20200616: Tuesday: 2123 quote unquote ---20200526; Tuesday; 0345
I feel so sad.
I want to tell someone about my feelings. I want someone to just sit there,
listen wholeheartedly. I thought being a good listener would give me something
similar in return, the rumour it’s not true though. I don’t have a shoulder to
cry on right now. Or is it because I disbelief my own people? I guess I am.
Their act may dishearten me, or maybe the insecurities kill my own courage to
do so? Idk. Everything seems so vague right now. I thought being busy would
distract me, it doesn’t.
One would tell me I should live
my life properly, that I should work harder and put more effort.
One said I shouldn’t be so hard
on myself, that I should treat myself better and learn to pat my back.
Which one is it?
Am I the laziest? Or do I work
the hardest?
I couldn’t
stay rooted. I listen so well that I don’t have any side to pick. I want to cry
so badly right now. I wish I can just vent out my own despair without having to
care about what people think about me. I hope that ranting away on a rooftop
with someone who can actually grasp the concept of being extremely self-aware
shall pull me out from the infinite realm of jargon of my own limbic system. I’m
being barmy, excessively dozy even in the broad daylight, everything on the
not-to-do checklist; I ticked every boxes. I lurch to each edge of obscene
douane, smirking to the bystanders who would clap to my poor insinuation of
grappling the side rope which act as a guide to the track of given belief.
I thought taking away myself from
everyone would be a great escape,
I thought putting away all the
stacks aside can deviate me from resentful thoughts,
I thought distracting myself with
piles of energy could end me up in oblivion,
I was wrong.
The given feelings
overthrow everything I thought I had mastered. I obliged to the rules set ever
since before I was born, or maybe I thought I did. My own audacity, unyielding
since. I am scarcely comprised. I don’t even comprehend my own upper motor
neuron hence my lower motor. I thought by memorising the ASIA Scale would be enough,
I outlaugh myself this time, always actually. I am angry; at everyone; at
myself - most of the time. Well, don’t ask me to hold in because believe me
baby, I did it longer than you been alive, you idiot.
Why would
lamentations result in salty droplets or red eyes or puffed nose or swollen lacrimal sacs
or smothered chest? Why can’t sorrow make flower petals fall instead? Isn’t it
prettier? I love flowers by the way, especially roses. I think you can tell by
looking at my whole blog, if you’re not having any problems with your sights. Reading
up to this passage, I wish I can continue to understand my own liberty to word
out my involuntary physical response in future. Are you?
Dear readers if I had any, if one of
you; if and only if – though I don’t think it will happen in 10 years time, if
one of you, yes you, if you do understand this page and try or maybe not
to seek for me, try harder. Because I may avoid you. Irony isn’t it? I want to
search for someone who read the same book, speak the same language but when one
does appear, I hide. Lol! Apologise! We need to fix it that later in the
future. I hope our fate entwins, I hope everything fall into their own place
gracefully, I hope the flowers bloom by the time arrive.
Till then, see you soon.
May Allah bless.