Frustration

Sometimes there are so many things in my mind that I wish to say, but the moment I am in front of it, I do not seem to be able to say it right, or even say it out loud.

I am pretty bad with confrontations. Any sort of confrontation, however well I am in preparing it in my mind, will end up with me agreeing to the other party, or being manipulated by the other party.

Sometimes I get so frustrated, my anger boiling at it's boiling point, that all I could do was to kick myself so hard for the pain to numb my other feelings.

I never like being taken advantage of. I have my rights.

I never like being misunderstood. I have my virtues.

I never like being talked badly about behind my back. I have my dignity.

I never like being teased for with my confessions. I have my trust in you.

I will not comply, unless everything have been straightened out.

I will not change my principle, just because you think I should.

I am 28, not 35.

And I don't fucking care about what you think, just because you think that you are better than me.

You can fucking well go to hell with all your lover boys, just don't take me with you.

Do whatever you want with them, but not at my expenses. I will not fucking comply.

Bad Taste

I was sitting around idly with some friends of mine in a coffee shop the other day, when a fight broke out just two tables away from me!!!

It was a bright afternoon, and that was not a very crowded place. Occupancy of the shop was roughly about 40%. Karen sat in front of me. I was talking to her half-heartedly, while my mind wondered to my work.

At one point, I jerked my head up to a shadow behind me. I do not usually do this, and I do not usually take note of the people around me. But for some reasons, I jumped a little when this man walked up behind me, and I took a good look at him.

That was an ordinary man. Thin, fair and medium height. He had curly hair, which was rather unusual for a chinese, and he wore glasses, those old-fashioned type of glasses. He was in a rather plain, white-washed, yet clean shirt. He had on his face, a rather stern and grumpy look. I did not think of him as aggressive then. But thinking back, he did look a little dark in his expression, like he was quite unhappy with something.

It was a hot afternoon, and Karen was talking about buying chocolate from the airport.

No, you don't need to buy it from the airport. It's much cheaper here in a supermarket.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah... Go to DPS, it's right across the road. The chocolates there are much cheaper.

OK.

Karen and her sister left a short while later, while I continued to sit idly listening to the others talk. Oh, it was a hot and lazy afternoon.

*Pang!!!!*

For one moment, every eyes were trained at the source of the sound. It was the unhappy man. He was with a bunch of people, having his lunch, and there was another older man sitting right beside him. Unhappy man was staring at this older man with intense eyes and tightly-sealed lips.

Then another man in black sitting across those two stood up and came over to this side of the table. He mumbled something in his mouth, pulled the chairs and table away, and started punching the older man in his ears.

The older man did not make a sound.

The only sould that I could hear was the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

We sat stock still at the sight of that. Inside me, there were two voices. One told me to duck and leave then, as quietly as possible. The other part of me was actually aroused with all the excitement from the fight. I was not too sure what to do then.

At least I knew that I was still a safe distance away.

The man in black then lifted his knee and brought the older man's head down to it. It was then that the older man gave out a sort of sobbing sound. He was still sitting in his chair.

Another man took a chair and threw it at the older man.

A waiter came up to our side and motioned for us to leave, quietly.

So, we left.

But whatever I saw back there, left a very bad taste in my mind after.

Even to this day, which was about a week later, I still could feel that air of hostily and danger whenever I thought back to that incident. The intensity of it weighs down on my heart wherever I go, and whenever I am alone.

This cannot be good. Fighting can never be good.

It's Getting Dark

Something is growing inside of me. A darkness that is trying to envelope me, and pull me down with all its might.

It does not march in with drums and trumpets, but sneaks up at you when you are most unaware.

It comes, and slowly, you cease to function normally.

It starts with your five senses, with which you communicate with this world. Then it starts to seep into your brain, the part that makes sense of the world around you. Finally, it seeps into your heart, the core of your spirit.

You start to see things the way it wants you to see. You start to hear things the way it wants you to hear. You start to think the things that it wants you to think. And you start to understand things the way it wants you to understand.

It isolates you, and makes you think that this world is your enemy.

You start to withdraw, and stop keeping in touch with this world.

It creeps into your heart, and clamps it with its cold hands, making you believe falsely that this world is a cold one.

May be it is. Cold as ice. Hard as a rock.

But I am also a part of this world too. Remember?

May be.

But I'm cold now. And this darkness is still pulling on me. It's still trying to pull me down.

I cannot lose.

Sicker

It is getting worse. Whatever that I was feeling before, it was getting worse.

I am getting more and more disheartened by the moment. All that I could feel now is the greyness that shrouds me like a blanket.

And it is suffocating me.

Work is busy, but that was usual. We are making progress slowly. But there are times when I do wonder, if I really am fulfilled by all this.

My work is my living, but it is not my life.

There are times when I feel that I am like a joke to another, or to others. I don't mind being a clown in a crowd, it makes people laugh and happy. But I hate it dearly when people talked about me behind my back, as though I am a joke. It hurts especially so when those people who talked about me like that are the people dear to me. It do not really hurt when normal people talk about me from behind. I do not really care about them and what they think. I could not give a f***ing damn.

My head is clouded, and I could not think properly. There is something so maddening about it. I just cannot make sense of some things now. Damn, my head hurts.

I cannot think. I cannot make sense of things. My eyes sting. And I cannot feel properly.

I don't want no drugs.

Leave me alone.

Sick

I'm drowning.

The darkness in me is growing, and it is dragging me under.

I cannot think. I do not know what to think or feel. There are times when things happen and I do not know how to react.

I am sorry. I am just being myself.

I am losing myself.

This thing is taking me down again.