging sexist who refuses to lose to a woman.
Examples of an MCP:
When he beats a girl, he will say that girls shouldn't be playing games cause they suck. Optionally, he will make a kitchen or sandwich joke if he is a 9gag retard.
When he loses to a girl, it's because 'I gave chance ma, since you are a girl. :)' If he played SERIOUSLY, she would obviously stand no chance against him. After all, girls have absolutely 0 skills in gaming, right?
*****
Obviously there are many more archetypes of gamers that are irritating, such as leavers, hackers and people who can't think of any insults that don't involve your mother/sister/entire family line. However, I find these 4 are the ones that grate on my nerves the most.
I've come a long way in anger management, but no one's perfect. Except maybe Mother Theresa or something. That said, let me end this post with a conversation I had today with an idiot who conveniently falls into at least 3 of the above archetypes.
This was after days of him alternating between ignoring me and insulting in public. I gave him a final warning to stop calling me a 'cb kia' for no good reason and he responded by hurling even more insults, including the all-time favourite 'o0o', 'lcly sohai like to bully noob' and 'xiao qi' (easily angered). I barely interact with him besides the occasional 'hello, wanna play with us?' whenever I see him and asking his age once.
I kicked and banned him from the game I was hosting and thought that was the end of it. Apparently not. He decided to show his 'non-rage' and how really very OK he was with me kicking him - by harassing me further via private message.
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:55):
pls ban me ok
Stephaniee said (23:55):
already done dear
no need to remind me
now go mind your own business pls
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:56):
lol
sohai
Stephaniee said (23:56):
:)
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:56):
u r gay lou lai xiao qi lai they bo lampa de hahaha
Stephaniee said (23:57):
when you can speak english come and talk to me
also, grow a set of balls and some common sense
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:57):
show english lo
sry pro english
Stephaniee said (23:58):
sry pro gary
i've been nothing but nice to you all along
and all you can do
is talk cock
then come diu me
again
and again
for no reason
fucking retarded
you so rude then call ppl xiao qi
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:58):
i got fuck u?
Stephaniee said (23:58):
go learn some manners la old man
now not fucking?
bo lanpa?
gaylou?
no fucking ah?
what is your definition then?
you're a fucking egotistical maniac
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (23:59):
nvm ba u not boy lai so sry u r girl go suck dick ba
Stephaniee said (23:59):
learn how to speak nicely and maybe people won't be offended
ha
bring up the topic of sex
typical uneducated idiot
go play some dota la
feed more rage more
now goodbye
useless dickshit
RaGe_BaI3y_GARY said (00:00):
goodblye lo see u i will run 1 u so geli
*****
Lowlifes must always have the last word, don't they?
Here's a useful pyramid of arguments that I found:
He basically bounced between the bottom three tiers before hurling that one last line that was probably meant to offend me, but just sounded hilarious coming from the likes of him.
I'm sorry that I lost my temper, my sometimes you have to lose your composure to avoid losing your sanity. That's just the way it is.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Routine
It is the 16th of February. Besides being the 3rd anniversary of me and my bf getting together, it's also the day where I am exactly 10 days from leaving home, back to my dreary existence in Melbourne.
As if my existence here isn't dreary as well. *snorts* The mild depression that comes with a seemingly inescapable routine has begun to set in. Today, after a particularly frustrating round of DotA, my boy looked at me with weariness in his face.
"Wake up, work, play, sleep. Wake up, work, play, sleep. Every day the same routine."
I didn't know what to say to comfort him, because I feel the same thing every single damn day. I guess in my case, it's my fault for not trying to create excitement in my life. I mean yes, I just had a day trip to Melaka with my friends, I finally learned how to bake cupcakes, I met up with some of my favourite people for catch-up chats...but after all that is over, I feel myself sinking back into the abyss of boring, spirit-numbing routine again.
Every hobby I was once passionate about has lost their flame. Gaming has lost it's excitement, like silver that's lost it's shine. Everything seems tarnished and dull. I used to love to draw although I wasn't particularly good at it. As I progressed through art school, my love for design ignited, spread uncontrollably like a flame across a sea of oil...and then it was suddenly, inexplicably put out by the cold splash of reality.
I'm never going to get anywhere by being mediocre. I'm being honest with myself. My drawing is mediocre. My gaming is mediocre (if I don't completely suck.) My social life is mediocre. Hell, even my FACE is mediocre.
At the beginning of the previous year, I was full of determination to never cut myself slack, to push myself to rise above my peers and shine. I don't know what happened halfway through.
I keep wanting to get up and fight the resistance that blankets my will and rise again like a phoenix from the flames.
Nope. Not happening.
I KNOW it's my fault that I'm stuck in a rut. I KNOW I can get past it. Every time I write a post like this, I'm fighting an internal war with myself. I'm torn between the rational self, saying that all this whining is unnecessary, and the pessimistic self that is willing myself to fail. None of it makes sense. I don't know how to explain it. It's like when people who have never experienced depression before say that depressed people are all faking it and that they could snap out of it just like that. *snaps*
It's the same with me now, except that instead of being stuck in the well of depression, I'm stuck in the hell that is self-sabotage.
I miss the times where I felt strong, smart, beautiful and invincible. Once upon a time, people used to tell me that I was all those things. I wonder if I REALLY was all that, or that I only felt that way because other people seem to believe that I was.
Anyhow, I can feel people's faith in me start to slip. People no longer believe that I can come out on top, they no longer believe I can survive a setback, overcome an obstacle. They SAY I can, but I see in their eyes that they are full of doubt. Those words are just a comfort to themselves, hoping that saying them aloud will somehow make them come true, because they still love me despite my failure to achieve the great heights that they have set for me.
I wonder if people fall into these kinds of ruts all the time, or it's just me who throws pity parties all the time.
I want to believe in myself again. There's a sense of repetition in the way I always turn to my blog when I'm down. I've been through this before. I'm sure if I look back at old blog posts I'd see the same rants, the same pessimism, the same whining. And then after that, the renewed vitality, the will to fight returning.
With every low there's a high. It's just so hard to see the light of the sky when you're buried in an abyss a thousand miles deep, with dirt suffocating you and earthworms shitting on your head.
I don't want to go back to Melbourne. Leaving home fills me with a sense of dread. In a way, I know it represents my reluctance to leave a life of dependence and financial stability. My mom feeds me, shelters me, buys me new clothes. My boyfriend accompanies me, fetches me place to place, kisses me on the forehead when he knows I need it.
Leaving home means leaving all that stability behind. Whenever I step off the plane onto Australian soil, I can feel the life of solidarity and responsibility weighing down on me. One step closer to the life where I'm responsible for sustaining myself. Showing up to work on time, impressing the bosses, bringing the bread home, managing finances...*buries head in palms*
I'm like a bird refusing to leave it's nest. I want to stay home, with my head buried in my mom's feathery embrace, with my bf bringing home worms to fill my growling tummy.
Okay, that was a terrible analogy. What did I say? I'm bleeding out. I don't see a bright and happy future. I'm afraid of being locked into the terrible dungeon that is work routine, coming home everyday exhausted and seeing my boy in the same condition as I am.
They said to think of life as a journey - what matters is not the destination, but how you get there.
Well, I really want to get to my desired station asap: happily married, with a comfortable home away from Malaysia, a stable job that I don't hate and isn't too stressful. How am I going to get there? I have no clue.
Anyway, rant over. I can't stand myself when I'm in this state. I'm particularly pathetic and vulnerable when I'm whining about my (actually very good) life.
Next post will be cheerful, I promise. Happy things or nothing at all.
I'm out.
As if my existence here isn't dreary as well. *snorts* The mild depression that comes with a seemingly inescapable routine has begun to set in. Today, after a particularly frustrating round of DotA, my boy looked at me with weariness in his face.
"Wake up, work, play, sleep. Wake up, work, play, sleep. Every day the same routine."
I didn't know what to say to comfort him, because I feel the same thing every single damn day. I guess in my case, it's my fault for not trying to create excitement in my life. I mean yes, I just had a day trip to Melaka with my friends, I finally learned how to bake cupcakes, I met up with some of my favourite people for catch-up chats...but after all that is over, I feel myself sinking back into the abyss of boring, spirit-numbing routine again.
Every hobby I was once passionate about has lost their flame. Gaming has lost it's excitement, like silver that's lost it's shine. Everything seems tarnished and dull. I used to love to draw although I wasn't particularly good at it. As I progressed through art school, my love for design ignited, spread uncontrollably like a flame across a sea of oil...and then it was suddenly, inexplicably put out by the cold splash of reality.
I'm never going to get anywhere by being mediocre. I'm being honest with myself. My drawing is mediocre. My gaming is mediocre (if I don't completely suck.) My social life is mediocre. Hell, even my FACE is mediocre.
At the beginning of the previous year, I was full of determination to never cut myself slack, to push myself to rise above my peers and shine. I don't know what happened halfway through.
I keep wanting to get up and fight the resistance that blankets my will and rise again like a phoenix from the flames.
Nope. Not happening.
I KNOW it's my fault that I'm stuck in a rut. I KNOW I can get past it. Every time I write a post like this, I'm fighting an internal war with myself. I'm torn between the rational self, saying that all this whining is unnecessary, and the pessimistic self that is willing myself to fail. None of it makes sense. I don't know how to explain it. It's like when people who have never experienced depression before say that depressed people are all faking it and that they could snap out of it just like that. *snaps*
It's the same with me now, except that instead of being stuck in the well of depression, I'm stuck in the hell that is self-sabotage.
I miss the times where I felt strong, smart, beautiful and invincible. Once upon a time, people used to tell me that I was all those things. I wonder if I REALLY was all that, or that I only felt that way because other people seem to believe that I was.
Anyhow, I can feel people's faith in me start to slip. People no longer believe that I can come out on top, they no longer believe I can survive a setback, overcome an obstacle. They SAY I can, but I see in their eyes that they are full of doubt. Those words are just a comfort to themselves, hoping that saying them aloud will somehow make them come true, because they still love me despite my failure to achieve the great heights that they have set for me.
I wonder if people fall into these kinds of ruts all the time, or it's just me who throws pity parties all the time.
I want to believe in myself again. There's a sense of repetition in the way I always turn to my blog when I'm down. I've been through this before. I'm sure if I look back at old blog posts I'd see the same rants, the same pessimism, the same whining. And then after that, the renewed vitality, the will to fight returning.
With every low there's a high. It's just so hard to see the light of the sky when you're buried in an abyss a thousand miles deep, with dirt suffocating you and earthworms shitting on your head.
I don't want to go back to Melbourne. Leaving home fills me with a sense of dread. In a way, I know it represents my reluctance to leave a life of dependence and financial stability. My mom feeds me, shelters me, buys me new clothes. My boyfriend accompanies me, fetches me place to place, kisses me on the forehead when he knows I need it.
Leaving home means leaving all that stability behind. Whenever I step off the plane onto Australian soil, I can feel the life of solidarity and responsibility weighing down on me. One step closer to the life where I'm responsible for sustaining myself. Showing up to work on time, impressing the bosses, bringing the bread home, managing finances...*buries head in palms*
I'm like a bird refusing to leave it's nest. I want to stay home, with my head buried in my mom's feathery embrace, with my bf bringing home worms to fill my growling tummy.
Okay, that was a terrible analogy. What did I say? I'm bleeding out. I don't see a bright and happy future. I'm afraid of being locked into the terrible dungeon that is work routine, coming home everyday exhausted and seeing my boy in the same condition as I am.
They said to think of life as a journey - what matters is not the destination, but how you get there.
Well, I really want to get to my desired station asap: happily married, with a comfortable home away from Malaysia, a stable job that I don't hate and isn't too stressful. How am I going to get there? I have no clue.
Anyway, rant over. I can't stand myself when I'm in this state. I'm particularly pathetic and vulnerable when I'm whining about my (actually very good) life.
Next post will be cheerful, I promise. Happy things or nothing at all.
I'm out.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
-3 bones
I had all three of my wisdom teeth out yesterday. The fourth was nowhere in sight, but the dentist said that it is very common for people to be missing wisdom teeth. It's a part of evolution he said - our diets change and we don't consume as much leaves and nuts as last time (pfft please I'm such a meat-eater), making the existence of those teeth redundant.
How I wish I was missing all four of them. -_-
My mom decided to let me go for surgery where I'd be put to sleep for the process so I didn't have to endure the multiple jabs of anesthesia and being conscious while people poked sharp instruments into my tender mouth.
It was just as well, in a way. When I went to do the dental surgeon, he told me mom that I had to pull all three teeth, instead of the two I was originally supposed to extract. So now I have 3 gaping wounds (well, not really gaping since they have all been stitched up) that ache like I've been punched in the jaw many times by a WWE fighter with brass knuckles.
Honestly, it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would. Either my pain tolerance is high, or I got lucky, or people have been exaggerating to terrify the shit out of me. I'm pretty good with needles, so I didn't freak out when they injected the drug into the back of my hand to put me to sleep. (He said it wasn't GA, something to the same effect but much less dangerous - it would put me in an extremely drunken state whereby I wouldn't remember much, instead of making me lose consciousness altogether.)
True enough, one second the nurse was inserting the needle into my vein and the doctor was chatting about my studies, the next second I was blinking, the room swaying before me and at least 3 tools in my mouth.
I drifted in and out of consciousness and my sense of time was greatly warped. I had opened and shut my eyes a few times (I lost count) and suddenly it was all over. That was one hour later. I stumbled out into the waiting area, feeling like I had a shot of vodka too many. My mom paid and I left the clinic in a haze.
I felt almost fine by the time I reached home. Other than a slight balancing problem, there was only a dull ache in my jaw to contend with.
I took a nap with a towel on my pillow and woke up with the towel covered in blood. I went to the toilet and was shocked and fascinated to find a dry stream of blood running down the left corner of my mouth to my chin where it met the poor towel on my pillow and pooled there. I grimaced and saw dried blood in between my teeth. No amount of rinsing could get it out so I went to my mom's room to get the floss, feeling like some sort of cannibal.
I had no trouble slurping pork porridge into my injured maw that night.
I went to sleep without taking any painkillers, a decision I kind of regretted, since I kept waking up every three hours or so, taking another hour to fall back to sleep. Although I wasn't exactly in pain, maybe the pain killers could have lessened the aching in my jaw and let me have a peaceful night's sleep.
Anyway. I had chicken balls this morning (balls made of chicken, not balls of a chicken *winks at Megan*) so I think I'm doing pretty well. I'll have my stitches removed next week so if nothing bad happens (stitches accidentally ripped out, infection etc) I can probably continue enjoying my holiday ^__^
I'm going back to the dentist later to have my wounds checked and I'll try to get a copy of my xrays just to show y'all how fucked up my teeth really were. They also gave me back my teeth (they didn't even clean it, just wrapped it in some green paper with all the flesh and blood still attached) which I've since cleaned (to the best of my ability, there still seems to be some tissue stuck, and by tissue I don't mean Kleenex) and I'll post it up here to gross everyone out.
That's all for now ^__^ I just really wanted to talk about my surgery so I'll stop babbling about my aches on pains on Facebook and Twitter where everyone's already really fed up of me.
Time for lunch. Some mee sua with chicken balls, seasoned with fresh O+ blood. Awwwwww yea.
How I wish I was missing all four of them. -_-
My mom decided to let me go for surgery where I'd be put to sleep for the process so I didn't have to endure the multiple jabs of anesthesia and being conscious while people poked sharp instruments into my tender mouth.
It was just as well, in a way. When I went to do the dental surgeon, he told me mom that I had to pull all three teeth, instead of the two I was originally supposed to extract. So now I have 3 gaping wounds (well, not really gaping since they have all been stitched up) that ache like I've been punched in the jaw many times by a WWE fighter with brass knuckles.
Honestly, it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would. Either my pain tolerance is high, or I got lucky, or people have been exaggerating to terrify the shit out of me. I'm pretty good with needles, so I didn't freak out when they injected the drug into the back of my hand to put me to sleep. (He said it wasn't GA, something to the same effect but much less dangerous - it would put me in an extremely drunken state whereby I wouldn't remember much, instead of making me lose consciousness altogether.)
True enough, one second the nurse was inserting the needle into my vein and the doctor was chatting about my studies, the next second I was blinking, the room swaying before me and at least 3 tools in my mouth.
I drifted in and out of consciousness and my sense of time was greatly warped. I had opened and shut my eyes a few times (I lost count) and suddenly it was all over. That was one hour later. I stumbled out into the waiting area, feeling like I had a shot of vodka too many. My mom paid and I left the clinic in a haze.
I felt almost fine by the time I reached home. Other than a slight balancing problem, there was only a dull ache in my jaw to contend with.
I took a nap with a towel on my pillow and woke up with the towel covered in blood. I went to the toilet and was shocked and fascinated to find a dry stream of blood running down the left corner of my mouth to my chin where it met the poor towel on my pillow and pooled there. I grimaced and saw dried blood in between my teeth. No amount of rinsing could get it out so I went to my mom's room to get the floss, feeling like some sort of cannibal.
I had no trouble slurping pork porridge into my injured maw that night.
I went to sleep without taking any painkillers, a decision I kind of regretted, since I kept waking up every three hours or so, taking another hour to fall back to sleep. Although I wasn't exactly in pain, maybe the pain killers could have lessened the aching in my jaw and let me have a peaceful night's sleep.
Anyway. I had chicken balls this morning (balls made of chicken, not balls of a chicken *winks at Megan*) so I think I'm doing pretty well. I'll have my stitches removed next week so if nothing bad happens (stitches accidentally ripped out, infection etc) I can probably continue enjoying my holiday ^__^
I'm going back to the dentist later to have my wounds checked and I'll try to get a copy of my xrays just to show y'all how fucked up my teeth really were. They also gave me back my teeth (they didn't even clean it, just wrapped it in some green paper with all the flesh and blood still attached) which I've since cleaned (to the best of my ability, there still seems to be some tissue stuck, and by tissue I don't mean Kleenex) and I'll post it up here to gross everyone out.
That's all for now ^__^ I just really wanted to talk about my surgery so I'll stop babbling about my aches on pains on Facebook and Twitter where everyone's already really fed up of me.
Time for lunch. Some mee sua with chicken balls, seasoned with fresh O+ blood. Awwwwww yea.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)