You can follow from The Bride I here
The Doctor:
He remembered him clearly. The moment he saw him walk through the door, he remembered him. He remembered being told to bring back a bucket of darkness, he remembered being asked to bring half a cup of black, white coffee and milk...in layers, he remembered standing on a table doing the BlueBand advert or singing him lullabies til he fell asleep. This man had made him wake him up by crowing like a cock every morning. He never thought he would see him again. But here he was. However, the man he saw wasn't the boy he remembered. This was a scared man. A man looking for hope. A man waiting for answers. He left him by her bedside when he left in the evening and found him there in the morning. What do you tell a man in such a situation? He hated this parts. They were emotionally draining. Everyday, you told the family the same thing, "There's no change. All we can do is make her as comfortable as possible and wait." He told them to wait while her spirit withered away. He told them to wait while her pale shell grew weaker. He only had hope to give. But what they needed right now was not medical jargon, it was hope. So he gave hope. To the one person he never expected to give it to.
The Nurse:
She had been walking in a daze all week. She had been a trauma nurse for the last 5 years. She had seen worse so no one understood why she had been so shaken up by the girl down the hall. She didn't know her personally but she knew her. She knew everything. When she was at home she remembered; when she was at work she remembered. They had been fighting at the club. Her and her boyfriend. They were drunk and pissed off at each other like they always were. Over something useless and inconsequential as always. She had run out without the intention of ever looking back. So she took his car keys and drove off. She hadn't seen the lights heading towards her. She hadn't braked soon enough. She swerved in the wrong direction. The other car tried to avoid her. Tried and failed. It was her fault. But she didn't look back. Not when she saw it start rolling on the rear view mirror, not when she had the haunting crushing sound below. She had more pressing problems. Like pissing her idiot of a boyfriend off. She saw it on the news. She read it the papers. Irony is when you are assigned the girl you almost killed. Irony is when you fix a broken engagement by breaking an engaged girl.
The Bride:
She felt herself coming back. Back to the living. The voices were now clear. She could here discussions of dresses and colours. She had her mother sobbing, her father shouting to voices she didn't know. She listened to her boyfriend read her the newspaper. Then she felt herself finally slip out of it. It felt different though. They couldn't see her but she could see them. They couldn't touch her but she could feel them. She walked out of her room. She could hear beeping behind her. Like machines somewhere were malfunctioning. Doctors and nurses ran past her screaming things she could not understand. Her family was bundled out. Like some unwanted sacks. Her mother was now openly wailing. All she wanted to do was hold her close and tell her it was going to be alright. She wanted to tell her father not to fret too much, that everything was going to be fine;her boyfriend that she loved him; her best friend that she will always be there. She felt a sharp pain pass through her. Like she had just been shocked by 1,000 volts of electricity. It happened once, five minutes, twice,, five minutes, thrice..........then it went silent. No beeps, no weeping, no screaming and running. Just silence. She didn't even say goodbye.
Life is what happens when you're busy waiting for life to happen!
Monday, June 27, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
My picture
Hey there,
This has been my twitter avi for the longest. Almost since the beginning. I just love it and here's why.....
You see the girl at the front, with the torn dress and the ready to fight stance. In my mind, I am that chic. The girl with the determined look, (the rocker look didn't hurt either) and a bad ass attitude. I am Number 6. All that's needed is a Kawasaki and that photo is complete.
She has the look of a woman who is ready to fight for what she believes in, to fight for her man, her family, her land. She is ready to throw herself fully into any situation. She has a story to tell but you have to earn it. You have to earn her trust, her truth, her heart. She doesn't just speak to be heard. She speaks to be understood and its that understanding that you must earn.
She loves her beast and she will defend him not because he can't do it himself but because no man is meant to fight alone. No man is meant to stand his ground alone with a woman in the house. People should not fear him alone, they should fear his beauty also. They should fear them both. They should fear their unit. He may not be what you expect to find with such a delicate beauty but he is who she's chosen and she has chosen fiercely.
She's delicate, she's supportive, she's there. No pretense, no expectations. She's perfect. If he is weak, she will hold him up. If he is sad, she will hold his hand. She will not laugh at his failure nor will she degrade his weaknesses. She is not taking his place (does his face scream scared to you?) she is not trying to be him....just a simple message...... We fight....together. We are one.
Parting shot, I leave you with words from the good book.
Proverbs 31
10 A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
11 Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
12 She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
13 She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands.
14 She is like the merchant ships,
bringing her food from afar.
15 She gets up while it is still night;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her female servants.
16 She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
17 She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
18 She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
19 In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
20 She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
22 She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
23 Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them,
and supplies the merchants with sashes.
25 She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
26 She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
27 She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
29 “Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all.”
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
31 Honor her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
......
I don't know what to title this post hence the "alama za dukuduku" (one of the few things I learnt in swa).
So the economy is going down the trash and like a million Kenyans, I wearily look at my fuel gauge in traffic. My heart is continuously broken by the state of my account and yet I have to go to work, business as usual. These are trying times we live in. Rent and housing has gone up, most of us consider putting kerosene in the tank, just to test whether it'll work, and as of today morning, you can only buy one packet of sugar and maize flour at a time. I bet you right now that maize farmers rank among the most eligible bachelors. Add on heartbreak, disappointment at work, uncertainty, rising health complications and for a moment, you are left to wonder what it is you are really doing here.
There are some people out there who seem to be rolling in awesome lives and good on them but for the majority, life seems to have taken a wrong turn towards doom. Of course if you are an MP, no offense, but suddenly you're life has been much harder by the Tax Authorities. But what can I say, welcome to the club where half your salary disappears before it reaches your checking account (or if you get paid like some of us, before it just never reaches!) With the shilling hell bent on crushing through the floor, we have to think we are a doomed society at best and heading for Zimbabwe at worst. So do you dress up and go to work to push yourself for peanuts or do you sit back and let the world do to you as it pleases? So we work. To pay for houses we can barely afford anymore, to fuel cars that should be on stones, to buy clothes that are 5 seasons too late, to buy basic food that is now restricted and too expensive for the common mwananchi.
Transport to Juja is now 300 bob. So I've heard. For those like me, you remember a time when it was 30 bob and we still had our complaints. I am not talking about a time when we were ruled by colonialists or an English pound was equivalent to 20/=, we are talking of barely 5 years ago and this is happening to everything. Our lives have gotten complicated and hard. The things we do have become expensive and rare. It makes me lose my breath... and not in the nice kind of way. Not in the way that makes you want to smile after. But in the way that makes you want to jump infront of a train. Mostly because nothing is adding up and the more you try the less it makes sense.
So there I am on an evening like any other listening to MP's insult our intelligence with excuses and ridicule our hard earned money with their antics when it hit me....is this as good as it gets? Is this what I went to school for? For someone who acts half my IQ to tell me that I, being paid less than a tenth his income, should be taxed at a whooping 30% yet he, should be exempt because he has a mortgage of half a million. Most people cannot even afford the rent let alone raise enough for a mortgage. It is incredible.
I worry for my economy, I worry for my children (if ever there shall be any), I worry for the uncertainty of my future. I once went for a whole week with only 30 bob in my wallet. I prayed every day as I left home that there wouldn't be traffic so that at the very least I have transportation back. It was the scariest week ever. Let's just say I survived it by the grace of God. But I wondered that if I am this scared for myself, what is happening with people who have half of what I have or even less. What hope do they have? At the rate that things are going, I can only hope that either things will change for the better or I will change for the better. Something has to give.
In other news, today morning there was a ray of hope in my day. In the midst of all my troubled thoughts, my old man brought me tea. It may not have had sugar but the simple gesture that he looked for a cup, cooked the tea and brought it up to me made another day in the mines not the worst thing to ever happen. Like I could push on for another day without worry. He may not have said it out loud but at that moment, I knew that if I ever should fall, he would catch me.
So the economy is going down the trash and like a million Kenyans, I wearily look at my fuel gauge in traffic. My heart is continuously broken by the state of my account and yet I have to go to work, business as usual. These are trying times we live in. Rent and housing has gone up, most of us consider putting kerosene in the tank, just to test whether it'll work, and as of today morning, you can only buy one packet of sugar and maize flour at a time. I bet you right now that maize farmers rank among the most eligible bachelors. Add on heartbreak, disappointment at work, uncertainty, rising health complications and for a moment, you are left to wonder what it is you are really doing here.
There are some people out there who seem to be rolling in awesome lives and good on them but for the majority, life seems to have taken a wrong turn towards doom. Of course if you are an MP, no offense, but suddenly you're life has been much harder by the Tax Authorities. But what can I say, welcome to the club where half your salary disappears before it reaches your checking account (or if you get paid like some of us, before it just never reaches!) With the shilling hell bent on crushing through the floor, we have to think we are a doomed society at best and heading for Zimbabwe at worst. So do you dress up and go to work to push yourself for peanuts or do you sit back and let the world do to you as it pleases? So we work. To pay for houses we can barely afford anymore, to fuel cars that should be on stones, to buy clothes that are 5 seasons too late, to buy basic food that is now restricted and too expensive for the common mwananchi.
Transport to Juja is now 300 bob. So I've heard. For those like me, you remember a time when it was 30 bob and we still had our complaints. I am not talking about a time when we were ruled by colonialists or an English pound was equivalent to 20/=, we are talking of barely 5 years ago and this is happening to everything. Our lives have gotten complicated and hard. The things we do have become expensive and rare. It makes me lose my breath... and not in the nice kind of way. Not in the way that makes you want to smile after. But in the way that makes you want to jump infront of a train. Mostly because nothing is adding up and the more you try the less it makes sense.
So there I am on an evening like any other listening to MP's insult our intelligence with excuses and ridicule our hard earned money with their antics when it hit me....is this as good as it gets? Is this what I went to school for? For someone who acts half my IQ to tell me that I, being paid less than a tenth his income, should be taxed at a whooping 30% yet he, should be exempt because he has a mortgage of half a million. Most people cannot even afford the rent let alone raise enough for a mortgage. It is incredible.
I worry for my economy, I worry for my children (if ever there shall be any), I worry for the uncertainty of my future. I once went for a whole week with only 30 bob in my wallet. I prayed every day as I left home that there wouldn't be traffic so that at the very least I have transportation back. It was the scariest week ever. Let's just say I survived it by the grace of God. But I wondered that if I am this scared for myself, what is happening with people who have half of what I have or even less. What hope do they have? At the rate that things are going, I can only hope that either things will change for the better or I will change for the better. Something has to give.
In other news, today morning there was a ray of hope in my day. In the midst of all my troubled thoughts, my old man brought me tea. It may not have had sugar but the simple gesture that he looked for a cup, cooked the tea and brought it up to me made another day in the mines not the worst thing to ever happen. Like I could push on for another day without worry. He may not have said it out loud but at that moment, I knew that if I ever should fall, he would catch me.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Rambles of the night....(with accompanying soundtracks)
There are those days when you have so much on your mind but so little to say. And even that little you have doesn't seem to come out in understandable words. It's like a mixture of jibber jabber and blah-blah with a few conjectures of real english words like "and" and "but but..." and occasionally "ummm.." So today I start with my ramblings. (There're videos throughout as a soundtrack as you read. I like living my life with soundtracks. I'd like to think so.)
Beastly:
This weekend after a rather random night out that ended up giving me Insomnia, I ended up watching this rather cliche movie. To be the full spoil spot (you can tell the end from the beginning anyway...) it's about this chap who has everything and pegs his life on his looks. Then he pisses off the wrong female (you gotta love the female!) Once you lose what is on the outside, you better hope you have something inside left. Whether it's your looks or your money or your things. Because what is left inside you; Your integrity, your character, your talent. Your will. That's what will get you back from the rut. You better hope "you're not as aggressively ugly on the inside"
No Regrets:
I bumped into something I wrote to myself a long time ago. I do that sometimes. Write things to myself in the future. Maybe so that I don't lose who I really am. But I think it's because sometimes I'm so terribly bored, I need to write. "Live your life with no regrets" I thought that was pretty profound.....and also ridiculously foolish seeing as I was 18 and had no idea what regret means. But its a nice philosophy, don't you think? No regrets. Even when life hurts, best believe the good parts are worth it. Every single experience, live it with no regrets...
(I have loved this song for the longest time.Even before salvation)
You can't develop in isolation:
It takes me 3 days to process anything fully. I don't have instant reactions like most people. That's not how my emotions function. I hear, I understand, then I go home to process. Pain, excitement, shock. 3 days...No sooner. That's why I prefer everything piled on me on a Thursday, that way I have the weekend. Mid week decisions stress me. So when Number 1 said this, it took a whole night for me to understand its impact. but he didn't breed me to be spontaneous. Sometimes I don't think he realises it though. So I eventually made a decision. Much faster than it usually takes me. I figure, no matter how small the leap of faith, it is still a leap.
(The ultimate break up song. After, "bust the windows out ya car" and "before he cheats" but this one has the most amazing choreography! A.W.E.S.O.M.E.)
It's ok to cry......sometime:
Apparently. From one gangstar to another, it helps occasionally. Of course its not ok! to do the dirge wail like your a village professional mourner but it helps to open the water works once in a while. Let the pressure out. Although mine got abit over the top when I started shedding in church and in the office and around small puppies and laughing babies (they are so cute....the babies and maybe the puppies...and the chap that gave his wife flowers in church also.) But it felt shamelessly nice. Almost like sweating on a hot day, only without the stench. And on that note, it is ok! to miss people.
(This one is here because it helps me think. And I still don't get the name of the guy who sung it.)
Smile:
This week I stood infront of the mirror and looked at my smile. Like really looked at it. I have never really looked at it. I always thought it was crooked and abit shaky looking. Apparently not. It is nice. Like pretty and nice. I was pleasantly shocked. Next time I think I'll test my laugh on someone. Hear how it sounds. But after seeing my smile, I think it might be a kind of sexy (or maybe those irrational loud ones with a snort! I bet on that one more)
(coool.... :-)
The "Sahani" list:
We were talking with a pal about my bucket list. I'm going down it a mountain at a time...literally. But he thinks I'm too young to call it a bucket list. Bucket implies dying....and old. So now we've decided to call it a sahani list. (plate list...for the tourists among us!) But here's my thinking. A bucket list is supposed to be forever. Everyday is supposed to be exciting. See all you need, go everywhere you want, do what you desire. Don't have a list, Just live life. Everyday add something that you must do. Love, cry, laugh, climb, travel.
(if you do nothing else, watch this video. It broke my heart. I loooooved it!)
ps: We just got connected to fibre optics. :-) (I really hope that's what its called) The amazing world of technology....
Beastly:
This weekend after a rather random night out that ended up giving me Insomnia, I ended up watching this rather cliche movie. To be the full spoil spot (you can tell the end from the beginning anyway...) it's about this chap who has everything and pegs his life on his looks. Then he pisses off the wrong female (you gotta love the female!) Once you lose what is on the outside, you better hope you have something inside left. Whether it's your looks or your money or your things. Because what is left inside you; Your integrity, your character, your talent. Your will. That's what will get you back from the rut. You better hope "you're not as aggressively ugly on the inside"
No Regrets:
I bumped into something I wrote to myself a long time ago. I do that sometimes. Write things to myself in the future. Maybe so that I don't lose who I really am. But I think it's because sometimes I'm so terribly bored, I need to write. "Live your life with no regrets" I thought that was pretty profound.....and also ridiculously foolish seeing as I was 18 and had no idea what regret means. But its a nice philosophy, don't you think? No regrets. Even when life hurts, best believe the good parts are worth it. Every single experience, live it with no regrets...
(I have loved this song for the longest time.Even before salvation)
You can't develop in isolation:
It takes me 3 days to process anything fully. I don't have instant reactions like most people. That's not how my emotions function. I hear, I understand, then I go home to process. Pain, excitement, shock. 3 days...No sooner. That's why I prefer everything piled on me on a Thursday, that way I have the weekend. Mid week decisions stress me. So when Number 1 said this, it took a whole night for me to understand its impact. but he didn't breed me to be spontaneous. Sometimes I don't think he realises it though. So I eventually made a decision. Much faster than it usually takes me. I figure, no matter how small the leap of faith, it is still a leap.
(The ultimate break up song. After, "bust the windows out ya car" and "before he cheats" but this one has the most amazing choreography! A.W.E.S.O.M.E.)
It's ok to cry......sometime:
Apparently. From one gangstar to another, it helps occasionally. Of course its not ok! to do the dirge wail like your a village professional mourner but it helps to open the water works once in a while. Let the pressure out. Although mine got abit over the top when I started shedding in church and in the office and around small puppies and laughing babies (they are so cute....the babies and maybe the puppies...and the chap that gave his wife flowers in church also.) But it felt shamelessly nice. Almost like sweating on a hot day, only without the stench. And on that note, it is ok! to miss people.
(This one is here because it helps me think. And I still don't get the name of the guy who sung it.)
Smile:
This week I stood infront of the mirror and looked at my smile. Like really looked at it. I have never really looked at it. I always thought it was crooked and abit shaky looking. Apparently not. It is nice. Like pretty and nice. I was pleasantly shocked. Next time I think I'll test my laugh on someone. Hear how it sounds. But after seeing my smile, I think it might be a kind of sexy (or maybe those irrational loud ones with a snort! I bet on that one more)
(coool.... :-)
The "Sahani" list:
We were talking with a pal about my bucket list. I'm going down it a mountain at a time...literally. But he thinks I'm too young to call it a bucket list. Bucket implies dying....and old. So now we've decided to call it a sahani list. (plate list...for the tourists among us!) But here's my thinking. A bucket list is supposed to be forever. Everyday is supposed to be exciting. See all you need, go everywhere you want, do what you desire. Don't have a list, Just live life. Everyday add something that you must do. Love, cry, laugh, climb, travel.
(if you do nothing else, watch this video. It broke my heart. I loooooved it!)
ps: We just got connected to fibre optics. :-) (I really hope that's what its called) The amazing world of technology....
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The ones we never see.
I noticed them yesterday. First their filthy clothes, then their tattered shoes. I noticed their sweaty faces and their bent backs. They had probably been walking the same path for years but this was the first time I really saw them. I instinctively reached for the button that retracts my side mirrors. Then I felt ashamed. Ashamed because they weren't even looking in my direction. Ashamed because they didn't seem to care who I was or what I drove. They didn't care what I did or what I looked like. Ashamed because I felt that even in their situation, they still looked down on me. Down on my privileged life. They trudged on like I didn't even matter.
But we have all heard the stories and read the papers. One moment, a person is innocently standing at a post and then someone came behind them and stole something from them. A side mirror, a wallet, a purse, a phone, maybe even a watch. So instinctively we assume it is the dirty looking chap crossing our path. But as I looked at these men walking past me, I realised, they were not like the thieves and the robbers. They worked hard. They pushed at life to live. They trudged on in hope. They had families to feed back home, children to raise. Every little they did mattered. The walk, the work, everything.
Their eyes told a story. A story of a life I could never be able to lead. A life of hardness and sadness. A life of hope and hard work. A life so deep that mind could not comprehend. They were not like mine or like the people I passed at the bus stop. They were not like the eyes of the motorist trying to bully them off the road. They were eyes that had seen more than any eyes should. More than my eyes could ever take. They were eyes that understood life and embraced difficulty.
My heart stopped, time moved slower. It felt like I should have paid them homage as they passed. Hard working people just going about their business. Like I should get out and walk with them. See what they see, walk where they walked, listen to the silence of their lives. It felt like it would help me understand the secrets of the universe. Their shoes were well-worn. They had walked. I felt ashamed about my clean shoes. Shoes that had not seen life. Shoes that I had sheltered from the elements. Shoes that I would toss away in a few months.
Their movements did not show the cares that I had. They did not care about fuel prices or landlords. They did not care about the crush of the economy or the budget speech. They did not care about the infrastructure and electricity. Their movements showed that they did not care about the clothes they wore or the shoes on their feet. They probably only had 2 sets of clothes. Work clothes and church clothes. And even then that was still too much. They cared about more important things. They cared about an honest days work. They made sure today counted. They understood the value of a shilling. They understood what it could do. Billions meant nothing to them. But the shilling.....that shilling......meant everything. They worked for it and they worked at it. It was never to be taken for granted.
They passed me like shadows in the evening dusk. Like mirages on the desert sand. Slowly, wearily, tiredly. The kilometres they'd walked could not be compared to anything I had ever done. The work I did could not hold a candle to their experiences. They passed me because they knew who they were. They looked down upon us in our cars, with our suits holding our thermo-cups, because they knew we could never understand what life was. They passed by because they knew, even though we may pretend not to see them, they don't care enough to see us either.
But we have all heard the stories and read the papers. One moment, a person is innocently standing at a post and then someone came behind them and stole something from them. A side mirror, a wallet, a purse, a phone, maybe even a watch. So instinctively we assume it is the dirty looking chap crossing our path. But as I looked at these men walking past me, I realised, they were not like the thieves and the robbers. They worked hard. They pushed at life to live. They trudged on in hope. They had families to feed back home, children to raise. Every little they did mattered. The walk, the work, everything.
Their eyes told a story. A story of a life I could never be able to lead. A life of hardness and sadness. A life of hope and hard work. A life so deep that mind could not comprehend. They were not like mine or like the people I passed at the bus stop. They were not like the eyes of the motorist trying to bully them off the road. They were eyes that had seen more than any eyes should. More than my eyes could ever take. They were eyes that understood life and embraced difficulty.
My heart stopped, time moved slower. It felt like I should have paid them homage as they passed. Hard working people just going about their business. Like I should get out and walk with them. See what they see, walk where they walked, listen to the silence of their lives. It felt like it would help me understand the secrets of the universe. Their shoes were well-worn. They had walked. I felt ashamed about my clean shoes. Shoes that had not seen life. Shoes that I had sheltered from the elements. Shoes that I would toss away in a few months.
Their movements did not show the cares that I had. They did not care about fuel prices or landlords. They did not care about the crush of the economy or the budget speech. They did not care about the infrastructure and electricity. Their movements showed that they did not care about the clothes they wore or the shoes on their feet. They probably only had 2 sets of clothes. Work clothes and church clothes. And even then that was still too much. They cared about more important things. They cared about an honest days work. They made sure today counted. They understood the value of a shilling. They understood what it could do. Billions meant nothing to them. But the shilling.....that shilling......meant everything. They worked for it and they worked at it. It was never to be taken for granted.
They passed me like shadows in the evening dusk. Like mirages on the desert sand. Slowly, wearily, tiredly. The kilometres they'd walked could not be compared to anything I had ever done. The work I did could not hold a candle to their experiences. They passed me because they knew who they were. They looked down upon us in our cars, with our suits holding our thermo-cups, because they knew we could never understand what life was. They passed by because they knew, even though we may pretend not to see them, they don't care enough to see us either.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Ma-feelings
I have been very emotional lately. I don't know why. One minute I'm doing great and then something happens and I'm biting down the tears. There's nothing strange about this if it was happening to someone else. But me, I dont cry. Of course I cry at funerals and should someone break my heart, I will shed a couple of tears to commemorate the event but I never just cry for the sake of it. I will admit thought that I do occasionally cry at Grey's Anatomy.
But I realised it had gotten really bad when suddenly, I started bawling last night after coming home and finding the family had finished the Nyam Chom they had for dinner. I was starving and had explicitly said I was coming home. Now, under normal circumstances this wouldn't be a big deal. But for some reason,I couldn't hold it in. I washed the dishes, walked to my room and cried. I cried because I was hungry and partly because for some strange reason, I felt forgotten. It was terrible. It was unlike me and strange.
Last week, I was silently weeping at my desk for no apparent reason. Just there biting down at my lip and staring hard at my machine hoping no one else notices. I don't know what's going on. I really don't. Maybe its because everyone else's life seems to be moving forward and I feel stuck. Maybe its because alot of the people I love or really like are leaving and it feels like they are leaving me. Selfish I know but there has to be reason to this madness. Maybe all my repressed emotions are fighting to finally get out. I don't know.
As such I've been unable to psyche up for anything. I'm doing stuff because its being done. No excitement, no dramatics, just an emotional woman who is slightly lost in her world. I don't hate living life but I don't feel like doing anything either.
It's absolutely terrible. The people who are able to fix such evils are either leaving physically or have left psychologically so I have to wing this by myself. I want to wake up one morning and just smile. No hysterical laughter, no bawling tears, no forced conversations....just a good day. A day like everyone else's. A good day.
I don't know what triggered this but I do hope an antidote is coming soon. Coz there's nothing else left and my lip is getting real tired of being bitten down.
But I realised it had gotten really bad when suddenly, I started bawling last night after coming home and finding the family had finished the Nyam Chom they had for dinner. I was starving and had explicitly said I was coming home. Now, under normal circumstances this wouldn't be a big deal. But for some reason,I couldn't hold it in. I washed the dishes, walked to my room and cried. I cried because I was hungry and partly because for some strange reason, I felt forgotten. It was terrible. It was unlike me and strange.
Last week, I was silently weeping at my desk for no apparent reason. Just there biting down at my lip and staring hard at my machine hoping no one else notices. I don't know what's going on. I really don't. Maybe its because everyone else's life seems to be moving forward and I feel stuck. Maybe its because alot of the people I love or really like are leaving and it feels like they are leaving me. Selfish I know but there has to be reason to this madness. Maybe all my repressed emotions are fighting to finally get out. I don't know.
As such I've been unable to psyche up for anything. I'm doing stuff because its being done. No excitement, no dramatics, just an emotional woman who is slightly lost in her world. I don't hate living life but I don't feel like doing anything either.
It's absolutely terrible. The people who are able to fix such evils are either leaving physically or have left psychologically so I have to wing this by myself. I want to wake up one morning and just smile. No hysterical laughter, no bawling tears, no forced conversations....just a good day. A day like everyone else's. A good day.
I don't know what triggered this but I do hope an antidote is coming soon. Coz there's nothing else left and my lip is getting real tired of being bitten down.
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