Wednesday, August 31, 2011

You're butterflies on my skin

So I officially spent the best part of my Wednesday (and by best part I do mean a few hours) stuck on someone's Tumblr.
He is FTM, and gawd he's cute.
Who writes now and then, has pictures, is in love with himself (or so it seems) but on some level, there's this bit about him that just, doesn't seem so bad.

No, I do not, and will not follow him because frankly, I don't want to have porn on my dashboard. I did my fair share of yelping, cringing and hurriedly scrolling through gifs today.

People are interesting. And people like this person I've come across, just remind me how interesting I find people. I don't know what it was for sure that had me continuing to read despite my distaste for most of the content.

In any case, I'm off it now.

I sorta wanted to talk about it though. Maybe because of all this talk about violent sex.
I get it. As in, I get why people would, and people getting off on pain.
I get that it takes a whole lot of trust. I get that sometimes people are caught in that in-between, that line drawn in sand between way too far and you're pushing it. I know of people crossing those lines because they want to, and some who want to always be pushing boundaries, but don't really want them to be crossed.

But I also know that it takes a whole lot more trust to let someone to love you.

"Please sir, may I have some more?"

I took this picture because I told her she looks like a character straight out of Oliver Twist.
And that she looks like she's been starved and needs to be fed.

Cutest, most adorable thing in the world!

Except, she straightened up for the picture and looked less orphan-like. I also asked her for big sad eyes, except she couldn't consciously do it):

So. If I ever need to apply for bursaries or financial help for the kids, we know who's gonna go down for the interviews(:

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Your voice

Was the soundtrack of my Summer

Dear you,
Don't know what you did, but I think I'm pretty in love with you.
Love, me

Monday, August 29, 2011

Pulling faces on a late Saturday afternoon

Without even realizing it actually.
Honestly, I felt bad. Because I didn't mean to:/

"She's precious." Mommy tells me.

"Yes(: yes she is."

Saturday, August 27, 2011

The weekend

Is finally here.
We just got home from Delia's where we were stuffed to the brim with really good food(:

Now, to bed.

Favourite thing in the world, falling asleep to you

Friday, August 26, 2011

Expiration date

I'm always afraid of wanting too much.
Often, I'm happy where I am, and I can stay put. The problem comes with looking for what comes next.

Sometimes, I don't get people.
"I'm not the marrying sort, I don't think. I can't see myself in it." I'd say. And I get this look. This, 'Oh child, aren't you too young to make hasty decisions like that?' -type of look.
Or this, 'Now now, don't speak too early.'- type of look.
And then at some point, for whatever reason, I get to thinking,
"Hmm, maybe I could..." But oh, people people, don't hurt yourself as you make a break for it now.
Good God, what is it that people want? I seem to be at the perfect age to be answering these questions wrongly.

I'll just put things into perspective for myself though-
1) Do I want to get married right now?
Hell no. No, I don't. No. No.
2) Do I want to eventually?
Uh, honest to God, I really don't know. Not at this point. I'm definitely not saying that I won't ever. But it depends on a whole lot of things.
3) What about The Girlfriend?
I am very happy and I feel like I can do this for quite a while- living, being and being able to be, while with each other. We both do. But I don't know about anything else.

Sometimes, like today, I am randomly struck by our expiration date. We never said we'd be forever, and I like that we agree on things like that.
Maybe I wasn't prepared for your reply being that sharp. I suppose I'm just used to having responses like that come from me instead of the other round. So perhaps I'm a tad taken aback.

In regards to weddings and proposals and the patterns on our paper doilies, we'll leave that to Future Charis.
Because honest to God, I'm perfectly fine with what I've got right now.

I've got Bird.
And we're just thinking of Buttons and Timo being our witnesses.
I might not get to have kids, but we'll make do with the furry ones.

Tell me sweet little lies

I never blamed you.
Some people, they start talking about faults, they start blaming. But it wasn't wrong, it never was. I was happy, and I thought, I'm going to do this.
And I was, all by myself.
Then I thought, y'know, it might be nice for you to know. Not because I wanted help, not because I wasn't sure what to do. I knew exactly what I was going to do. And I knew who I'd go to, I just needed to be honest and work up the guts.
I decided I'd tell you, because maybe you'd like to know.

I never blamed you.
Not then, and not now.

Sometimes, you just know.
You just know that you can, and you go for it. You don't have any idea how you're going to do it, but you know you can.
You know with every iota of your being.
I knew.
I knew before the truth stared me in the face, and I knew that I could, I swear to God. I knew, and so I wanted to. I wanted to so, so much. I'd never thought about anything else; There wasn't any other option. Not because I was blind to it, but because I couldn't have it any other way.
If you're standing in between, that's not your fault. And if you're not sure or you simply don't know, then that's not wrong, and it's not anybody's fault either. Because they can't tell you what to feel. They can't tell you what you do or don't know.

But I wasn't standing in between. You have to know.
I had decided, before I'd even told you. I had decided, and I was so, so, impossibly happy.
I knew I could. And I was going to. I wasn't undecided. I wasn't sure about how I was going to start.
But I knew that I could.

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry that it sounds like I'm angry, like it's your fault, like I'm blaming you.
I'm not, please don't think that.
I think I'm angry at myself, for not being as grounded as I thought I was. For not being able to hang on tight, and fight harder for what I wanted.
And fight harder after that.

I never told you how to feel. I never told you whether or not you could. I never tried to convince you.
Sometimes, I just sorta wish you'd done the same for me.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Contact Improv

So we had a conversation about how T's friend from work couldn't believe that we were together. The conversation went a little like-
"Oh so, who's Charis, where's she from?"
"Actually, she's my girlfriend."
"What? Really? But I couldn't tell!"
For some reason this has gotten me all interested, my first question to T being,
"You don't mind that it's like that do you? Cos I certainly don't!"
We're on the same page with that so(:

Which in itself is kind of funny. This conversation was sparked off by talking about certain boyfriend (or well, significant others) and how they behave with their girlfriends, so on and so forth. Because there are a good many who like to show off their girlfriends and there are girlfriends who like to be shown off. And I do think, when they find each other and float each other's boats, then it's all well and good.

We were talking about how we couldn't quite stand being perpetually wrapped around each other at parties or social gatherings and what-have-yous. We don't mind sitting with each other, but we generally like having conversations with other people.
Which brings me to what I find funny- that I am, and always have been, the very affectionate sort. And preeeetty open about it too. Even with people I'm not actually with, but am close to, which often makes for very confused on-lookers.
I think it's funny considering how affectionate I am that I am generally irked by having someone perpetually wrapped around me, or vice versa. Especially when we're hanging out with people and/or attending events or gatherings together.
I mean, for crying out loud, the world can SO tell you wanted me in the splash zone while you were peeing. Might as well do a little circle round me too. Ugh.

I mentioned how I'd hate for someone to go, "Oh I expect they're together because you sorta can't tell who's hand is whose."
People, people.
This is not contact improv.
But in any case, they make for interesting watching every so often.

I guess I'm just glad that I don't get that. That I don't feel obliged to sit beside my girlfriend all the time. Or like, that if I walked away for a bit, she'd call me up looking for me. Or that if she walked off, she'd be upset if I didn't notice and didn't come looking for her.
It's not that we're hiding, or not open. It's just, you don't have to be wrapped up in each other all the time, you know?

So yeah, I thought it funny and actually liked that Steph couldn't tell we were together, and actually said she's never have known otherwise.

I quite like being able to move my own limbs about. And of course, I'll still sneak you peeled prawns and all the bits of pork that get piled onto my plate. And it's nice to reach for the other under the table and say, "Go home?" And climb into the car together after, and go home to being clean and snuggling up. Don't get me wrong, I like that very much.

But in the meantime, there's no need to pee on each other to keep everyone else away.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

The way you say good morning

Your fingers graze the small of my back as you brush past me. It's barely a second, but you've sent shivers up my spine and left me in a three-second daze.

Girl, you're more than anything I could've ever dreamt of wanting.


I like the way this week's been looking, it's been pretty balanced I'd say. Balance is always nice.

I'm back from this morning's Volunteering and lunch with Engie.

I can't wait for this weekend. I could do with snuggling up and stealing good morning kisses.



I guess I really have been quite out of it. But there's no point sulking now, or feeling sorry for myself.
The point is just to get back to it. Just, pick up where I left off. Focus on the shit that I want, even when it sounds painful.
After all, I've got the channels to it. Don't I?

Monday, August 22, 2011


She gets to the side of the road, steps off the kerb and stands. Her bare feet flat against the black heated surface.
Then, quietly, she starts praying. She doesn't have her hands clasped and her eyes aren't closed, but she's praying.
And she's saying that one line over, and over, and over again-
"Please let the next one hit me. Please."

Soon after Christmas

I hate being dependant.
In fact, out of all the things I'd hate for myself, being dependant comes in at the top.

So it scares me to ask-
Please tell me that I won't be left alone with me. Just this week. That I'm not falling apart as much as I think I already am.
Please tell me.
Because I've done it so long by myself, I don't know it I've got enough of me left anymore.
I think I need you.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Starting Point

Like habits, routines.
All it takes is that first step and enough of you to not go crazy about it. Except most times, you lose yourself to too much, get sick of it and call it quits.

Here, I will find a starting point.

I finally went back to Muay Thai. Except I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry because Wrapping my hands, something that used to be second-freaking-nature to me, I couldn't do it.
I hated that moment. The moment that I started and realized, "Nope, this isn't really right."
It took me that whole hour and a half to find that I'd found me. The one I'd left behind somewhere amongst the punching bags and gloves.

I also started on a Meisner class. I've missed repetition. And maybe I'm paying $400 just to be in the company of people who will learn it so that I will find someone I can do it with.
Maybe I'm going for all the wrong reasons.
Because, it sure as hell feels like I am.
I walk in, and yes, I'm looking to learn, but more than that, I'm looking to experience. Except, I can never re-experience. I can't go into that class and be looking for Alexis, for Summer, for Ina, for all those classmates I left behind at The Acting Corp. Because they're not there.
"Come up for a demo." He says. And I do.

The first person I ever did repetition with, was Steve. He's tall, with dark hair. Lanky, he played volleyball- lived in Hawaii for a while with his team, just playing. They were on telly all the time.
We were second up, maybe third.
"Cute smile," he begins.
Except we're stopped and I don't repeat it. Because I've stopped smiling by then. He didn't take me in fresh, he remembered the smile and then brought it up.
He'd thought about it before which goes against living in each moment.

I go up for this demo. And I think about Steve. I think about that tiny theatre space on the first floor of the building- the space I came into every morning of the week for Daily Actors' Workout.
But this isn't it. The activity is the same. Well, similar. The people are different. The environment's different. I am different.
And on a weird level, I feel like a shadow of myself.

I miss what I had at Actors' Boot Camp.
When I left, I thought, it'd be fun to go into repetition with a whole bunch of new people. It didn't matter much that i wasn't coming back for BC II with the same classmates. I wanted more. I wanted different.
I don't know if I'll get that. I don't know if I'll ever go back for BC II.

All I know is that I've started a class. And I want to learn, I want to see what's new and what's different.
But it's difficult when I'm half turned and wanting one of my classmates to read me. Read me, or try to. Here let me lay myself out open. No wait, I shan't. Because somehow, I don't really trust you. I don't feel like I can come here and open up.

Repetition is about being truthful-
Well here it is. I don't know if I actually want to be in that class right now.
It's been one class, just one. But I'm not riveted. I'm not captivated. I'm not gripped.
And I'm thinking, I could've used that money for Muay Thai.
But maybe, maybe, maybe, it'll get better.
Because I do want to learn. I do want to practice.
And I want to stop getting frustrated, and not even know what at.


On a completely different note.
Jerry's party last night was nice. We had nice beehoon and chilli that he made himself. and I had three spritzers, and a few conversations with a few different people.
Got to chatting with Ethel and her boyfriend (who as it turns out, I've met before and is the older brother of someone I've worked with back in Y2Y- never good with names, only faces). Chatting with them was nice, albeit just about very general things.
I hope Jerry had fun, importantly. He did a lot of the running around and serving food.
After cake, we came home together, Nick being nice enough to drop us off at the main road, which made things infinitely easier.

So we got home, chatted with mommy for a bit, and I crawled into bed after her.

I made breakfast this morning, for all four of us. And that was nice.
All Sunday mornings should be like this.
We just need to work that into managing to get to church (and on time too), or we won't be a particularly good example for our kids):

The thought of the coming week is cheering me up considerably, after my rant-and-rave about the Meisner class.

I will go for a run tonight.
I've got a tattoo waiting for me.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Halfway home

I could get used to this-
Crawl into bed while sleep, laced with the smell of you, slips itself around me.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011


That sits in your wallet
Fitted comfortably into the first pocket, so that everytime it flips open,
The world gets to ask,
"My, who's that?" "Don't you two look cute?" "How long has it been already?"

It's pressed up and stained with the breath of the different countries you've been to, smells faintly like a collective of all your scents.

Curled at the edges, it helps you remember the first night of your first too-long vacation apart.
It is bordered by streams of time- some spent fretting, others crying, others smiling shyly.

1) Don't fix things because you should, but because you want to.
2) Taking out that photograph doesn't erase all the memories it comes with. Hastily slotting in a new picture will only have you noticing the traces of ink the last one left behind on the inside of that wallet's window- traces that will now leak into or fall against your new photograph.
3) Sometimes people leave pictures in there. Just to watch it fade into the window, bleed into the rest of you. So that the picture can cry itself into a murky blur of happy colours, and you can pretend to forget.
4) You don't need to keep the picture to remember, and you don't need to chuck it to forget.

5) You. You're the picture in my wallet. The question tucked into smiles, and answers tucked into history.
You're where I come from, where I've been and where I'll go.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Focus Walk

Find a point of focus
Walk towards that point of focus, do not let your eyes stray at any time or leave that point.
Walk heel to toe, feel your feet against the floor. Breathe.
Be aware of your breathing, take note when it changes or when it doesn't.
Be aware of your body, which part you lead with. Think about why.
Don't let your focus shift.
Keep your eyes on that point of focus, and when you reach that point of focus, turn sharply and find your next point of focus and walk towards that point.
It is important to keep everything else in your peripherals and not be distracted.
Get in touch with yourself as you walk- heel to toe, heel to toe.

If someone comes into your path, slow down, halt, let the person pass but do not take your eyes off your focus point. Continue toward that point when the person has passed you by.
When you have reached that focus point, turn and find a new focus point.

When you have reached that focus point, turn and find a new focus point.

When you have reached that focus point, turn and find a new focus point.

When you have reached that focus point, turn and find a new focus point.

When the rest of the world doesn't make sense, I go back to the theatre.
I go back to what I know, what I do best. I go back to what is my home, go over basic rules and concepts that I know better than myself, movements that are muscle memory.
I reach for what flows in my veins, dances with my shadows, laces my breath.

And I go back into the space.
Mostly this space, (more than the boxing ring)
until the world is a blur and I am centred again.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Mirrored walls, springboard floors

I'm a performer, my love, a performer.
And so I take these things;
The things I don't know how to deal with, I take these things that hurt, the moments when you say things that stun me, or catch me off-guard. I take thoughts that I can't put into place, and the senselessness of waves of feelings. I take them and I stow them away.
And then one day, a character will come along. This character will talk different and think different from me, but there will be strands of myself inside that I find. This character will be thrust into my arms and I will crawl into its skin. And I will open up my box, and use myself for him/her.
And I will use myself to forget.

I'm a performer my love, a performer.
A storyteller, a creator of images woven together by people, a director of words that spill out on cue.
Just as much as I can put in, I can take out.
Some stories do with movement, with imagery, with pregnant pauses and the sound of heartbeats.
And some stories do with masks, and the cutting monotony of a voice, detached.
I am made up of both.

I can swear to you that I am real. Although I shouldn't be surprised if you choose to believe otherwise.

Some stories I don't know how to tell. Some collections of emotions, I didn't put away with labels on them. Because in those frames of time, it was exactly who I was- without the need for explanations and justifications.
So I can talk to you, I'd like to. And I don't mind you knowing me.
What I need now, to learn to deal with, are reactions and tones and opinions and disdain,
from an audience I never rehearsed for.

Truth or Dare

Maybe one day she'll love me in all the ways I could never bring myself to

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Dear Bird,
for some reason, when you left this times, it sorta felt like you really left.
Also because my Whatsapp's being a bitch.
But, yeah.



Public Holidays

"What groceries do you need?"

It's 9.30 in the morning,

"Weren't we doing shopping together babe? Where are you?"
"Well, I'm here. So I'll just get what we need."
"But weren't we supposed to...I'll come over?"
"No, you should stay in bed and sleep in. And you can tell me what you need."
And I thought I'd been spoilt enough yesterday.

We spent this morning horizontal, mostly. Aside from listening to my mother's late party night that we weren't a part of (because we're not cool, and we go to sleep early), but which we also didn't need to clean up either.
We had cereal, curled up and ate seaweed while watching Greys'. Gawd, gotta love that show.
Cuddled up, talked, cuddled some more, talked some more.
She's finally made up with Buttons. No, we didn't bribe her. Just because you feed them a couple of times or give them treats doesn't make them like you. Doesn't work like that.
Even though a treat was involved.
Uhm yes.
So, I think she might be edging her way towards Buttons' good side.

I think Public Holidays should be spent exactly like that.
Just, curled up under the duvet and talking about everything and nothing at the same time.
It should be spent sedentary, with lots of junk food.

And then, at then end of the day, it'd be nice to crawl into bed together and figure, even though there's work in the morning,
it can't be so bad.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

You should come home tonight
Hey remember that time,
when you said you loved me?

how's this for shocking?

So I was in line at the box office the other day, and a bunch of rowdy white kids scrambled to a counter and did their picking and choosing. The girlfriend pointed out one of the boys who she knew, and, as we stepped up to the front of the line, they even said hello to each other.

as we stepped up to the counter and were trying to pick seats, someone in that group of boys yelled, "Lesbians!" at us. Pretty fucking loudly too.

It's not every day that shit like that happens to me. Especially not, well, on this side of town I guess. I've always been the protective sort, and so, if that happened a few years back if I was say, out with Bird or Vicky or just, well anyone, I'd probably have turned to look at those kids. Said something maybe. Yelled back. Or grabbed the girl beside me and kissed her and flipped them off. Except now that it pretty much feels like it's thrown directly at me, and the person I'm out with, I instead, flinch. And turn back to the screen and let her pick the seats.

And then, we walk away.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Just, absolutely


So my first ever pair of Aldo heels were laid to rest in the bin of a toilet in Takashimaya.
These 5.5inch heels that cost me a bit over ninety dollars at half price, lasted me four years. Four lovely years.
I feel a little bit bad that I didn't give them a more decent burial.

We set off in search of replacement heels.
I just needed something simple and black and that I can last in. Pretty much like how I can easily last more than 12 hours in those five and a half inch heels. That very first pair I got. Mind you, we're talking catwalks, prints, shows, weddings. They've been to them all.
All my other shoes, gorgeous as they are, haven't worked as brilliantly in my favour.

Well we walked into Aldo.
As one would have to do.
And I picked something up from the Sale section but I was very torn between that pair, and a new arrival that cost quite a bit more and looked delish.

I, however, much as I am in love with Aldos, honestly didn't feel like paying $179 for the New Arrival. So I tried very, very very hard to talk myself out of it (even though Erika was saying I should totally go for it) and the other pair was nice and in fact, more practical.
So I'd more or less settled on the pair except...

She decided I wouldn't have to choose

So uh.
I think my girlfriend sorta spoils me rotten.
Like. There is just put it.

Yep. Spoilt.
I'm sorry, could you not see the gorgeous new babies?


Saturday, August 6, 2011

Already do

Want you to make me feel-
like I'm the only girl in the world
Like I'm the only one that you'll ever love

Friday, August 5, 2011

Just like that-

They went from "I love you" to "I'm tired."

I've never felt like you need to be right beside someone to know what's going on. But by that same token, you can be right beside them, and not know what's going on either.

This is what I like:
That I know how to make your coffee just right
That you have a way of making me believe you

I feel like sitting and crying

Over absolutely nothing, might I add.
Well maybe it isn't absolutely nothing.

Do you know what I do? When I start feeling shitty, or just a wee bit more emotional than usual, I go to ICal.
And I count.
Just so that, you know, I know for sure whether I'm upset because something is upsetting or because my monthly lady friend's popping by for a visit.

I've got work in just a bit though.
And I'm really looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to it because it's constant and makes sense and constantly makes sense.

Last night's conversation was an eye-opener, to say the least.
uhm, yes. The collection of conversations I had.

But you know what?
I've got work.
And all through the weekend. And all I can say about that is, I am impossibly, impossibly grateful.
Everything else will fix itself.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Just one mis-step

This is what it feels like:
Like you get to purge all the evil out of you. Like it leaves a fiery, burning trail behind as it comes out.
Like you're clean. And safe.

Unless of course, the point is to not do that.
Unless of course, you feel like you need to stop yourself before you really achieve what you need/ want to.
Unless of course, you catch yourself somewhere in between.

When that happens, you just end up feeling like absolute shit.

What it takes to quit

Here's the thing about quitting, about saying "I don't want to do this anymore", about declaring your lifestyle is different, about referring to your issues in past-tense:
You can't go back.

You can't have just a sliver of a taste of what it was because it's really hard to not slip up after that. In other words, it's easier to keep taking yourself further and further away and not look back.
Except most times you do.

Most times, I do. Even when I'm trying hard not to. Even when I come away from countless situations safe, and my banner still waving, I come away from a fair share where I can't say the same thing.

I wonder what it is.
It can't always just be a chemical thing, the way something reacts with your body. Because it's not always chemical.

Sometimes it takes a lot more than self-control and discipline.
The problem is, I don't know what else it'll take.

Simply put,
I'm afraid.

The bite of morning

Enya reminds me of my Aunt's place in West Covina. It's like a half hour drive from San Gabriel where the rest of the family live, and she hates the drive up, especially at night.
To say it's "up in the mountains" would sound super far away and fairytale-like, but I don't know how else to put it.

It's colder, because it's just that bit higher. The drive is peaceful and quiet. Not always literally. I mean, when you look out the window at what you're passing by.

And when we wake up before the sun, scrambling for our clothes and waiting for each other to finish in the shower before setting off for Vegas, she's got Enya on the CD Player making me feel like I'm on a mountain, which I am,
and like I'll step out into the bite of LA's winter morning, which I do.

and you'll see me waiting for you, on the corner of the street

I want it to be you,
for a really long time.
I want it to be you

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Pat on the back

Wow Charis, good going! Good job right there, I mean, making the end of the day worse for her and two days in a row?
You're a dream. A motherfucking dream.

Good job.

Stepping into the Everyday

Okay so that's weird. The two-liner that was posted a few posts down, at 3:17am apparently, I didn't post that.
I mean.
I've written it and posted it before. But I don't know what it's doing popping up now, a few months late.
How bizarre.
My blog reblogs itself.

Bird's left.
I had some alone-time at the airport.

I'm glad I had some alone time. Even though she told me to come home, and I sorta misread that and missed out on coming home and cuddling up. Because alone time is good.
I think I might be weaning myself off this breakfast and grey's thing in the mornings. I appreciate it more when it's a few times a week versus every weekday morning.

I need to leave for work soon.

For some reason, this morning feels like stepping out of an escape and stepping back into the world. But it also feels like I'm stepping back into my world because it's easier to hide like that.
And it is.
The teacher in charge said it was a beautiful script.
And today will be the last chance I've got to do as many full runs as I can.
We're complete. They just need to be ready for Monday's performance.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Problem 1: Woke up

This is what it feels like-
A tangle of vines, thick and heavy, pushing their way up through your chest, scratching at your insides, filling your lungs and trying to claw their way up your throat.

This what it feels like-
Like you're leaning back and dizzy, and something's being sucked out of you.
Like you, are being sucked out of you.

This is what it feels like-
Like random spots on your body hurt for no reason. And you can press and poke, searching for the source, but you'll only get close enough and never spot on.

This is what it feels like-
Like you should know. You should know what's going on with yourself, you should know what's causing you to feel this way. You should know. Except you don't. And that pisses you off more than anything.

I can put it down to hormones. That might be the easiest thing to blame right now.
Or the month that we're in right now.
Or the book. Yes, maybe it's Jodi Picoult. But it's the most unexpected things making me tear up.
Or that one of my best friends just left tonight and another will leave tomorrow on the red eye.
Or that for some reason or other, as the day wore on, I ended up feeling emptied out and shitty. Just, shitty.
Like, I'm-doing-something-wrong- shitty plus I-don't-know-what-to-do- shitty, with a bit of I'm-all-wrong-right-now- shitty sprinkled on top of that.

So we cut the call, and I'm lying there, tears burning my eyes and cutting into my skin.
And here's the thing, I don't know why.
And because I don't know, I can't fix it, or try to.
I've got a vague sense of what it might be, but then, me being me, I don't like feeling like it's mapped out. Like there are patterns, even though there always are.
And for the most part, right now it seems like just a tiny bit of this tangle of feelings.

This is what it feels like-
Like I'm falling through coloured leaves. Like I'm falling through time and space. Like I'm falling. And I'm just waiting and waiting and fucking waiting, to hit concrete. To fall against something, to hear myself break, to feel something, even if it's pain.
Except I'm not. I'm just falling, and backwards at that.
And it feels like the world is slipping away from me.


We were in town, on a weekday, when the sun was still up.
I ran errands, I was productive and I tried a new type of bubble tea that tasted like yakult thanks to my odd concoction.

I'm very tired and can't wait to go home and sleep. I'm on my way to the airport now though. I hate not being able to say goodbye.

And, for some reason or other, I've grown incredibly sad as the day's worn on.

but then there's you.
and everything's perfect.

Monday, August 1, 2011

until you're here with me

It's three in the morning. Twenty past, to be specific.
I've got work tomorrow, the internet doesn't have me captured, and I'm actually pretty tired.
I should get to bed.

Really, I should.