Friday, August 25, 2017


Hurt - Johnny Cash

I hurt myself today 
to see if I still feel 
I focus on the pain 
the only thing that's real 
the needle tears a hole
the old familiar sting 
try to kill it all away 
but I remember everything

what have I become 
my sweetest friend 
everyone I know goes away 
in the end 
and you could have it all 
my empire of dirt 
I will let you down 
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns 
upon my liar's chair 
full of broken thoughts 
I cannot repair 
beneath the stains of time 
the feelings disappear 
you are someone else 
I am still right here

if I could start again 
a million miles away 
I would keep myself 
I would find a way

My life is a compilation of stranger things. In my universe, I tell someone I love them in the same breath as telling everyone else their insecurities and vulnerabilities. I've done this before, my mother asks why I have to share such details with strangers, Joey had to tell me to remove his thesis book that had his full name, because his mother and workplace could see that he had knocked me up, my best friend(s) has/have had to repeatedly ask me not to include some facts because it hurt them, my sister and I have had cold wars from the things I mention, the men I dated did not feel comfortable with being out there.

It has been decades-long since I've had a filter, for myself and my weaknesses, because I've never really seen a threat or harm coming from it - in fact, quite the opposite, the more I expose my darkest sides, the more... unknown figures would appear and tell me that it was okay. But I realise it doesn't happen for anyone else who is featured on my platforms. If I tell everyone everyone else's story, the audience does not seek out any individual character and tell them, hey, it's okay, we understand. Nobody gets comforted except myself. I am the protagonist of this story, of my story, and nobody feels as invested in all the supporting characters of my story, although in my eyes, they are very much heroes, and I, I am merely the narrator.

I am still embroiled in a situation that I cannot figure out. I have not been meeting him, it has been three weeks, but we are still talking, always talking. Someone once told me, you love the people whom you see parts of yourself in, because it reminds you that there are those things that are loveable about yourself. This sounds very selfish, and it is, I don't claim to be altruistic, nor do I believe in altruism. I connect with him very easily, and yet, on the flipside, there is so much I could learn from him, because there are parts of us that are at complete odds with each other. It creates friction but within the friction, I also find a balance. We might be like Mandarin ducks.

I have caught myself up on Rick & Morty. It is possibly (trying to think of alternatives, but I think there are none) my favourite animation. It reminds me of Pat, one of my nicest Couchsurfing hosts who had Rick & Morty quotes tattooed all over his body. I liked Pat's apartment a lot, it was the one that was messy as hell with books and movies, but it was the apartment that I was most comfortable in, and one that I could foresee myself having.

this could be heaven
or this could be hell

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