Dependency.

It's terrible, needing someone like this.
Just terrible.



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Fix

4:47- look at your phone. Type back. 

Somewhere between 4:47 and 5:05- feel a myriad of things in all it's different shades until you're out of bed before you're next due to hit the snooze button,

and go downstairs. 

And then, eight minutes in, all I could think was- if I can hold on to this burning in my chest and the pounding in my ears, then that means that at least I can feel something a bit more than you.

Why does it feel like there should've been a safety net in place?

Of birthdays and Legos.

To my favourite seven year old in the world,

ou've come a very, very long way on a bumpier road than anyone could be prepared for.
And I am so proud of you. Everyday.

I hope you never grow out of playing with Lego, of needing help with soup bowls that are too hot, of trusting me to get your coffee just right.
And I'll keep my fingers crossed for more birthdays I'll get to spend with you.

Happy Birthday, Angel.

Love,
C

And life is like a game sometimes.

And with shaky hands, I put on my face.
The one I know can take me through the day b

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Dependent.

On days like this,
It feels like the world is heavy with all the things it expects of me. With all the things I should and shouldn't do, should and shouldn't feel.
And it draws itself closer, closer around me, until it's pressing on my chest and filling gaps in my body with an empty, hollow, aching pain that I cannot take anything for.

On days like this, my eyes fill with this inability to pull myself out quickly enough. And my list of to-dos, clear as day, they swim in front of my eyes, daring me to reach out far enough to get at them. Except i am filled with the sense that if I do reach out, I'll only get close enough to find out it's a mirage, and I am too far away to retreat into the sanctuary of my own bed. So instead, I'll fall, face first, into coarse sand that cuts the inside of my throat as I struggle to breathe.

And on days like this, I stare in wonderment at the clock. How the numbers jump when I'm not looking. How I start off on time, but move uncomfortably close to being late, and soon enough, have missed the appointment altogether.

I don't know if it's the thought of going back that triggered this downward spiral, or if I was already unknowingly on this path of mental self-destruction and spreading my legs for a stranger just didn't seem a particularly exciting to-do for the day.

Most of me is quite sure it is the former, rather than otherwise.


But on days like this,
When my self-preservation is a tricksy thing to work with, when my willpower is doing nothing more than coiling itself around my frame like heavy smoke and suffocating me, when I think I might be possibly forgetting how to function-

I think, I need you. Right here.
To hold me and keep me safe, even if it's only from myself.
Even if it's only to quell the pain I'm only thinking up in my head.
Even if,
The biggest thing I'm fighting off is intangible, explain-away-able. And all it is,
is all-consuming, paralyzing, fear.

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Far, far away

It's been a pretty long week.
And not just for me. I remind myself, in fact, that for some, the week's probably felt infinitely longer.

I feel like I've been on quite an up and down, and for the most part, I feel like one too many days have made me feel like curling up and crying.

Which is strange, because there's been new and exciting news, things to look forward to, and I've also hit the lowest weight I've been since I was like, 12 years old or something.
Surely I should be happier. And it frustrates me that I'm here, am not entirely sure how I got here or how to get out.

Yesterday was lovely though. In fact, it was quite the perfect day (sans the pain that wreaked havoc on my body in the evening).
Yes, quite perfect.
And a day well deserved, I'd say.

Step by baby step to new things

Didn't see that one coming. 

Not like this, and not quite so soon. 

And here's the new problem:

Now that we've gotten started, I can't unsee all these pretty places. 

And the knowing that we're going to be okay. 

Maybe not perfect, and maybe not even ideal- but okay. 

Come home?

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All the words that escape me

"Well don't you know how to make a girl smile" I'd said once. Because you did.
Because you do, still.


But I never thought I'd be looking for the words to say,
You also know how to make a girl feel like she's disappearing, like she's running out of corners and boxes to hide what she feels. That you can change her entire day.
And she doesn't understand why she's made to feel what she does because

"Yeah..love you too."



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And I will try

I'll fix it, this; I'll fix myself. 

Fix how I feel. Cram it back into the box it's supposed to be in. 

And hope, fervently, that you won't find the dirt and guilt that lines the inside of my skin. That you won't see the scars on the inside of my throat, from nights spent screaming at the ghosts of his fingers. And his, and his too. 

And when I am clean, when I have managed to carve out and burn the memories still trapped in my bones,

Maybe,

Maybe then.

"You could be beautiful. 

Don't you want to be, beautiful?"

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Why, hello stranger.

So, like it was some kind of a prank,

Blogspot was blocked for the longest, longest time. Which meant that if you were on a computer in Singapore, you wouldn't be able to read a blog hosted by blogspot. Which meant I couldn't read my own blog either. 

Which felt like the equivalent of hairy balls being shoved into your mouth. 

In other words, it sucked. 

I wrote in other places though. Ish. Kind of. Not really. 

Funnily enough, I'd just wrote about how much easier it is to not write, on a platform like tumblr- because all I wanted to do was scroll through pretty pictures and reblog them instead of dealing with all this shit that's been on my mind. 

Which has been a lot, to be quite honest. Especially in, perhaps the last three weeks or so. 

Oh it's been everything really, from feeling ugly, to feeling uglier, to feeling like my girlfriend is repulsed by me, to falling back into this crazy hole of ripping myself apart wanting to be beautiful, to having a minor procedure turn out to be a minor surgery. Without anesthesia. And the psycho-physical pain that came with all of that. To being a complete drunken mess on Saturday night and fighting my mother off while she tried to take my clothes off. On Mother's Day. 

Yes I am ashamed. 

So in other words, quite a bit's gone on. And don't get me started on all the other bits and pieces outside the afore-mentioned emotional nonsense of the last three,four weeks. 

I suppose what matters now is, i accidentally found out that my blog is very much accessible.  

And I might just be able to write again. Or sure as hell can try. 

And that's a start isn't it?

We'll all have to face our ghosts eventually. 

And besides, I'm getting very tired of crying myself to sleep these days. 

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