He called me this morning. I didn't pick up. I was sleeping. I thought of returning his call. I didn't. I knew exactly what would happen if I did call him back. It had occurred many times before. I would go, "Hey you called? What's up?" A pause. And he would reply, "Nothing... I miss you." A pause. A slight shiver. A sigh.
Had a little flashback of Wei Lian asking me, "You still haven't gotten over him arh?" Big bright eyes staring at me. And I, trying hard to match the intensity of her super famous glare, retorting indignantly, "What do you mean?! Long time ago can! You make it sound like there was something going on." She laughed.
Was there something going on? I could never figure it out. How does a stranger turn into a friend, and how does a friend turn into a stranger? The things we do for strangers. How they fascinate us. Until their names are thrown across the table and words and emotions are spilled all over your hair. Game over. There was too much pressure, too much time wasted in the repertoire of meaningless chatter, so we were right back where we started. And his temper. He was always angry with me, as if he had the right to be. I knew everything about him. He knew nothing about me. That was the way things went. He always wanted more. I never gave in.
I hope he is well. I heard that he was well.
I once said that I am incapable of loving a person in any greater capacity than that of a friend. My sister would puke. Wei Lian would say, "But your love for friends is very great already what." Now, that is the only sentence I like from her. Ahaha. Joking. :p
It still holds true though, not because I want it to, but because the facts speak for themselves. I'm not ready. I am unable to love myself enough to love someone else. I don’t eat properly or sleep properly. I lied when I said I would never apologize for who I am. As a matter of fact, I constantly find myself apologizing for the tiniest things I do. I’m sorry I’m so clumsy. I’m sorry I’m so forgetful. I’m sorry I’m late again. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Shit. Sorry. Again. I might never be able to love myself enough. The simplest things throw me into a depressed state of mind. I try not to show it. I can’t predict my moods half the time because they are incredibly erratic and irrational. I try not to show it. I am always tempted to cut myself. I don't. I think too much. I am afraid of physical touch and intimacy. When I am angry or hurt, I am fond of saying, “Don’t touch me” even though that person was never going to. I don't believe in pure and true love between a man and a woman. My parents set excellent examples. Its a sort of dependence, reliance, infatuation, lust, a crush. It fades. Its the exact same feelings revolving around a different person each time. I don't even want to attempt to break the cycle. I just don't see the point. Prove me wrong. Even if love exists, I don't believe it will happen to me. Maybe I just don't want it to. Everyone around me is so very desperate to fall in love and it somehow triggers a sense of disgust in me that pushes me in the opposite direction. I'm afraid to lose control. I'm also worried that when it finally happens, it won't be enough. Enough. Enough. Because the nights are always so hard to survive.
Sometimes it feels as if everything I do is simply a distraction from something bigger, which I refuse to face. I don’t know where to go from here. So many things to do, so many options, so many possibilities. Now, more than ever, is the time for change. But I just want to live in the moment. I want to be happy. I want to make everybody happy. Even if its just temporary. I don't want to think too much about where we are all going. The time will come, soon enough. But for now, let's just have a good time. Look good. Feel good. Smile, smile, smile. Laugh. Nothing else will matter. Yet.