Wanderings Of A Philosophical Wonderer

Psychic Parting

2007-11-01T11:01:00.001+08:00

As I hold the blade and press it against the weaving, tears run down my face. Three years of running, three years of hoping, three years of pain...and this is what it comes down to. His questions linger on like sweet promises of oblivion around me. It hurts so much to say goodbye. And it hurts even more to know that I've spent the last 3 years pining away needlessly. Today I mourn the passing of another illusion as it dissipates into dust. I'm hurting you just by loving you, J. The threads snap before the silver knife, and fall lightly to nothingness. A beautiful tapestry torn to shreds. The pain sears me, and suddenly...I am the weaving. The threads are my flesh and blood, cruelly ripped to pieces and colouring the ground upon which I stand. It hurts to say goodbye to you. Believe me that, even if you don't believe the strength of my emotion. It will never pass through my lips, I will never tell you how much I feel. It doesn't matter. This fire will consume me, as all wild fires do. They burn and turn on their creators. I give up. But there will be no white flag. I captained this ship even as it began its 3 year descent into the whirlpools of life. I shall go down with it. This is my last posting on this blog. I think it is unnecessary for me to maintain this extension of my self anymore, not when I'm already cutting of everything that burdens me. I've lived for my piano, for my music, for my love of music and J. And now I'm giving up on both. I have accomplished everything I've ever wanted to do. Experienced emotion in all its bittersweet extremes, lived my life as I wanted. To my three girls, you've done enough. I'm sorry it has to end this way, so abruptly and without warning...but then, that's life. I've had enough of it. I've seen what happened to Chris. And somehow...I don't care. Yushaa, I asked you if you saw parallels between us because I feel a strange connection to him. Proficient in English, misunderstood by so many people, tired of life, tired of living. He prevented me from dying, and I'm really grateful for that. No one could help him. No one can help me, either. Hearts that have been closed cannot be redeemed, and I'm closing mine off. Don't let them erase anything I've ever loved. Thanks, Phoebe...for having had the heart to share my passion with me. Everything musical, games even...we shared it all. I didn't realise until today how much I actually treasure our times together, whether in the piano room, on the computer squabbling, or at the card table. The tears threaten to choke me. Elina, for always cheering me up simply by being there with crappy B-grade movies and your dry wit. I'll meet Seif one last time, and clear up everything I've been holding back. I'll tie up loose ends. I guess I'll be in tears forever, unless I do something drastic to end my pain. I chose this path, all the way until the end.
J, it was never your fault. Stop thinking about the past, and move on, my sweet boy. The fault lies entirely with me. Let go of the past, as I'm letting go of the ties that still bind me here. Promise me you'll laugh always, everyday, for the sheer joy you feel in living. I do this for selfish reasons, to end the pain I feel when I've lost everything I've loved. I'm tired of losing, so now I'm making my final move.

Psychic Theft

2007-10-30T03:53:00.000+08:00

An unnatural chill descends over me as I finally realise what has been taken from me without my knowledge or consent. Parts of my self are scattered across my room, in a thousand different things, sheet music on my table, scribbles that reflect my thoughts and mortal emotions in the boxes under the table, my secretly cherished wallet, the many books that I have collected, and so on and so forth. Seized with a sudden desire to check that everything is where it should be (there is a certain order within the chaos of my room that only I can see) I begun taking a mental inventory. And the fact that I am missing several highly important pieces of my self came to light. There are very few suspects in my mind, and when the sun burns bright in the sky I shall search for these crucial items in my life thus far. I know where they are. A curious fact about myself is that I usually know instinctively where all the things that I need will be, or where their current location is. Now my blades slide silently out of their sheaths, and I am contemplating what to do with this latest transgression. As I stood in the centre of the room, feeling my body temperature fall with each passing second, I called up a dark wave of fire to sustain me through this latest battle. I am highly protective of my privacy, and extremely fierce when the invisible lines I place to mark my territories both mental and physical are crossed. Even as the fire sweeps through me, I feel chilled knowing that someone has peeked into my world without me having realised it sooner. This is a sign that I have allowed my defenses to fall into disuse. It is shocking. How did this happen? I know the items were removed a few months prior, but the fact that I only realised it tonight after such a long time worries me. Time was I'd have known it only hours after it was removed. Have I grown so used to frolicking in sunshine and green meadows that I forget to defend myself against unwanted intrusions? Have I grown so carefree that I have become an open book for all and sundry? I am still frozen, but within the ice a hint of fire flickers, and when the sun rises today I shall reclaim what was taken from me. I may be too late to prove the theft of my personal items, but I do not care. I shall defend to the death my right to privacy, and I shall reiterate once more that I guard my mind and heart with fierce brutality. The affection I feel for those around me softens the blow on most occasions, and for that they ought to be thankful. When my wrath has been incurred, all hell breaks loose. I do not care. I will keep my illusions of placid calm and sweet ignorance in place, until I have reclaimed these extensions of my self that have been taken. Once I do, I'll wait until a spark ignites the firestorm I've been suppressing within me. This terrible act is akin to stealing pieces of my soul, and my eyes darken as I plan my next step. It is my nature to be highly secretive, even for the most mundane things, and the items that have been taken contain within them portions of the secrets that I have been guarding for years. My eyes are bloodshot as I count down the hours to sunrise. When the time comes, I will harness all the heat and rage within my heart to scorch this thief who has been stealing quietly from me for so long. Until then, I must work just as quietly to regain the lost fragments of my world.
For every intrusion, you will weep a thousand nights; I am the cruellest demon when my privacy has been invaded. Heed my silent warnings, or suffer the consequences.

Psychic Hunter

2007-10-28T22:37:00.000+08:00

I am tired of dancing around in circles. How can I hunt your demons down when you refuse to name them? For you alone, I would face a thousand of them; entire legions that will fall before my might when I fight for you, when I think of you as my blades reveal themselves. You imbue me with magnificent strength when all seems lost. But it is not enough to whisper my name, for a hundred people need me in a hundred different ways. For you I am only a weapon against the darkness that stalks purity such as yourself. You're fighting fire with fire, because you think the magnitude of my darkness can overshadow all others. You fail to grasp the full extent of my capabilities. If I had not caught you as you fell, if I had stepped back from you...would you have had the ability to overcome such adversity on your own? Why do you think I can save you? What do you expect from me? Do you want me to unsheath my blades and rip your inner demons to pieces for you everytime you send my name out on the winds? I can't do that. You don't trust me enough to tell me the nature of your demons, although I can hazard a guess. I cannot destroy what I do not know. Tonight I feel invincible, a far cry from the pale shadow I was a few months ago. But matter how great I become, I will never be able to help you unless you trust me. Name your demons, and I promise I will hunt them down for you. Trust me enough to open your heart and mind up for me, and I'll do the rest. This is my golden promise, one I will never break, have never broken before. I know you're in pain. But I also know you treasure your independence as much as I treasure my privacy. So I'll bow out of this hunt, for now. I have matters of greater importance to attend to, and you will continue fighting a losing battle. You have, unfortunately, been bumped down on my list of things to do. But you're free to call on me anytime when you need me to step in and shield you from your own demons. I'm not at all sorry I wasn't able to come immediately to your aid, for something strange has happened over these past few days. My needs overwhelm everything else (and everyone else's) for once, and I've spent a happy twelve hours in deep hibernation. The weeks are drifting by, and soon it will be time for me to put my blades and illusions away, in favour of a rifle and pure brute strength. Before that time comes, however, I am perfectly content to sit in my high tower where the winds are always cool and strong. Still, I am not entirely heartless. For anyone who needs me, scream my name to the winds and I'll come. Just don't expect me to be all nice and warm and comforting, if you are the one who brought your own demons to life. I'll destroy them for you, at a price, but there is a good chance I'll end up hurting you too for being so foolish. So think twice before you awaken me from my slumber, because now as my time runs out, I grow sharper and colder. I have no patience for mortal stupidity. I have destroyed a few of my own painful demons over the weekend. The legal mess has been cleared up, I've spoken to my fathers, my mum and my aunt over a few issues that needed to be sorted out, and I've given R a flailing with the rough edge of my tongue. I am calm, in sharp contrast to the gusts that swirl around my cold room, and I offer once more my golden promise. I will hunt down and destroy all the demons that you name. In exchange, I require your absolute trust.
What darkness is greater than my own? In the same vein, what do I have to fear? The night is mine once more.

Psychic Memories

2007-10-26T05:01:00.000+08:00

Dawn is a breath away, and I greet the cool Friday morning with a heart as full as the moon that floats high above me, my companion throughout the dark and quiet night. The many problems that plague me have been brushed aside for a few days, and I chose instead to immerse myself in happy thoughts and sunshine as long as I could hold out. Now as darkness floods my room, the many problems rise from every nook and cranny that I've shoved them into, and together they seem unbeatable. I am expected to be everything I'm not. I'm tired of the lies, I'm tired of lying, I'm tired of all these things that pierce me unseen. R has cut me off from his life; for him we've said our goodbyes. I don't quite know what I've done to incur his wrath, and that makes it worse. I would like to flush out the memories that are filled with J. Remove them completely. Ignorance, as they say, is bliss. He is light itself, the complete opposite to my natural element. Therefore the attraction remains strong, something that both time and distance cannot dull. Perhaps he has found his wings at long last, and if he flies away again, then the tears of blood shall flow once more. I am tired, but I know if I close my eyes now, the nightmares will come galloping throughout my mind and ravage my soul. Not that it isn't already ravaged and broken, but then again...
I don't know why Angel has been so cold to me as well. I'm so afraid my past might be catching up with me, and I'm terrified of what I might remember next. I don't want to remember, I don't want to know anything about my younger years. I am who I am now, and that should be enough. Why is my mind tormenting me this way? Why can't I just forget every horrifying vision, every terrible memory, every painful experience? The few that have surfaced still frighten me in ways I cannot truly understand. A few have been faced down and confronted completely, but there are so many that lurk unseen in the corridors of my mind. I wonder vaguely if it is possible to completely forget. I'm listening to Foolish Games by Jewel now, and my fingers are already subconsciously moving in tune to the piano keys. Mr Lim has offered to move my old piano for free, together with Yammy, so I can have two pianos. I cannot bear to part with my old Challen. We've been through all my ups and downs, and my mum told me three days ago that she would always wake with a light heart in the mornings whenever she heard me play on the piano. And I remember. I remember creeping down to my piano at six in the morning when I thought my head would explode.
I don't want to be this way anymore. I'm happy with who I am now. I don't want my past to catch up with me. All that pain should just stay in my history, entire libraries that should never be explored. Yet it does, when I least expect it. The oddest things trigger my memories. A familiar scent; Esther's perfume. A playground, where I used to sit and wonder detachedly at why people smiled, why families could laugh and talk and connect, why people looked so happy.. My fear, my pain. Hiding away from everyone and everything, pretending to be sick so I could skip school and stay home to spend all day with my piano. Everything comes at me at the strangest times, for even stranger reasons. I cannot remember much, but what I do remember pains me badly. There were people who tried to reach me, of course there were. But back then, I trusted people even less than I do now. The realisation that I was an extremely cold child hits me full force, you know? Emotion was weakness. You never ever said how you feel, because you weren't allowed to. You weren't whole. My thoughts, my pen, paper and piano were all I had. I didn't want anything else, I didn't have anything else. I didn't fit in because I wasn't...like everyone else. I'm not just talking about the gay issue. I wondered about many things. I wondered about religion when my peers were talking about the latest music bands and stuff. I wondered about my purpose in life when my classmates were frantically studying for their examinations. I sat under a warm sturdy tree at the far end of a mostly abandoned field in school when everyone else took a break from studying. I brought along a tiny notebook and a pen with me at all times, everywhere I went. Everything I felt, everything I thought went into it. I must have had a hundred notebooks in those two years alone. Scribblings went on for pages. Odd, disjointed thoughts that came to me as I sat in silence. Always, even in school, I felt alone until I went home and sat at my piano. I was fiercely protective of my piano, and my privacy. Everything else could be taken from me, but these two things were highly prized.
*pained* I went out occasionally, to sit in gardens and wonder why I felt so empty. I snapped and growled and snarled at everyone who attempted to reach me, and finally they sent me to Esther. I don't remember why. The first time I met her, I was frigid. I remember that. Only after a few sessions did I warm up to her quiet, gentle character. I couldn't tell her, though. Why I felt so alone and cut off from everyone else. I read extensively, trying to find answers to questions I couldn't quite formulate myself. I gave her one or two of my journals, written in French. She cried when she read them, although I didn't understand why at the time. I told her about the recurring nightmare I had when I was younger. I used to dream that my parents were wolves who were going to eat me. I think I was five or six when the dreams first started. Eventually I refused to go to sleep, only surrendering when I was too exhausted to fight my own body. I didn't know why at the time. There were many things I didn't know back then.
Love was alien to me, I couldn't give or receive emotion at all. Sure, there was anger. And plenty of fights. With classmates, with family, with lovers. A big chunk of my memory is missing, and I only remember that when my parents moved us to another place, I was transferred to a new school. I skipped classes completely, embittered by my continued emptiness and desperate to find peace in my own self-imposed solitude. I was in pain, and I didn't know why. My parents eventually found out, and during the first year in my new school, I was a complete zombie. I'm sure most of my friends will remember. Back then I still carried my miniature notebook around. It was battered and worn down to the spine, with pages and pages of scribbles, with loose pages everywhere. Thoughts and theories, my vague wonder at the atmosphere of my new school, where everyone seemed to know everyone else.
That first year, I got my heart and soul broken when I trusted the wrong guy. I was beginning to feel emotion, something which surprised me. I'd never felt that way, when he lay in my arms after I played Canon in D for him. He was in tears, and I felt my heart melt as the broken boy wept silently in my arms. Still I retained vestiges of coldness, especially towards everyone else. But he taught me how to love, and more importantly, how to trust. The fact that he ran out on me doesn't matter, because it taught me how to deal with heartbreak, something which I'd never experienced before, even with Alex. It took me a year and many fights with everyone involved before I finally healed. That in itself was an eyeopening experience. The first instance where I loved someone, and got my heart smashed. I realised then that there was so much I'd missed out on. Friendship, for one.
During my second year, I made some friends, and clicked instantly with some people. I learned why some people disliked each other on sight, I learned that people in general could be mean for a hundred different petty reasons. I learned that friendship could go so deep the completion of each other's sentences came easily. I learned that friends defend one another without being asked, as when Kelly overheard some schoolmates gossiping about my sexuality. I learned many things that weren't included in our curriculum. Gradually I changed. I didn't realise it at first, but then the teachers started stopping me in corridors and commenting on how different I was. "You smile now" , "You're looking happier". Sometimes I'd look in the mirror and wonder who I really was. I'd wonder if I was real, if I was really feeling these things that I'd only ever read about before. I didn't know, but I was addicted to these emotions. I'd never felt them before, and I was curious. Happiness was almost a daily occurence, as was the emotion depression, and euphoria. I learned also to resent, to hate, to observe the emotions of others, to label all these emotions that I'd never felt before.
In my notebook, I'd written down all the words to describe feelings and list down all those that I thought I'd experienced. I had deep discussions with Seif about the existence of God and our positions in the universe, and I felt alive. I could talk about everything and anything I wanted to, and he would listen gravely, and give me his opinions without disregarding what I said. For a year, I adjusted to all these strange experiences that other people take for granted. By the second year, I'd already begun eating regularly, although sleep still eluded me on some nights. School suddenly became an adventure where I could answer almost all of my questions. My friends were divided on the topic of God and religion, but they accepted each other's faith without hesitation or prejudice. Right off the bat, they knew that I loved my piano to bits, and that I wasn't exactly the snobbish airhead everyone else assumed I was. That kind of acceptance was new to me, and my integration into social circles in general was laughable at best, and completely humiliating at worst. Often, I would say things that were painfully direct. Sufian in particular suffered from my lack of experience and restraint. Seif didn't like him, because he tried too hard to fit in with everyone. I didn't like him because he didn't like me.
There was one particular incident that sticks in my mind. Space in our Malay class was limited, so usually everyone just sat in their own cliques and left the others to find a space for themselves. I think back then Seif was new to the school, so he was still trying to find someone to connect with, and Sufian had already begun to annoy him (and everyone else in the Malay clique). Sufian tried to push me out of my seat next to Seif and make me sit alone, when I snapped at him, "No one wants you here. Why don't you just go and sit by yourself?" He reeled away from me, and I remember wondering vaguely why he looked like I'd smacked him when I hadn't moved an inch. That was my first lesson on the power of words. Seif was silent, although he looked mildly amused at my outburst. I think a connection firmed itself between us after that.
We started hanging out more often, and I was surprised to find that he had similar thoughts and ideas. We had both drawn cartoon sketches of a character called Tempest who had supernatural abilities, although his controlled time and mine controlled the weather. Small stuff like that amused me because they evoked a strong emotion in me.
If only the good would outweigh the bad. *sigh* That was a lengthy post, even for me. I've ranted and raved, and now the sun is rising. I think the darkness has been held off for at least another day. The day will come when all the suppressed memories will rise as one and attempt to drive me insane. Will I be strong enough? Will I still have people who won't run from the demons that stalk me through the pages of time, through the corridors of my mind? I pray I do. But in case I don't, my piano is all I need to survive an onslaught from my own mind.
Don't leave me, guys.

Psychic Upswing

2007-10-24T02:09:00.000+08:00

The night is nice tonight, and the half moon is like a cheshire cat's grin against the velvet skies. The ice in my bottle tinkles softly as it melts, and I marvel once more at the unpredictability of my emotions. Two days ago I was hurt badly by two men I love deeply. It didn't matter that one was full of hugs and affection after three years of stony silence; it still hurt to know that he was in pain. It doesn't matter now, either. You chose to walk away, so it's fly or die, J. You weren't there for me when I needed you, so don't expect me to halt the world for you. I'm sorry if that sounds cold and cruel, but we both have separate lives now. I think it's better this way too. My replies were short and brief, to almost everyone for the better part of the day. I didn't have time to reply to J's message, though. Sorry. Anyway, I went down to see the piano I've been mooning over with my parents. Surprise, surprise, I wowed everyone when I sat down before my new obsession. I swear my dad's eyes grew as round as saucers. Granted, I haven't exactly given my best performances when I'm at home, mostly because the hammer action for my Challen has deteriorated badly. I'm not a big fan of Challen, to be honest. But my dad kept dragging me over to the Challen grand piano tucked away at the back of the showroom. I was still dead set on my upright Yamaha, though. Impressed some family who had come to purchase a piano for their young son. I was a bit shaken when I saw the way my dad looked at me. There was obvious pride and affection in his eyes as he watched me play. Of course, I kept my thoughts to myself. The other family came over too, and started twittering away with my mum. I was asked to play on different pianos so they could hear the various tones of the pianos in the showroom. I obliged only on my mum's gentle nudging, although I kept my eye on my piano. The other family had their eye on MY piano too! I hurriedly claimed that one, and they pulled me over to another piano they wanted. A high-end 5k piano which I honestly think is a waste of money. *shrugs* But then again...it's theirs to spend. So I'm trading in my Challen for the Yamaha. *drools* My parents had to drag me away from my new darling. I think I'll name it Yammy. I don't care where it goes, as long as I can play. I played the most complex pieces I could remember off the top of my head, and it sounded bloody marvellous. The notes flowed together well, and the touch and tone of the piano really appeals to me. Goodbye, Esplanade!
Also, this way my students can come to my house instead of me having to travel all the way down to Lakeside, which is like on the other end of the island. My mum whispered to me, "Make sure you put this piano to good use." Of course Mum! I can hardly wait until I get to run my fingers over the cool ivories again. Oh! Mrs Lim was hilarious. She wanted me to work for them, as a pianist for the people who come over to purchase pianos, to let them see which piano sound suits them best. My mum and I rolled our eyes when my dad enthusiastically agreed. I think my dad was a big factor in cheering me up yesterday. It was nice to see that all the harsh words he said to me out of anger earlier this year were untrue, at least in his mind. He's really proud of me, and that helped to elevate my mood tremendously. I think it is every child's major fear, that their parents think they are failures. Anyway, I want to have a piano party! I think I'm seriously in love with my new piano. I was in love with the old one until I moved out and had to leave it behind. Never mind. I have a new one, a better one, and I will cherish this latest addition to my room. There are very few things I can't live without. *grins* My writings, J's writings, my birthday cards from all my friends, the presents from this year's bash, my blue blanket (replaced with a white billowy sheet) and now...Yammy! I know that when Yammy arrives, his position will be permanent, so I'm still figuring out the wheres and hows. *gleeful* Goodbye horrendous monstrosity called the Casio keyboard! I'm throwing you into storage! I think I'll place Yammy in the middle of my room, where I can play and feel completely uncramped. Hmmm. I'll have to sleep on it. Yammyyammyyammy! Pianos are love. When I grow up, I'll have one piano for every floor in my oceanfront mansion in California. The cats will live in the attic, and I'll have plenty of room for everyone I care about. =)
J, it is almost three years to the day when the first cracks showed. I still love you as much, if not more. But sometimes I wonder if it's worth it to keep loving you.

Psychic Cutoff

2007-10-23T00:25:00.000+08:00

Go away and leave me to tend to my wounds in lonely silence. J bridges the distance that much more with each day, and my piano will arrive this week. Still I hurt, and I weep bloody tears for everything that R has put me through. It was too much to ask for. I have given away much of what holds meaning for me, but I still keep J's writings and his bears. That is enough. I have had enough, and I am closing myself off. The silence I can break with my music, and my wounds will heal with time. But for now...leave me be where I am myself in the darkness. There is nothing to stop the tears from falling, nothing to contain the pain. I am myself as I weep for J's pain, for his longing for so much more, for the return of R as he used to be.
And the silent scream goes on.

Psychic Iciness

2007-10-16T00:32:00.000+08:00

I have half a mind to vanish completely from everyone who seeks me out. Four bottles surround me; they were full an hour ago. Now I'm left with one and a half bottles, and I'm starting to feel sleepy. But as usual, my nocturnal nature has asserted itself and I have been reading for the past few hours, ignoring the pain that zings through my entire body. Mostly it centers around my heart and fingers, but I have managed to dim my consciousness of said pain. It barely registers in my mind anymore. Heavy works. I can see now why so many thinkers were thought to be oddly eccentric, insane even. I understand their concepts, but somehow...tonight I have trouble believing that there exists in our universe realms beyond our comprehension. Tonight, I am low on faith. It makes me laugh softly, that familiar phrase. J's favourite singer. "Running low on faith and gasoline." *shakes head* Maybe I'm a fool, but even with my limitless folly I cannot understand why he would agree to go out with me again. J, I will not begrudge you in the least should you decide to turn me down. *sigh* The winds are soft and wistful tonight, and my regrets are many. Perhaps this is my contribution to the night, silvery crystal drops that fall from my eyes. Ornaments to an indifferent Goddess. His words have chilled me, more than I can bring myself to admit out loud, but as long as I have breath, I know the fire within me will burn. Perhaps that should be enough, and I should stop hoping for things that everyone keeps saying is out of my reach. Ice threatens to seal my heart off, and I have to remember to stop and breathe. I am no longer afraid. I have called out visions that have previously terrified me, faced them down and smashed each horrifying memory to bits. It leaves me feeling slightly light-headed. Maybe I'm finally regaining my memory, the parts that I lost through pain. I don't know. Memories are unreliable. I'm not in much pain, truth be told. Just feeling slightly numb, and cold. In my mind's eye, a rippling wave of frost radiates outwards from my self, freezing everything in the immediate vicinity. Only two people can melt me right now. The moon is a thin sliver in the night sky, a pale shadow of her usual glory. Seeing her, I feel a stab of pity that almost instantly freezes and shatters into dust. The dance of the sun and moon is at times a glorious one, and at times...a heart-breaking one. Each chases the other without ever meeting. Night and day. The sun with his light and heat, and the moon with her beauty and sparkling stars. If ever they do meet, our world will cease to exist. Perhaps we can draw parallels from their doomed lovestory, J. I'm tired of waiting, tired of loving, tired of crying for you. But tonight, you are only a fraction of what threatens to besiege me. You are no longer my foremost thought. X has been pressing me repeatedly, and suddenly I feel a wave of resentment for him. R is still busy with his work, and I...have had my wings clipped. I tried to play the piano yesterday. Nearly cried from the raw, physical pain. I can't type very well either, which is why tonight's post is taking me so long to complete. I can do light tasks with my fingers, but taxing ones like playing complex pieces or even tying my shoelaces quickly have become major battles. I've never appreciated my fingers more, actually. Huh. Look at that. I found a silver lining in the cesspool of my life. *sigh* It doesn't matter, really. Come morning, the sun will rise and force me into the deepest corner of my room and then the sandman shall come and claim my soul. I met X's older brother. They are very cold to each other as siblings, but X quietly urged me to resume my former position as a teacher. He wants me to give his brother's kids music lessons. If the place wasn't so far away from my current residence, I'd have agreed in a heartbeat. X grew sullen after we left his brother's house, and I quietly left the house the following day. *sigh* No matter how hard I try to distract myself, my thoughts always flit back to J. I swear I'm going to go crazy these few days. I can't play my piano, I can barely type, and my brain feels like mush. Ice surrounds me unseen, but those close enough to me know its sharp bite well enough. Maybe they ought to give me a wide berth until I thaw out. J's words helped to defrost my icy walls slightly. He actually made me laugh, and then wistfulness and a longing to hear his voice caused the ice to reform. Let's just say I won't be feeling very warm and trusting these few days. I'll just hole myself up and tend to my wounds before leaving this castle of dark memories, where the very walls breathe his name. I'll be leaving Bedok sometime soon. Probably going to reside in the Punggol or Sengkang area. I don't really care either way, where I end up as long as I have my essentials with me. The three Ps. Pen, paper, and a piano.
J, save me from myself.

Psychic Illusionist

2007-10-14T00:43:00.000+08:00

There are a few people, very rare, but they do exist, who can see through the layers of illusions I place around myself as safeguards. I am extremely uncomfortable in social situations when these people are present, because I know that regardless of what I do, they can see right through me. Three such men came to our family's first day of Hari Raya, and with all the people milling about, it should have been easy for me to melt seamlessly into the crowd. But these three men kept a close eye on me, silently scrutinizing my every move, and sometimes outrightly attempting to draw me out of my multi-hued shell. X was one of them, he came with his family and kept me on edge for the rest of the afternoon. The other two were my cousin and his dad. They weren't being obviously accusatory, but they were slipping in comments that left me with no choice but to engage them in conversation. I drew away as soon as it was polite for me to do so, and retreated into the relative safety of the kitchen. In almost any circumstance, the kitchen is always off-limits to the casual guest. Tonight, it was my shelter from the human storm that attacked the house. I don't mind guests, if the heat is not on me to entertain them in any way. Nor do I like being judged by men who can see through any smokescreen I put up. *irritated* And to think I used to have a crush on him. He was nice, gentle with me, but somewhat stern, and I didn't like the sensation of guilt I got when I looked at him. His dad smirked at me, and I got this sudden overwhelming urge to punch them in the face. Suppressing the suicidal desire, I held my breath and counted to 7, walking back into the kitchen. I'd rather take the heat of the kitchen than the heat of a few dozen critical relatives. I don't mind the oblivious ones, those who know nothing about me, because that's the way I prefer things to be. But for those who know about the very messy things I've done, and those who seem to know me at a glance...they're trouble for me. *shakes head* It seems as though I've exhausted my energy deflecting probing questions and screwing my face up into alien smiles. Still...it wasn't a total bust. I reconnected with lost cousins, and I've had my fill of cute guy cousins. I have managed to keep myself under the radar for the night, with only a few weird scenes. *comatose* I'm so tired I think I can't think anymore. Piano room tomorrow, and a nightmarish mental schedule to adhere to. Relatives coming over to Bedok, and I'm expected in a billion places elsewhere all at the same time. I'm going to sleep on it, and hope things will fall into place as they usually do for me. I was initially going to post some long, windy theory about dimensions and how I suspect that when I drift off, I peek into other dimensions...but then I don't feel like being deep and philosophically mindboggling tonight. Right. First day of Hari Raya=>Successfully completed. Round 2 begins when I wake up tomorrow. *crosses fingers* I hope I won't meet any more illusion-busting relatives who appear to do more than read minds.
Don't try to unravel the mystery of me. Some things you just were never meant to see.

Psychic Prayer II

2007-10-10T00:03:00.000+08:00

Night descends. Darkness falls. And I pray. I pray for the strength to resist the temptation to rush everything, I pray for the presence of mind to turn my back on the very things that will destroy me. If I am a moth, then he is my flame, and I pray for the willpower to break the spell he weaves over me. I pray for patience. I pray that things will be as they used to be. I pray for a miracle. But mostly...I pray for him.
I waited 3 years. A few more days is nothing.

Psychic Goals

2007-10-08T20:21:00.001+08:00

A fiery burst of emotion exploded through me the instant I woke up this morning, and I have spent most of the day in front of my keyboard, getting my fingers into shape. I am determined to learn this most difficult piece, and Terence's words have helped to bring my fires to full blaze. It is nice to know that someone believes in you and regards you as an equal, regardless of your credentials, or lack thereof. Yet once again, I curse my worn down keyboard. I'm going back home tomorrow, to play on a real full-sized piano. With 88 fully functioning keys, thankfully. Two more days, and I will be able to play the pieces straight from memory. I have recently nurtured a growing dislike for my reliance on sheet music. Of course, a few pieces I have already committed to memory, but most of the time I am forced to lug around huge files of sheet music whenever I practice on my piano. My goal is to master and memorise the pieces by this Sunday, because that's when I play on the piano that has recently begun to haunt my dreams. I have been playing like a man possessed today, hardly stopping to draw breath, finally taking a break to eat when my aunt came back home at 7pm. My efforts have paid off, and I have memorised the piece that brought me to tears due to its complexity and difficulty. BUT...I am not quite ready to throw the sheets into storage yet. Tomorrow I will be going home in the morning, and leaving at night. I will not, I cannot leave my piano until I have accomplished the goals that I have set for myself. It strikes me suddenly, how very strange that six sheets of paper can have me weeping over my own perceived inadequacies. *shakes head* Never mind. Terence has been a great source of comfort to me, and now the only thing left for me to do is practice. On a sidenote, my mum has hinted that she will not be taking the piano with them when they move away from our sunny little island. Which means...what? I hardly dare to believe that I will have my piano with me in this room soon, but my aunt remains a great obstacle, and the warmth of my musical instrument can hardly ease the pain of watching even more people move away. I have already prepared myself mentally for Auntie Gigie's departure. Canada seems so far away from Singapore. Worlds apart, seemingly. *wistful* Well...I have rested enough. Back to my musical world, where the only things I need concern myself with are my fingers, the notes that float before my eyes and the music that fills my soul. My aunt is coming over at 10pm, and I have been designated as the delivery boy. *sighs*

Psychic Resurgence

2007-10-08T01:08:00.001+08:00

3 years of pain, of loneliness, of solitude...all melt away in the space of an afternoon. His words have helped to heal some of the pain, and I am in my element once more. His words, sweet and gentle, brought tears to my eyes, but this time...the tears weren't bitter. I don't know why he chose to bridge the gap today, but I am truly thankful. At the very least, we're talking once again...not just cold words that disguise the affections, but words of warmth and comfort. I have a million questions for him, but I've already asked the most important. Why did you drift away? His apology soothes the wounds he inflicted on me, and suddenly I remember why I fell for him. When he spoke, that same feeling blossomed within my heart, spreading out to fill my entire self. It was golden, and warm, and even now...hours later, I am still grinning like an idiot. I suppose it was very dramatic just now, with a huge thunderstorm outside my window and my heart breaking into a million pieces, and I was seated in front of the worn down keyboard, playing sad lovelorn songs. It was very fitting too, because as our conversation advanced, and my pain began to recede in the light of his affection, the sun peeked out over the dark clouds, dispelling the gloom. I will protect him from the pain that I know will dog him, and I won't allow darkness to mar his light. The night flows around me, the soft velvet cloak that will always be mine. When morning comes, I will see what I can do, what lies within my power to help this boy who has blossomed beautifully into a strong young man. For now, I am content to close my eyes and give thanks to The Powers That Be, for bringing him back. The garden that once held two has begun to flower once more, the withered blooms springing back into life. I only hope that I can have faith that this is real, and not just another illusion that will shatter at the slightest pressure. If it is just another illusion, it is a most beautiful one. And I am whole once more.
Thanks for trusting me enough, J.

Psychic Faith

2007-10-04T04:29:00.000+08:00

When we fall, what brings us back up? In dark times, that elusive ray of light sometimes blossoms within our mortal hearts to lend us some hope and restore our fighting spirit. Faith. Yet another word I used to mock, alongside it's cousins Love and Hope. *shakes head* The folly of youth. I nearly lost my only passport to safety tonight, and for a few breathless hours, I thought I would live again in constant fear. Deep in my heart, I knew where my protections lay. Instinct guided my steps, and I found it lying on the floor, glinting on the dirt and grass. There were a few other things that happened too, but as I walked home with my old pendant around my neck and the silver symbol in my pocket, the wind picked up and ruffled my hair. I stopped for a second, and right there under the grove of trees, I cried. I don't expect total comprehension when I type these things on my blog; for me, they express what I feel and say when in reality my physical self is cold and silent. But look closer behind the illusions I weave, look into my eyes and you will see a glimmer of what I put up on this public blog. I cried for those who exist without hope, without love, without faith. She visited me in my dreams again, and this time, before she killed me, I spoke to her. I can't quite remember the exact words, but I said something about her child. And she started to weep, tears of blood that stained her stark white gown. This dream haunts me more than my experiences and past dreams, because I know now, her concern for her child is real. And if I, as a mortal man, can help to ease her pain, then I vow that I will do so to the best of my ability. I cannot turn my back on a soul in pain, how can anyone? It is unthinkable. When you see a fellow creature in pain, suffering, I think anyone's first instinct would be to help. Gender, race, colour, size...all the boundaries that we draw to define social and racial differences melt away because in the end, we are still fellow human beings. And sometimes, we all need help, regardless of who we are or what we are capable of. These thoughts flew through my mind at the speed of light, tumbling and crashing into one another, as I stood at midnight under the whispering trees. Will she hurt me? Will her sisters harm me, and my friends as they did that night? It still pains me to learn that she used me to hurt my friends on the night I nearly died. Can I help her? Will she allow me to talk to her? The leaves rustled softly as these thoughts flitted through my mind, and as I walked through the dark and empty carpark, the wind grew stronger. Tonight, I sit yet again in tears, afraid to sleep, yet ashamed at my reluctance to right this wrong on my own. Am I incapable of fighting my own battles? Yet I know this is no longer a battle. It is not my life she seeks, it is redemption. I am no expert on the ways of the world, and I don't know if she will ever be granted the peace she has tried so desperately to wring out of me. I'm just a 19 year old kid. But the image of the red tears she shed sticks in my mind. And it inspires faith in me, faith that I can help her, even if I am just a young kid. Everyone deserves a shot at salvation, and her concern for her child is a mother's pain searing her soul. *shakes head* I don't know if anyone else will understand my need to help her, but I must. No one deserves that kind of torment, and I wish to talk to her of faith, of hope, of love...all the things that every man, woman and child should have to be whole.
Light.

Psychic Collector

2007-10-01T23:37:00.000+08:00

With so much time on my hands, I find myself turning into an avid collector of all sorts of knowledge. Martial arts, the occult, languages, music, poetry, philosophy...I have amassed a vast library that encompasses my broad interests. I have organised my various tomes neatly, and I think I am slowly rebuilding my depleted library. My parents' house had a bad case of termite infestation that spread out from our wooden garden gate to under the foundation of the house, and eventually into my library. Most of my books had to be discarded after we exterminated the destructive colony. It is amazing what time and willpower can do to restore what has been lost. *muses* Still, it is not enough. My library will never be complete, because there is just so much that I need to know and read about. Even after having selected my favourite topics, it is still an uphill task, and perhaps that is why I treasure my collection so much. I have a book on Jeet Kune Do, signed by Bruce Lee. My favourite martial arts books remain the traditional manuals on the art of fighting, written by Grandmasters in each specialty. A few modern writings by recent fighting enthusiasts like Marc MacYoung spice up my martial arts section. Of course, the occult section of my library takes up the most space. The Greater and Lesser Keys, the Liber Juratus, The Grand Grimoire, and the jewel of my collection: the Malleus Maleficarum, or the Hammer of Witches. My sheet music takes up a considerable amount of space too, although most of them are not as steeped in history as my other collections. One of the more important books in my library is my Latin-English dictionary for when I'm trying to decipher a difficult phrase in Latin, and there we come to my third favourite section: languages. Latin, French, Spanish, Italian. Recently I've added Greek to my list, but it isn't as easy to learn as the four above. At least the Romance languages share a common root. Then there is the poetry section. I'm extremely partial to works by Omar Khayyam, Shakespeare (a staple in any library), Abu Nuwas (one of the greatest classical Arabic poets) and the late great Allen Ginsberg. Even among them, I have my favourites. I leave you now with a beautiful poem.
Some think the love of boys is wicked in the world, forlorn
Character corrupting, worthy mankind's scorn
Or eyes that weep and breasts that ache for lovely youth
Have no mouth to speak for mankind's general truth
Nor hands to work manhood's fullest delight
Nor hearts to make old women smile day and night
Nor arms to warm young girls to dream of love
Nor thighs to satisfy thighs, nor breath men can approve
Yet think back to the time our epic world was new
When Gilgamesh followed the shade of his friend Enkidu
Into Limbo's dust to talk love man to man
So younger David enamored of young Jonathan
Wrote songs that women and men still chant for calm
Century after century under evergreen or palm
A love writ so sacred on our bible leaf
That heartfire warms cold milennial grief.
Same time Akilleos won the war at Troy
Grieving Patroklos' body, his dead warrior boy
(One nation won the world by reading Greek for this
And fell when Wilde was gaoled for his Bellboy's kiss)
Marvellous Zeus himself took lightning eagle shape
Down-cheeked Ganymede enjoyed God's thick-winged rape
And lived a youth forever, forever as can be,
Serving his nectar to the bearded deity
The whole world knew the story, the whole world laughed in awe
That such love could be the Thunder of immortal Law.
When Socrates climbed his ladder of love's degrees
He put his foot in silence on rough Alcibiades
Wise men still read Plato, whoever they are,
Plato whose love-lad Aster was his morning star
Plato whose love-lad was in death his star of Night
Which Shelly once witnessed as eternal light.
Catullus and tough Horace were slaves to glad young men
Loved them, cursed them, always fell in love again
Caesar conquered the world, top Emperor Power
Lay soft on the breast of his soldier of the hour
Even Jesus Christ loved his young John most
Later he showed him the whole Heavenly Host
Old Rome approved a beautiful bodied youth
Antinus Hadrian worshipped with Imperial Truth
Told in the calm gaze of his hundred stone
Statues standing fig-leafed in the Vatican.
Michelangelo lifted his young hand to smooth
the belly of his Bacchus, a sixteen-year youth
Whose prick stands up he's drunk, his eyes gaze side-
Ways to his right hand held up shoulder high
Waving a cup of grape, smart kid, his nose is sharp,
His lips are new, slightly opened as if parted to take a sip of purple nakedness,
Taste Michelangelo's mortal-bearded kiss,
Or if a hair-hooved horny Satyr happens to pass
Fall to the ground on his strong litle marble ass.
Michelangelo loved him! What young stud
Stood without trousers or shirt, maybe even did
What the creator wanted him to in bed
Lay still with the sculptor's hand cupped on his head
Feeling up his muscles, feeling down his bones
Palm down his back and thighs, touching his soft stones
What kind of men were the Slaves he tied to his bed?
And who stood still for David naked foot to head?
But men love the muscles of David's abdomen
And come with their women to see him again and again.
Enough, I've stayed up all night with these boys
And all my life enjoyed their handsome joys
I came with many companions to this Dawn
Now I am tired and must set my pen down
Reader, Hearer, this time understand
How kind it is for man to love a man,
Old love and Present, future love the same
Hear and Read what love is without shame.
I want people to understand! They can! They can! They can!
So open your ears and hear the voice of the classical Band.
-Allen Ginsberg

Psychic Freefall

2007-09-30T05:28:00.000+08:00

I had thought that going home would solve my problems; I thought the silence would help me heal. I left everything to come back, only to realise how much I've lost. After having spent the week with my two separate families, my mum and two dads, I realise that when I walk through the brass gates, I am alone once more. Granted, I have never sought my parents out for help when I fall. Only once did I call X, a long time ago when I left my mum's place in tears. He came roaring down in his pickup. At 1 in the morning. Brought me back to his place, made me eat vegetable soup of all things, then told me to sleep, and that he would take care of everything. Years and years ago, yet as clear as yesterday to me. I'm falling. I'm falling and I don't know if I can even find the strength to scream for help, an urgent cry for angels unseen. Being home last night, being with X over the past week, reminded me of what I stand to lose. Conversations with X have become a subtle battlefield, veiled barbs flying out from both of us. I flinch everytime he looks at me, I run away everytime he brushes close to me, and I try my hardest to keep that distance between us. What can I do? My other dad was pleased that I made an effort to stay for dinner, going through the formalities for his sake. I damn my inability to express what I truly feel to the people who truly matter. Faced with them, in that one indescribable moment, I either break down completely or run hard and fast. I realised last night as I sat down at the dinner table with my parents, all three of them, that I do love them. My two fathers, and my mum. My mum cooked my favourite dish, and my dad made fruit juice. Why is it the smallest gestures seem so monumental to me, yet I can't even bring myself to tell them how much they mean to me? All our petty bickering, our many fights over the years dim in the light of what I felt yesterday. My parents' parting words to me are always, "Come back soon." And always I nod silently, without meeting their eyes, flying away on wings of frost and crystal, the famed ice prince. Cold and dispassionate, but capable of turning scorching hot in the blink of an eye when crossed. Do I view emotion as a sign of weakness? Yes. Without hesitation, yes. It is a terrible weakness to me. Perhaps that is why I feel so stupidly weak on this cold morning, alone in this empty void. The walls are suddenly so much bigger, and I feel so much smaller. The house is silent without the cats' soft morning calls, so much colder without the warmth of family. I don't know how X sees me now, and I don't think I want to. As dawn's chariot touches down on earth this morning, I fall into the pit of memories, bittersweet and overwhelming. What do I need, really? As I fall further and further, what can lift me back up from the darkness which has claimed my soul? Why do I withdraw, and push away everyone who tries to help? Can they help? Can I deaden these emotions which leave me dazed and confused? These things that I have rarely felt before, things that make me weep for a thousand mistakes in a single lifetime. Four words ghost through my mind, faint but nevertheless discernible. "What have I done?"
A night without armor.

Psychic Keys

2007-09-26T09:07:00.000+08:00

A few nights ago, I was struck with a thought. Perhaps inherent within all of us are keys that unlock our hidden potential. The potential for good, for greatness, for power, for darkness. As night crept over my estate, and the cats prowled the house with predatory elegance, I glanced out at the dark skies and wondered again what my purpose in life was. I only half remember a quote I tossed out so carelessly those nights ago. It does not matter now. I stood before the gateway to darkness last night, the key in my hand and my gaze fixed firmly on the door which most men shrink from in fear. I think I fell asleep still in the same place, and when I woke up three hours later, the illusion had been displaced by another. Above all else, I prize my freedom, regardless of the cost. I have paid in blood and tears to maintain my life as a free spirit, and I can never be chained down against my will. I have spent too long here, each night in silent misery as the man named X scars me that much deeper. I have lost all regard for him, and that is my revelation for this week. I think the cats sense my pain, and for the past few nights they have been a great source of comfort. I cannot remain here, not while the keys are in my grasp. All I have to do is walk up to the doors and extend my hand. Then I can spread my tattered wings and fly away, far away from this place of sweet, addictive horror. I leave my keys behind. There is nothing left anymore.
Unleash the darkness within.

Psychic Heartbreak

2007-09-24T05:39:00.000+08:00

I miss you. I'm sorry for everything.
Why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, open the gate.
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you.
You better let somebody love you, before it's too late.

Psychic Irritation

2007-09-23T12:05:00.000+08:00

When the sun is high in the sky, I am very very easily irritated. The slightest thing can set me off. And it seems as though today the world has conspired to drive me round the bend. Everyone's being loud, and not in a musical way. I mean CONCRETE SLABS falling, drilling sounds echoing around my estate, my cursed neighbours moving what sounds like an elephant up there, and motorcycles revving their engines. HELLO? It is SUNDAY! The day of rest, people! I want to SLEEP! The worst part? I wasted a brief storm playing on my keyboard. Inspiration flooded through me, and I sat and played, and now the dark clouds have exhausted themselves and the stupid sun is BLASTING everything to bloody cinders. I might as well be in an industrial-strength oven, it's that hot. *smacks head* It's hot, I'm cranky and sleepy, the entire world seems to have gone mad, and my system is still fighting through last night's toxins. I need a drink, but of course I can't have one because she's at home and the questions will just annoy me further. I WANT A HUGE THUNDERSTORM. Yes I do. Ok, mebbe not a giga-esque one. But a full one. Not some stupid tiny puffcloud masquerading as a thunderhead! It only lasted like what...15 minutes? What kind of storm is that?! *insulted* STOP BANGING AROUND, UP THERE! *curses* I swear they have a whole HERD of elephants up there! I ate last night, but my fluid intake was horribly off. Hence the lightheadedness today, and the irritating thirst, and the general crankiness. Fine. I shall have 1 teensy secret drink, then I shall proceed to rest, NOISE POLLUTION BE DAMNED. *glares at noise-makers* Anyone who disturbs my rest today shall have a new hole ripped for them. I would glare at the sun too, if it would mean not burning holes in my eyes. Stupid world. *slinks away into dark, damp crypt*
If there would be an eclipse for every time I was nice, I'd be an angel.

Psychic Echoes

2007-09-22T05:31:00.000+08:00

Around 3 in the morning, I lay down on the cold ground to sleep. A thousand ghosts screamed my name, and I was shaking badly when I crawled away from my corner. Tears collect in my eyes, and I curse myself for all the mistakes I've made, all the wrong turns I've taken in my lifepath. I am safe, for the moment, but that protection wavers. I am protected as long as I surround myself in the world of the living, where fellow humans live and breathe. Their pain masks my presence from her. Will I continue running forever? I am in pain as the night winds down. I think the battle for my sanity is lost. My laughter rings around this empty room, bouncing off cold walls and floors. A thousand spirits, a thousand echoes of the fragmented lives I have led thus far. They're driving me insane. The barriers I've erected against my own mind are crumbling away to nothingness. I need sleep, but it is denied me. I need a drink. A strong, strong drink. But I know if alcohol enters my system, my protection will vanish, and they will come for me. I am so tired of being misunderstood! I wanted to help, really. She nearly killed me for that. Oh God. I am going crazy. Trying to help someone who would have killed me without hesitation. My thirst for freedom and wild, open spaces has faded away. All I want right now is to be safe and warm, and to sleep peacefully without being disturbed by anything, natural or otherwise. Stupid as it is, I want to see J. Or even R, or Z. Z would understand, would laugh softly and murmur soothing words. J would wrap his arms around me, not saying a word, just letting his presence speak for itself. How does one stop an echo? How does one quell a thousand echoes at the same time? How do I silence my mind from all the terrors I have seen and experienced? Dawn is not far off now, and the first of the morning birds have begun their loud chorus. The mists rise thickly from the ground, and an unnatural chill seeps through the walls. As much as I hate heat and light, I want the sun to rise, to burn these phantoms from my being. A temporary exorcism. I'll take what I can get. It's what I've learned after 19 years of trouble. I don't want to hide anymore. From her, from my own mind, from my past. I want to forget everything that has happened to me, silence the echoes of my history, I want peace. I'm so tired of fighting everyone and everything all the time. My defences will hold for today, with dawn being only several minutes away. But come nightfall tomorrow, I must find a safe haven for myself, one where I can sleep undisturbed by phantoms both within and without. I will not spend another night shaking in fear and pain.
Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio;
contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium.
Imperet illi Deus , supplices deprecamur:
tuque, Princeps militiae caelestis, Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos,
qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo, divina virtute in infernum detrude.

Psychic Shards

2007-09-21T01:28:00.000+08:00

I know how fiery my anger can be, and for half my life I've made it a point to calm myself down before taking action when I'm fired up. Unpredictable things happen when I reach my breaking point. There was the time I was being yelled at by my grandmother at my parents' place. I had just opened my mouth to scream at her, when there was a loud bang and sparks flew out of the doorbell speaker on the wall behind her. The whole room was plunged into darkness, and my aunt was shaking with fright when she lit the candles. I didn't move the whole time, glaring at the entire family.
Today, a similar episode played out. I was furious (moodswing. Don't bother asking.) and I was holding a pair of cups in one hand, and an open bottle of chilled water in the other. Phoebe and Elina were looking at me, and Phoebe asked me why I wanted her to leave the sheets on the table. Irritation flooded through me, but I said quite calmly, "Because of this." And water exploded out of the bottle's mouth, drenching my hand in icy water. The girls fell silent, and heat rushed up to my face and neck. I am sorry that I lost my temper with Phoebe, who is usually the sweetest girl around, and I'm terribly afraid that one of these days, the shards of my emotions will wound an innocent bystander. I have to admit, though, that these incidents are quite cool in their own freakish way. I don't want explanations, nor will I attempt to offer you one of my own.
Speaking of shards, my mum messaged me late this afternoon, but I was fast asleep. She asked me to call her back ASAP, but when I did, my dad picked up. After a few awkward moments of skittering around polite conversation, he told me she wasn't in and I hung up. Sometimes, I wish I could tell people what I really feel. Hard to believe, isn't it? I have a strong command of the English language, but three words defeat me completely. It takes too much of an emotional effort for me to connect to my aunt, to my fathers, even to certain friends. I was on the verge of telling M about J a few moments ago, during our nightly conversation. I was seriously teetering on the edge of a colossal emotional explosion. But in the end, I took a deep breath, swallowed my words and allowed M's attention to drift.
All these shards will cut me to shreds soon. I won't run. I won't fight back. I'll just stand where I am, close my eyes, and allow the inevitable to take place. I can feel his breath on my neck, and I know it's only a matter of time before I surrender to his dark embrace. My mind is already drifting, and tonight, for the first time in many nights...I will sleep deeply. The stars shall watch over me, and the half moon will attempt to slice her way through the heavy clouds forming around her, threatening to choke her when she is so terribly weakened. *sleepy* I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but I would like for some peace of mind, if only for a few hours. Just to ensure my continued sanity.
I'll hold the shards at bay for you, but I can't hold them off forever.

Psychic Quiscence

2007-09-19T23:33:00.000+08:00

I'm headed for a breakdown. Hence the decision to run back home and seek comfort in my piano, pull from the wellsprings of peace that I have known for half my life. I don't think anyone can quite comprehend the fact that silence drives me crazy. Passivity does not suit me well. I tend to go into hibernation when I am not actively doing anything. Hearing her words of comfort only served to increase my agitation, although I'm not sure why. "Things will be fine, don't think so much." Perhaps it is the knowledge that things will never be fine between us. Terence only aggravated the situation during our conversation. He called me twice, and while hearing his voice made me smile, the things we talked about made me want to drop my phone and run. I am convinced that I will be left alone and penniless. *grits teeth* I'm slowly going insane, and nearly out of mind with frustration. *screams* The calm and stillness that people have come to associate with me is merely an illusion. I'm kicking and screaming in my mind. *curses* I'm going home tomorrow. A family that eats together, stays together. Cliches be damned.

Psychic Gift

2007-09-16T01:35:00.000+08:00

I realise, as I stand under the dome of the heavens with my arms outstretched and my eyes tightly closed, I am a child of the universe. I have as much right to be standing here as everyone else. The stars dust the skies lightly, glittering diamonds that for a moment, seem to be within my grasp. A quiet voice speaks from within me. "Don't give up." A voice that, for the moment, silences everything else and I feel hope welling up inside my heart. The fires of my passion have been momentarily doused over the past week, leading to my increasingly erratic moods and temperaments. Today a quiet sort of calm descends upon me, and I feel cradled in the arms of Night, my old friend. The piano calls to me softly, and I find myself reaching out for it instinctively. My fingers long for the cool feel of the ivories. I have made a tough decision recently. My sister wants to take the family piano with her, and when she asked me if she could have it, I couldn't say no. My siblings very rarely ask anything of me, and it makes it that much harder to say no. The piano shall go with them. After all, I think it belongs to them. It is time I moved on and allowed others to do the same. So in the spirit of independence, I shall set out to find myself a new piano. It has taken too long for me to realise that I am constantly under the wing of another. That's no way to learn how to fly, is it, J? The setback I suffered earlier this year, in the form of my aunt's refusal to allow me to move the piano, left me bitter. And as they say, once bitten...
Nevertheless, I shall proceed with my current endeavour to finally be given a chance to prove my worth. It gets old really fast, this black sheep complex. Consider it a really worthwhile investment if I do buy a really good piano. *grins* There are 3 more months left till December. Think I've got a chance to save up to buy myself a piano? I sure hope so. *crosses fingers* I must constantly remember that my goal is to be proficient in my chosen field. Nothing short of the best will do. Time to go scout around pianorooms again. I want a good upright for starters. Maybe when I've got a place of my own to call home...then I'll get a grand. *fixes mind on dream* Time to find me one of those job thingies. =) If all else fails, I suppose Juf at least would welcome me back with open arms. *sigh* THAT would have to be a last resort, though I hope it won't come to that.
the unplayed piano still holds a tune...

Psychic Whisper

2007-09-14T02:30:00.001+08:00

I still think of you. The years do nothing to lessen this emotion and its accompanying pain. As the clouds hover gently above me, I close my eyes and remember times long ago, when the world was a brighter, happier place. Not just for me...but for so many other people. Loss pervades this world in ways I can't even begin to describe. Are we all mere puppets for the Fates? Are they so cruel to take without replenishing what was lost? I have tried to regain my former strength, but my emotions are notoriously capricious. I have scorched friends and lovers alike in my quest for solitude, sometimes even without them knowing why I'm so fiery in the first place. Sometimes I need to be alone, but I can't voice that need without feeling inadequate somehow. Other times, I need company desperately to keep my mind away from the darkness that collects in the corners of my heart, yet again...I cannot put that desire into words. Ever felt that way? Like you're standing in front of someone who's willing to extend a hand, and you can't quite say what you need? I feel that way all the time. If I hadn't burnt the bridges...ififif.
The night feels hot and oppressive to me. I've grown accustomed to sleeping with the sun these days. I quite regret my ability to vanish completely from those who seek me out, particularly when they need me. That is why, tonight...as the sandman calls me to slumber, I fight his call to enfold a cherished friend in my warm embrace and whisper words of comfort. Just words...but imbued with emotion and powered by my empathy. Hours of tears, and again...they fall because of love. The romantics will sigh knowingly, admitting another fallen warrior into their ranks, the cynics will scoff, and yet the river of tears flowing for love grows with each day. I have lost count of the days. I dread the day I will be forced into the shackles of normalcy. Only then will the amount of time I have spent pining for J be calculated, by stern men who have no knowledge of what I am capable of. He has proven true to his word. Fall or fly, you're on your own. *sigh* Looking heavenward, I feel a tug in my heart. Faith. It's just a word until you empower it with your beliefs. This is who I am. Impossible in love, impossible to love, in love with everything that I deem beautiful. Music, sound, colours, emotion, the souls of those around me...J. I laugh at the memories now, a bittersweet chuckle that is drawn from the depths of my soul. *shakes head* I have done my part to comfort another fallen soul in the name of Cupid, and though I know the healing will never truly be complete, time will lessen the wounds. The hours have flown past. Am I headed into nothingness? Can I truly become substantial in 2 years, instead of being just a phantom as I am now? I'm tired of living this way, to be honest. Day to day, living with my head in the clouds, being the dreamer. Dreams don't belong in this era, where soot and dust blacken the streets and buildings, and everyone else is determined to strip the Earth bare of resources. People move along too fast for my liking, and change comes along once every few days. Had I one gift, I would like to live forever in one golden moment. First kiss, perhaps. Or that one moment at the bus-stop, when the sun made his hair glow, and I drowned in his eyes, lost in his arms. His quiet whisper of, "Love isn't something you should be afraid of." *closes eyes* Someday, maybe. Till then, I will fall asleep every night with a whispered apology for all the people I've hurt, voluntarily or otherwise, and most especially to J, the boy who taught me about the purity of love.
I swear in the days still left, we'll walk in fields of gold.

Psychic Intrigue

2007-09-10T01:06:00.000+08:00

There is a certain allure to a butterfly you just can't catch. Try as you may, hunt as you will...it simply eludes capture. Yet you live your days fantasizing about the capture, and you spend your nights dreaming about that final moment of entrapment. A mindless fever has me in its iron grip. There is...so much that I know I have to accomplish. There is so much more I have yet to do. But all I can do is lose myself in the intrigue of that one butterfly chase. I held it briefly in my hand, before it slipped through my fingers and fluttered away, as all butterflies are wont to do. Seeking out greener pastures, where flowers wave merrily in the breeze, where they can alight and draw greedily from the wells of the Gods, the sweet ambrosia we call nectar. Suddenly, irrationally, I have an urge to label them parasites. Speak not to me of pollination; I know the purpose of these gaudy-winged creatures. Yet...I wonder. Why? Why do we chase what we know can never be ours? Dreams, hopes, aspirations, desires. All these things that weaken us when we fail to achieve the standards we set for ourselves. Most people would read my words, and immediately assume that I'm being pessimistic. I'm not, really. I'm just wondering...in a quiet sort of way...why do we keep chasing our butterflies through flower-filled meadows? What do we do, if we finally catch them? I read a rather intriguing book earlier in the day. Friedrich Nietzsche. A fascinating man, of that I have no doubt. Did he succeed in catching his butterfly? I wonder. A brilliant mind. Felled by his own sword. I have often wondered, if it is the curse of the intellectually-gifted to suffer from madness. I fear that word, more than all the demons in the world. Madness. It is tragic, that insanity seems to stalk genius. It is frightening, to think that our capacity for greatness is counterbalanced by the possibility of lunacy. I still seek out sources of knowledge, words by men of such calibre that inspiration and infinite wisdom are deeply embedded within their published works. If only to reassure myself that there are, supposedly, men of great intellect who have done battle with their inner demons and emerged mentally sound and relatively unscathed by their own minds. Are there such men? I don't know. And that frightens me almost as much as the very thought of insanity. I fear insanity, more than I fear anything else. That is my greatest fear. I spoke briefly to him today, and before he could formulate a reply, I excused myself from the conversation and left. It is the first time that I have turned my back on the most precious butterfly of all in my flower-filled meadow. In my mind's eye, it has crimson wings, studded with fiery rubies, and today marks the first time I put my butterfly-net down and watch one of my own butterflies flutter away. Parasite, my mind whispers yet again as I watch it fly further and further away. The fear I have for my sanity is very real, and I know few can understand this phobia that I have. If so, then I can only say that my illusions have served me well. *stretches* The night is young, but I need my rest for my appointment tomorrow. Perhaps it is only fitting that I expose my secret fears of mental weakness on the eve of my appointment with a state-appointed psychologist. Tell me, do I conceal my innermost fears and feelings? Or do I share it all with a man who will study me coldly and use me to further his understanding of the human psyche? After all, perhaps he is only pursuing his own butterfly. Let him, then. It is a futile effort, and he, as a learned man, should know that some knowledges are beyond the reach of men. *bitter* Certain butterflies you just can't catch, no matter how hard you try.
Called a star's orbit to pursue,
What is the darkness, star, to you?
Roll on in bliss, traverse this age-
Its misery far from you and strange.
Let farthest world your light secure.
Pity is sin you must abjure.
But one command is yours: be pure!
-Fredrich Nietzsche.

Psychic Challenge

2007-09-07T02:42:00.001+08:00

Sweeping the cobwebs away from my life. I went home, had a talk with mum and dad. An amusing, touching, deeply moving, and life-altering discussion. They have agreed unanimously that if it is my wish to pursue music, then they will support me whole-heartedly. Three challenges await me. My impending incarceration, and the ensuing fracas. That's one. Entrance into the school of my choice. That's two. And finally...the musical piece that I find so fiendishly difficult to play. It shocks me, how much I have to exert just to get the hang of it. Once the shock wears off, I will glue myself to my instrument and pour my entire being into mastering this one difficult song. If I master this piece within the timeframe I have set for myself, then I know I can overcome future obstacles. This piece speaks to me in ways that very few piano pieces do. It compels me to devote all my time and attention to it, in part because it is so very difficult to play, and yet the knowledge that a fellow musician composed and played this song spurs me on. I have yet to print out the score, but I have tried out the first few bars, and I vaguely know the general flow. It is complex, but so beautiful I cannot bear to leave it unfinished for something as trivial as sleep. What is rest, when a creation of such immense beauty and compelling power has enchanted me so? I have the melody firmly fixed in my memory, and all that remains...is the printout and my final fine tuning. I must master this piece. I will return to my piano tomorrow morning, with the complete score and an unwavering determination to finally test my skills, if indeed I possess any. For now, I will give in to sleep and rest my body, even while my mind remains frenzied over my renewed desire to complete my challenges. The three labours. I suppose I should be thankful that only three stand in my way of success. I suppose other things happened today, but right now, this piece takes up my entire focus.
....and everything is falling into place.

Psychic Insecurity

2007-09-05T23:44:00.000+08:00

A sweeping wave of insecurity has washed over me. I drown in the possibilities of what could go wrong if I fail in this. So many illusions at my disposal, so many visions that I can project to hide my true emotions. Should I be cold and uncaring, the dispassionate ice prince? Or should I be warm and sweet and pretend that I have not spent a good portion of my time pining for him? I can imagine the words. "Just be yourself." Right. I must have been crazy to have agreed to this. Regardless of the smokescreens I put up, I know he will see right through them. Panic courses through my veins like a slowburning fire. It starts from my abdomen, creeping up to my chest, and then circling my neck. I have faced about a hundred demons, but I cannot face my mortal lover. *sighs* The insecurities rise from me like an intangible cloak, enveloping me in darkness. I wonder if years from now, I will still fall on both knees before this mortal man, a slave to his every whim. That thought frightens me senseless. I am afraid, yet also filled with hope. Hope that he will heal the deep wounds I have sustained since our bitter parting. Bitterness crushes that hope almost immediately. Will I stand by and allow him, one mortal man, to best me yet again and lacerate my heart even further? I think it tragic, that those who love so deeply are so terribly scarred by this treacherous emotion. Even more tragic that insecurity causes us to push the people we love far away from us, because we fear they will leave us eventually. *shakes head* Caution shall dictate my every move, then. From here on, I will be cautious and guarded. I must not allow emotion to overwhelm and weaken me again. I am still undecided, and aware that I can vanish at any moment without fear of consequence. There is nothing secret about this anymore. My ability to disappear completely is one of my more maddening traits, for my companions at least. For once, I await morning. I shall lie down in my corner now, and dream of sepia-toned memories.
Gabriel, stand with me as I battle the great demon Regret.

Psychic Pull

2007-09-03T12:08:00.000+08:00

A soft tugging in my mind, a psychic call. I know I have not gone home for over a month, and that my links to that place have begun to decay. The sun vanishes behind dark clouds as the hottest hour approaches. I am cool in my dark room, and my emotional tempest has died away to nothingness, as I predicted it would. I have errands left unfinished over the weekend, sheet music to be printed out, my silent vow to give my piano a grand goodbye before it leaves me forever. Today was supposed to have been that day. I fully intended to have gone over in the morning, emotions tightly caged and sealed, and played my heart out until nightfall, when the ousting winds would then tug me home. The hours creep past, and I am still undecided. My throat is sore, and I am seized with a sudden irrational fear that blood will once more stain my lips. *waves hand* These are mortal worries, mortal fears, and I have no use for them. My brain feels slow and sluggish, as though I am dreaming, and it feels as if I am thinking through a thick, heavy fog. The quiet pull still affects me, and I am torn between my conflicting desires. The veins of my left arm burn lightly, and I wonder detachedly if it means anything. I have half a mind to never leave my tower ever again, and remain here for as long as I can, before life drags me kicking and screaming back into the fray. The rabid panic and desperation of last night have evaporated from me, dispelled like morning mists before the sun's golden rays. It feels as though I have conquered an entire army without having moved a single step. I refuse to go back penniless. I will only step out once my accounts have reaped the rewards of my hard work over the past month. I know the dark shields are revolving around my self once more, hiding me from the world as I slip away. J has left me to fester in this hellhole where he once battled my demons for me, held me close and infused me with borrowed light. That light dims, as the distance between us grows ever larger. My heart still calls out to him periodically, but I think he has grown immune to my mental voice. I think I will remain here for the day, until Night draws me out into her cold, dark embrace. My book lies unfinished on the floor, and the blankets have been shredded beyond recognition. They can offer me warmth and comfort no more. I think it fitting. The end of an era, and the beginning of a new one. I know I will need to assume the guise of normalcy, even though I will rebel against my own charade furiously, and find ways to be the best at what I have chosen to live for. My phone keeps ringing, and my contempt for contact swells up within me like a slumbering serpent. I will allow the links connecting me to everyone else to fall into disuse, and eventually wither away. But before that can happen, I must say my final goodbyes to my piano. It is too much to hope for, that they will leave it behind for me when they move out of Singapore. My sole companion over the years, one of the few sources of comfort for me. My face and bearing will not give my emotions away, but the music that emanates from man and instrument, when I lay my hands upon my pianoforte, shall express all that dwells within my full heart. And I have chosen that day. It shall be tomorrow. A Tuesday, and then that chapter of my life will cease to continue. And my search for a 'job', and a worthy piano to replace my own shall commence on Wednesday. Until then...I am allowed to brood over the twists and turns that the Fates throw into our otherwise straightforward lives.

Psychic Schism

2007-09-02T17:25:00.000+08:00

The barriers rise up once more. I do not care. No one can be trusted, for they can all leave at any given time. Suffice it to say that my immediate family will relocate to another country, and that I will not be going with them. I cannot trust anyone again. I am penniless, and I will throw myself into my work to stand on my own. But never again will I allow anyone else to wound me so deeply. Call me cold, call me uncaring, but my reasons for being these things are clear only to my eyes. I have no wish to see anyone, and I will brood and contemplate my bleak future alone in my room. I cannot bear to see my shattered dreams cut my heart so. It is stupid. I have always been the unwanted child, the strange boy who speaks of things no one can really understand. I will sit and allow the night winds to caress me, for nature is the only entity who has not hurt me. Even as I cradle my head in my hands, and weep an endless flood for my mortal pain, her beauty surrounds me, soothing me. I was stupid to have trusted. When I first came to my mum, I had nightmares. I didn't tell anyone, not even the social worker whose perfumed scent I can still remember. I only spoke of these with Esther, before she too, faded away into obscurity. Is it too much to hope, that someday...I can have someone who loves me without leaving me when I am at my weakest? I abhor weakness. But I am mortal, after all, and therefore naturally needy. It doesn't matter. These crystal drops that silver my fingers, they cannot change what will be. I am afraid. J, when I was homeless three years ago...you came to my aid. I need you now, and your promise to me has never been so clear. "I will never leave you." Did you mean it? Or were you just like everyone else? My tears will not stop, and I know that I will cry again for many nights to come. I kick myself for allowing a false sense of security to lull me into letting my defenses down. I should have saved some money, scrimped and saved. I cannot survive. Inadequacy leaves such a bitter taste in my mouth. I will not forsake the night as I have been forsaken. If the tears fall, at least they will fall in an admirable imitation of the sparkling stars, and I will lie in the palm of night as one of her children. I see no reason why I cannot push everyone away before they leave me. I feel cold as I write these words, but the tears do not cease. Foolish dreams I once had. All dust now. I wander the halls of shadow again, but fear has ceased to burn within my breast, and all that remains is cold numbness. I believe I will feel nothing at all once these rivers of tears run dry.

Psychic Legion

2007-09-02T03:51:00.000+08:00

I do not care if I have to face down a hundred demons. I stride into the face of death secure in the knowledge that whatever I lose will be nothing compared to what I have lost: the love of my life. The past two days have seen me cowering in my corner, terrified of the entities who have taken over my sanctuary and made it theirs, their dark auras tainting the peace that I have come to associate with the place. I feared their spiritual attacks, I feared what they could do to my mind. Pain weakened me the last time round, but this time it strengthens me almost to the point of invincibility. My mental blocks against the memory of that night are fading away. The name comes clear as day to me, as do the other details that have previously escaped my attention. I know that even if we get someone to aid us, her dark 'sisters' will be waiting for me. It is my soul they covet, my 'purity', as she viciously told my friends that night I fell. I am not pure, in that she was mistaken. That mistake will cost her, when I march back into my former sanctuary, prepared to do battle. She will not be the last vengeful soul I fight, I know that instinctively. An entire legion of hellish women await me, female spirits of vengeance. They are bolstered by their sheer number, and I by my mortal emotions and spiritual knowledge that have, until now, failed to protect me. They will not fail me again. I was attacked, and this time I shall walk right back into the battlefield without fear. No mortal being has yet to faze me, and I don't see why a spirit, lacking flesh and bone, should have that right. I do not fear the legion that she calls her 'sisters', I do not fear their nameless master, and I do not fear what they can invoke within me. Most of my secrets are secret no more, and I feel righteous anger blossoming out to blanket me like an invisible shield. This shield will hold, because I will it to, but my battle with the legion of demonic females shall have to wait until the sun sets on Sunday. It is the wish of one of my close friends to ask a spiritually wise mortal man for advice this morning, and I will not disappoint her by rushing off to do battle on my own. I am tired of waiting however, of being on the defensive. I am a child of Aries, born under the sign of fire, and I will not wait for this month to pass without going on the offensive. As it is with all of us associated with the element of fire, I am impatient, and hungry for action. I vow to harness my fiery anger to be both shield and sword. Besieged I may be, but blood runs through my veins, while those who have incited my temper are mere shadows, mockeries of life itself. They will flee before my light, and I will ensure that no other man will fall within the grounds of my sanctuary again. If I must fight alone, then so be it. I have life, I have known love, and I will be more than a match for them, if they wish to fight against me. My grudge is against one soul only, but if they choose to stand next to their hellion 'sister' in opposition with me, then they too shall feel my wrath. I fell once, when I was severely weakened by depression and rendered defenseless by alcohol. It will not happen again. I have my protections firmly in place this time, have spent a few days strengthening my mind and body, and I am now fully rested and ready to battle. I will not endanger my friends by forcing them into this fight, because this is my fight and mine alone. It was me she chose to attack, and she drew first blood. But they did protect me when I had given up fighting, and they saved my life. Therefore I will not disrespect them by rushing off bullheadedly into this spiritual battle. If they choose to join me, then so be it. But I cannot wait any longer, because the knowledge that they are still out there is like a thorn in my flesh, and I vow that before the sun rises tomorrow, I will have reclaimed what I know to be mine. A partial moon will gem the night sky tomorrow, but I have my other senses to accomodate for the lack of light. And if nothing else, when they surround me, I will speak of love and after they are done laughing, their souls will remember what they once were, and that they once loved too. Failing that...well. I will dispel them through sheer force of will. The time for fear is long past. I rise to the challenge, and instinct and my own inherent light shall guide me as I fight these unearthly beings. Three words I shall whisper as I step onto my desecrated grounds: Sancte Michael Archangele. Then all hell will break loose. I close my eyes, for now, awaiting sunrise, and our last, desperate attempt to find a man of strong faith to aid us in battle. *shakes head* He will not believe the things we say, but he may change his mind if he has truly devoted his life to the light.
Mortal pain gives me courage. Even in absence, J, you're still helping me.

Psychic Blues

2007-09-01T22:17:00.000+08:00

A week passed, then two. By the third week, I can no longer hold out hope that an unnamed angel will return to shield me from the darkness that so often surrounds me. I feel so small, insignificant. A child of the universe. I have been let loose upon the world, with no one to guide me in what I say or do. Perhaps that is why I come across as warped to most people. That is not why I whisper his name tonight, the uncaring breezes snatching my whispers away and scattering them far away from where I sit and stare at the moon. An unnatural chill descends over me, and I fear that when morning comes, I will not be strong enough. I am not good enough. I fell, again and again, and always, there were angels in mortal guises who helped me rise again from the ashes. I have ignored all the issues demanding my attention, with the result that they have now coalesced to form a towering entity composed solely of depressing problems. I wish to run into his arms, his warmth and comfort soothing me wordlessly. He does not need to speak; all he has to do is look at me with those dancing eyes, and I am calm, even as I fall deeper in love with him. And it is true that I love him, regardless of what has happened, or the words that were spoken. It is also true that I have lost him, and that this loss pains me greatly. I tried seeking out old sources of comfort, but time has always been cruel to me. I do not notice his passing, and he mocks me by altering everything and everyone else beyond recognition. I remain the same, even though the years pass...but I forget that everything else changes. A deep sadness envelops me tonight, as I turn away from the light of the moon and confine my wanderings within my empty room. The black and white monstrosity lies forsaken next to me as I type away. My books are neatly packed away, and I am restlessly watching the seconds tick by, closing my eyes as I put everything I have into one last, desperate telepathic call to an angel who has already ascended far away from where I reside. I am so tired of being the enfant terrible. In my mind, as I walked down the reservoir, and she smiled at me, pointed teeth agleam, I thought of Justin. And my self started to glow, as only love's kavach can glow, and I knew then I couldn't be touched, not while I still have love for this boy. It is untrue that my love is false, because it protected me as I walked past shadowed halls and vengeful souls. Yet it is a double-edged sword. It protected me, yes. But it is also the reason why I fell in the first place. It rips me apart, knowing that I, who had sworn to protect him from the harshness of life, could not protect him from myself. It frightens me, to know that I will love him for years to come. Stupid word, love. It amuses me to see it get tossed around so carelessly by people who have never felt its burn, have never felt the depths of that one simple emotion. Yet it also irritates me. They know nothing about the thorns that come with the rose. *sigh* Blues and blacks colour my aura tonight. How can I tell him how much he means to me, and how sorry I am? There is a vast rift between us that I'm afraid I cannot bridge. I am condemned to a lifetime of regret. Undying love isn't all that they make it out to be, eh? *bitter sigh* I pray the sun's light will burn this dark melancholy away from me.
Morning will come, and I'll do what's right.
Just give me till then to give up this fight.

Psychic Heartblood

2007-08-25T17:07:00.000+08:00

I want to scream, but words fail me. Nothing can express the anguish raging through my being right now. I see the flash of silver when I close my eyes, can feel my blood leave my body in raging torrents. I scent rivers of blood with every agonizing breath. J will not save me this time. I pushed him away, and this time I know he will never come back. He never did keep his promise. When I lost my sight last year, he was the first person I turned to. It didn't matter that I eventually regained my vision. He wasn't there, despite his promise to be. When I was hospitalised, he wasn't there either. Meaningless words fly past me; I can imagine the bloody rivers slowly turning transparent; blood to tears. I am fighting back an emotion that I never thought would surface again in me; bloodlust makes me dizzy. I must...I must pour out all my pain through this blog, this extension of me that I never realised was the only outlet for all my unspoken emotions; things I never can say. I never will say. A desperate attempt to gouge out the pain razoring through me. Razors. Sweet relief is just a few steps away. My heart constricts at the thought, at the potential humiliation I know I will face. I am 15 all over again. Refusing to talk to anyone, attached only to my piano, the sole instrument that could give my pain a voice, some tiny way to express the burden I carried. My mind flits back to the times I would stare at the darkened landscape as night unfolded, my first trysts with death and the morning after. The many cats that surrounded me with warmth, when I ran hard and fast from the blood I'd drawn. The many nights that I spent watching normal people slumber, not at peace, maybe, but secure in the knowledge that they were loved. I have often imagined what it would be like if I was someone else, just for a day. It has been a habit since I was younger. I would watch as grandchildren hugged their grandparents, and back then I had no defences. My eyes were alive with emotion, and now I realise all the strangers who stopped to talk to me, to touch me, saw my pain. Growing up has been a bitch, but at least I've learned to cloak my eyes and self with illusions, ones that fool everyone I push away. How did my life get so twisted? My breath catches in my throat as I feel the silvered edge press against my wrist. The blood trickles down, a light drizzle at first. Speckling the floor with crimson petals, flowers of life and death blooming all around me, soaking my clothes. White. Always wear white. It shows off the colours in stark contrast, reminds one of the beauty that supposedly runs through our veins. The drops sparkle under the light, and I'm taken back to my first time. Her death haunted me; I could not sleep. This eased the pain, and when I first slept after such a long time, I thought I felt a tiny flicker of peace. There. Now you know why I hate having my veins touched by anyone else. The power to hurt should only belong to the one who will be hurt. No one else. J, I'm so so sorry I can't give you what you want. I'm only me, and if these red drops that fall thickly from my arms represent love, then I am trying my hardest to stop loving you. I'm slightly sticky now, and I can't differentiate between the blood and the tears now. I must look quite a sight. I crave the sharp edges, I need it in a way that is almost primal. Some deep urge to claw myself bloody to rid myself of pain that has haunted me for most of my life. A part of my mind wonders if this will be my last post. I will have to clean myself up, if I wake up later. I must contain my emotion until I'm done talking to KS. I feel so inadequate all of a sudden. The clock ticks on heartlessly, reminding me that each second is one second closer to sweet oblivioin. Extreme blood loss will evetually lead to loss of consciousness. Maybe this should be my weapon against insomnia. THe trusty razor. It's getting harder to breathe. I think I'll go lie down and watch the crimson puddles grow larger. I'M growing numb inside. How fitting. That's the song I'm currently obsessed with. Maybe I'll sit here and tinkle on the ivories, adding a splash of red to the black and white keys. After all, extreme emotion drives passion which in turn inspires greatness. I felt my heart skip a beat. I lay me down to sleep at 6 tonight, and as I lie on the cold ground, I know this time there will be no warmth if I do wake up, only unspoken recrimnations and harsh words. Theylll try to keep me caged this time. I do not care. One blessed release, and then I will be as empty as I used to be.

Psychic Selves

2007-08-25T12:19:00.001+08:00

The night was quiet. I was flying solo, my partner only showing up at 5:00am. I was quiet, as always, when this lady walked up to me, eyed me for a while, then started chatting me up. It was fine, she dwelt on light topics at first. For half an hour, she blabbed on and on while I sifted through her words for the finer meanings embedded in each sentence. I was already upset at my partner's absence, and her incessant talking was starting to get on my nerves. Then she asked me about religion, asking if I needed a blessing. I recoiled visibly. Excuse me? YOU're talking to ME about religion? I have always stepped lightly around this hot topic littered with verbal landmines. That night, however, a little voice in my head roared with laughter at her audacity. I believe we all have different selves within us, inherent multiple personalities that some of us learn to silence as obeisance to the God of Normalcy. Ah, the white picket fence dream. "I am normal. I'm a woman-loving, hot-blooded male who loves sports and hot chicks. I don't hear voices in my head." I digress. Anyway. My usually dark self was laughing at her foolishness. The part of me that seeks wisdom in all forms silenced the dark one quickly, paying close attention. The empathic part of me ached for the pain that such wisdom springs forth from. Adversity is a close kin of wisdom, I know this from personal experience. While the professional part of me was busy with my assignments, the wise one within was listening to her in rapt attention. Not her preachings, but the experiences from which such people are shaped. She spoke of inner peace, and in a sudden flash of clarity, I realised that the only reason why I still cling to the memories of J is because he gave me an inner peace that was everything she described her experience of religion as. She talked at length of what God could do for me, and I watched as she stumbled over her words, contradicting herself. Laughing silently, the cynical part of me ripped through her meaningless words and then the emotional part took over and saw the concern that rippled outward from her being. She talked on and on, and eventually my dark self overpowered the part of me that was gathering wisdom from her words. "Empty words, blind quotes; you can find them everywhere. She is but a vessel for such wisdom, merely a container, not knowing what it carries, spilling it out without once thinking about the contents she ferries. There will be many more you can seek out, worthwhile intellects who can discuss the merits of religion with you, people who can accept your words with open minds and hearts without trying to draw you in," he argued. The wise one fell silent, unable to find a suitable comeback. The impatient part of me left her standing in the same exact spot trying to convert someone else. The hot-tempered part of me flared up at once when she subtly put down other religions. The other guy was waaay too dense and spineless to detect the slight derision in her words as she spoke of religions she believed to be wrong. I'm tired of all these speeches, to be brutally honest. Regardless of what religion, it's always the same conversion speech. "Ours is the only path! The right one. The others are all wrong! Believe us, or you shall be condemned." In the next breath, "OUR God is a kind, forgiving, compassionate one." Uh, hello? Contradict much? I don't mind if you want to talk about your religion with me, because to be quite frank, I am interested in every religion, having read up on quite a bit of each. I'm fascinated with their concepts, but it is the people who taint their purity by trying to force it down each other's throats. Of course, the diplomatic part of me hushed all the others and scrambled to the forefront of my mind, effectively taking control of my mouth. Using words silvered with years of practising the great art of glib double-talk, I told her that I would only accept the path that truly touches me. I didn't tell her of my extensive forays into the many religions that sing the praises of God, in different forms and different languages. I didn't see a need to. The part of me that craved solitude just wanted to get rid of her, the part of me that still wanted wisdom tried to talk to her, but the cold one joined hands with the diplomat in me and together they silenced everyone else, forcing out a cold smile. "If there truly is a God, above all else, then I trust He has a plan for me. If someday he wishes for me to sing his praises, He will ensure that I shall be touched by His Grace so that I will truly believe. If everyone on this earth is meant to be redeemed, then surely He has an opportunity for us to be touched by Him, does He not? Now is not that time for me, but I trust the day will come when my heart and eyes are open to the true path that leads to Him." The dark one snickered maliciously at the confusion that flitted across her face, but then all my selves melted into one and I reached out a hand to touch hers. In spite of my irritation, in spite of what the many fragments of my mind were saying, I was truly touched that here was a person who had stayed behind to talk to me, trying to get me to rejoin her flock. Not THE flock, for I doubt that there will be a time when we can all bow before one God, but I was touched nonetheless. She looked surprised at our brief contact, but over the years, I have learnt that a single action can do so much more than all the words in the world. I held her gaze with mine, for one moment allowing the shutters to fall away, flaring the curtains to reveal the depths of my soul. That moment stretched on between us, and then someone else came in and she withdrew, looking slightly shaken. This new guy turned out to be from the same religion as her. He looked slightly surprised when she addressed him, and I watched in quiet amusement as she told him about me. "He's got a very old soul! At first when I came in, I was a bit afraid to talk to him, but then I saw his eyes. He's very gentle, you know? Very wise eyes." I caught the other guy's eye, and gave him a wry smile. He laughed out loud. He shook my hand, and the two of them seemed really taken with me. He asked for my name, and I gave it freely, knowing it would only serve to confuse them even more. The illusionist within me was delighted at the confusion that I had called forth into being before me. Then they shook it off, and I allowed the diplomat in me to show itself. The guy was more astute than the lady (I never did get their names. The forgetful part of me took over) and he asked about my experience in religious matters. Smiling slightly, I told them a few nuggets of information. The lady seemed taken aback when she realised I wasn't the ignorant fool I had been pretending be for the past hour. The dark one howled with laughter, and the empath in me slapped him soundly. "That was a horrible trick!" he protested, pinning my dark self in a chokehold to prevent him from seizing control of my mouth. I laughed aloud, quickly coughing and feeling heat creep up my cheeks. The guy and lady looked at me interestedly. I smiled, the shy part of me suddenly taking over. I walked away, and they got the hint. The guy smiled at me, and I shook his hand, honestly liking him for his calm countenance and unquestioning acceptance of my past choices in life. The lady wouldn't give up, though. She was hellbent on giving me a blessing. I finally allowed the dark one to speak. "No, I don't want one." And he seized control of my legs and forced me to walk away, leaving her standing there looking slightly crestfallen. Again, I must stress that I have no problems against religion per se, any religion. Just don't keep ramming it down my throat, because I don't fancy having things thrust down my mouth. Ok, that was my 'naughty' self talking. *giggles* Now I have to go get some sleep, or Betty will kill me if I oversleep and show up late. Again. Oh. My bitchy self wanted to slap her silly, but settled for ignoring her. She left pretty quickly. *gloats*
Forgive me for wanting redemption, J. All I want is you. Everything else is inconsequential.

Psychic Sinking

2007-08-22T10:35:00.000+08:00

I'm slipping deeper into my shell, hiding behind a veneer that disguises the quiet despair threatening to ravage me, like a slow, wasting disease. I've been drowning in deep regrets, bitter echoes from the past that have come back to haunt me. J's words were cold, completely devoid of inflection. Eventually, he just stopped talking and I nodded once, resigned to my fate. I think it was yesterday morning. I'm beginning to lose track of time. For the first time in over three years, irritation coloured his words. I expected nothing less of him. The day is cold and gloomy, and the elements reflect the storm raging behind my black eyes, now blue with tears. I barely spoke during my watch with Juf, something he instantly picked up on. He asked if everything was ok. I gave a noncommittal grunt, and he got the hint, leaving me alone downstairs. I could hear him banging around upstairs. I had a colossal explosion yesterday night. It has been coming on for a while, this anger towards her. When I am exhausted, and I require sleep, nothing and no one shall stand in the way of my need for rest. So when I was roughly woken from my sleep, I snapped and started snarling. She left me alone for the rest of the night. It earned me only half an hour's respite, then all too soon it was time for me to dress up for my night shift. I don't regret my rare display of temper, because I know it reminds people that I have boundaries only the foolish will attempt to cross. I'm tired, but that's a good thing. I hardly have time to dwell on the miseries of mortality. My nocturnal carefree spirit has been twisted and corrupted beyond recognition, and I find it fitting that I am growing colder by the day. I had one last glorious burst of fire yesterday, a slight twinge of regret for my brief flash of emotion, then emotional silence followed. I threw myself into moving everything from the lower floors all the way up. Juf took over without comment, frowning slightly at my sudden break from loquaciousness. Not that I'm usually very chatty, but then again...I do have my moments. I admit, I was brooding. I spent half the night in stony silence, leaving my station only to release or grab water. He finally gave up at three, knowing me well enough to know I had not eaten, and forced a bottle of iced tea and a turkey roll into my hand. It was sweet (the gesture, not the food), and it brought a brief smile to my lips. I'll be required to grace my parents with my presence tomorrow, and therefore I'll be taking one night off from work. Juf's taking off tonight, which means I'll be working with the twin wonders. *sarcastic* I would gladly take them over Bets anyday, though. I left my post at 8:30 this morning, and I suppose I should be thankful for small favours. It spared me the requisite awkwardness that always follows a blowup. Now I'm home, and I'm feeling as darkly depressed as ever, but the promise of sleep and a good rest helps to ease the strain in my muscles, and that's one load off my mind. The more I watched Juf surreptitiously through the night, the more I am convinced that his soul is very very familiar to me. A broken boy, hiding his pain behind a goofy smile and the ultimate defense mechanism: humour. I've seen souls like this before, felt them before they heal and ascend far away from where I currently reside. *looks at horrendous wall colours* In the bowels of hell, apparently. I'm feeling minutely better, but not yet up to seeing anyone. Juf has been watching my back for the past few nights, and tonight I know I'll be feeling slightly lost without him hovering nearby, watching me anxiously. J's coldness has not subsided. I didn't expect it to. *sigh* I am boneweary. I've strained the muscles in my left thigh and calf, and chest. My arms are still tense. I guess I ought to go to sleep now. My emotional frost has not melted yet, and for those who count themselves as my friends, yes, even you J, liberate te ex inferis. I push you away so that when I finally sink beneath the waves, the resulting whirlpool won't take you down with me down to Tartarus. ...No, that's not a dental term. And now, I am off to ponder what I am to do with myself, short of spontaneously combusting and saving everyone a whole lot of trouble.

Psychic Emptiness

2007-08-20T06:57:00.000+08:00

My room has been painted a hideous, eye-smarting shade of blue. I cringe just looking at it. Everything has been moved, and the emptiness echoes around me. I see spaces waiting to be filled...and maybe I will buy myself a new piano. After all, a close friend once said...if I can't have love, I will have substitutes. Dawn sees me greeting a new day with red eyes and an infinite sense of melancholy. I met my partner yesterday. We'll be taking on two shifts today. I'm safe, for the moment, having told all the right lies. I'll be weary come tomorrow morning. 24 hours from now. 16 hours on two consecutive shifts. I'll scream if I'm paired with the resident bitch tomorrow. Or maybe I'll just rip her head off, since it looks like I'll be in that kind of mood. I slept all through the night, ignoring the call of the darkness, preferring instead to catch up on much needed sleep. I awoke some time after 12, my insides aching with hunger. I've been reading ever since, listening to music, anything to silence my mind. I don't know if it worked. My mood is incredibly foul this morning, and I half-fancy ditching everyone and everything and looking for peace somewhere. *sigh* I think I like my new partner. He's nice, quiet, gentle, incredibly patient. It's his friends I think I might not like. After all, during my nightwatch, I hate making small talk with strangers. That's the whole point of my request for a graveyard shift. Duh? *sigh* At the very least, I'll have time to practice my fake smiles and the stupid lies that accompany such hypocrisies. Or maybe I'll just retire upstairs and leave him to deal with the other morons. I know I'm doing what most people do: throwing myself whole-heartedly into my work to ignore the turmoil raging on within. With my mind focused on my work, I don't have time to dwell on the mortal pain that dogs my every step. 16 hours. Nightwatch. Sleep. Only two things I want to do at the moment. The sun has risen. In less than four hours, I have to go get ready. I suppose it's a blessing in disguise, and it won't hurt to have a new toy to fill up the gaps in my heart. I'll have to start looking for good pianos, then. *bitter* I guess you outgrow everything, even when you don't want to. Times change, and we're supposed to change with them. I don't feel like seeing anyone for a long, long time. I'll exhaust myself keeping up with Juf and Su. Then maybe, I won't feel. Maybe then the emptiness will cease to trouble me.
When this mortal flesh and heart shall fail,
and mortal life shall cease;
I shall possess, within the veil,
a life of joy and peace.

Psychic Blocks

2007-08-19T06:48:00.000+08:00

The time has come for me to pull away. My parents are selling their houses. My mum has stopped paying for me, and suddenly all the pain of the world that I've experienced is nothing compared to this revelation. They're moving away, and I'm not going with them. I remain here, and I am pushing everyone away.
Hold me now; I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking...maybe six feet ain't so far down.

Psychic Nightwatch

2007-08-18T09:49:00.000+08:00

Having tossed and turned in my corner for well over two hours, I am now forced to conclude that insomnia has me in its unrelenting grip. I will take up the mantle tonight on zero hours of sleep. I will be meeting my permanent partner today, at 7pm. Tomorrow will be me and the usual crew, and then starting from Monday onwards, it's just the two of us. I can't quite tell whether I'll be happy with the arrangements, because I haven't actually met this guy. The information I have managed to glean from the rest does not bode well for him, though. I was seriously tempted to let loose last night, and explode at our resident bitch, but then I sighed and let go of my rising anger, turning my attention instead to the upper floors. I glided off, leaving her to fend for herself while I sorted out the mess upstairs. Nearly got into another fistfight too, for all my pretence at keeping a cool head when pressured. Not with her, but with some bastard who pissed me off. I think it becomes automatic for me, when things start to get ugly, I review the weapons I have on hand to defend myself. Yeah, thanks dad. Finally. One lesson you managed to teach me. Thankfully, he walked out and didn't return for the rest of the night. I stoned for a while, my muscles aching from the physical exertions, then left quietly at 7am, surprised when my schedule was pushed up to 7pm tonight. That is nine hours away. I have no hope of resting today. Thankfully, I'll finish by 11pm, and I'll be home by midnight. I am already boneweary, from all the bitchfights and repressed emotions of the night. I got hit on by some dude, who obviously didn't know what he was biting into. Didi sniggered, Sumi shrieked her head off, trying to pry him away from me, and I had my first real laugh of the night. It helped to restore some of my energy, which was sorely lacking, I must admit. Funny how everyone seems to think I'm straight, at least until I correct them, if I bother to do so at all. Sometimes watching them hang on to their illusions is mildly amusing. All in all, it was a tiring night. I feel like someone's tossed me in a shake-n-bake bag and left me out to wilt under the sun. *siiiigh* I am going to request straight graveyard shifts. The mornings are a real killer. Didi's been under three consecutive shifts, and looks like the kid's about to pass out. Sumi got a bit weird at the end of my watch, when she lectured me on what to expect from my partner. I can't deny that I'm a bit worried. I've got quite enough on my plate at the moment, without having to keep an eye out for someone else. He doesn't sound very trustworthy. *reflective* A guy caused some chaos tonight, which caused the bitch to rear her head, which in turn caused me to lose my temper. I stormed off, fed-up with it all, slamming the glass doors behind me. From behind the glass, I saw him raise a hand to me and smile ruefully. My initial annoyance melted away. Didn't help that he looked so reminiscently of R. He came back later, but I was already upstairs, working my way furiously through the crap the previous shifts had left on the stairs, bottles everywhere, tossed haphazardly here and there. Flirted a bit, here and there with both Didi and some of the other guys. Talked of condoms and sex, and homosexuality. I suspect there's something going on between Didi and Sumi. Didi blushed magnificently when I asked directly, and evaded the question, joking that I ought to go figure it out myself. I shrugged, although my eyes noted how close they were, and how protective Didi was of Su. I whiled away the hours till sunrise by wandering through my mind, recalling forgotten memories to the surface, singing songs in languages I don't quite understand quietly under my breath. Didi and Su are trying to figure me out, trying to gauge me, my capabilities and my trustworthiness. I pretended not to notice, and continued stoning while watching the dark skies lighten gradually. I think I failed two of their tests last night. But by the time morning rolled around, I was already too tired to care. I still am, and I'm wondering if it's worth the energy drain to eat. I'm vaguely hungry, but I know that I am definitely tired. Eating will take up more energy than it will replenish, especially given the fact that my fridge is stocked with snacks, not meats I am accustomed to devouring. The minutes tick by...if I am to get any rest, I suppose I should try now. It won't do to meet my future nightpartner on no sleep. In any case, I am quite interested in meeting him myself. From what I've heard, he's quiet, rarely talks, but is unreliable. *shrugs* I'll find out eventually. I always do. Now I've got to go try to get some sleep.

Psychic Purge

2007-08-17T19:17:00.000+08:00

The rain has been an endless flood; Heaven's siege against the filth of the world we live in. The chill air cuts like a knife, penetrating through flesh and bone, seeping into my very soul, fragmented as it is. So it begins. I have unwittingly shackled myself and bound my wings with yet another responsibility. Again, the urge to just break free and fly far away is almost overwhelming. I've decided to stick it out for the time being. It isn't particularly demanding, or challenging. I may never see the night skies again. Once this stint is over, I'll be incarcerated along with hundreds of other men. It pinches slightly, that fact. Knowing that my nightly walks have come to an end, that I may never again sit with felines in a garden that whispers under moonlight and blossom-scented breezes gliding around me. *sigh* The descent into normality begins. Today marks the second day of my return to society. Normalcy. Just another word for conformity. And heaven knows I hate conforming. Speaking of heaven...the storms echo what I have been trying to do deep within my heart. Except instead of purging the world of filth, I on the other hand, have been trying to cleanse myself of this emotion, of these feelings that I cannot for the life of me scythe away from my being. I fear it will never leave me, unlike everything else. *sigh* I can't deny that I am rested, having slept the entire day. Is this how it shall be now? I will forever be nocturnal (nautical? haha) and doomed to wander the earth only at night. Ah, I'm being dramatic. Still, my mind has already started balancing out what can be done to salvage sinking ships. There is much I can do, that I have to do, and I know J's reaction has been the catalyst for my rollercoaster emotions these past few days. Up and down, left and right. *rolls eyes* It is now 7:30pm. I'm already looking forward to 7:30AM, when I can lie down and sleep yet another day away. *sighs* Time for me to get up and get dressed, I think. I wonder who my partner will be tonight. *muses* I hope it's someone lively. I need the entertainment to keep my mind off darker paths. *siiiiiiighs* Time to go. It is small comfort that I have finally taken one tiny step in life.
Purge my heart of these emotions- "We're creatures of the underworld. We can't afford to love." How true.

Psychic Shadowing

2007-08-15T10:51:00.000+08:00

I am exhausted, and I feel shadowed. Not completely darkened, not yet. For the light J has lent to me still burns within my heart. But still...I can sense the shadows moving restlessly in every nook and cranny within this dark castle. When Night descends, they will be out in full force, beckoning me to join them on their nightly sojourn. The shadows leave telltale marks on those they have claimed. On my person, these marks have lessened over the years. I have spent so long marveling at the healing touch of the sun that these sigils of darkness have all but faded, gaining strength only when I am troubled, or tired. And now I am both. My eyes burn, and I know that in a few hours, when the sun reaches its zenith, they will turn red. My lack of sleep has not helped. I drifted off for less than fifteen minutes before coming back to full consciousness with a resounding crash. Dark thoughts swirl through my head, and I know my current habit of drawing energy from music and other assorted sources will fail me today. *sigh* Although my heart twinges a little at the thought, I am rather glad that I will not be facing him today. I hardly have the strength to move. So much that I have to do. My energy is not sufficient to complete all my responsibilities for the day...*muses* Well. I suppose I'll have to stretch myself a bit thin today. *sigh* I hate it when I've come to the end of my sleep cycle. I always end up feeling exhausted, collapse on the floor, and hibernate for a full twenty-four hours. Then I spend the next few days frittering my renewed energy thoughtlessly. On and on it goes. I have to go now. I have to get dressed, not to mention a possible dinner party to attend. On zero hours of rest. Madness, I tell you. *shakes head* Time was I could have stayed awake for well over four days and still have enough energy to go out and paint the town red. Guess I'm growing old. Two days appears to be my maximum limit. Well, today shall be a test of my old skills.
The shadows are returning. Even you, J, cannot stop them from reaching me.

Psychic Surprises

2007-08-13T02:46:00.000+08:00

The day was full of surprises. I was on my best behaviour, and that included smiling and making small talk. No mean feat, I can tell you. I think my face is permanently screwed into a grin now. The day was cool, sweeping breezes that raced around my estate like excited children, bringing with them a warning of stormy days ahead. The storm broke out while I was having dinner with some of my extended family members. Steamboat. Yum. After dinner, I walked around, keeping myself aloof and distant, parrying probing questions with the ease of long practice. I couldn't help but be drawn in by their warmth, though, and he kept pulling me into the conversation, trying to provoke laughter from me. He even offered me a job, promising to work everything out by tomorrow. I laughed, a real laugh this time, and he invited me on an overseas trip with them. He said I have to hang out with him more. I couldn't help but feel very taken with him. His wife was very sweet too, and the two of them kept me mentally busy with their quick repartees and witty comebacks. Mmm. Their dry humor and quick wits are a match for me, I think. They make quite a pair. I had initially dreaded this 'family meeting', but overall, I think I am glad that I went in the end. I didn't have time to sort through all these new emotions that I encountered while I was out with them; I was simply too tired. His eyes studied me, and he tried his best to draw me out of my shell. Somehow, instead of making me wary and putting my defences into overdrive, they managed to lighten my view of familial ties and emotional bonds in general. I observed quietly as they gently teased each other, and I felt something within me stir. None of my thoughts or emotion showed on my face, though. But I think he knew what was going through my head, anyway. He's just one of those people whose gaze seems to bore right through you. I like this odd couple. There. I've gone and surprised myself. Anyway, I've finally worn through the pants my dad bought for me. *sad* I bought new jeans on my aunt's request, but I refused to throw the old ones out. My dad bought that for me last year. He was pretty insistent. It's not the material things that count, it's the emotions and memories that I treasure. Anyway, my aunt seemed to understand that the pants were pretty important to me, and she offered to get them mended at the tailor's. Not ten minutes after we arrived at our doorstep, the heavy clouds unleashed their wrath. Yet another surprise. This morning, all I'd gleaned from the winds was a light, cooling shower. This was an all-out thunderstorm. I watched drowsily until the sheets of torrential rains quickly destroyed any visibility. Reluctantly, I crawled into my corner and closed my eyes, finally getting some sleep after a few days of emotional upheaval. I say upheaval because I'm so used to being gloomily depressed and dark, that being cheerful is quite a strange experience for me. It has been rather pleasant, on the whole. I've never been more content, really. I've taken care of some of my more pressing issues, and again, it is another night of peaceful rest. Still, constant vigilance eh? The morning might bring a breeze of unpleasantness. But for now, I'm content to drink my chilled water and watch my shows with a heart as light as air.

Psychic Ascension

2007-08-12T09:12:00.000+08:00

I can't say it was what I wanted. Nor can I claim that I expected this. But I cannot deny the fact that after all the pain, healing has begun. The wounds are still in the process of recovering, though, therefore I reminded myself to step cautiously. Yet nothing can take away my prize: half a day's worth of conversation with J. I was moping around all morning, and even the prospect of playing the piano at the Esplanade could not cheer me up. While I was chilling near the piano, however, my phone vibrated. When I saw who the message was from, the effect was instantaneous. A big goofy grin on my face, and my fingers were sparkling with zest. I could never be too busy for J. See how important he is? He even takes precedence over my piano. We laughed, we talked. We talked. Can you believe it? *grins* We remembered, each wincing at the unsaid pain from the past. Then came the big question. "Do you still have feelings for me?" Well, the answer is pretty obvious. For all my mastery at illusions, my skills at deception, I can never lie to the one I love. I went home pretty happy, I must say. I can hardly remember the details of yesterday. All that matters was that we talked. A precious memory indeed. One boy, one man. Capable of altering my entire world with a single simple gesture. The power he has over me is astounding, is it not? Yet that is love. Both foolish and grand, sweepingly awe-inspiring and piercingly painful at the same time. It feels like I've walked across the entire globe, crossed countries in a single day. I am invincible again, in the mystical kavach of love. I feel the fires of my heart burning strongly once more, where once there were only embers and dying faith. I have ascended yet again, although I know my heart is capricious in nature. One day full of vibrant life, the next a cosmic drain, sucking all the life out of everything I lay my eyes upon. Still, I am undeniably happy. A conversation that I know I will secretly cherish for weeks to come, even if I remain coldly detached from the events that rippled outwards from that one step. But no, my emotional frost remains unchanged. I cannot deny that my illusions slipped yesterday, allowing me to express one brief flash of euphoria, tempered with insecurities and blunted with painful experiences. Today I'm back to being me, with my defences back up and my cold, uncaring mask firmly fixed in place. But I know my spirit has ascended another notch, that much closer to the peace I so desperately seek. I feel slightly giddy from the turn of events. Or maybe that's because I have spent another night awake, steeped in the stew of my muses as they add a pinch of this and a dash of that into my lightly inebriated mind. Ascension. *content* The breezes have been flowing strongly around my room, cool with the morning and full of promises. J cheered me up immensely, and suddenly the old hopes and dreams come flooding back. All is not lost, after all. There are many things for me to be thankful for on this fine, glorious morning. But hey. You shouldn't take my words too seriously, for I know tomorrow my mood might have just done a one-eighty. Well...I've been grinning like a cheshire cat for more than twelve hours. I suppose it is time for me to drift off to sleep, now that the breezes carry within them a tinge of heat from the sun. Yeah, I suppose I should. Soon. Let me just savour the sweetness of the moment a while longer. 3 years of hoping for forgiveness have not passed by unnoticed, and my heart is at peace. It took 3 years for me to find that, and that...is a true victory. The chapter on my messy and rocky history with J has been closed, and I can sleep peacefully.
Elevation.

Psychic Slumber

2007-08-08T08:31:00.000+08:00

A few hours from now, when the sun reaches its peak, I will be safely ensconced in my billowy blankets in my corner, fast asleep. I have spent the past few days on an insomniac high, running on nothing more than adrenaline and pure energy drawn from my trusty sources. I've spent the night watching anime, tinkling on the ivories, reading beautiful works of art created by esteemed writers: macabre tales of dark love and forbidden arts. The recurring theme of death and loss amused me for the greater part of the night. Now I am tired, after three days of resisting sleep. A faint buzzing noise fills my ears; a warning. "Sleep now, lest you collapse, demon-child!" Ah, I always get a bit weird when I've not slept for a while, so bear with me. At least I'd eaten. If I hadn't, my strangeness would have escalated a few more levels. Wandered in and out of waking nightmares too, in the intermissions between focused activities. I lay down, and I remembered more memories I'd suppressed, although I felt oddly detached from what my mind restored. Then I fancied I was a different person. More...normal. Unwilling giggles escape my lips at that odd thought. No more dancing under the moon at night, no more communing with the winds, asking for healing and receiving it in intangible ways, feeling the trees sigh at the slightest shiver of a breeze. My mood lightened as I remembered moonlit adventures, and I tried to picture J. He's been feeling a bit down lately, I know. I felt slightly depressed when I realised I couldn't help him. I zeroed in on my black and white companion, and started playing. Songs of love lost and forgotten. Each note sang for me, for him, for what used to be. For the travesty of a sacred emotion, condescension that was masquerading as love. I drew on that deep and powerful emotion residing within me, called on it to empower me as I lasted through the night. Now the sun is here, and I am unbelievably tired. Three days of dancing around my body's exhaustion, and I have reached the end of my rope. *bows* I still have errands to run for the day, ones that I don't believe I can put off. But my need and desire for sleep and the accompanying dreams overwhelm my responsibilities. I can never be trusted, in any way, except when it comes to what I've given to J. That will stay true for years to come. I can feel my mind beginning to drift, and I don't fancy having to fight to come back again. It's time for me to crawl into my corner under the light, fluffy blue cloth that is my only covering when I separate soul from body. Isn't that what sleep is? Your soul leaves your body? There will be many things to face when I have fully rested, but for once, I'll take things as they come and ignore that terrible entity Foresight and his close kin Apprehension. I think I've used up all my energy last night, in allowing my mind to skip and flit from activity to activity. I am, as I believe I've said before, tired, so I think I'll go curl up in my usual corner. The ground will be wonderfully cooling in the heat of the day. I don't think I'll wake until long after sundown. J, I meant what I said over the weekend. I really am sorry, for all the stupid things I've said and done.
As I lay me down to sleep, I pray to God my soul to keep.

Psychic Infernum

2007-08-08T00:15:00.001+08:00

First up, infernum is not English, it's Latin. Secondly, if thou art curious about what it means, go look it up. I'm feeling incredibly moody and slightly 'heaty'. By 'heaty' I mean temperamental. My temper seems to be bubbling under the surface recently. Outwardly, I look placid and calm. But inside, the thoughts are swirling around like a flock of ravens that keep tearing at my soul. The resentment, the regrets, the rage. That's what frightens me the most. My rage. Very few have seen me at the height of my anger, and that is a good thing. Terrible and vaguely inspiring as my anger can be, I do not want it to be directed at anyone. Simply because I think it is unfair that I can hurt so much with just a few choice words, and I always regret the damage done. It doesn't take a lot to push my buttons these days, and I often find myself flaring up at the smallest thing, and when that happens, my silences are deafening. I don't trust myself to speak when anger has me in its fiery grip. The winds were cool and soothing as I walked across the black tar tonight, and for a moment, my anguish was eased. That moment vanished as soon as I slammed the door, shutting out the night that has so often been instrumental in my recovery from life's blows. Darkness is not what I seek tonight, not when I find myself a few steps away from hell. Try as I may, my illusions are useless when truth seeks me out, as it always does. I can fool many people, but not myself. I suppose there is nothing to be done for it, except to hit back in subtle ways, because to unleash the full extent of my wrath would mean opening the doors to hell. Hellish I may seem to certain people, but my dark age has passed. Past erased from my mind and everything, except certain memories I like to reflect upon as warnings. I've turned my back on it. I suppose typing this all out helps to dampen my fires. *sigh* I suppose now I'll have to go catch a movie or degrade my intelligence by watching TV. Sleep has eluded me for some time, even though I was boneweary this morning. *shrugs* I think I'll spend my day at my parents' tomorrow. Piano and home comfort. There is every chance I could open a portal to hell there too, given my current disposition. Ah, well. It can't be helped.
"I also maintain that those who are punished in Gehenna, are scourged by the scourge of love. Nay, what is so bitter and vehement as the torment of love?...It would be improper for a man to think that sinners in Gehenna are deprived of the love of God...it torments sinners...Thus I say that this is the torment of Gehenna: bitter regret."
I seek relief from the fires of my own hell.

Psychic Driftings

2007-08-02T03:36:00.000+08:00

I had a violent reaction to my dinner. Threw everything up, and had to clean my bathroom. Painful process, both my puking session and the cleanup after. I collapsed facedown in my corner and drifted off in dreams of sepia-toned memories. J isn't coming back. I waited two days for my phone to vibrate with a message from him, and still it remains quiet. R has vanished again, and I am forcibly reminded of the time he went off to face his personal demons and we lost contact for two years. *sigh* The night is deep, inky blackness that flows around me, weaving past light sources, racing to get to me. Talking to Aimi last night revealed something I hadn't really thought of. I was laughing with her, consoling her on her insane phone bill, when she said out of the blue, "You don't usually talk about yourself." Caught off-guard, I had no comeback. A rarity in itself, really. A memory came back to me last night, after I hung up the phone, feeling slightly wrong-footed. It happens a lot these days, for some reason. I can be out, walking in the sunlight, when suddenly shadow falls over me and I recall another painful memory. These episodes are brief, but they are the price I have to pay to keep my pain at bay, I suppose. The erasure of most of my past leaves me feeling slightly disillusioned, and sometimes I feel that something's missing from me, that I'm not quite whole. *stretches* I have...a few cherished memories from when I was younger. Not a lot, I guess...but...the terrors far outweigh the good ones. Seeing things that to this day still haunt me. *muses* Feeling things people only describe in nightmares. I don't quite know, actually, what the purpose of this early morning post is. Maybe I'm just trying to distract myself, because again, I know I cannot sleep. Dawn is not far off now, only a few hours away. I will be forced to reside in Sembawang when the weekend arrives, and only the knowledge that sunrise in that mansion will be infinitely more beautiful keeps me from rebelling and refusing to stay there. I don't want to see him, and face the unspoken recriminations that I know linger on in his mind. The questions of what passed between father and son will never be answered. I don't know. It seems everyone is preoccupied with trying to get me to start living, but I keep clinging on to that picture in my mind. Green fields and lavender blossoms, a warm gentle breeze, blue skies and that elusive feeling of contentment. I'm still trying to figure out if I have a right to live, to love. I feel so indescribably lonely, with only the thoughts in my head and my fingers to express myself on both my keyboards. My illness has come and gone in a flash, and I fancy I've expunged my emotions out with the contents of my stomach hours ago. The stars twinkle above me, I can sense them, tiny pinpricks of light, and the moon...I've wasted one month's worth of a beautiful full moon. I spend most of my nights cooped up in my room these days. The past week has been emotionally unstable. Ups and downs galore. The frantic glee I felt at my expanded library of musical sheet music, tempered with the knowledge that I might be heading up to a dead end, emotional explosions with the various people I care about, my own fire dying down to embers. And on this morning, here I am, hoping for a storm to break the heat of day, and wishing my angels would return to their rightful places in the circle around me. *sigh* In my mind, I can hear his laughter when he reads these words, his emotions as guarded as my own. We both dropped our guards years ago, and I fear the scars from that experience will embitter us forever. Well, now. My bedtime draws nearer, as the moon begins to die. I've all but given up on life itself.
'Seek and ye shall find.' I have sought for 19 long years, but peace I have never known, and perhaps may never find.

Psychic Stone

2007-07-31T23:52:00.000+08:00

It seems vaguely unreal to me, this life that I now live. The differences between past and present are mind-boggling, perhaps that is why I have subconsciously erased most of my memories of what has been, and instead focused on what will be. As I walked under the dome of the heavens, and the clouds veiled the stars and moon, I felt something shift in my heart. A slight subtle flicker, but in that one instant, everything clicked. I use emotion as a weapon, as one of my illusions, as a veil to distract people while I slip deeper into my shell. Emotion...exists outside my sphere of concern. I have not dealt with anything at all, and that is why...after all these years, I can honestly say...I'm still pining away for the boy who captured my heart, for the boy who became a man when I blinked twice and was out the door a breath later. I feel like a stone statue, for all the emotion that burns within my heart. My expression is impassive, and I wonder if there is any way for me to bridge the gap between past and present. I seal my heart off when emotion threatens to glance my way, I step out of light into shadow the instant it seems I might feel...yet I don't understand why. I scattered my words and thoughts to the winds, and suddenly I felt so much lighter. A stone as light as a feather, I drifted off home as the winds pulled me on my way. I used emotion as a weapon against J, as illusions to ward my heart from intrusion, as a shield. I should feel ashamed at the outright desecration of something so many people hold sacred, but then...stones don't feel. I'll pretend the moisture on my cheeks came from the heavens, as rain moistens the earth. I don't want to remember any of it, the pain, the short-lived joy, the fireworks that exploded in my head as our souls touched. The silence, the anguish of my years weigh me down even more. Why are stones heavy? Well, I think I know the answer to that one now. I don't expect anything, but if it's possible and salvation is more than just a word, I don't want to be stony anymore. I've said once before, we can never run from our past. But never have I wanted to run so hard and fast before. I feel lost. And so so so inadequate for the road that lies ahead. Come back, all that I have lost. I cannot deal with the mortal pain of losing anymore. Not when frost grips my heart and I feel frozen, as hard and emotionless as stone.
You promised...and now I'm calling for you. Will you come back and hold me as I die just a little more?

Psychic Burnout

2007-07-30T05:24:00.001+08:00

I can't sleep. I need to, I know my body's about to collapse soon. But I just can't. Energy floods my veins, imbueing my blood and body with the need to move. I'm literally vibrating in my seat, ready to pouce on any activity that will drain me of my excess energy. My eyelashes keep veiling my eyes, signaling my physical exhaustion, but it seems my mental and emotional turmoil form a solid barrier that prevents me from reaching unconsciousness. It's not just the problems that I am juggling that aids the sandman in eluding me. It's the realisation that dawn is here, and the sun will soon be piercing the darkness with his unwavering beams of light. I have my fingers crossed that today will see a huge thunderstorm descending upon our little island. Only then can I drift off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that I am protected from heat and light. But right now, I feel hot and closed, and I wish yet again that energy was a tangible element that could be bled off like so many other substances. I feel hot and cranky, and this is even before the sun has risen. I shudder to think how my temperament will suffer when the sun finally burns me. I spent most of the night weaving in and out of fragmented memories, laughing at all the inappropriate moments, laughing at silly notions of grief and loss, and solemnly wondering at the strength of human emotion. Now I feel shadowed, and clouded, and I wish I could find peace for just a while, so I can lay my head down and rest, as the rest of humanity awakens from their night of peaceful dreams. In a few minutes, the cool velvet cloak of darkness will be lifted as morning arrives, unwanted as it is. The full moon will fade away into obscurity as the sun reclaims his rightful throne, and where will I be? *sigh* I don't know. My ability to plan seems to have been crippled of late. I can't even plan when to sleep anymore. Perhaps that is why I've been feeling so tired and listless these past few days. My eyes are rebelling, glancing off the monitor, refusing to focus anymore. I suppose I should try to calm myself down and sleep. Hard to do so, when energy is pulsing through me. *screams* I need sleeping pills. And more alcohol, even though I've been resisting the urge to drink for quite a while now. Pills and booze. Guaranteed to induce sleep in most insomniacs. ARGH! I don't want to sleep and face any more terrors, but my body's too tired. I'm about to collapse. #$%! it.
What do I have to offer, except promises sealed in blood?

Psychic Visions

2007-07-28T15:51:00.000+08:00

I've been seeing Death a lot in my mind lately. In my dreams, in waking visions that greatly trouble me. The recurring theme these past few days seems to be 'loss'. As I rose from the cold marble upon which I usually rest, I half considered strengthening the emotional frost that leads many people to conclude that I'm cold, my own family included. The feeling of loss lingered on even after I clawed my way back to full consciousness. J sat there, lost in his own world as a life was imperiled. He didn't care. Some people may say dreams are just that, fragments of illusions that our subconscious likes to dredge up when we surrender all control to sleep. But there is no denying the reality of what I felt, what was induced because of what I saw. I have been feeling so drained and tired recently, that usually I just put myself on auto-pilot and allow the visions to swamp me, and I lose myself in beauty and hope, terror and loss. It is both gift and curse, to be able to summon hope with a single thought, and to be able to be felled by the same. Double-edged sword and all. I've been drifting further and further away, although the illusions I present are one of close ties and harmony. I feel like just running away from all the emotional obligations. The weather has chilled me, I think. I don't know if I have enough strength of mind to keep my illusions in place. I am so indescribably tired. Yet I hate sleep because of all the terrors that lurk in my subconscious. *shakes head* I begin to think I will never have the peace that I so desperately crave. All these obligations are tying me down. Someday I'll break free, and I'll sing a song of redemption for each and every soul I have failed to save. Until then, I suppose I am doomed to wander these roads alone, with the darkness burgeoning uncontained in my heart, and visions of my failure to haunt me and weaken me further.

Psychic Detachment

2007-07-21T13:57:00.000+08:00

I watch. I watch without emotion as one man's mistake unfurls like a flower in full bloom. The weight of consequence falls heavily on his shoulders. But I will not step in to help. I feel oddly detached from the events that are unfolding. The threat of death should not be taken lightly. I should know. Yet in my mind, the green pastures and lavender blossoms still wave gently in the breeze. And when night falls, my mind traverses the dark corridors of my heart without fear. My visions of peace and power remain intact, and I am surprised to find that the emotions engulfing the people around me no longer touch me. Is it I who have grown cold, or has my curse of empathy finally been lifted? Somehow I don't think I really care. I wondered about his thoughts, and how he felt. And for a very brief moment, I cared. Then I closed my heart off, and turned back to dissecting the demons haunting my mind. I'm content for now, to sit and watch the world go by. These problems will work themselves out in time, like knots in a weaving. I cannot help hearts that are closed. The days have been chilly and bracing of late, with winds buffeting the trees and storms unleashing their wrath on the earth. It reminds me that there are still things worth living for. The scent of lightning before a storm strikes, the feel of cool winds against my mortal form, and the softening of the earth after the storm dies. And from that, I glean yet another lesson in life. Each death has a purpose, a meaning. Every beginning has an end. If this dies, then so be it. I will not fight fate to keep what is not rightfully mine. When I feel this way, I half fancy I can walk into a blazing building and sit in the middle, watching the forces of nature consume what man has built. Marriages...relationships...all that we have built will eventually succumb to the overwhelming strength of the world we live in. *shakes head* It's okay. Not many will understand what I feel. Do I feel anymore? Do I care? The answers to that hold no value for me, nor do they interest me in the least. They're just questions that hover in my mind like unwanted flies. I have to go now, to collect my piano books. Perhaps I'll remain there an hour or two, running my fingers over the ivories and wonder quietly where we went wrong. Where I went wrong. My emotions have been flushed down the great cosmic drain. Blessing or curse, I have yet to decide. I will walk among humanity today, but their emotions will no longer affect me. Today, I care only for my piano and the kittens that the cat has deposited on my doorstep yet again. Annually, she gives birth in my garden. I've cradled each tiny furball, whispering soft words of comfort, and I fancy the mother cat and I have come to an understanding. While she hunts in the afternoons, I sit with her kittens and watch them snuffle quietly in their sleep. Occasionally, she will watch me carefully with eyes that hold a lifetime of feline wisdom in their amber orbs. Cats are creatures of trust, but to get that, you have to earn it. Humans need to learn caution. *bitter*

Psychic Wilderness

2007-07-19T09:33:00.000+08:00

The elements have collided in the heavens. Fire dances across the skies in the form of lightning strikes, brief but immensely beautiful. Water thickens the air, and the earth is singing out for the rains to fall. The clouds darken above me, and my heart leaps as I watch the storm gather. I want to go to my piano, after a long time spent running away from my connections to that place. I know what will be said when I go there, and comfort is not what I need right now. Yet I'm half of a mind to stay here and enjoy the roaring winds and raging storm. Yes, I think. I can enjoy the storm even as I play dark melodies that illustrate the darkness of life and mortal pain. I have time, if I do go. Two hours to have a quick shower and get dressed, and catch the bus down. The storm is a welcome distraction. I'd forgotten how much I love storms. It calls out to me. I must move, the energy burns when I'm still.

Psychic Seals

2007-07-17T22:09:00.000+08:00

As the winds rise around me, and a magnificent storm descends, I find my heart sealing itself off slowly. There's only so much I can deal with. The rest has to be shoved aside, placed at the back of my mind to fester and rot while I tend to my most grievous wounds. I've sealed myself off in this dark palace that I call home, the winding gardens that are mine to roam. The moon has been so conspicuously absent of late, but somehow...I don't mind. The darkness is a blessing, and I can weave in and out of the shadows undetected, letting the winds tug me this way and that. I'm too tired to fight anymore. Go if you want. X is leaving. R left, and I don't blame him because I know the national examinations are coming up and I want him to do his best in his chosen field. The doors to this place are flung wide open, as are the windows, but my tower remains empty. Suddenly...unreasonably, I think, I find myself missing Baby. That little bugger running around and chasing everything that moves. I miss cuddling him. Oddly enough, he's the only cat my allergies remain dormant for. Any other cat will have me sneezing violently in seconds. My mood lightens slightly with the descent of night. True darkness has begun. And I rise with her. I have given up on ever winning those I've lost. Loss. Such an insignificant word. Love. Just as insignificant. Yet they seem so monumental to me now, when I stare at their cold realities, and at the mess they have created in my otherwise calm and structured life. I was there three days, and I made a difference during the first two. By the third day, too exhausted to care, I left and went home to rest and gather myself up for what I know will be one of the hardest periods I will ever face. The loss of a father, the only one I have known for 19 years. A dark period indeed. I have sealed my emotions off to prevent myself from being hurt. These seals serve me well, and as I leave to dance in the shadows of Night as one of her children, I must remember that there is none powerful enough to ward against pain forever. Seals are temporary fixes, but they get the job done so I don't end up...well. Like so many people I know. Knew. Baby refused to let me out the door this morning. Tried to follow me out. Heartbreaking eh? I think they know somehow. The mysteries of feline wisdom. *sigh* Houses...they are empty shells. Like bodies. They need souls to colour their interiors and make their exteriors welcoming and complete. Still...a good portion of my life was spent in that house. That's where I first learned the meaning of the word 'death' and 'loss', and that's where I learned to seal myself off from excruciating pain. She was a breath away from me when she passed on, and the only recollection I have of that horrible memory is her body on the floor. I pressed my lips to her forehead unwillingly, because I didn't want to see what Azrael was capable of. But there were customs to observe, and at that time, I thought it was a very cruel tradition. You never truly heal. You just learn to deal with the pain. I remember...the first time. It was morning, and misty sunlight was filtering in throughout the house. He held me in his arms, and he whispered the words that I secretly treasure so much. That was nearly three years ago, and I remember listening to 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' by Charlotte Church in the morning as he drove me home. These memories are mine, although the place in which they were formed is being taken away from me. I spent my last morning there today, willing myself not to cry, although Baby's reaction to my imminent departure broke me in the end. Sniffling, I ran my fingers through his soft fur as he mewled softly and wound himself around my ankles, a cat's plea not to leave. I said my goodbyes, as I always do, and I left with the knowledge that I cannot change my father, nor can I reclaim what I've lost. It is a difficult lesson for me, learning to let go. Letting go is difficult for everyone.
It broke my heart to see her in tears, and even though the closed door muffled the strength of her pain and the sound of her sobs, I felt it as acutely as if it were my own. I wanted to hug her, to tell her to be strong for her son, but the words dried to ash in my throat as I once again sealed my heart off from the emotions of others. I remember once, when I sat at the bus stop with a friend, and she was crying. I didn't want to cry with her, so I invoked the emotional seal that has kept me sane all these years, and the resulting consequence was that I was thought of as 'cold'. That's probably what she thought too, as I turned my back on her while heartbreak and separation threatened to suffocate her. I don't know. I was there for him, for them both. I lifted spirits from the gloom, granted them salvation, but my own eludes me. As the winds swirl around outside, and Night calls me, I wonder...will I ever find it? Or is this what I have been condemned to? A lifetime of nocturnal pursuits, where I am considered far from normal and the rest of humanity avoids me because I am, apparently, 'odd'? I don't want to be cold anymore. But I don't want to be the little boy in the hospital cafeteria all over again. I wonder, if perhaps...the stars that twinkle above are the assigned thrones of the angels who watch over us? What happens when a dark cloud obscures them? I can type no more, because I can no longer find words to express the anguish ravaging my heart. I messaged my father one last time, a message I believe he chose to ignore. My words were simple. 'Whatever you do, you will always be my dad.' He never called. They never do, in the end.
I invoke the seals that were seeded in my heart as a child, awaken and protect me as I become a man.

Psychic Phoenix

2007-07-12T11:15:00.000+08:00

I will not bow down to the many demons that lurk behind every corner in my life. I may be only mortal, but I believe the years and the harshness of reality have aided my transition from a boy into a man. A man I am, and a man's responsibilities I bear. Old soul eh, R? I'm still pursuing my dreams, difficult as it is. But they say the journey to the top of the mountain only serves to make the view sweeter. I shall hold on to that philosophy, as I hold on to all my values and principles, and I will not fall. I will not falter. I have already fallen, and in the words of a dear friend, "Two days ago you sounded like you were gonna kill yourself." I have dwelt enough on the pain of mortality, and it is time for me to rise from the ashes. A veritable phoenix, one that lives forever. Isn't that what our souls are, in the end? The pain will fade, given time. I have two years to catch up on my musical dreams, and hone my skills at my chosen craft. This isn't a setback, it's a blessing in disguise. Nothing I say right now will lessen the pain at losing yet another person I care about, but again...the pain will diminish with time. My very presence here is a testament to the healing effects of the passing years. JB couldn't break me. J couldn't. And I am still here. Suddenly the sun no longer burns me. It floods my room with golden light, and its warmth seems to seep into the bleak space where I live and breathe. Hope. So frail...so very fleeting, yet so very precious to those of us who need it so desperately in times of darkness. I count myself lucky to have had such a tight circle around me right when I fell. Kenneth lifted me up from the gloom yesterday, and today I still feel his lingering presence around me, bringing a smile to my lips. Kenneth...you have always been there for me. Thank you. *hugs* And to my circle of best friends...what would I have done without you? No, don't answer that. Thank you for the warmth and comfort that night at the reservoir. I won't forget it either. It will still hurt, I guess. But knowing that the pain will lessen with time helps to ease some of the grief.
And I rise once more from the ashes.

Psychic Honesty (coming clean)

2007-07-11T12:12:00.000+08:00

If the magnitude of this pain I feel is immense, I cannot imagine what they are going through. For them, I must be strong. Of course, my illusions are always there to back me up. I can go on autopilot and allow my self to retreat behind the facade that I will paint on over the cracks. But I cannot deny the strength of the pain that roars from deep within my heart. I waited all day...all night for his call. Dad, you never called. I guess this is it then. Each year I lose something valuable to me. When I was on my knees yesterday, as I fought to push the tears away, I messaged J. A desperate, emotionally charged message. He didn't reply either. There is a lesson hidden somewhere in this messy cesspool I find myself in, but I can't bring myself to look for it. J, is this how things stand? Is the golden promise you gave me meaningless? Has it lost its value with the passage of time? I didn't know promises could depreciate in value. For you, I have allowed many things to slide past, and had it been anyone else, I would have scarred him beyond recognition. But it is you, and if three years of silence will not kill this love I bear for you, then nothing will. I am unlike any other. Anyone else would have cut his losses and moved on. I can't, because regardless of how I portray myself on any given day, I believe love is sacred, and I will not disrespect it by giving up what I know to be pure. I will be the first to admit that I have had trysts with married men. But never have I attempted to break their marriages up. I respect that union, and I recognise the fact that I am only a welcome diversion to their otherwise routine lives. In that instant of copulation, an emotional bond is created, one that cannot be dissolved for any reason. *shakes head* This is who I am, this is how I am. J, what happened all those years ago...I am sorry if the events that unfolded from our friendship, such as it is, confused you. I was afraid of what I was feeling for you, and you know that. So please forgive me, because I need a ray of light right now. Come and hold me for a while, because I am so terribly afraid, and so indescribably miserable. Please...

Psychic Solitude

2007-07-10T12:13:00.000+08:00

The silence has been broken by discordant melodies and angsty screams. The solitude numbs me. I stared into the mirror for a few minutes, noting the minute changes that reflected my rebirth from an emotional zombie into a human boy whose heart was scarred and cracked. Still, I felt and that was the main thing wasn't it? I enjoyed simple pleasures like taste. I ate and my weight ballooned from a skeletal 45kg to a healthy 60kg. I enjoyed the pleasure a simple touch could bring, and I marveled at the world I had missed out on when I was younger. Memories were all too often suppressed, and I spent my younger years wandering aimlessly, and wondering needlessly. I wander no more, I stay here on my high tower far away from the rest of humanity, and far away from their pain. I wonder no more, for the answers frighten me, and I no longer ask. Today I play my swan song, a tribute to 19 years of life, 19 years of being someone strange and odd, the child who sat under trees and watched the world go by when I thought my head would explode from containing all the pain. It has always been me alone. Wandering around in parks and gardens, hands in my pockets, felines mewling around my ankles, purring and somehow soothing the misery that enveloped me. The trees shaded me in good weather or bad, and I could lie on grass as soft as velvet and whisper all my secrets to the winds, allow them to snatch the words from my lips and carry them far away from me, scattering them to the four corners of the earth. Those times are long gone now. I have somehow managed to become Pinnochio. Transformed into a real boy, regardless of not whether I want reality to be part of my life. My father has not called, and my hope is beginning to wane. Right now I could collapse in a field of green and not move until the next century. My tears will do the earth some good. I have no wish to see anyone right now, because I will only feel more pained if I do. My father is mortal and susceptible to the many weaknesses that plague man. In a previous blog entry, I wrote that I hoped the apple falls far far far from the tree. How prophetic those words seem now. The foundation that makes up my world is falling apart. I don't care. I don't feel much anymore. I think it's my defense mechanism. I'm tired of losing the people and things that matter to me. The list is endless, I assure you. I have never asked for mortal pleasures like clothes, or accessories, or money even. I can get by without all these. But emotional bonds are sacred to me, and the sanctity of this bond has been tainted and befouled by the vilest demon from the bowels of hell. Yet I cannot find it in my heart of hearts to hate her passionately. I can't. Nor can I turn my back on my father. But what can I do? I'm only a boy. Worse, I'm only a boy who is hopeless at emotion, be it receiving, giving or displaying. I don't know what to do. A few minutes of quiet contemplation in front of the mirror, and suddenly my words came back to haunt me. I was talking to Alex a few years ago, and I told him my heart was a maze full of mirrors, with each one showing me a reflection of what I wanted. But they were only illusions, never the real thing. It is mad, I think, that I can remember such small details with such vivid accuracy, and yet other more terrifying experiences with the darker side of man leaves only a foggy imprint in the recesses of my memory. I have quite lost all my appetite, and on a whim considered not eating. At the very least, I'll be detoxifying my body. Too bad there isn't a detox treatment for the heart. I have been feeling emotionally colder as the night progressed, and now I am so frozen I couldn't care less what happens next. I can only wait for night, when I am free to walk these hallways of darkness alone and unfettered by human restrictions and societal expectations. The chains that bind me to this place are only temporary. I will never, ever show weakness in the form of emotion again. It is both foolish and dangerous. I already know what R will say regarding this post. 'You're going back to your old ways.' I don't give a damn. I'm tired and I'm hurting and I'm tired of hurting. My eyes are bloodshot, and my stomach is ill with the abuses I put it through last night, and I just want to curl up in my corner and dream of the times forever lost to me. The four walls cage me in, but if I desire solitude, I must consent to be chained in this hellish dungeon until moonrise.

Psychic Pain

2007-07-10T00:00:00.000+08:00

There are so many things running through my head now. I didn't abandon you, dad. In your darkest hour, I stood by you. I am not some miraculous angel, I know I can't make everything right in the blink of an eye. But dad...don't break my trust in you. I have faith in you, I want you to do the right thing. Don't walk away from me, from them, from us. Think about what you're giving up. Right now, I don't even know if I have the right to call you 'father'. I have lost one dad, two. You're my third. And I swear, you'll be the last. I can't lose you too. How many times have we laughed and wrestled on the floor, talked about the future together? If this pain that I feel is searing, I can't imagine what you're putting them through. So many questions I have to ask you, dad. 'Why? Why did you do it?' It's not my place to condemn you, dad. You're only human. But dammit. You're not supposed to be human! You're supposed to be my mentor, my guide, my father. You're supposed to be infallible. Am I still your son? Do I still retain that title once you sign the papers? Huh? I don't pray. You know that. But tonight, as I see all that I stand to lose, as I see what you're going through...God, I'm on my knees. Dad, I don't want to lose you. If you need help, somewhere to stay, I will always be here. You know that. So why are you running away from everyone and everything? This is a mess you have created. Now be a man and clean it up. If you need assistance, I won't hesitate to come to your aid. I don't want you to be wandering the streets outside, all by yourself. Come home, dad. Come on home. Don't do anything rash. I'm begging whatever higher power that exists...don't let any harm befall my father. Watch over him, and guide him in all that he says and does. I will push my pain away. I don't want to feel because I have no right to.
I know I'm praying for much too much, but could you send back the only man she loved?

Psychic Sigh

2007-07-07T00:50:00.000+08:00

The day was everything I could have wished for. Perfect skies, a touch of light breezes, and no major responsibilities. Not to mention the reforging of links I once thought could never have been revived. But then I just had to look. Just one glance, I told myself. Of course, that glance plunged me back into darkness. Still, it is my fault for having taken the step. He is happy. Of course he is. Why shouldn't he be? *sigh* Is this what I've held him back from? I don't know. It still pains me, somehow. The years cannot diminish the strength of my love, nor can my resentment sully the purity of our connection. It is stupid to attempt to turn a black rose red. *sigh* On a brighter note...Seif has asked me out tomorrow evening!! *celebrates* For every death, there is new birth. J has changed much. *muses* I suppose one could argue that he isn't the boy I fell in love with, because of the many major changes. Yet I still stupidly hope that somewhere underneath the glamorous veneer lies the simple man who captured my heart with his innocent trust. *shakes head* I cannot hope anymore. I am too tired, and I have spent too long waiting. Some people have the courage to turn away and never look back. I can't do that. I treasure the memories too much to turn my back on them. J? Do me the honour of forgiving me for my past mistakes.

Psychic Sanctuary

2007-07-03T01:54:00.000+08:00

I fell asleep on a stone notch embedded within the earth, as the moon floated high overhead, a perfect orb stained amber. The winds whispered secrets as the waves gently drew my soul away from my body. I felt peaceful once more, as Nature cradled me in her bosom, singing the sweet song known to all creatures of the Night. I awoke feeling happier than I'd been in days. My claws have been sharper these past few days, a result of my lack of sleep and slight illness. I am not fully recovered yet, but... *contented* I opened sleepy eyes to look at the darkness layering the world around me, then I caught sight of the pale moon overhead like a trusty friend...and I felt the turmoil in my heart cease for a moment. The breezes gentled, laughing at me from the shadows, teasing me for having been cooped up inside for the past few nights. The waves, uncaring as to my state of consciousness, continued dancing across the black glass of water. It was only for a few seconds, and as I stood on unsteady legs, the moon hid behind a passing cloud. Whispering a soft goodbye in my heart, I left my place of peace.

Psychic Thirst

2007-06-27T21:32:00.001+08:00

Night has descended upon the world, and I find myself growing increasingly restless. And thirsty. I regret having eaten, because now the food feels funny and alien as it travels down my body. It has also made me incredibly thirsty, and this thirst gives rise to a foreign hunger. I believe my stomach will empty itself in a few minutes, rejecting the suddenly inedible matter that I have ingested. I do not care. I need a nocturnal partner, one who will traverse these dark corridors by my side without flinching at each passing shadow, or cowering when an owl glides silently past, ghostly in all its white glory. The thirst makes me edgy and restless. Have I mentioned that? I have drunk enough to submerge the entire planet, yet it does nothing to sate my need. Shall I dress up for the night, then? And run until exhilaration replaces an unwanted thirst? The overgrown gardens that I have come to call my own beckon, the sly nymphs singing from among the sturdy trees, calling out to me. *sigh* Felines appear to avoid the reservoir, making me wonder. An ominous sign, perhaps? *wonders* I half fancy slipping out into the night, blending seamless with the shadows, a fleeting presence in the court of Night. Soon I will have no time for such luxuries. My nocturnal nature shall be shackled and bound by the rules that govern our society, such as it is. *sigh* I will rise and sleep with the sun. How unnatural! *indignant* My thirst has not faded, and I wonder what will make it go away. I've been pacing the house, back and forth. I would have worn a hole in my carpet, if I had carpets. The Night breezes are flirting with the trees, and suddenly I want to be out there, dancing among moonbeams and happy, twinkling stars. I belong out there, in the grandest court of all: the court of Night. Mortal worries fade away to nothingness as darkness cloaks the world. In time I will have to give it all up. *shakes head* I cannot. My bonds to the night are too firm and they go too deep. Perhaps two nights a week will suffice. Even if they incarcerate me in some God-forsaken camp in the name of patriotic loyalty, I will still have the weekends to enjoy my nights. *wistful* Although I wish it wouldn't be that way. *sigh* This cursed thirst will not leave me alone! And my stomach is rebelling against the food, threatening to spew it out. That's it. I'm going. I need fresh air, and a clear view of the skies to settle my physical self. I'm so damned thirsty, but I don't know why.

Psychic Unpredictability

2007-06-26T07:57:00.000+08:00

Unpredictability. Is there such a word? *ponders* Well, if it exists, you'd find my portrait next to the definition in the dictionary. I have radically altered all my plans for the day on a whim. Snapped my fingers, and realised my mood was swinging in another direction. So...no parents today, although I contemplated going back to Sembawang. That idea is still an option. But no, I'm not going back to Paya Lebar. Don't feel like it. Hmm. Or do I? INDECISIVE! I'll be the death of me, I shall. And I'm addicted to Family Guy!! I need help! I'm beginning to talk like Stewie! Although that's not a bad thing. Yes. My mind is flitting around like a butterfly in a field of flowers. R is 'going to be busy' apparently. Yes, yes. In two weeks' time, he'll crumble and we'll go out and have 'lunch' again. X is doing the whole 'I'm so aloof you can't touch me...but I can!' thing. I've decided to put J on hold, at least until we both resolve our own issues. *rolls eyes* I'm blasting the Corrs on the stereo now. Die, vile neighbours! Ugh. The sun...the sun!! Crap. *hurries to block out sunlight* Maybe I should make the long and difficult trek down to Sembawang. Yes, cross the bloody continent out of boredom. Don't people get famous for that? 'I've trekked across half the world!' ME: 'I've gotten my butt out of the house! Rejoice!' *rolls eyes* Suddenly I wish I had a job. At least I would have something to do. Right now I'm talking about humping and cute guys on the phone with someone, and I can feel my attention starting to drift. There's the new Diablo ladder to look out for...and then there's the new Rasmus score I just realised I have, and then there are all the movies I want to watch, not to mention my snacks calling out to be consumed. I swear, Alice would be at home in my kitchen. "Eat me!", "Drink me!" Hmm. Yes. Next thing you know, caterpillars will be crawling through the windows for a chat. In case you haven't already gathered, I am extremely bored and I have no idea whatsoever what I'm going to do with my overabundance of time. I would go running, if there was someone to run with me tonight. *makes puppy eyes at Phoebe* I wonder if Minerva has completed her story...left me on a cliffhanger there, and I seem to have run into dead ends on my multiple compositions. So...today, what shall I do? I've moved on from The Corrs to The Smiths now, with a little bit of Dream Academy thrown into the mix. 'Let me, let me, let me get what I want...Lord knows it would be the first time...' Lovely song. Por favor, por favor, por favor...deixe-me, deixe-me...haha. So anyway...*clears throat* I have had my breakfast, a rarity in itself, and now I shall contemplate what to do before the sun completely drains my energy away.

Psychic Distraction

2007-06-25T22:45:00.000+08:00

A slight brush, a light touch. I curled up on my bed with his scent warm around me, and my heart bursting with emotion. The tears were inconsequential. He wasn't there. Only his cologne lingered on, a haunting scent that clung to my sheets and pillows, reminding me of what used to be. *shakes head* It was a depressing night. I wasn't very well rested when morning came. Baby was still sleepy, and he curled up on the chair, ignoring my invitation to play. So I pounced on him, and we wrestled around the bed. Haha. That was fun, although the resulting allergies weren't. I knew that I had to escape before my throat closed up and ended up killing me, so I left to meet Yushaa and Elina at Tampines. The skies over Sembawang were grey and cloudy, overcast. It reflected my gloomy mood. But the skies cleared when I reached Tampines, and my mood lifted slightly. Going home and feeling the familiarity was both soothing and calming on my frazzled nerves. R asked me out over the weekend...but I declined. *sigh* The night has failed to tempt me. My eyes are still feeling hot and red, but I've already promised to go back to me parents' tomorrow. I do miss my piano. *sigh* Today was a wonderful distraction...just what I needed to pull my attention away from the dying gardens in my mind. The slim threads that connect me to my alphabets are withering away to nothingness. There IS a bright side, though. My healing rate has gone back to normal, and I've been extra careful not to let it dip below optimum. My most recent wound healed in one day. I nearly went to a doctor for that one. So...yay and all that. *sigh* I think I'll sleep tonight. Shuttling between the houses always knocks my biological clock off balance. I'll have to go to the Pink House tomorrow anyway. Bright and early, since the siblings are at school. The house is mine! *maniacal laughter* Well, on to other news...Diablo 2 will be restarting its ladder, meaning a new season shall arrive upon us players. Hmm...yes. Distract me!! Ah...my floor looks too inviting. So it's either sit in front of the computer and rot, or go crawl into my corner and sleep through the night. Tough decision. Ah, screw it. I have to go home, and I'm already feeling apprehensive. A good sleep shall prepare me for the worst. *readies fighting skills*

Psychic Grumpiness

2007-06-23T10:07:00.001+08:00

I've been rolling around the floor since 6am, growing more and more irritable as the sun warmed the air. Now everything feels itchy and hot and closed, and I miss the cool breezes of night. I wanted to sleep, but it wasn't comfortable enough. I itch all over, and the sun's heat irritates me enough that I want to start throwing things around. I contemplated drugging myself to sleep with the prescriptions, but then I might overdose and accidentally kill myself. *rolls eyes* I'm tired beyond belief, but it seems I can't get my rest. My mind drifts off to a nice crypt somewhere, underground and cool and dark and wonderfully damp. But no...I have to get a room that faces the bloody sun as it rises. It burns me before I can even reach unconsciousness. Him with his golden rays, and overly optimistic ways. *sulks* Now I'm going to be cranky all day long, and I was planning to go to Sembawang with a full tank of sleep! Tsk. My claws will be extra sharp today. Good luck to everyone who crosses my path today. I'm blasting pop music, just to annoy the neighbours. I haven't decided when exactly to go off...*sigh* GIVE ME A REASON!!! Damn it. I feel hotter than ever, and I want a huge friggin thunderstorm like right now! Lightning and thunder and dark clouds to obscure that annoying monstrosity high in the sky. I need a storm. I need rain, I need darkness, I need coolness! I need night! *wails pathetically* At least the other nocturnal creatures have their dark, cool hidey holes. I have a lousy room that is completely open to the sun, even with the window completely draped over. Even worse, the sun's heat! *exclaims* It is unbearable! F***. I don't see how I can survive Baby's fur with this heat, although...Sembawang has more trees and shade, and the greeneries somehow make everything cooler. *screams* I want to sleep! But that woman out there keeps banging around, doing God knows what, and the sun is annoying me, and it is waaaaay too uncomfortable to sleep. *stomps around* I need a HUGE thunderstorm now. NOW! *roars* Stupid weather. Stupid heat. Stupid stupid world! Why can't everyone just be normal and sleep in the day?! INstead of being up and being loud? *growls* I'm getting crankier. I need a bath. A warm shower to soothe me and send me off to lala land. Stupid world. *grumbles* I haven't felt this grumpy in a long time. I repeat: STUPID WORLD! I want to sleep! STop being loud! Stop the sun from shining! ARGH!! *crawls under rock*

Psychic Headache

2007-06-20T07:18:00.000+08:00

I'm dealing with a headache of epic proportions on this otherwise glorious morning. My boundless energy has gone down the great cosmic drain, and I feel sleepy and tired. Still...my duties for the day are clear. I have been avoiding these issues for far too long, and it is time to reclaim what I have lost. *sighs* First stop of the day...I'm returning the keys to the Pink House at Ah Soo. Next I have an outing with my new friend, who is apparently a closet crossdresser. We're off to buy him a wig and a dress. *tries not to roll eyes* I was initially irritated with his homophobic remarks, but then my attitude softened when he bared his soul to me. *sigh* Still, I cannot deny a man his right to evolution, and I'd like to think that I'm showing him a brighter and happier side to being gay. Hmm. Once we're done looking for his pink wig, I suppose we'll detour to his house and thrash each other on his game console. Then it's a short bus ride home, where hopefully I can collapse facedown on my corner and remain unmoving until the moon rises. Not to mention that I have to remember to make reservations for Thursday, 7-9pm, Phoebes! Baby has returned home after yet another harrowing runaway episode. *sigh* I made a commitment to drop by Sembawang this week, and I'll be darned if I don't go. Thursday...piano. I have to find the charger for the camera that was misplaced somehow, shuttling between three houses to locate a damn spool of insulated wire. *groans* Do you know how difficult it is to find something so miniscule in three different locations? Anyhow, I have to get my rear in gear. If I don't make preparations to leave soon, I won't step out of my tower at all today. Knowing me, I'll probably spend the whole day in a Zen trance, moving between music and motion, and spacing out at sporadic moments. Nono. That won't do. Too many things to do. Oh, by the way...my dad tried this DIY renovation thing at home...and now my piano's covered in plaster dust. *annoyed* And I just got it tuned and cleaned! Speaking of dads...I messaged X and R with Father's Day messages. X replied, thankfully. I still have a father! So that's it. I have a million things to do, and all I want to do right now is curl up in my corner and sleep the day away. Sometimes being nocturnal really sucks. *sigh* I hope I won't have to jostle for space with the morning crowd. God, I hate it when that happens. Annoying people all crammed together on the bus, as transparent as walking blocks of glass, exacerbating my headache. Well, that's it then. I can't keep stalling. Time to go shower and get dressed, and join the crushing mass of humanity on their morning commute. Well, I can't complain really. The night was entertaining. But oh, my energy levels are so depleted. *looks longingly at floor* Meh. This crossdressing thing should be good for a laugh, something I will need desperately after noon when the sun is at its peak. Headache, be gone! *bangs head on table* Well..really must be off. Damn procrastination.

Psychic Unveiling

2007-06-17T07:41:00.000+08:00

I am well used to illusions by now. But ever so often...another veil falls away, revealing truth in all its unwanted glory. I saw J this morning, and I spoke to Z last night. *shakes head* Revealing indeed. I have plummeted all the way down into J's hate list. Yet I still love him with all my heart and soul. The mysteries of love...*sigh* I love Z too, in a different way. I care about him, but he does not know that I do. I'm content to watch the puzzle pieces fall into place naturally, because patience is everything. 'Have a little patience.' If he decides to burn his bridges with me, then so be it. I have waited quite a few years, J. I am at the end of my rope here. Either you have forgiven me for my perceived mistakes, or you never will. I await your move. I looked at you just now, and I can't deny that the reaction of my heart betrayed my innermost feelings regarding you. I still love you, idiot. *rubs eyes* I am tired. I should be resting, before noon strikes the earth with the hammer of the sun's heat. Oh...and Z? Think up a better excuse next time. *rolls eyes* If you don't want to see me, then don't call me out in the first place! God. I'd have thought you would at least have some semblance of intelligence, compared to all the idiots I've been going out with. You with all your deep talk of God and religion, and how you feel depressed and lonely all the time. Maybe you wouldn't be lonely if you would be nicer in the company of others. And I'm beginning to think that 'depth' to you that first attracted me is nothing more than a facade. A pretty illusion with no substance behind it. J is confused, I get that. But you, Z. How many years have you been claiming that you play for both teams? I refuse to let you jerks drag me down. Good grief. How long will it be before you realise that I'm still me, J? The years have not changed me, but if you refuse to see that, maybe you have changed. I'm certainly starting to think so, and it's not a compliment, my love. Nothing will happen with S, because unfortunately, I've gone off sex quite a bit. In the words of a funnyman, "Men need to have sex to feel loved. Women need to feel loved to have sex." *sigh* I really am worn down to the bone. So tired I believe I can actually fall asleep at this computer table with sunlight blasting into my face. J...come back when you can't run from the truth anymore. I know what you felt, ok? It's no use telling me otherwise now. I love you, but I understand if you need time to sort things out with yourself. Just don't expect me to wait forever. But I promise I will be there for you if you need me for whatever reason. Just call me, and I will be there as fast as I can. *crosses heart* Z...you idiot. -_- I care about you, but if you're not going to stop giving in to your erratic mood swings, I will strangle you myself. It is terribly annoying when you call me up only to waste my time playing phone tag with you. Pick up the bloody phone or send me a message, you dolt. God, you men really get on my nerves sometimes. And R! Where the bloody hell have you been? That's...what, two lunches you've missed already? *shakes head* Honestly, you brainless buffoons really don't have much in the way of intellect, do you? Hmm. Happy Father's Day, X. *sigh* I would have gotten you a present, but I know you well enough to know that you would only feel guilty afterwards. So I've saved us both the trouble, and sent you the message instead. So many illusions dissolved into nothingness in one night. It makes me feel quite faint. *sarcastic* I should start my own soap opera, considering that I have plenty of experience in the drama department. Stupid Fates. Hey, karma should go kick someone else's butt for a change, you know? Meh. You'd never listen to an ignorant mortal like me anyway. *rolls eyes* Ok, I can foresee myself beginning to babble nonsense on this otherwise coherent and babble-free blog. I'm going to drag myself to my corner and get some shut-eye now. And my resolution for the coming week shall be...thou shalt not touch felines without being cursed with the Plague! (My allergies are acting up again. Sigh. Going to Sembawang is out of the question now...but I miss my Baby!)
...with the death of each illusion, I find myself strangely empowered.

Psychic Dawn

2007-06-13T00:59:00.000+08:00

The sun is rising in the horizon. Dawn. Daybreak. Golden beams of light that lance across the darkness like holy spears of hope. I am so weary...so tired. My eyes are bloodshot, and I feel a sudden need to move, to run, to flee from the despised heat of the day. Pain always makes me restless, it always grants me a certain level of energy. I used that to my advantage last night, but now Night is dying, and my strength fades with her. Even typing seems to require an enormous amount of effort. I feel hot, I feel cold, I feel light and heavy all at once. All the contradictions of the world seem to have collided in my being, and I wish I had just given in to the unconsciousness that had threatened to swamp me three hours ago. But no...I was so fascinated with the illusions my mind presented, that I forgot time stands still for no man. Three hours have lapsed, and I am fighting my need to sleep. I know what the problem is. I have spent the past two afternoons awake, enjoying the sunlight as much as anyone should, that I had forgotten I am nocturnal by nature. Two days isn't enough to knock my natural rhythm out of sync. As the sun rises, I should be abed. But I'm feeling like I should be normal for once...at least a week. Yesterday I was soothing ruffled hearts, calming troubled minds when I should have been replenishing my energy. Today I pay the price, and a hefty one at that. But I refuse to bow down to my own needs. I need no sleep as long as I can still draw on the ambient sources around me. My eyes are being stained a deep crimson as the veins thicken in my body. I have at least another hour left before I can begin my usual ritual of pulling in energy from stray sources. Still, it is not the same as if I had a full day's rest. I tend to lie about my sleeping habits, because there are no fixed schedules, and it is often too bothersome for me to explain. To prevent unnecessary worry, I usually pretend that I have slept along with the rest of the world at night, and this illusion usually fools everyone. But now that I am worn down to the bone, with a raging headache pounding away at my temples, I wonder what I can do to put a quick fix on this one. I need energy, and fast. I don't want to sleep, because I already know what I will see. Z, surrounded by blues and purples that stain his physical self. Blue for arousal, and purple for confusion. I acknowledge that it was I who induced said confusion in him. As for the shades of blue...*sigh* I don't know, and I do not really care right now. Is it too early for me to awaken them and seek energy? No. The world has already begun to rise from its slumber. My body still confuses me! *frustrated* I am hot, I am cold, I am tired yet I must run. My night was fruitful, but it appears the day still torments me. Hot and cold, tired yet restless. Very well. If I cannot find an alternate way to remedy my energy deficiency quickly, I will take a short rest. Enough to restore my zest, but not enough to trouble me with haunting visions of past and present. Oh, I am truly damned if I keep my illusions up any longer. Only I know how draining it is to keep lying about who I am. *sigh* Perhaps today he will tell me what I already know: that he is in pain. But until then, courtesy dictates that I play the ignorant fool oblivious to his emotions. The sun is already beginning to burn me. It is far too hot for my chilled flesh. I suppose I will retire to my corner and make arrangements from there. It shouldn't be too difficult, considering that I can barely focus. *sarcastic* Oh, yes. It seems that I have a recent addition to my ever-growing list of alphabets. A new guy, no one special. Maybe nothing, but he has caught my interest, at least for the moment. Invited me over to his place at 1 in the morning. *wonders* Well, if anything spirals out from this fascinating development, I'll be content to sit back and watch. My eyes are growing hot; a warning sign. I should take a bath before crystallising my plans for the day, else I will be wandering around the place with vampiric eyes and a werewolf's savage temper.

Psychic Bloodlust

2007-06-10T22:09:00.000+08:00

My peaceful state of mind has been abruptly shattered. Threads of fire, so familiar to my heart, have begun winding their way through my veins once more. The moon is but a sliver in the night sky these days, hardly enough to empower me. But tonight, my own heat fires me up. And again...I find myself growing antsy and restless. It was fun while it lasted, that elusive entity called peace, but now it has died under my twisted touch, and I am back where I started. The night calls out to me, singing her unholy song for the damned. Her siren call is hard to resist, and right now I don't want to. I belong out there, under her veiled layer of darkness among other creatures who make her their Goddess. I have drawn blood tonight, and it only served to enrage me further. THe bloodlust infuses those who embrace it with immense energy, and slowly consumes those who don't. The stone ledges and cobbled stones that make up the corridors of my vast castle will help me to bleed some of the heat off. There is nothing quite like running under the watchful moon to ease the sharp pain that is constantly needling my heart. The minutes slide past, lost to me forever. THere is nothing to stop me from running along the dark paths of the night. It is all mine, and mine alone, for the rest of humanity have begun their nightly slumber. My descent into darkness is expected, for the dance of light and shadow within me is an eternal one. A timeless waltz that is both terrible and beautiful to behold. And tonight, the darkness that has been dormant in me for over a week has begun to awaken. My bloodlust was the key that opened the cage. And now that it has been opened, my inhibitions melt away like frost before heat. I will run tonight. I will bleed all the excess energy off, and I will play in this garden of darkness that I have marked my own. The deep waters sparkle under the scant light of the crescent moon, I know. It is calling to me, even now. I am all dressed up for the night, in fitting hues of black and reds to represent the darkness that mingles with my life's blood tonight. The stars are out in full force, and I know my energy is unpredictable, as unpredictable as I am. But I will run, I will make speed and agility my friends tonight, and as the wind whistles past, my soul will have its dying moments of peace. When the sun rises tomorrow, I will pay the price. But for tonight, I am the dark prince who rules this kingdom of shadow, and I fear nothing and no one. The night is mine.

Psychic Peace

2007-06-07T01:32:00.000+08:00

I have been feeling so peaceful recently. If I close my eyes, I can almost project myself back into the golden days with J, back when everything was glowing and happy and everyone was so contented. But that was then, and this is now. I sit alone in my room, and I realise...the heavens are empty. The moon is conspicuously absent, and the stars are veiled by clouds. Still, it cannot diminish the fact that I have...for the past few days, not been depressed or moody. Running was a great way to take the edge off. J's gone off one on of his uncontactable tangents again. R is pressuring me to get a job. I haven't seen X for over a month. And I may have just opened my heart to yet another J.
But I feel strangely untouched by all these. *quiet* The piano and keyboard have fallen silent, and so has my mind. The nightmares have receded, and I feel so joyful that I can sleep without worrying about the repercussions. This is the same sensation that envelops my heart whenever I dream about my open meadow with blue skies as my roof. The slight breeze that blows...the softness of wild grass. My own little piece of heaven. It is peace, and I never thought I'd feel it again. Not after the turbulent rollercoaster ride with J. *sighs* But what's done is what done, and right now...I am glowing with the radiance only inner peace can bring. Good heavens, I actually smiled at my neighbour and made small talk. *marvels* Me, doing the niceties! *shakes head* Well, well. She smiled back, and we struck up a conversation about her dog, Toffee. Inquisitive fellow. I petted his head and was instantly his new best friend. He wouldn't leave when we reached my gate, and my neighbour had to literally drag him away, tail a-wagging. My neighbour is a kind soul, with a soft spot for dogs. I've lived here for two years, and I've never even glanced at anyone. Just reading what I wrote makes me laugh quietly to myself. Ah..the world is capable of doing an about-turn when you least expect it, and I know it is not just the things within that have caused this particular 180. Cats are starting to come up to me once more, affectionate as ever. It makes me miss Baby, though. I've decided to go to Sembawang come Saturday, because I have a date on Friday. I suppose it is high time I stepped out of my marble tower and started living again. It's been quite a while since...well, since I lived at all. I suppose J will always have a special place in my heart, my piano will never see these walls where I currently reside, I will never mend things with my father...but I have to live. =) *closes eyes* I have never felt this peaceful since three years ago. God, I can sleep for as long as I want to without waking up screaming or crying inside. It feels bloody marvellous. I feel like a new man. *laughs* If I expire now, I'll die happy. *contented sigh* The hours are slipping past, and I think I'll go to bed now and dream of green fields and golden sunshine. I'm still marveling over the changes that have seized my life. I wish I could bottle this emotion up and share it with the people who matter to me. =)

Psychic Lygophilia

2007-06-03T23:17:00.000+08:00

Night always bestows upon me her cursed gift-a surge of energy that boils through my veins and blesses me with an extreme need to move, to run, to soar. I've often wondered what it was about the darkness that so entrances me...and now I know! I'm lygophiliac. It's just something intrinsic about me, something I can't quite put into words. Some predatory instinct perhaps. Regardless, there is something...freeing about being awake as the world slumbers, increasing your alertness to your surroundings as you survey the darkened landscape. The winds are cleaner, somehow, and the air fresher. I especially love it when the moon is full above me, no matter what colour she is, pale yellow, bloodred, or bonewhite. The stars are faithful muses to the spirits of Night too, and I can imagine myself as one of them, one of the ornaments in the court of Night. *pauses* I am entirely capable of masking my true nature when it comes down to it. And I have. Although most people know of my fascination with the...'dark side' *rolls eyes*, most don't seem to understand my deeper connection to the shades of grey, even if they DO tend to lean towards the darker hues. *sigh* It seems I've made myself some very powerful enemies, and while it is not entirely unexpected...I am slightly put out. I have been extremely lax with my defenses recently, and my mind has been unguarded. It has been peaceful, these past few days. I don't have to constantly keep my mind working at 120% to foresee future calamities, or work out solutions to a myriad of problems. I've rested, I've eaten well, I've even mastered my emotions. TO a certain degree, of course. There is no complete mastery in any field. No matter how high you go, there is always another level. I realised as I reviewed a few memories I'd been suppressing...that every man has to come to terms with his inner demons. I'd gone back to 666, the place I grew up, I saw the corridors I'd traversed as a child, the pathways still intact, the air as eerie as ever. I remembered the pain, I remembered the fury, the anger. I remembered everything. I was there long enough to make my peace with the place, and I left. I know I will never return again. The everpresent darkness cloaked me, hiding my tears from the world, and I walked out of there with a sense of relief that I'd faced down one of my biggest demons at last. I couldn't remember where this demon's sister was located, but it didn't matter. I went back to where it all began, and I forced myself to remember things that were hard for me to accept. All the euphemisms in my mind, the codes that I confuse myself with...melted away as I stood and looked at the structure one last time. There will be many more demons that I know I have to face. But for now, I'm content because darkness blankets the world and the moon is smiling down on me. I am at peace.

Psychic Kinesis

2007-06-03T01:15:00.000+08:00

Kinesis, if I recall my Greek correctly, denotes movement. My mind has been still, but I have moved out of the circles that once bound me against my will. The night was mine, and I ran unseen through the back alleys, startling felines and other creatures of the night as they sensed me flying past. Running has always been one of my favourite past-times. It is an outlet for all the energy that churns in my body. Using my momentum to my advantage, I cleared obstacles easily as the bonewhite moon floated high overhead. She rose bloodred, and then paled as each hour passed. Closing my eyes, I see my dark wings unfolding as I stand on the precipice of the world. It is all mine for the taking. The full moon gifts me with an innate energy that I find hard to control tonight. I've been pacing the house like a caged panther, sleek and silent, but listless and hungry for action. I can't wait for morning, because then I'm going running with Phoebe. My movements are purely physical for today. My mind has been quiet for a while...and I wish to keep it that way. Thrusting the memories and the nightmares away has given me a measure of peace these past few days. I have joined a company that pays me to write, and write I shall. These are my gifts, and I shall use them to further myself. The ends justify the means, do they not? My words are cold, and I believe this emotional frost will last for quite some time. I was surrounded by people a few hours ago, and now a migraine is beginning to work its way through my head. It will recede as the night progresses.
I stood with my back to the forest atop a stone ledge overlooking the bus stop, and I felt right somehow. A light breeze rustled the trees behind me, and people lingered in front of me, waiting for their buses, their gazes raking me. I did not care. Elevated to a certain degree, with the full moon high above me and the night air surrounding me like a comforting cloak, I felt at peace. Three more hours before I run with the wind, powered by the rays of the moon and cutting through the cool night air before dawn arrives. *begins countdown* I want to run. Watch the world blur as it flies past me.

Psychic Calmness II

2007-06-02T02:50:00.000+08:00

I am still calm, even though storms are raging all around me. This chill, this mental calmness is a blessing. The winds roar and lightning screams through the dark clouds, but I...I am untouchable by the elements. I have decided that I will repay my debts and vanish, because, after all, I am shadow. A fleeting glimpse and I am gone. I will push everyone and everything away, away from the darkness that pulses at my very core. I was browsing through my earlier posts, wondering what to do with my overabundance of time, and I noticed that most of my posts hold within them an undercurrent of dark despair, of sadness, of pain. Tonight, as I sit with the full bone-white moon as my lunar companion, I feel nothing. No misery, no urge to hit the bottle, no need to seek comfort from men who only care about that one mind-blowing orgasm. I tried to care, God knows I tried. But...*shakes head* it is all in vain if my efforts yield only bitter fruit. Time and too much loneliness have embittered me. I regret that I drove J away with my insecurities. But I trusted him. I trusted his one golden promise to me. "I will never leave you." I still have his messages. I am afraid to trust, because damn. It hurts to see the people you love leave you. And I prefer it this way. The blackness of night, the pale beautiful moon, the stillness of the air...these are things that will never leave. My cats may run away from me, but all I have to do is sit, and they will come mewling and sniffing. My blog is the only place where I can unleash the full extent of my emotions. My pain, my wrath, my sadness, my regrets. They are all listed here, like offerings to an indifferent deity. I don't want anyone to see me when I am in pain, because it has happened once before, and it will never happen again. My heart is sealed off, and even I can't break it open now. I am calm because I know that no matter what happens, I know the way to my piano, and I can always find comfort in the felines that roam the streets below. These are things that I know I can always count on, things that won't leave. *bitter* People leave, people die, they get bored, find new loves...whatever. It's human nature to constantly seek out greener pastures. The next big thing, the next big break. I'm not like that. I don't want fame, or riches, or great clothes, or a happening social life. I'm content to just sit and bask in the solar/lunar rays and play my heart out. I was not brought up differently. My siblings are your average pre-teens. My brother's preoccupied with his PS2, and working through his grades. My sister is just happy to be a girl and have lots of friends to gossip with. My family knows I'm different, and usually they just leave my eccentricities out of the picture. Everyone knows I treasure my freedom, I like being free-spirited, and taking things one step at a time. I am content to sit in a roomful of people and observe, instead of interacting. I watch. I don't do. If I do decide to step into the scene, I won't be anywhere near the spotlight, unless it involves my piano. I'm just a simple kid, and I'm trying to fix my inner compass, but...you know. My interests are varied, and my options limited. I love linguistics, and I love challenging my friends in various languages. I love my piano, I love music in general. I really don't belong here. Too many people have remarked on that. In school I was the shadow, content to blend, except when I performed on stage. Then I gave it all my all to outshine the rest. And I did. That connection I have with the things I love is pure. I know they won't leave when I least expect it. And I guess maybe I am just a bitter old fart after all. My moods have been fiery and volatile recently. I have not decided which house to retreat to for the weekend, but suddenly staying put in my room and letting my mind 'Zen' itself doesn't seem like such a bad idea. My skill at emotional control far surpasses your average human. Anyone passing me in the street will have no idea that these thoughts and emotions that fill my blog are all swirling unseen in me. In person, my face is cold and set like marble, and my emotions are on a tight leash. I will not break that firm hold for anyone, for any reason. I will not allow myself to get hurt again. I don't understand it. Anyone can visit my blog to see my emotional state.
Why does it have to come from the horse's mouth? This blog is an extension of me, it is the most important part of me, after my intellect. The mind first, then the heart. That is the way I am. My family is beginning to understand my odd ways, after 19 years. I heard it in my mum's voice two days ago, the subtle changes in her tone when we spoke. She wants me back home, I know that. My father too, regardless of his motives. Everyone's waiting for me to make my move, but I will sit here on top of my open tower, and allow the breezes to calm and settle me. I used to think that emotional ties were burdens people were silly enough to want to bear...but now I don't know. I have these burdens of my own, and I don't quite know how to deal with them. For once in my life, I no longer wish to fly away at the slightest hint of a storm. I will face this, and if it doesn't kill me, it'll make me stronger, right? But for these few days...allow me the grace to calm myself and organise my mind. The weekend is upon us, even though the days that mark the passage of time hardly matter to me anymore. *shakes head* Everyone is desperate for me to wise up to life...but my darlings...you who rush forget to stop and smell the roses. And believe me, there is nothing more fulfilling than sitting in a garden with a cup of tea in one hand and digestive biscuits in the other. I am living my life, but not the way society dictates. No rushing around doing a job I hate just to survive.
Why would anyone do that? Do something you have no interest in just to have that balance in your bank at the end of the month. The follies of humanity largely escape me.
If need be, I'll live off the land, but I will not give up my values and my principles just to be one of the pack. There are millions of graduates each year, and I will not be one of them. I'm just me, you know? Just a kid who loves his piano, who likes cats, who is at peace with nature. If you think you detect a hint of asperity in today's post, you're mistaken. I feel emotionally dead at the mo'. I hope I can regain my spark soon, because on Wednesday, I'm meeting my mum and discussing my return to...to everything. To music school, to my piano, to life. C'est la vie.
...there is no point in explaining myself to hearts that are closed.

Psychic Calming

2007-06-01T11:50:00.000+08:00

After the tumultuous storms that have been raging the past few weeks, I find myself content once more to watch the world go by. Yesterday night was the first in a long time that I awoke well rested. At 5 in the morning, as the creatures and critters still slumbered, I had breakfast and contemplated the direction my life is going. The viable options are growing foggier by the day, due in part to my reluctance to face the issue. But two days ago, I went home. And I found myself laughing, even though my heart was still steeped in misery. Watching my siblings bicker over the slightest grievance, seeing how much they've grown, reminded me that all is not lost. I stuffed myself with good home-cooked food. Had lunch with my family, as opposed to eating alone with only Princess Sophia (that's my telly) for company. Then my siblings had their lessons, and I watched as my sister threw a major tantrum. I don't blame her; her teacher is very odd. I can relate. Haha. Even my grandmother was extra nice to me, although I was furious when I found out the damage she'd caused to my family recently. Spreading lies like bad seeds. *sigh* No one at home is talking to her, and while I know she brought it upon herself, I feel pity for her. Then all three of us siblings settled down to watch...Avatar: The Last Airbender! When we were done, Happy barked for attention outside, so I went and sat with the little puppy for a while. Patting his head seemed to content him, and he lay beside me as I watched butterflies flutter around the greens my grandmother had recently planted. She may have her faults, but she is an excellent gardener. It's an emotion I can never quite explain, even to myself...as I sat there surrounded by my family who'd seen me grow up right till the moment I stormed out the door and left. I spoke to my mum briefly on the phone, and I felt even more complete. Just a few minutes, but it was enough to hear her voice. She was busy that day, and I had to leave before she came home. That was darling Phoebe's birthday!! *grins* I went out, mended some more bridges, and met up with Phoebe, Andrew, Leon and Pei Yu at Play. And now here I am, marveling at how quickly the world turns. I'm losing time, I know. But there will always be time for what I love. Of course there will. I only have one more thing left to do, and it has to wait until next Wednesday, when my father leaves. I have been eating well these past few days. *muses* I'm still full from my hearty dinner last night. Maybe a quick peek into the fridge won't hurt. As I enjoy the rainbow after the storm, I feel I must remind myself that calmness is extremely fragile, and it can be shattered at any moment. Still, I'm content to let sleeping dogs lie. Just for today.

Psychic Numbness

2007-05-30T06:13:00.000+08:00

I think after too much shit, your mind and heart just numb themselves. Kit's words have never left me all these years. "It's the end, Faiz. You've lost. You don't deserve anyone, and you'll always end up alone." I tried desperately to locate him, but his skills at vanishment rival mine. He scarred me badly, so badly that I thought there was no way I could feel pain again. Maybe I was wrong. Of course, it always hurts when someone leaves. Through reasons I may never understand. I opened my heart up to Phoebe yesterday, and I don't want to speak of these topics again. No family. No religion. No music. No piano. It's fine, because I'm not hurting, am I? I walked the corridors again last night, and there was this faint humming echoing throughout them. My swan song, perhaps. The numbness I feel is a blessing, be it from the alcohol or some unknown reason. I'm going home today, but I will not speak to him. I am in the eye of the storm. Let the world whirl and spin around me. Let it rage away, but I remain untouched for today. Just one day. What did I do wrong, Kit? All of you who have left or are still in the transit area, tell me. For you I'd bleed myself dry. This time it's no longer the little girl I see sitting with her knees drawn up to her chin, watching as the flames encircle her. It's me. The rivers of fire are great, deadly serpents that hiss and snarl as they swirl around me. And as the picture solidifies in my mind, the same unsettling calm falls upon me. Perhaps it is the calmness of the damned, because there is no hope left. Dawn is stealing up upon the world. And yet another day begins. The monotony...the loss. I am a master of illusions, and in this final performance, I will not fail. The show, as Queen so famously sang, must go on. In my own little kingdom, I am the puppetmaster and I pull all the strings. I've broken one of the few I consider sacred, and my fingers are bloody as a result. I will not trust anyone again. My parents, my family, my friends, my alphabets. Their knowledge of me is fragmented, and perhaps it is better this way, because then they have less ammunition to strike me with. I won't open my heart up. I can't. Not anymore. I am inherently dark and cautious, and I believe that there is no hope for those condemned. Salvation is merely a word, and it will not be given freely. I cannot alter the way I am, and I don't want to. My darkness gives rise to greatness. I'm going home today, to play my final farewell to a dream I cherished so, but one that ultimately dies under my twisted King Midas touch. My magnum opus, my piece de resistance. It has to end somehow. It is now seven, and I plan to leave at eight. There is no sense in pining away for something needlessly. I can't have it, so that's it. Kit taught me a very harsh, but fitting lesson. In his own words, "You don't deserve anyone." S'right. I don't deserve anyone or anything, and while I have every right to be angry at my losses (plural, by the way. I lost more than one cherished dream) I have to realise that in the end, I'm just another mortal trapped in this miserable plane of existence. What spills out from me onto this blog will not taint how I appear in person. Because the blog is one of the few ways I can truly express myself, and I will not say it in person. And I regret opening up these few weeks. It was all in vain, and I feel terrible about it. I will not speak of this again.
I'm sorry, R. I didn't get the job you wanted for me. Dawn is here. I've slept through the night like a babe. I've tried, really I have. Fought tooth and nail to keep it by my side. But it just can't work, and I'm saying my final goodbyes today. The numbness, as I've said, is a blessing. I'm just so tired of people leaving, even when I've given them what they wanted.

Psychic Misery

2007-05-29T19:00:00.000+08:00

I tried to reach out to him, but he drifted even further beyond my reach. That is not to say that he doesn't care. BUt fuck, can't you understand something as simple as...I DON'T WANT IT? Is that all there is to you? Are you that shallow? I tried exploding today, I tried being nice, I tried to play that monstrous creation lurking in the corner. All I've accomplished so far is an increase in blood pressure and a sudden urge to throw things around. I promised myself I'd stay faaaar away from alcohol, and I can't remember the last time I got piss drunk. Oh, wait. I do. It was that time I spoke to all of them and passed out for a couple of hours. But today it's just getting to me. It hasn't rained all day, but there is a heaviness to the air, some intangible pressure that threatens to squeeze the remaining life out of me. Oh, fuck it all. I deserve a drink. Or two. First thing everyone ought to know about me. Never call the house phone. I won't pick up except on rare occasions. Blue bloody moon and all that You wanna contact me, you do it through my cell. Leave a message, or just call the bloody number. 90554732. There. I hope that helps you brainless automatons who keep calling my house phone. I WON'T PICK UP. Good grief. APES are more intelligent. THis phone is annoying. I just want to rip it out and smash it to bits. You MEN are annoying. All the alphabets right down to Z. Ok, fine. So maybe I indulged ina little drink. But it only soured my mood even more. Where's the happy? I won't do it. I won't talk to you because I quit. I gave up, yeah. SO fuck that, and fuck you. You wouldn't understand anyway, you're so entrenched in your work. I get that it's Monday. Wait. Tuesday? It's tuesday. Right. So you're busy, with stuff. A text message only takes so long to type out, you IDIOT! Stop calling because I don't want to talk to anyone. Especially to all you men who I know are only after one thing. It's been a long time snice I got angry enough to be in a throw-objects-around rage. I want to stand on the top of the tallest mountain and scream and scream and cause an avalanche that will bury all these stupid problems six feet under. Maybe more. I tried driving people away today. I can hear the alcohol singing out to me. The darkness irritates me, every sound makes me want to scream. I feel like getting a chair and slamming it against my ceiling. The neighbours are so fucking annoying! SHut UP! Everyone is annoying me. Stupid fucks. They're still banging around up there. What, are they moving a grand piano around? My eyes are growing redder and redder. Maybe it's the alcohol. Akerhol. I've moved my pawns, and now all I can do is wait for the opponent's move. Bring it on. I waited two years for this. Two whole years of silence, and heartache. I just want to vanish. Just...clsoe my eyes and be forever at peace. Stupid world. Can't even have one ONE moment of silence without the stupid phone ringing (DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING LOUD THAT PHONE IS!?) or my idiotic neighbours banging around up there or an SMS from some insipid airhead looking for a mindblowing orgasm. I bet it's my aunt who called. I refuse to talk to her. Or anyone else for that matter. It hasn't even rained. Stupid weather. STUPID WORLD. Why is everyone so preoccupied with hiding the truth from me? For fuck's sake. Ugh. I dont care anymore. If there's a firestorm, I'll just retreat somewhere. Fear flees before the heat of anger. ANd I'm throwing that monstrous invention away tomorrow, even if it means I've secured my own death warrant. It means nothing to me anymore, and I hate seeing what it represents. Some dreams were never meant to be realised. And you stupid fucktard had me waiting for two bloody years, you MORON. I'm always waiting and waiting and waiting. For those who've died, for those who are dying, for those who've left, for those who are leaving. FOR THINGS TO BE RETURNED TO ME. Well, fuck that. I'm tired of waiting, of being the nice lil bunny, the lost puppy who people pick up and play with until they grow bored. Ok. The alcohol isn't working. The sex obviously didn't work. YES you stupid fucktard. I'm not sleeping with you again. Urgh. I tried to get angry with all the wrong people and only succeeded in amking myself miserable-r. More miserable. Whatever. Fuck this situation. Theme song of my life. Oh, hello migraine.I was wondering where you'd gone off to.

Psychic Pyrokinesis

2007-05-29T13:11:00.001+08:00

As I was watching the clouds blot out the sun, I found myself growing increasingly restless. The darkness is cool relief from the bright heat of the sun, and somehow I feel like I need to take advantage of it. If only it would storm now. *sighs* When I close my eyes now, I see a little girl in the center of a room that is slowly being consumed by fire. Her knees drawn up to her chin, her eyes glittering in the flickering light of the flames. Her white nightgown is in stark contrast to the shadows that play hide and seek with the flames. Most people would scream for her to run, to save herself. But I believe she is in the eye of the storm. While the forces of nature rage away around her, she is in a place of peace. I can only watch as an eerie calm steals into her eyes. She's looking directly at me as I watch the scene unfold. Even in the face of death, her expression does not waver. I don't know...morbid, isn't it? My heart has been clouded recently, and true to form, I vanish whenever I feel the sensation seeping through. I don't want to always be this way. Not that anyone would understand. *sigh* Without my piano, I feel like a plant kept in darkness. I'm starting to wilt. I'm dying without the instrument that has been my sole companion all these years. In those days, when my family was away, I'd glide down the stairs and play as the darkness swelled around me, an ocean in which I was king. This...this horrible monstrosity rebels from my touch, this horrendous contraption that is my substitute. There will be no substitute, and I feel my strength fading from me, like streams of blood flowing from the condemned. *sigh* Even in despair, I find a thread of heat winding its way through my heart, firing up my blood. I'm so tired of having to fight to keep what is rightfully mine. Those that I love have been snatched away by Time and Ignorance. My anger gives me strength, but the anger of those touched by fire is explosive and unpredictable. Innocent bystanders could be caught in the crossfire, and I don't want that. But I've exhausted myself trying to remain busy in a life so monotonous with my musical companion. My fury is like the rage of volcanos, rare and terrible to behold, and usually deadly. It takes a lot to get me so furious that my words become icy splinters to break hearts. When I close my eyes now, I see charred earth and rivers of burning blood. I have never wanted anything but peace, and now I am denied my only passport to salvation. For reasons that I cannot understand, try as I may. It must storm now, so I can dance in the rain as wild as the elements I so love, and bleed the excess energy away. I don't want anything else except peace, but it seems I can never have that. I need guidance, not from mortals who will never understand. Divine intervention seems laughable to me right now. What have I, a corrupted soul tainted by darkness, done to deserve peace? I will halt the river of tears, because nothing has changed. Two years....six...eight. I'm still all alone. Even worse, I've lost my piano. The only companion that has given me peace, a flickering ray of hope all these years. *shakes head* The walls suffocate me, and without music to keep my darkness at bay, I drown even more each day. It was too much to hope for, wasn't it? My wealth is gone, my skills are fading away to nothingness, and I...believe hope is just a meaningless word people invoke when they are truly desperate. I with all my knowledge of darkness...can never be touched by light. So this is goodbye then. Goodbye to all the fragmented moments of peace I once thought I could collate into my shrine to salvation. As hope dissipates in my open palm and is replaced by a drop of my tears, two..a ceaseless flood...I wonder if I have the strength to face the people who care about me and keep my illusions in place enough to stop them worrying about me. I don't want pity, I don't want sympathy, I don't want anything...save for understanding, and the return of the only emotional attachment I treasure so much.

Psychic Waning

2007-05-27T04:16:00.000+08:00

As the moon waxes and wanes, so too does hope. It is odd, because I have never, in all my nineteen years of life, doubted my beliefs. In philosophy, in my life's path, in my abilities. I have always trusted that under the right circumstances, I would make the right move. Perhaps I have always presented an illusion of emotional coldness, as most acquaintances already know. But tonight, all illusions melt away as I watch the cold, pale moon. Appearing to be emotionally cold does not mean I am ignorant to the emotions of others. I do feel. It's just that I feel too much, therefore I have to keep a very tight leash on my feelings, lest they overwhelm me. I can feel time running out for me. In my whole life as a gay man, this was my greatest fear, to be surrounded by men. But a new fear has replaced my wariness of men in general. And that fear lies in the uncertainty of my future. I have talents, yes. But many of these remain untapped and confined, utilised only for the purpose of my amusement. I should write a book, I should start taking the piano seriously, I should start exploring philosophy with more zeal. A few hours on the ivories, and I believed I was set for life. Writing a few short paragraphs, and I thought I had a bestseller. Knowing the premises of the great philosophers made me think I was one too. But as Night raises her own brand of illusions, she strips away most of mine. And I'm not sure whether to rage at her or thank her. I wanted to go home on Wednesday, but then my eyes were too red to be seen in public. Visibility was null, and I didn't fancy being hunted down by exorcists. So I stayed home and brooded. A few hours of rest, and my energy is back at optimum level, and my eyes are mostly healed. Tomorrow is Sunday. Make that today. Today is Sunday, and I believe I am long overdue for a meeting with my mum and my piano. I need to raise the issue of my education. Most people do not, indeed, they can not understand my passion and zeal for my area of interests. So let me try to capture my thoughts and emotions into words, although I'm afraid I might not do them justice. When I was younger, the piano was all I had. I withdrew from the world, I stopped speaking to people in general, and my friends were not of the good kind. Spending six to seven hours on the ivories was typical for me. My parents left me alone, because I wanted it that way. I would play from the moment the sun began to rise (thank God for understanding neighbours) until I had to go to school, and continue playing the instant I came home. It was my only comfort. If I shed tears while playing, if I was furious, only the piano would express that. But time and lack of practice has dulled my skills, and I regret that. I am trying to remedy that, and almost every waking minute is spent pining away for my piano. And I am beginning to lose hope that I will ever have it by my side, whenever I need a touch of old comfort. That piano has a lot of memories, and a lot of soul to it. My attachment to it is of such magnitude that I can scarcely put it into words. I don't know how, but I have to get it back. I know a lot of people look upon me as a wayward child. But they don't know me. Behind the facade of cold civility and emotional detachment is just a boy with a broken wing. Too many times, I have sat at the piano and played for hours, while tears fell into my lap. I disregarded them, because the music that emanated from the oneness of man and instrument calmed me, healed me. The keyboard that is my current substitute is dying. I cringe whenever the notes falter, and I know there will be no other. Yet...how can I explain all this to the women who I have been pushing further and further away? My mum messaged me yesterday. She wanted to ask me out, I know. But something made her hold back, and that something is me. My dad came over to Bedok yesterday. I was an internal mess, writhing in agony and longing. Just...I just want him to ruffle my hair and hug me. And tell me once more that I am his son. I spoke two words to him, and withdrew to the shadows, where I could see but remain unseen. He is thin and gaunt now, and I worry for him, for what is happening at home. I have to go home today, to both houses that I have neglected for a long time. My dad may not regard me as his son anymore, but I still care about him. And seeing him look so worn down jolted me out of my alabaster tower. I have luxuriated for so long playing the part of the spoilt prince, that I have forgotten exactly who it was that put me there in the first place. *shakes head* The waning of hope, and my dying illusions make for a bitter brew. I do not care. Let my illusions wane, and fade away to nothing. Return them to the shadows from whence they came. I stopped using the L word with my family nine years ago. I still won't use it, because it signifies weakness and I will not open my heart up only to be pierced again by disappointment. But there are other ways in which I can heal rifts, and I will not run anymore. As soon as the sun lights up the sky, I leave for home. Tomorrow, I will call on my dad and the cats that I miss so much. I have to see for myself. The moon is waxing towards full, and I hope everything positive will flourish as she does on her velvet throne. *clasps hands* I cannot make you understand, I know. (You being all the people who care about me) You believe I am an aimless bum, with no direction in life. But you are wrong. I need to do this, because it is something I have wanted all my life. It took me six years to get my first piano, and I possess a great deal of patience. It may perplex you to see that I am content to sit by and allow Opportunity to take his time and call on me whenever he pleases. But I am not sitting by quietly. Still waters run deep, I cannot reiterate that point enough. I have stilled my mind, banished most of my demons, thanks largely in part to Yushaa. I have found a new focus, and that is my interest in music, languages and philosophy. Perhaps I have taken too long to shift this into high gear, but I have already planned my life out, even if I do not speak of my plans. Understand that I will not remain forever under another's thumb, and that eventually I will carve a niche for myself in this cruel and heartless world. But to do that, I will need time, and patience. I have both, but I want understanding too, even if it is not needed for my solo flight. *bows* I hope my words illuminate the darkness that so many of you believe I represent. It is all I can give to you. For now.

Psychic Vampire

2007-05-25T12:25:00.000+08:00

My euphoria over my stunning victory has faded. From being the mighty bringer of light, I fell into the shadows once more. But that's ok. I've said what has been burning in my heart all this while. Taking a gamble, I went for a social event after giong two days without sleep. Three is my maximum, and then I will collapse until my body has recharged itself. At the social event, the energy was a palpable source of positivity, and I drew on it, borrowing strength from the emotions of others. It is something I've done more often in the past. Time has dulled my need to do so, because sleep comes naturally to me these days. At least when my fragile state of harmony is not disturbed. But recent events have forced me to turn to my old ways, and while I do not regret it, I believe time has sharpened my instincts to a very fine point. At the chalet, we ran around like headless chickens while waterbombs flew left and right. Well, they ran around. I glided through the darkening house, absorbing what I could. Felines dotted the landscape, eyeing each other as they came across a shared territory. It was nice. Then Dominic came running past, in pursuit of Yushaa. He really looked like he was going to drench her, but at the last second he turned to me and splash! I was his latest victim. I got him back for it, twice turning his own weapons against him. My forte, actually. I didn't mind expending energy in the waterfight, because it was fun, and I got back more than I expended. I caught a glimpse of someone who made my heart accelerate. We'd just arrived (sorry, events listed on today's post are not in chronological order. It's in order of memory) and he was running past, soaking wet and glowing somehow. It's the radiance that shines from within that sparked my senses. I stood there, draped in blackness and brooding, letting my senses expand with the night, and this shining ray of light in human form sped past, carring of all things, a wok filled with water. Then he stopped, turned and smiled at us. (Phoebe was next to me) His very first words were, "Hi, you are?" It is extremely stupid to reveal one's true nature without first knowing what the other party's capabilities are. But I swear, as I stood there gawping at him, my mind went into deepfreeze. Which is why the next words that popped out of my mouth was, "Hi. You're Xavier right?" The expression on his face was...a mixture between stunned confusion. I didn't lose my cool, but I don't know how I knew his name. I'd never met these people before, but I couldn't stop...looking at him all night. Something, just something about him. I tried focusing on my emotions, and fed the cats diligently, even went out for a walk into the night to get liquor with Yushaa for the rest of us. It didn't distract me one bit. When we got back, he'd already changed out of his sopping wet clothes and was handling the barbeque pit like a pro. (Regardless of what anyone else says) I got thoroughly drenched, so I headed up for a shower and a fresh change of clothes. I ended up wearing TKGS shorts (thank you so very much, Janice), so micro-mini that it prompted Dominic to start giggling everytime he saw me. Then as the night wound down, we settled down to playing some weird card game that eventually got interesting. The liquor bottles were singing out to us, so we popped them open and started drinking. Somehow, the focus of the night was on gay and lesbian sex. Dominic and I were chattering away like squirrels, arguing over certain methods and fetishes, while the rest of them were rolling around in agony. So...*coughs* certain of my fetishes have come to light. We talked till the first light of dawn, and promptly overslept, causing chaos. Four of us were piled up on the bed: Phoebe, Yushaa, Surin, and I. Dominic slept on the floor, poor darling. Then we split up for home, and now here I am. Yushaa is asleep on the couch outside, and I'm planning what to feed her when she wakes up. I'm running on two hours of sleep for three days now, drawing more and more energy from all my known sources. So forgive me if the sentences in this post are a bit disjointed, and not written in my usual style. Too tired to divert energy to thinking and writing right now. Needless to say, I'm a psychic vampire. And I'm glad that I went for the chalet, and met some great new people. (Xavier!) God, I hope he doesn't read this.

Psychic Snapback

2007-05-24T02:56:00.000+08:00

So much has happened. A mixture of both good and bad. I don't know if I want to talk about it, but it was not talking that nearly killed off my humanity. Drove me insane with the mental chaos, even if my illusions were in place to present a smooth, cool facade. After all these years...you still have the capacity to hurt me this badly. I'm not like you. I can't erase memories in the blink of an eye. I can't forget people just by turning my back on them. But my pain is tempered with the heat of anger. YOU of all people know what you did. I don't know how your conscience allows you to live that way, but then again...I'm not sure if you even have one. I still hate you for what you did, because it wasn't my darkness that drove you away. It was the one buried within your heart. I will never, as long as I live, do to another person what you did to me. You hurt me on our very first encounter at my house, when you came over on false pretences, and you hurt me when you left with nary a word. You still hurt me by denying the truth of what happened all those years ago. The least you could do was take responsibility for your actions. BUt you did not, you never have, you never will. I have changed my stance towards you. If you fall before me, I will do what you did. I'll turn around and walk away. You're not worth all this pain, it doesn't matter if people think I lied for whatever reasons you may have said. We both know what happened, and I will never ever speak of you again. You're just not worth it. You may have a new life, new friends, abandoned all your old ones, the people who care about you, but take it from someone who knows. You can't run from the phantoms of your past. You're just like the others from my childhood. I've not forgiven them, but at least they didn't add salt to my wounds by spreading malicious lies about me. *cries* I spent yesterday morning in tears. The same with today. I wish I could be like that. Just close my eyes, and erase the memories of what has happened to me, and the nightmares would cease. But I can't.

Psychic Resignation

2007-05-22T07:05:00.000+08:00

Night healed me in her own way. I feel calm enough to take up my scythe and kill off what I know is already dying. I am light, I am shadow, I am both and I am everything that the two encompasses. The tears of blood are an endless river. I am resigned to my fate, because I know what will happen. Yesterday I found out something about my relationship with my father. I went home for a while, and revelations attacked me right and left. I am hurt, but I will not show it. I am dying, but I will not acknowledge it. Certain facts, certain truths...are better left unsaid. Suffice it to say that I feel betrayed, yet relieved that I had not opened my heart. I was about to, give or take a few more weeks, but then the cats decided to jump out of the bag. And therefore my heart is sealed once more. The skies are grey and lifeless, like a drowned corpse. I take no pleasure in watching light flood the earth. I know what must be done, even if it pains me to do it. I cannot allow myself to be hurt that way again. By anyone. I only have strength for this one last death. Regarding our conversation on the topic of religion...I had nothing to say because my feelings fluctuate irregularly. We are all looking for inner peace. I have sought for many years, in places both light and dark, and I have not found it. Perhaps I never will. The sun is weeping too, it seems. Golden tears that warm the hearts of the fallen. I have not lost a father, because I never had one. They were all men with their own agendas. Sex, love, whatever it was that they fancied I could give them. I am only a mere object subjected to the whims and fancies of these people. I will not cry for this perceived loss. I have no right to. I've been looking for love from all the wrong sources. I know why I am so attracted to father figures. Do I still need to spell it out? I cannot fog the truth anymore, because the darkness has grown too intense. I give to all the wrong people, and I take from all the right ones without returning the favour. *bows* Tomorrow will be the day that decides my fate. I will never look upon you as my fathers again. I have not lost, because I never had. My scythe feels heavy and unwieldy in my cold hand. *cries* Can I do this? Do I have the strength to? It was not I who put distance between us. As life drifts past me, and people drift away...I find that I have all I need within me. Does peace come from within or without? Answer me this, Gabriel. The minutes drag on...each one killing me that much more. A fresh wave of tears engulfs me. Why is it that I keep losing? I have loved, and I have lost. Yet I continue to lose without knowing why. I cannot control the strength of my emotions. 'Love'. The word sickens me to my very core. *shakes head* I cannot give myself away in person. It is who I am. The things I have gone through have made me wary of people in general, but I am beginning to trust once more. Today it is not fire that fills my veins, but a glacial calmness that crystallizes my tears into sparkling drops of ice. I may be losing everything that I hold dear, I may never be able to open my heart again, but in this room as sunlight filters through the barriers I have put in place, I feel a sense of calmness. It is the same calm I have witnessed on many a dying person. They who have found peace. At that time, I wept for them, not understanding what it was that they had gained. *sigh* I am truly resigned. I have cut off too many people in my quest to ease the burning pain that poisons my heart. I cannot explain myself to another, because I do not have the answers either. J...I tried. I waited two years for you to decide, and you have by your very indecision. To my fathers...there is nothing more to say. But I hope the apple falls far far far from the tree. And I am shadow once more, dark and ethereal.
The flawless illusion of contentment has vanished. But I am still here for those who seek.

Psychic Darkrising

2007-05-21T01:32:00.000+08:00

Everytime I close my eyes, a picture will slowly take shape, the lines inking outward from a focal point, swirling and twisting to form a complete portrait that usually mirrors how I feel. Tonight, as I battle my usual pain, I close my eyes, and I see blacks and reds of different hues surrounding my physical self. It is almost smokelike, as it cloaks me, this darkness that rises. Blood runs out my open veins, trailing down my arms, multi-hued reds that give me colour among all the different blacks. A river of life, a river that kills me as it lives its final moments running freely down my body, its freedom bringing the kiss of death upon me. Fatally seductive, to watch as I stand with splashes of blacks and reds, smoke and life intertwining as I give my life up for this terrible beauty. It is morbid, I know. But understand this. My mind conjures up images whenever I close my eyes. And tonight, this is the dark and terrible beauty that it has presented me with. I am fascinated to see myself draped in my own blood and surrounded by darkness. I am witnessing my own death. And I am not frightened, or afraid, or remorseful. I am fascinated. Once, I was sitting through a draggy art class. I felt trapped, I felt caged, hemmed in among the students in my class. Everyone was busily working away on their charcoal sketches. I wrote this short but meaningful (to me) verse. Here it is.
Blood of magick willingly given. You will force the power to be risen.
Give rise to the winds, clouds now gather. Rain shall fall, lightning will shatter.
It reflects what I was feeling at that time, and the words were prophetic. *sighs* The sentences just flowed out from me. That was then, and this is now. The darkness that I wear around me these days is a tame kitten compared to the raging oceans of blackness that engulfed me back then. Why am I spilling such dark thoughts from the recesses of my soul? *ponders* I don't know, honestly. In my vision tonight, the darkness had a place to move, the blood that runs through me had an outlet. But as I sit here, I find myself growing increasingly restless and nursing a craving for either sex or alcohol. Maybe both at the same time, I don't really care. But on this night, as my vision skewers all illusions and I see the pathways that I could have taken, should have taken, and seen what could have been, the edges of my aura wilt and darken to an absolute black. Drifting through the crowd of humanity, listening to their words and seeing their characters...I felt really out of place. It was fun, it was nice. But I felt lonely, even though there were people everywhere. I was in the sea of humanity, but I felt like a fish out of water. Each Night sees me soaked in a little more darkness. How long more before I turn to my old ways? *shakes head* The moon is a crescent, a curved blade in the night sky. And every time I blink, every time I close my eyes, I see blades running down my flesh, drawing lines of blood that eventually converge to become a torrential river. Darkness swirls around me, spirits of Night that wreath me in different shades of black. I cannot fight both mind and body at the same time. My physical wounds are healing well, and right now I must tend to the psychic ones that have formed. I wanted to pray...but then, I am too darkened now to face the light. I wish to have them returned to me. And if push comes to shove, I suppose I can always rely on my bag of tricks to get me what I want. Still waters run deep, don't they? Right now, my mind is very very still, with only the haunting promises of my death to distract me. My thoughts have slowed, and finally stopped. It is time I retired to my corner and allow the nightmares to torment me next. I have died in my dreams many times, most of them in fights with supernatural beings of unknown category. My own experience with the deaths of others has allowed me the 'luxury' of crafting possible scenarios where I die. Unfortunate to have a mind so active. Tsktsk. Still, it is both gift and curse. It is time I harnessed the darkness that swirls around me, instead of letting it dissipate into the cold night air. *rolls up sleeves* Waste not, want not. I will no longer turn to beings of light for help. I have dealt with much worse on less experience. I am older, and wiser now. And all my skills are still intact. Time to go practice. (It is telling that my affinity with felines has returned on this very night.)

Psychic Breezes

2007-05-20T06:37:00.000+08:00

As I watch the first threads of pink tinge the velvet bed of night, I feel the fires that were raging in me dying down to embers. No one deserves to bear the full brunt of my fiery rage, least of all the people who have set aside a special place for me within their hearts. So it is with regret that I apologise for those that I have hurt on this blog, intentional or otherwise. *sighs* It has been a very difficult weekend. Friday went down the pooper, and I abandoned all my responsibilities for Saturday. My eyes are still red, but the dark anger within me has subsided. The tornado of emotions has slowed down to a gentle breeze. I wanted to go home yesterday...was already dressed and standing in front of the door. Then I changed my mind, stripped and lay down in my corner. It is no one's fault that I sit on this cool morning alone, with only the mists of dawn to be my companions. J's betrayal has finally been revealed to me in full. His very absence is a testament to his deceitful promises. *shakes head* It is sad, but I made my own choices. And I pay the price for my own mistakes. I have enough presence of mind to know that, at the very least. I feel calm today, knowing that no matter what happens, it is I who hold the reins to my life. No matter which direction I go, or where I end up, it will be based only on my decisions. I influence my own destiny. Perhaps I can borrow the light of the stars and illuminate the darkness. *muses*
Right now I foresee another firestorm brewing. I'll just sit back and enjoy the quiet tranquility for a few more moments before I rush headlong into the fray and decimate the demons of illusion.

Psychic Eruption

2007-05-19T09:28:00.000+08:00

As the sun lights up the horizon, my eyes redden and my aura darkens even more. All the buried rage, the resentment...the anger. They're surfacing, like dead bodies to a necromancer's call. My heart is erupting with emotion, and I fear that this Vesuvius within me will destroy any chance I have of redemption.
Rage filters its way through my veins...thick and vile, a poisonous sludge.
I am beyond angry. With myself. J was never worth it Was he?. A living doll, he was beautiful to look at, to touch. And he was mine for eight months. *cries* If I close my eyes right now, I can feel the cloud of darkness that is my shield against the world. Yes. I resent everything that has happened. I resent having trusted so much in people who eventually left me alone in this dark place. I resent the fact that my skills are degrading by the minute because I refuse to go home. I resent the fact that my aunt is one money-minded b*tch. I resent the fact that she is totally tactless, and insensitive, and rude and unrefined. I mean...come on! For Pete's sake, you're a bloody woman! Can't you act like it? I don't care if she is too dense to ever understand the beauty that so enchants me, the beauty of the written word, the beauty of music, the beauty of wisdom. I am dying. Everyone out there is busy chasing their dreams, sliding up and down the rainbow and rolling around in the pot of gold. I don't care, really I don't. But I also know the world will not allow me to live in a beautiful garden with a grand piano and the souls of the great philosophers to accompany me. On days like this, I feel for every living creature. It is on days like this that I cry over trees, that my empathy for others increases a hundredfold. Walk me through a hospital now, and I will collapse from the sheer pain that I know the dying suffer. No one knows how many times I sat in the hospital cafeteria as a child, feeling people suffer around me. I cried for them, I prayed for them, I talked to them. I know what I go through is nothing compared to a million other people, but then again...I'm only asking for what I love to be returned to me. All that I have loved, all that responds to my touch and mine only...come back. My piano, my best friend Seif, the golden days with my cherished friends, my only love J, my works of art, the people and things that I love and care about. It's just so hard to go home right now. I'm facing my daddy today. Everytime I stay over, he'll clock in way too many overtime hours, and avoid me for as long as possible. Everyone I've touched leaves me disillusioned. It is my fault. It is that core of darkness within me that I bear, the one that spreads to those that I love. J...I know you still read the words that pour forth from my heart onto this blog. If you truly meant what you said those few years ago, please come back. You know where I am. I'll always be here. I can put up a front, be brave and rely on my illusions to fool those who care about me and think I'm wasting my time with this guy. But on this day, on this morning when my tears catch the sunlight, when I'm feeling so vulnerable...let it be known. I will only love J.
R, Z, X...all those other alphabets. Even the new guy. They don't matter. The only one who does is the one who no longer remembers what colour my eyes are. So many tears...for all these people that I love. So many secrets that threaten to rip my mind apart. Guarding them has already fragmented my soul enough that people who get close fear me. I'll admit it, I'll shout it out to the whole world. I am capable of monstrous darkness.
I can hurt, I can maim with a few choice words. I fear neither mortal man nor immortal beast, demonic or divine. I do not fear death. I'm sorry, Azrael. But I don't fear you. What I do fear...is losing another person I love. I fear death not for myself, but for the relationships that I still try to keep alive. I cannot keep up...I cannot do this anymore. I want my piano within my reach. I want J back, as he was. I want the people I love to know that I love them, and that I would never willingly hurt them. I want them to know...that I can never truly let anyone in. It pains me to say this, but no one really knows what I am, or what I am capable of. Regardless, no matter how darkened I am, even if there is no more light left in my heart...I will never willingly hurt those I love. My mind is beginning to awaken. With it comes all the responsibilities that being me entails. As I go down on my knees to pray...I hope I'll get what I need to feel at peace. I don't know if I deserve it...but I do dream of having peace for myself. It is one of my most cherished visions. Please, Raphael, angel of healing and music. Return to me what was lost through forces beyond my control. Angels were made in the light of God's love. And truly, what I feel for all of them...everyone...it is love. Please return what I need to be whole. J, come back. *cries* I'm sorry I hurt you. I still love you. I don't understand it myself, this emotion cannot die. But I love you. And I cannot deal with the pain alone anymore. I've done everything else alone. I've lived alone, I've fought alone against an entire army of hellish men, I've faced my own demons nightly alone. I don't want to be alone anymore. Will you come and hold me for just a few moments of peace that I so desperately want?

Psychic Weight

2007-05-18T07:09:00.000+08:00

Ever had that sensation...when you spun and spun with your arms outstretched? The feeling of exhilaration, coupled with the sense of freedom in such a simple action...you feel like you can fly, but at the same time, you know you can fall at any moment. *sigh* I dreamt of him, of everyone who has moved on away from the gleaming palaces of my creation. Perhaps there truly are messages hidden within dreams after all. It seems like everyone's running away from reality recently, and I don't know why. Cutting off ties with friends and family, to heal the wounds that aren't visible to anyone except themselves. *sigh* I called my mum two nights ago on her cell at night. She was busy, apparently. Told me to call her back in ten minutes. From the subtle inflections in her tone, I could tell she was dealing with a crisis at home. I never did call her back. I have not stepped out of the house for three days now. I don't know if I have the strength to face the suffocating stress that oozes out of the pores of the average human being. Imagine being in a crowd right now. *grimaces* I have many bridges left to mend, but I've run out of willpower. Every person who has dealt with the supernatural knows that willpower is everything. Without it, you're just another mortal with interesting stories and fairytales. I don't know...right now I suppose I should go dress up and pay my long overdue obeisance to Mother Earth. They have trimmed the trees outside my window yet again, and I hate the sight of those bare trunks. *sigh* It is Friday, and I wonder if perhaps...I ought to visit a place of peace. I woke up at 5am, and spent an hour wrangling with a malfunction in one of my more important programs. There is no more food at home, and I don't really fancy instant noodles all that much. The skies are grey and dull today, adding on to the psychic weight I'm already carrying. I've revisited my past in my dreams, and I wonder if I should feel relieved or disturbed that my mental barriers against my repressed memories are finally breaking down. The human mind usually knows when it is ready to deal with subconscious terrors, and I suppose this is a sign that mine has strengthened itself enough to start sifting through the memories that I've fought to suppress for so long. I don't know yet if I want to start dealing with all the phantoms. I've banished some, yes, and purged my soul of most of the hatred and the resentment. But the pain lingers on, as do the questions that burn within my heart. It is odd, but I truly feel a connection to those whose hearts I have touched. The house stands empty and silent, with only my thoughts to accompany me. I am tired and hungry, but I yearn for the company of one whose soul is pure. Perhaps this is what all we who have fallen are cursed with. Corrupted and darkened, we hunger for the light only an untainted soul can emanate. Like moths to a flame, we are attracted to what will destroy us. Dark thoughts for a gloryless day. *sigh* I don't know what I am to do with myself. I feel like all the energy has been sapped out of me, swirling away down the great cosmic drain. Most mornings when I witness the sun reclaim his celestial throne from his traitorous lunar queen, I feel a sense of hope and relief from the darkness that constantly enshrouds me. But this morning I just feel tired, even though I've gotten a rare night's sleep. Well, I am not entirely powerless. I can whip up a sunny blend of ingredients that can lift the mood of even the most darkened demon. The sale of two of the more powerful objects in my dwindling collection of artifacts has been rescheduled to Saturday. Tomorrow. I have no more use for them, and hopefully with this sale, I can finally complete one of my fragmented sets.
I call upon Uriel, archangel of light and the flame of God to lend us some light on this dark and gloomy day.

Psychic Blah

2007-05-16T08:47:00.000+08:00

I am oh so exhausted. I have been battling demons on battle.net for half the night, and suddenly my dead phone decided to lock my notepad and deny me access to my own notes. Oh the indignity! I have been panicking for close to an hour now, and I still can't get the bloody thing to unlock! All my thoughts and stories are stored in that bloody contraption! Oh, damn it. I have serviced the phone at least three times already, and each time was painful because all the data inside was wiped out. Don't tell me this is a sign, because for once...I DON'T CARE! MY MESSAGES!!!! MY WORDS!!! I should have transferred them...should have made backup copies just in case. Yeah. 'Should haves' are really nice and all in hindsight...but completely useless. *bangs phone on table* Oh, work you stupid moronic invention! OH! OH! Houston, we have a signal! It lives!! It's ALIVE!!! Muahahahaha! *continues banging phone on table* STAY alive...STAY alive! Oh, son of a nutcracker. -_- It's not responding. No...wait. It just takes a longer time to respond...oh, yeah. My phone's definitely male. =_= *cries* How do I get myself into these fixes? *muses* Now while we wait for this blasted heart-attack inducing blood-pressure busting thingamajig to respond...I must say, the night was a very productive one, if you're interested in the occult aspect of life. I was reading something, when a passage jumped at me and started screaming in my face. It was about Arabic mythology, and the relative hierarchy of demons. Intrigued, I read on further...and realised that the Arabic word "djinn" and the English word "genie" are not at all related. Yeah, go look it up. I'm too lazy to type it all out. Suffice it to say that my interest in the nocturnal arts have finally been rekindled. Since my friends have probably grown bored of me spouting on about angels and light and goodness and all that...a little darkness probably couldn't hurt. *smirks* So I dug out all my occult material and started refreshing my knowledge on the darker aspects of magick. Demonology, specifically. I pride myself on my vast collection of grimoires and tomes that pertain to the occult. Dark, heavy reading matter, but it is so intriguing. Half of them are in Latin, and most come with the warning 'Do not read or say the invocations/names/spells/ aloud'. After having danced around in the light for a few days, I'm starting to feel relieved that I'm back in the comforting embrace of my old friend darkness. Whoa. I have 106 messages on my phone. That's why it's acting up. It flooded my phone yesterday morning. It's from H. =_= Get the hint already, would you? I don't want to go. I won't go. You can't make me! Sheesh. Deleting all of them is a bitch.~
Ten minutes later~
There we go. Messages and stories/thoughts are safe. Now I think I'll reward myself with a little shut-eye. Crawling into my corner has never been so appealing, nightmares be damned. Well...tata. (Forgive my 'highness' today, because I had a little too much happy)
...and Michael answered my psychic call.

Psychic War

2007-05-15T20:12:00.000+08:00

The day was gloomy, with dull grey skies. Excellent for a walk down the reservoir, but I was trapped in my own nightmares. Gifted with supernatural abilities, and cursed with a whole plethora of supernatural foes. I remember using a lot of Latin in my dreams. I'm not surprised that I'm fighting demons even in my subconscious. There was one pivotal moment when I switched from Latin to a more archaic language, and suddenly all the dark beings fled from me. I won't disclose what that language was, but I am very surprised to find that it made a difference. Of course, dreams are dreams, and nothing conclusive can be drawn from them anyway. I awoke at 7 with mixed feelings. I have just signed my own death warrant, I know. But then again...I am living my life the way it should be. My anger towards her is bubbling like a cauldron on high. The resentment is nothing new. The anger isn't surprising, considering the simplicity of what I intend to do. It is her who complicates things, and I have not quite decided what to do. Of course, I can be extremely cold when necessity dictates it, and my attitude toward her has been nothing short of arctic. I don't care, really. I suppose I shouldn't have expected too much. Rude, uncouth, unrefined, loud, annoying. There. I said it. Not to mention the fact that my skills as an illusionist have been tested time and again. I don't mind the constant attempts to peek into my multi-faceted life, because I make certain I cover my own back, but the intrusion annoys me. *stunned* Oh...my....God. The perfect solution has just struck me! Proverbial lightning bolt, I see. It is extreme, sure. Vindictive, perhaps. But it will vindicate me. I have to start packing. I can't believe I hadn't seen this. So simple...and therein lies the beauty, and the ingenuity! Goodness. And I'm supposed to have a working brain up there. *smacks head* Of course, I have to use my foresight to predict what will ripple outwards from my move. But as all chess players know, it is a necessary sacrifice. I have been uncontactable for a while, and I will remain that way for some time to come. I have to make sure I have all the essentials while putting my masterplan into action. If this is what I have to do to prove my worth, then consider it done. I will not be moved. My fiery feelings towards her must be saved for the final confrontation, when my heat will render all veils and illusions useless. For those who stand outside the battlefield, you may not understand my conviction when it comes to this ongoing war. For those who stand even further back, you may not even understand what I'm talking about. But for the players in this game, the warriors in this fight, it will make all the difference in the world. And for me, the master manipulator, this is one puppet show that I own. I have every right to be furious, to rage away like an unleashed volcano after months of dormant silence. Besides, I never stand up for myself, do I? If the one time I decide to do so, I am judged harshly, then so be it. As long as the general populace understands that what I have marked as my territory is not to be trespassed upon. I have disappointed R, I know that even without my preternatural senses. But right now, I have more pressing issues to deal with. I bow my head, knowing that I may never find redemption. Each day is a battle, and I invoke Michael's protection as I march into the battlefield with only my heart and my beliefs.
Sancte Michael Archangele,
defende nos in proelio.
contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium.
Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur:
tuque, Princeps militiae coelestis,
Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos,
qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo,
divina virtute, in infernum detrude.

Psychic Sunlight

2007-05-13T07:17:00.000+08:00

I have witnessed dawn in all its glory, and now golden rays warm my flesh, healing me with the Sun's touch. The moon has fallen away from the heavens, and now the Sun watches as the world begins to awaken. I am one of the privileged few, for my immunity to Night has not faded, and Sleep has given me up as a lost cause. Therefore I have watched as the golden rays peek over the horizon, lightening the celestial palace from black velvet to a lighter blue hue, and finally pink streaks. And now sunlight has flooded the earth, and birds and flowers sing praises of their solar king. Today is Sunday, and I am thankful for that, because it means the stress that usually clots the air will be absent on this fine, golden morning. The air is fresh, cool and comforting, and a light layer of mist hangs over the field opposite my window. The trees are green and vibrant, living emeralds draped on trunks of brass that touch my heart. I love plants. Right now, their leaves are frosted with the morning dew that I used to believe were hung by nocturnal fairies before they vanished into the earth. Everything is shining and golden with hope and contentment, and I feel so gloriously blessed and happy. The past few days have been rather trying for me, what with having to deal with a demonic boss, and the pain my friends were experiencing. But on this wonderfully invigorating morning, I am so thankful that the golden king is spreading hope through his warm, healing rays. I could dance among the sunbeams, with the flowers and birds as my court and orchestra. On days like this, I am the brightest angel on earth, and capable of loving everything and everyone. I can heal the wounded, and I am hope and joy incarnate. My shadows have fled before the light, but I know they will return once Night rises. =) Still, there is this beautiful day that calls out to me. 'Live, love, be happy,' the sunlight sings. The birds echo the sentiment, and I believe I will join them in their heavenly song. Rejoice, humanity, for the beauty of the earth is visible to those who choose to look.

Psychic Cleansing

2007-05-10T01:58:00.000+08:00

There are many varied meanings to the word 'cleansing'. Tonight, it means I've thrust the darkness away, and focused on cleansing my body and soul. I am still bleeding, and I fear the wounds are turning gangrenous, for the flesh surrounding the damaged tissue is turning a deep purplish-black. I have lifted the dead skin that covers the tender flesh underneath, and it hurts like the very devil himself. The flow of blood has stopped for today, and I have cleaned the affeted areas as best as I can, but there are still areas I cannot reach, due to the angle and my lack of flexibility. I can bend quite well, but not that way. I cannot cut the skin away, firstly because I do not know the area that should be removed, and I fear that any more trauma to the area would be detrimental. This, I suspect, is the primary reason why I got poisoned. My mobility is not severely impaired, partly because I believe I can ignore the stabbing pain to a certain degree. The wound on my back has healed completely, and the cuts across my chest have healed, and the scars are fading slowly. But these two plague me, and I do not know how to heal them. It has been months, and I fear they are getting worse. I refuse to see a doctor, and hopefully they will close and fade given more time. J has not abandoned me after all, and R has been rather persistent in getting me to meet up with him for lunch. We both know that our chosen time of 1:30pm in a crowded location is an attempt on his part not to get tangled up in my already messy sex/love life. Whether that attempt will succeed remains to be seen, because despite my misgivings, I wish to remain updated on Alex and Dennis. It was I who destroyed their 2 year relationship, partly because of Alex's stubborn refusal to see truth, and Dennis' incredible short-sightedness when it came to what Alex and I were doing behind his back. I had not expected Dennis to walk out on Alex, and the months that followed were torturous for all of us. Dennis is still seething now, years after my reign as the demonic lover in school. He looks really good now, and he's already graduated from JC, gravitating towards the degree I'd always known he was striving for, despite his claims to the contrary. We crossed paths at our former school, and his eyes narrowed in recognition. I felt trapped, but there were the formalities to acknowledge. A smirk played on his lips, and I felt even worse. There are a thousand apologies that have died on my tongue in my 19 years of life, and the apology that I owe Dennis is great indeed. I met Alex a few months ago. He was with, surprise, surprise...a girl! Our gazes met and firmed, and then I turned away and returned to my book, ignoring the questioning look he fired my way. The bus was packed, but Fate decided to place us within reach of each other. But he understood the frost in my body language, and he returned to his conversation with the unknown lady next to him, occasionally shooting me unfathomable glances. That is the only time I've seen him since I moved, and although my heart calls out to him, I know it will only be a temporary fix. Alex was my willing first, and he'd already stepped smartly out of my life the day I transferred to Yuying. But I will always remember and secretly cherish the days when he would escape from his commitments to Dennis to take me to his house, only a minute's walk from mine. He taught me all the skills that I now possess, from my first kiss, to playing Rondo Alla Turca and everything else in between. What he did not teach he enhanced. Of course, back then I was a destructive devil, and I triggered apocalypse in our otherwise calm and quiet school environment. Oh, my regrets are many. Perhaps someday...I will be offered a chance to cleanse my soul of all the vile acts I have committed. But until that day arrives, I will continue my oscillation between light and dark, like a pendulum doomed to swing back and forth until the skies collapse. I was offered a chance at partial redemption by an unexpected source, someone both J and I disliked back in school. But now H has extended a hand to me, and I will not allow something as foolish as pride and resentment to bind me to the shadows forever. The winds swirl around me, knocking over everything small and light, touching my young body with coolness. Closing my eyes, I think I can faintly see Heaven, and the entire host of angels smiling down at me. Perhaps they too are glad that after so many days of darkness, I am willing to step out into the light. Tomorrow will mark another milestone in my life. It will be the first time I have sacrificed something I hold dear to me for someone I feel nothing for. As I have explained before...cleansing has many meanings. And I will continue trying to cleanse my relationships of the dark taint of corruption from the times when darkness veils me in shadow. I will return to my quiet contemplation and wonder if he ever remembers the first touch, the first kiss, and the fragrant scent of a beautiful first love.

Psychic Timeline

2007-05-09T00:21:00.000+08:00

Blood flows freely from me tonight. I cannot staunch the flow, but I know it will congeal on its own. I hurt both inside and out, and I wonder why my lunar companion has vanished to. Her celestial throne is empty, and only the stars are left to lend me some light. I was reading his words, and suddenly I was struck by a burst of empathy. Here's an excerpt: "I can never stand up for myself. I was always too intimidated; I could do it for others, but not for me." It struck a chord in me, and suddenly the tears are rising to my eyes. Emotion empowers me, particularly when it is a strong one, and seeing his pain has invoked a fresh surge of energy within me. I feel cold inside, and I have never been colder, or sharper. I do not know yet if I regret my harshness, but...oh God. This boy, this man has grown up to be so much more than who he used to be. We both hide our insecurities and perceived flaws by picking petty fights that are meaningless to us most of the time, and only serve to distract the ones who care about us, prevent them from getting too close. My solitude and affinity with the night has gifted me with the luxury of examining my self, my soul, my life past and present. I was not asleep, but the images in my head kept replaying themselves like a nightmare I can't seem to wake up from. I've only spoken about my demons face to face with one person in all my 19 years of life. Esther. She knew the length and breadth of my soul, she knew that there are still things hidden deep within me that I cannot dredge up, no matter how much she tried to dig. I recall the number of times she tried to get me to open up, with the scent of her perfume lingering on in the cool air like a friendly spirit. How she bought me meals in the hope that I would eat. Slowly...ever so slowly, I began to tell her bits and pieces. My fragmented sentences were complex puzzle pieces that would have made any cryptographer proud. The fights, the police reports made, the terrifying mix of fear and anger that I always carried within my breast. I never ever showed emotion to her. I spoke of my emotions in cold and clinical terms. Even when we dwelled at length on the horrors of my past that she knew of (to a certain extent), I kept a calm exterior. She read my journals, written in French and Spanish. I believe they are still in my possession, in one of the boxes of memories that I hoard. The next day, she set my journals on the table, leaned forward and caught my eye. I was unwilling to see what was lurking there, shadows that I knew were created by learning of the darkness that haunted my past. But I couldn't look away. That was the only time I have ever come close to crying in front of her. She tried to reach out to me, but I ran again. I didn't want anyone else to see the pain etched in every painful memory lurking in my history. I moved, and I changed schools. I never saw her again, although I badly wanted to. I don't know...I understand that it is high time I banished some of the demons that intrude on my peace of mind. I tried to return to where it all started...in Yishun, the infamous 666 block. I remember all the emotions that swirled around me as a child. Even then, I was skilled at hiding my emotions. The nightmares started about then. It has continued ever since, and sometimes...I wonder who am I really? The scared little boy intimidated by every man who towers over him, the angsty teenager haunted by his past...who am I really? Perhaps one day...I can truly forgive and forget. Right now, the memories still pain me. I came face to face with one of them a few years ago. I looked at him, and then I walked away. I still remember, he was clutching a bag of groceries. He looked stricken when he saw me, he recognised me after all these years. My parents, oblivious to my past, stayed behind to talk to him. The years have made me what I am. There are reasons for every little quirk in my character, and if I make a mistake...then I'm sorry. I'm not new to anger, or fear, or fights. But I am new to love, to family bonds, to caring, to showing emotion. It might seem surprising, or even hard to believe that someone who can write pretty well is incapable of expressing emotion face to face. I'm still learning how to be me, you know? It is only recently that I have overcome my instinct to flinch whenever someone touches me. Heck, I even spent an entire day bottomless when my close friends came over. There was a time not too long ago when a boy who brushed my ass got his face punched. There was a time not long ago when my own best friend Kelly could not hug me because I was too afraid. That time is over, but I still marvel at the differences between now and then. I did not speak to Kelly for a whole year because she could not understand why I didn't want to be touched. Nor could I explain to her the precise reason why either. She cried when I called her a year later, late at night, and we both broke down. By that time, our graduation was a breath away, and I had another bad break in love. Our last time together was at the hotel where half our class was camping out. Kenneth was there, and so was Seif. That was the last time the four of us came together. She left for America soon after. C never spoke much to me again after we parted ways. What was there to say? He gave up everything to be with me, and I couldn't give him what he truly wanted: my trust. Everytime we'd snuggle, he's whisper and ask me why. Why couldn't I do it? I know I'm the reason for most of the catastrophes that occur at least once weekly. I will never forget the one moment he gazed into my eyes as the dying sun anointed us with his solar blessing, and C whispered the one sentence that still rings clear as a bell to this day. "Love is not something you should be afraid of." The whole world came to an abrupt standstill, and all that mattered was his heartbeat, his words, his warmth, his nearness. It is true, love isn't something to be feared. But I still fear it enough to run from it everytime it threatens to touch my heart. Maybe that saying 'people fear what they do not understand' has within it a grain of truth after all. *sigh* Dark thoughts, deep thoughts for the morning of an excellent job interview. Oh, did I forget to mention that? *innocent* Yes, I have a job interview today at 2pm. If I get it, it will be the easiest 1k ever earned. Sigh. The circle spins, the earth turns and another day is lost. I'm rebuilding burnt bridges, and making connections between past and present...but still I wonder...who am I? Fuzzy, the dependable friend you can count on when you need some light? Faiz, the terribly troubled kid so gifted at darkness that Ol' Nick would be jealous? Or just simply 'the kid', terrified by demonic adults? I have wondered for years, and never gotten a definite answer. The night is fleeing from the chariots of dawn. *sigh* I suppose it won't do to show up with disheveled hair and vampiric eyes. C wasn't lying when he said he'd be busy. He hasn't had time for me...or anyone else. *sigh* Another crisis going off in my head. He's trying to break into the scene, and I doubt he's having much success. I can't help him, and right now with the frost in my heart...I doubt I want to. Time for me to wind down, and allow my mind some rest before the hectic preparations of tomorrow. Humanity, I have joined you in the mad rush to fulfil material wants. *hangs head* There are gems hidden within dirt. There are facts hidden within lies. There is light hidden within me.

Psychic Seething

2007-05-07T20:17:00.000+08:00

The day was ok, pretty nice actually. Cool windy breeze fluffing through the trees, clear azure skies. Then night fell, and with it came her own brand of darkness. "Why has your mum not called me?" was the clear message on my cellphone. Sighing, I called my mum up on my cellphone and it doesn't take a genius to understand that we were both controlling our fiery tempers. She has been avoiding the issue at question for a very very long time. And I of all people know how well my mum can evade and parry. The usual excuses..."I've been busy...you know your dad's been sick." Yeah, I get it. Here's a newsflash...it takes less than a minute to dial a phone number. I don't know why pride runs so deep in my family. Disagreements can stretch up to years. Sure, I resent. Hell, right now I'm simmering and ready to rip someone's head off. But I try my darndest not to let ill feelings fester and grow cancerous. Eventually it will destroy a relationship, as my love life has taught me. You say you wish to talk to me, fine. I have planned everything out meticulously, and if need be, I will pull out all stops to see that my one simple requirement is met. I say nothing about the constant invasions of my privacy. I hate it when people try to intrude into my personal space. But I have allowed such trangsressions to pass, and I have turned the other cheek. But in this I'm afraid I must insist. I do not have much time left...and before my star burns out, I wish to ensure that I have perfected what I know I can be good at. Potential is nothing without practice. And really, after two years, I think it is high time I wrought some change in this stagnant cesspool my life has become. It starts with a simple yes from both parties. A change in arrangements will probably be beneficial too. My temper has reached breaking point in this situation. I am still trembling, trying to rein in the heat that has gripped my heart. You say you wish to have a talk with me, but you end up slamming the door in my face. There are certain etiquettes in civil conversation, and door slamming, I'm sure, is a major no-no. Faux pas, maman. I cannot reiterate this point enough. I may not have the shining certificates most students have. I may not possess qualifications that will impress a rocket scientist. There are only two things I'm good at that are worth mentioning. Language, and music. Plain and simple, cold hard facts for those of you who are so steeped in science you like everything laid out in empirical evidence. I am crafting small pieces of writing, and knowing that I have a wicked sense of writing flair helps because, let's face it, no one wants to read a story that reads like a Britannica. Given the many controversies that surround my every move, I'm sure I'll have no problem selling novels, even if I have to sit by the roadside to peddle handwritten copies. That's besides the point, people! I'm good, I can write. But I am also good at the piano, I can master pieces that take people days to figure out. I can improvise extremely well, but at the same time...this skill has been on a steady decline because I'm just so tired of the fights that erupt whenever I return home to practice on my piano. And no, I will not give up the money that I have in reserve for the move. Consider my account frozen until further notice. It is for my piano, not for material things like clothes or food. I will find a way to make ends meet, but that money has been explicitly set aside for my piano. I am running out of time, people. I'm not kidding. No one knows it, I have not acknowledged it to either friends or family, but I know it. Deprive me of food, dress me up in rags, I don't give a damn. But when it comes to this subject that lights a spark within me, I will have to insist that for once, do it my way. I cannot go home just to play the piano. You're keeping it for all the wrong reasons. You cannot bind me against my will. I'm not depriving anyone of anything except my presence, and really...why is that a bad thing? It irks me to find that obstacles in my path are just silly nonsensical fabrications created by the human mind. As an illusionist, I am impressed. But as a person deprived of the one thing that sustains me and gives me hope...it just annoys the hell out of me. I don't care if your pride gets in your way of apologising to someone you've hurt just because you were PMS-ing. The fountain of apologies will start now, and just to prove to you how much I really want the piano here and the incessant fighting to cease, I will make the first move. Many revelations will ripple out from my one move, and I have to say...I really don't care what else happens because I only want my piano. Simple. I. Want. My. Piano. There. Kids these days have certificates, education. I'll be the first to admit I have no formal education past O's. I don't follow the herd, but I'm no shepherd either. I'm a lone wolf. I scavenge, I pick my own path, I've lived for the most part for myself. But recently I've found myself starting to care for others, even if I can never admit it to their faces. But guess what? I do care. I care about Yushaa. Very very much. Phoebe, Elina. Amin even. I've seen that guy in pain, and believe you me, that is one very unpleasant experience because I didn't know how to ease his pain. I care about Kenneth deeply, Yzanne, Gina, Yiling, Melissa. I even care for Zheng Jie, distant as he is. I care. You won't see this sentiment echoed again in such detail on the rest of my blog. I don't say it. But it is there all the same, the way something as intangible as air surrounds you unseen. I don't know how I feel about my family, extended or otherwise. Don't ask me again, because right now....right here, I'm telling you...I don't know. Heck, I'm new to all this emotional stuff. I cry, yeah. But until recently, my only outlet for my frustrations were the pen and my piano. I'm still trying to figure out how much you can need a person, where all the invisible lines that define boundaries are. I never want to see the people I care about in pain. Because, fuck. It hurts to see that they're hurting. And sometimes, more than once, I silently wish I could absorb that pain, take it all for myself, bear their burdens when it seems they've taken all they can. But I can't. I'm no angel. I'm only me, and I don't even know what that word means right now. ME. All I have are my fingers and mind and soul that allow me to be who I am, a pianist, a wickedly funny person, a versatile writer capable of delving into a wide sea of subjects. That is all I have. Against the whole world of degree holders, and an entire army of graduates, do you honestly think I can survive? Even I know I can't. So before the world catches up with me, let me have a few moments of peace with my instrument and my thoughts. Because when it does, I can promise you...I am not Atlas. I cannot bear the weight of the world, and I will collapse. I have only one request. Take away anything you want, except my friends and my skills. These are the only two treasures that I will guard fiercely and jealously. That is all. I am still seething, but I'm starting to calm down. I believe it is time to start planning a strategy, because if it's one thing I do not know, it is defeat. I may fall, yes. But each time I have risen from the dust, and this time is no different. The shadows still blanket me in velvet, but I have spawned a light of my own.

Psychic Striations

2007-05-07T01:21:00.000+08:00

Well...from dark to light, and all the shadowy hues in between. I'd forgotten how much music soothes me, and playing the piano can ease my pain. That'd be much easier to do if my piano was in closer proximity to me. But I'm done sulking. I've decided to hone my skills with words. Specifically, the English language. My French is proficient enough. It can stand some rusting. The eternal dance of the sun and the moon manifest themselves through my emotions. Went through the motions of alcohol and overdose the past few days. I'm surprised I managed to regain consciousness at all. What with R calling, I should have knocked back a few more. *shrugs* I don't know. Some days I feel so light, I am a veritable ray of light floating through the world lending my shine to those who've fallen. Other days, I feel so terribly dark and moody I scare the socks off anyone who has the misfortune to cross my path when I'm spitting lightning bolts and my claws are unsheathed. The darkness wells up time and again, and always my defenses are in place to hold it at bay. But sometimes I wonder...what if for once...it escapes my loose hold? Well, few have ever known the answer to that and spoken to me about the life-scarring event. A momentous occurence, I'm sure. Anyway...the darkness inherent in me has receded slightly, and suddenly I find the light does not irritate me as much. Everyone keeps alluding to my talents, and exhorting me to put them to good use...but then...so what if I have a good grasp of language? So what if I can read notes and play them? I can't find any school that is willing to accept me on account of two commonplace abilities. My pen-is mightier than the sword! Even Arthur and his fabled Excalibur have no chance against said artifact. =P Notice how I deliberately hyphenated the two words, so that I can't be accused of twisting completely normal words into perverse meanings. I'm taking up the pen again...and writing furiously. To everyone that I have locked outside my cage, I'm sorry, but I needed some downtime to sort out the mess that some people like to call a life. Alcoholic binges don't help, I know that. I'm not an idiot, regardless of my actions whether drunk or otherwise. But at the very least...I managed to spend two days mostly unconscious and therefore immune to the mighty god Depression. And now that I've regained a tiny portion of my spark, I have decided it is time I healed the wounded to balance out my karmic account. *shrugs* I've decided to go home tomorrow and grab this bull by the horns. Parents, look out, because I am on a roll. By the time I am done, you will both be talking again, and if I hear the slightest hint of dissent, heads will roll. Because I am tired of people zooming past me as though I am invisible. Here are my wishes, plain and simple. No frills, no loopholes. I want my piano. Period. Non-negotiable point. I must have paper, pen, my piano. As much as I need air to breathe. Those are what sustains my soul. I don't need food all that much, I eat when I feel like it (I am not anorexic please) but these three things I must have. My feelings regarding the evils of money are mixed and varied. I probably wouldn't need it all that much anyway, as long as my basic needs are met. Considering how I'm spending all my money on my piano, it should give you an indication of how important music is to me. Without my usual six hours on the piano, my skills are beginning to rust, as today's expedition to the Esplanade proved. This must be remedied immediatement. Therefore, I need my piano and very little else. Simple request. If necessity demands it, I will draw up a schedule of when I am to return to the soil of my origin. I will not mince my words, in the spirit of brutal honesty and all that. I don't want to go home. Where I have to compete with everyone for some breathing space. In that cramped kingdom, power struggles are commonplace. I have therefore bowed out of the endless battles between all the major powers, and moved on. I have created my own kingdom here with the darkness as my escorts and companions. Now I grow weary of the shadows, and I long for the warmth only a piano can bring to me. This move has been dragging on for a long time because of my reluctance to step up to the plate. I will wait no longer. I can bloody write, and when I am not writing, I would expect one to find me seated at the piano honing my skills. Pen, paper, piano. The three essentials that I need to keep myself balanced. That is all that my soul needs for peace. Now...my mind needs peace too. I want my parents to talk to each other again. I recognise the problem lies with my mum and her explosive temper (fire runs in our family) but I can not for the life of me think of how to put it across in a subtle non-accusatory manner. I've been calling her at least once a day, trying to get her to call my other 'rent. I'm not speaking to my dad, because of stupid reasons. Mostly because we keep missing each other's attempts to reconnect and regain lost ground. *shakes head* That's not the problem. My mum has already given her okay to move the piano...it's the other one who's on shaky footing. *sigh* I am...unique, non? I have at last count...2 mums and 3 dads, biological folks not inclusive. Sometimes it's just so hard trying to keep everyone on terra firma. Ok, I'm done blabbering now. *zip* Thanks, Kenneth. You've been ever so patient with my erratic moods. And Phoebe! The Star in a deck of cards represents hope, and you my dear...are truly a Star avatar. =) The night winds down...and my energy swirls away, lost in a cloud of darkness that is gone in the blink of an eye. It is time I curled up in my corner and went to sleep instead of passing out as has become the norm for me.

Psychic Intoxication

2007-05-05T19:29:00.000+08:00

I passed out on the couch after my tenth bottle. That was hours ago. Now my stomach is screaming in agony, and my head is pounding away. While I was weaving in and out of consciousness, R called. Nice timing. He'd just ended school, blahblahblah, and could I meet up with him. I can't quite remember what I said, and I don't think I want to. Fuck, I smell of dick. Ergh. What have I accomplished today? Let's see. Got piss drunk, passed out on the couch after pissing off four separate people (and maybe more), messaged three of my exes, and then lost consciousness. Oh, I'm having so much fun destroying myself. Can't quite remember much of the day, but I think Phoebe and Elina called. I don't remember much of the conversations either. Z was off on one of his one binges, I remember that much. Shit, I really do smell of dick. I don't think anyone came by today...but that doesn't mean anything. So...today, I feel really really good about myself. I think I'll top the day off with a few more bottles to knock me out. I've given up on you. On everything.

Psychic Scream

2007-05-05T09:59:00.000+08:00

The stress, the pain, the aggravation, my own unbridled rage is choking me. It's too early to be drinking...or so they say. One binge leads to another. I dreamt of tornadoes, waterspouts, hurricanes and tidal waves. The destructive forces of nature. And now I am destroying the last of what remains standing. As the sun rises in the horizon and melts the darkness away, fire traces its way through my veins. It burns me, and my energy right now is limitless. I have to bleed it off. Fuck this. Their fights have become my leash, it binds my wings. That's ok. I've always been broken anyway, discarded by all who've used me. Scream and scream. That's ok. No one cares enough to hear my screams anyway. I have nothing but my dreams, and those are dissipating like the morning mists before the sun. Is this how it ends? I have tried. I can't do it. It is killing me. Fine. I'll use up what I have left for alcohol. Oh, devil-child, devil-child. When the sun sets, the darkness inherent within me will grow restless again. The stars, the stars. They should just die out and plunge the world into eternal night. There is no hope for those condemned. Salvation is just a word. Months ago, I contemplated giving it all up. Today as I sit in silent resentment, again the possibility of throwing it all away surfaces. I have been marked by darkness, and I fear that those who try to reach me will in turn be darkened. The sun irritates me, and I wonder how today will pan out. Pass out on the floor again? Get drunk and call one of my old flames yet again? I'm on an express train to hell, but hey, the fun is in the journey, not the destination right? So I'll have a fucking good time on my way down. Literally. I'll keep those I care about at bay, because...well, we all know the answer to that. Darkness spreads. The fire burns as it runs through my veins, infusing me with heat and oh so much energy. C'mon, men. The drive-thru is open again. Oh, the pain in my heart will not cease no matter what I do. Damn Gabriel with his empty promises of salvation. The room is spinning, and my head feels light. I think an alcohol overdose would be the best way to spend my day today. Hey, when life sucks, grab a bottle. That's my new motto. Screw the optimists, they know nothing about the world we live in. Sunshine and butterflies my ass. Grow up. Well. Now that I've officially made matters between my parents worse, I say I deserve to go out and celebrate with style. Oh, no more crappy alcohol. Let's go splurge on the big boys. If you wana get drunk, do it right. I'm tired of the ungodly hours spent in the corner with tears running down my face. I've more important things to do, like go get drunk...go get fucked by some nameless guy, and build healthy sexual relations with men I don't know. I'm done talking, I'm done fighting endless battles to be who I am. So yes. It's time for me to unleash the dark scream building up in me and let loose. Spiral down, spiral down. Even with the sun blazing brightly in the sky, darkness trails around me like loose threads waving in the slightest breeze. No warmth can penetrate my kavach of darkness. No one shall touch my heart. Rape my physical self, but I've already sold my soul. Too bad.
And I fall into darkness. What can be worse?

Psychic Darkening

2007-05-04T05:37:00.000+08:00

The black touch of night leaves nothing untainted. But this is pure, mindless corruption. And I've opened the floodgates of my heart, ready to receive the darkness that will help me to deal. I can no longer go out and sit in gardens surrounded by hordes of mewling felines. I've lost my affinity with cats. The hurt never really goes away, and last night I drifted in and out of induced unconsciousness. It was like a drug trip, but a whole lot more peaceful without the psychedelic twirling. I can't stand to see colours right now. That's why I find it so fitting that the moonlight has been choked off by the blackness, with the lunar queen herself overthrown by dark clouds. Darkness is all around me, and I embrace it. The sun will not warm me today, even though I have to make multiple trips around the island while he rules the skies with fiery incandescence. I am so tired. But no...I cannot rest, can I? I cannot love, I cannot lust; I cannot have, I cannot trust. No...the condemned shall forever suffer. I'm tired of having to constantly defend myself, my actions from people who will never really understand. There are reasons why I am so careful with my emotions to people I don't trust. THere are reasons why I cannot tell them I love them. Everything I touch turns to shit. And somehow, I envy King Midas. At least he created wealth. I just leave a trail of destruction and firestorms in my wake. Lucifer would be ever so proud. Funny how the Latin word for light came from his name. Lucis. How often have I invoked the phrase that incorporates that word to keep my darkness from overwhelming me? Yet the bringer of light has fallen, and Lucifer is now associated with the darkness that I love so much. It is raining, a light misty rain. Yes, weep holy tears for the constant defection of your angels, Heaven. I am weeping too, but for a different reason. It is cathartic to be able to spill the swirl of thoughts and emotions that too often threatens to suffocate me. In this realm of darkness, I am king and all bow before me. The moon must be lonely up on her ethereal throne. I have no power to alter minds, or perceptions. Many believe I am a demon spawned from the darkest recesses of hell. Sometimes I don't know if I am. Continue thinking that I am of demonic ancestry, because at this moment, I count myself among the ranks of the damned. I have hurt those who are pure, scarred the innocent, and while I regret having caused pain, I take comfort in the fact that I can stem the flow of misery, at least for those who surround me with such questioning looks in their gazes. I cannot heal, I can only destroy. I learned that a long time ago. Yiling asked me yesterday..."He hurt you badly, right?" Oh, the bitterness of irony. It was I who hurt him. It was I who drove him away. Yet everyone only remembers the one and only time I have ever cried in all the years they've known me...the one significant event that villified him forever in the eyes of those who care about me. No one knows the tears he shed in my arms, the pain he felt when he saw me on my knees at the bus-stop, one of the few places where we could be open with each other. Regardless. The pain in my heart is starting to solidify into a thick river of ice, and in its place...a glacier of icy calmness slowly takes hold. I am chilled, not by the weather, but by the coldness I am capable of. My emotions are not open for public discussions, my tears private, and the only outlet I have for my pain is my bottle of alcohol, and my way with words. I count myself lucky that before my star burns out, I have had the opportunity to enlighten those who once were entrenched in darkness. Alas...I too must obey the call of Azrael, and my period of light is over. We all return to whence we came. Man to dirt, light to dark, life to death. This is the eternal cycle that governs the world we live in. Even angels and demons are powerless to halt this cycle. The whole point to this post? Well, I am withdrawing, yes. But I understand that there will be repercussions, and backlash for what I am about to do. They will not affect me, they never have, but it is not me I am worried about. I am everything society fails to understand. Perhaps I am darkness incarnate after all. I long for the warmth of the light, but I get burned too easily and retreat to places of intense darkness where I can brood and allow the darkness within to intensify. This is who I am. I drink to escape my problems, I can slip through fingers and hearts quicker than fine sand, and I can vanish in the blink of an eye. I am capable of greatness, be it for the side of good, or for the mindless destruction of evil. I lied when I said I can't heal. I've healed many a fallen angel, helped them regain their wings. But they leave me with a seed of darkness within their hearts, and that, my friends...is the ultimate triumph, and the greatest proof of how dark my soul is. As black as the night, as all-consuming, as powerful, as mighty, but also as misunderstood. And as lonely. The night is grand, it is glorious. But it is also solitary, for all of us nocturnal creatures are lone predators. We hunt alone, we live alone...and we are always...alone. Perhaps it is best for all involved. I have masked my pain well, and now both factions are listening to me. I am calm, as I always am, and I am also a master illusionist. Do not be fooled by what you see if we pass each other in the street. The sweet little boy you see is capable of commanding entire legions from hell. I will taint no one else with my darkened aura. That will be my one and only saving grace.
You can have it all, my empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt.

Psychic Withdrawal

2007-05-04T03:09:00.000+08:00

So I passed outon the floor, fully clothed. My head feels muzzy now, and I feel heaty and dehydrated. My blood feels like sludge moving through my veins. I meant every word I said. I will pick neither light nor shadow, but I'll prtect myself from both. My post title should explain everything. I wil be civil and polite, but it goes no deeper than that. Fight away, people. I'm withdrawing away from everyone and everything because I'm just too tired ofth fights. I'd type more, but something funny is happening to me. I will fulfil my obligations, but understand that this is a rite of death for everything and everyone that I've ever touched. The ships go down tonight. Sorry, Z. I can't.
...and I die just a little bit more inside.

Psychic Tears (ad infinitum)

2007-05-03T08:13:00.000+08:00

Ok. I give up. I cave, I throw in the towel. I can't do this. I can't. I just can't. It has been too long since my last winter, at least where familial ties are concerned. I am not some unemotional ice prince, even though I sure act like it. I never show emotion to family. I can't. Don't ask me why. Too much water under the bridge. But fuck, I'm tired of this. The incessant fighting, me being dragged into every single fucking fight. There is a reason why I ran so far away, you fucktards. I don't want to be involved in any more fights. Just because I don't talk to you, because I present an unemotional facade...it doesn't mean I am some uncaring monster. Hell, there are times when I drag myself over asphalt just to get things done. So fine. I'm still the black sheep of the family. I'm never any good at anything. What does it matter if I have intelligence and wit? I never put it to any use in their eyes. What does it matter if I'm losing my skill at the piano because I'm using some broken down keyboard instead of a proper instrument? No, all that matters is that I never know what's going on until the blade is a breath away from my neck. Fine. I won't flinch. Just cut me like you always do. I have to fight to know what the fuck is going on between all four sets of parents? You think that it's easy for me, having to balance four fucking families on top of my other priorities? Fine. Go fight and claw each other for the sake of the greater good. I don' fucking care anymore. I called my old flames up tonight, and like faithful stars, they lent me some light. Fuck this all. I'm tired, and I no longer want to fight to remain afloat. Maybe I'll sink, but I definitely won't swim anymore. I can't disregard all the years that for everyone was so difficult. Shit. I'm gonna be a guy tonight, and just go out for a long walk that lasts a day. Why the fuck am I the last to know? And why has no one ever explained what goes on behind my back? How the fuck am I supposed to trust you, people? When none of you will trust me enough to tell me what is going on, especially when it concerns me? The tears are endless, and the pain is a constant. I don't think I'm suited for this. I'm not. Z, you were great. You could truly be a great guy if you wanted to be. Just think about what I said. You helped me out a lot tonight. Now I need alcohol, one of the old flames...and liquor. I have to bleed some of the frustration off. It's now ten, and the people are emptying from the world. For once, I have something that is pure and untainted. Maybe this will be my swan song. I'm not going to face the tears and music. Never again, family. You broke the boy in me, and it took me years to overcome that. I give up. The fight has drained me, the revelation has shaken me right down to my bones. To think that an adult relative would come to me seeking a mediator for this stupid quarrel that has been simmering undetected by me. Well, fuck this. I'm dressed, I have enough money on me for a booze binge, and I'm leaving the house now. Screw the consequences. None of you thought I'd have given a damn about the fight now, did you? Well, guess what. I do. Only those close to me get to see my emotions, and you've just lost that right.

Psychic Strain

2007-05-03T00:40:00.000+08:00

It is stressful dealing with the logistics of moving my piano. It sounds simple, it was simple, but then I have the whole landscape of emotions to navigate through in the process. That part's killing me. Especially since the emotions aren't mine to begin with. There's my mum, who thinks that I will never return after the piano is moved. I'm still undecided whether or not to correct her on that score. Then there's the financial aspect. It doesn't bother me much, but still! Everyone's been giving me grief over it. Ok, fine! I realise I am spending all my paycheck on this one move, but consider it an investment! At least I'd have something to do and I'd be improving myself in this chosen vocation. I have this romantic notion that the best pianists are those trapped in basements during times of war, especially during the WWII period. So I'm a hopeless dreamer. Come on...let me keep my dreams. They're all I have left. Once the piano is here, my skills could probably increase tenfold. I need to master my techniques, I need to improve myself. Let other people work and slave over courses or jobs they resent. I have what I want, I know what I don't want to do. I don't want to get into courses only to realise that my heart is somewhere else. I cannot do something I dislike. If I don't like it, I won't do it. Simple. If I want it...I must get it. Just as simple. I am moving my piano here, I will improve myself, I will not rot away and become a bum. Even simpler. I want it, and I'll get it. I'm calling Renner tomorrow to book the moving date, and I will use every last cent and drop of willpower I possess to move it to where it will be useful. It serves no purpose at my parents' place where it sits there stagnant and collecting dust. Here, I have great plans. It is the mouth for my heart, it sings under my touch. My keyboard is old, but it has no soul. It is mechanical. My piano has warmth, it has harmony, it sings when I touch it. I have never wanted anything else so bad. I've already planned where it is going to be placed. There's going to be some major upheavals because of the move, and I know my mum won't like it. But hey, I've waited two years to make this change, and I want it moved by Friday. No buts, ifs or maybes. It will be here by Saturday morning, and I will play my heart out without worrying whether my grandma's home, or if my siblings want to watch the telly. Also, I will no longer have to compete with my neighbour who's twice a grade higher than me. Not that I mind, since I can outplay every one of them with my eyes closed. :P I have my admirers among my neighbours....lol. Now I have to go back to worrying over the logistics and my rapidly dwindling finances. 'The piano is an exquisite instrument that requires careful handling by experienced movers...' Yeah. Tell me something I don't know. Like how much you'll actually charge me for moving the bloody thing in the first place. Then I have to worry whether it'll fit through the front door of my bachelor pad. Then there's the whole hidden cost of wrapping the piano to prevent scratches...blahblahblah. And I feel like exploding. GOD! Just move the piano from A to B,people! Is that so hard for you? Maybe not all of us have made the transition from apes to homo sapiens. -_- Ok, all I'm askin for is my piano here by Friday night in one piece. *crosses fingers* I don't care about being broke, I don't care about using my first and only paycheck, I don't care about the pathetic balance in my bank. Just get my baby here by Friday night, and I'll practice until I expire from a musical overdose and broken fingers.

Psychic Incandescence

2007-05-01T01:15:00.000+08:00

Alright. The pyromaniac in me has resurfaced. Together with all the heat of emotions that accompany such volcanic eruptions. I must warn you, in this post (and probably the rest of the blog) other people's emotions do not matter. It is all about me, me, me. I have never been selfish before. Heck, my conversation with Yushaa tonight only illuminated that fact even more. When it comes to sex, it's never about me. Hey, what do you know! Nice guys do get screwed. Quite literally. So Z. Yo're a great guy, a great fuck, but you know what? Your mood swings piss me off. So piss off, we'll never see each other again. R, you're basically a sex-crazed ass. There you go. We'll never see each other again either. J. J, J, J. THe man of my life. Well, guess what? I have a life. One that does not include you anymore. So don't bother trying to contact me, or pleading with me to reply whenever you deign to talk to me, because I'm tired of the tenterhooks you constantly keep me on. So why not just end this twisted thing we call a 'ship...cuz a long winter is better than an unexpected one. Hmm. X. No longer can I call you a father figure now, can I? Not unless you want to write a novel about a Greek tragedy. So there. I'm washing my hands clean of all you annoying idiots who keep popping in and out of my lives as though I'm some kind of sexual take-out drive-through. I have had enough, and if I want affection, I can get it from the people who actually matter to me. Like my excellent friends for instance. =) Who swung by unexpectedly today and got an eyeful when depressed me glided around the house bottomless. As in, no pants. Still, I felt better after they managed to lift me out of the depressing pit I'd fallen into. And no, I do not regret any of the posts I have written in this blog. After all, the whole purpose of a blog is to express yourself. Some try to pretend to be who they're not with cutesy photos and even cheesier posts that make me want to puke. Well. My blog is about ME, MY THOUGHTS, MY LIFE, and what I want to do. Did I mention it is about me? Freedom of speech, baby. If you dont like it, there's always the little 'X' at the top of the page. I assume if you've somehow managed to piss me off, you're not all that bright to begin with, so I'll help you along. Move the cursor to the top right hand corner. You'll see a bright red 'X' (can't miss it!). Click on it, and voila! You get to keep your deluded visions of who you think you are. So yes, men who have made up half my life...you have managed to piss me off. Oh, there won't be revenge. I'm not the type who'll hunt you down with a sharp, shiny knife to cut off your respective manhoods. No. I understand we have this thing called 'karma' in the world we live in. I just haven't seen it in action, but I'm sure it'll come right around and bite you on the ass for me. I won't name you on my blog, because of course you know who you are. J, X, R, Z. There. Four letters I never want to see in my life again. Z, I wasn't lying when I said you are a great guy and an even better fuck. It's your mood swings I can't stand. You're worse than a cat in heat, and I can't stand your claws, sweetheart. So either get therapy, or eventually get yourself killed in a barfight. Oh,don't worry. I'll attend your funeral if I feel like wearing black on that day. J, you're just a big honkin' fake, to put it mildly. Seriously. You're more plastic than Barbie herself, and that's saying something, baby. X, you're married. Period. R, so are you. =) You're never there, except when you want a quickie. Alright, I get the point! I'm good in bed, but I have other sides to me too, you know? So...take a hike. I'm off to enjoy my life of extravagance and luxury. Well, relatively speaking anyway. I have a roof over my head, my piano's on its way over, and I'm changing for the better. I saved the best for last. Oh, have I ever. =) I have Yushaa, Phoebe, Elina, Kenneth, Yzanne. Hey, it's a short list, but what I don't have in quantity, I more than make up for with quality. Because believe you me, these people are stars in their own right. =) I have enough to be thankful for, and what does it matter really? I live in a good country, not excellent, but passable anyway. I have friends most people would kill for, and I have my talents. Oh, and Z? Here's a tip. Next time you're in bed with someone...don't for Pete's sake say you're thinking of someone else. Just a tip, you know? Yeah...so that's it. I never want to see the four of you again. Oh, hey! I'm breaking up with four guys simultaneously! I've never done that before. *muses* Ok, I'm done being a bitch now. Time for chocolate...and some quality time with my telly. Princess Sophia. Yep. My tv's a princess.
My fire has been rekindled, and it's all thanks to you guys. =) You made all the difference to my life.

Psychic Regression

2007-04-29T18:25:00.000+08:00

With the setting of the sun, the tears fall freely. For a very long time, I have not sought solace and comfort in my words. But tonight, they are all I have. Last night I lost the last shred of self-worth I possessed. I couldn't quite understand why I felt so troubled initially, but now I know. I'm not cut out for this. My despair has regressed to a quiet resignation. I am resigned to my fate. And I know it will always be this way. Some men would die for the life I lead. Well, it certainly is killing me. I'm moving the piano to Bedok. I've moved out for good. I can't take it. The stress, the pain. And so I compounded my earlier mistake by messaging J. Told him what I missed, and he fell silent. Contemplate away, J. I've said what I've been fighting to hold back all these years, and now you know, do what you will. I have nothing more to say or do. Ball's in your court now. R has a ton of other responsibilities to juggle; I get that now. Z...*big great sigh* Z is something I wish I could undo. It shouldn't have happened, and now I feel contaminated. It's stupid, yeah. Look before you leap and all that. Great advice. Really. Only I've already leapt and landed on the sharp pointy rocks in the ravine below. So...nice sentiment, but it's too late. The deed is done, and my hands remain bloody. Let the clouds obscure the moon, the stars. Take away everything that is good and pure, for I have been condemned. Salvation is just a passing thought. There is no redemption for me. But Z, believe me, that one moment when our gazes locked and you were a breath away, I honestly thought I was a move away from checkmating the darkness that wells up within me. I can't do this anymore. I am regressing to the shadows from which I sprung. I have tried everything I know to rid myself of this stain upon my soul, but some things can't be washed away. I reached out to my angels, but then...I realised...why go on corrupting those who remain pure? I've done enough, and I'm pulling away. Let them live in light and flourish in lavish luxury. I will remain here, reunited with my piano, and no more reason to leave my sanctuary. Sanctuary. The very word makes me laugh. It is a harsh, bitter sound that expels from my lips. The very notion that one so darkened should have the audacity to have a place of peace...it's absurd. There are many things I regret, and I'm tired of always being wary, of being cautious, of being afraid. So reader beware. I will spill all in this post, length and caution be damned. I regret not telling one of the few people I've ever loved that I'm gay. My grandmother died as I was contemplating telling her precisely why I was so troubled. She had been trying to reach me for weeks, and I never got the chance to say goodbye, or explain to her why I resented so much. I was beside her when she passed on, but I couldn't find the strength to disappoint her by telling her I wasn't normal, at least by society's standards. We were very close, and I frequently spent my days with her before she succumbed to illness. The weeks that followed are a blank. I do not discuss her with any of my family members, though God knows they try. That's at the top of my regret list. Second is when I went for a chalet with my family. It was on a Friday, and on that very same day, my grand-uncle passed on. Coincidentally, he was very close to my grandmother too. The three of us often spent a great deal of time together. I was not told until Sunday, when we finally returned home. He was asking for me in his last moments, and I let the second person I loved down. These things haunt me, yet I have thrown them into the back of my mind to fester away. I am tired of always having to repress bad memories and fight to maintain equilibrium in a life so often riddled with loss. Then there are all the bad memories of the men I have had the misfortune to come across when I was younger. Suffice it to say that the experience is perhaps the chief reason why I cannot trust. I do not trust, I cannot trust, and today...I finally see the reason why. Oil and water, light and dark. I am throwing everything up today. A desperate attempt to find peace, but screw that. I deserve peace after all the shit that has happened. All the fights with the people I care about, all the little things about me that I can never explain. I am so so sorry, Z. For once, I want to have at least a week where I can sleep in peace and not be troubed by the demons that lurk in my mind, spawned by the devils in my past. Why can I not find peace? I can't. I tried to reach out to bridge the gap that has widened between me and the people I've driven away. I have lost my father, my dad, and the list goes on, ad infinitum. If loss only makes you stronger, how come I feel so weak now? Everyone agrees that I gave in to temptation with Z. Well, excuse me for wanting to be loved! I have spent my entire teenage formative years believing that I am on a fast train ride to hell with my homosexual orientation, and that I was undeserving of love and affection. Emotion is new to me, it is addictive. I am fascinated by the myriad of emotion that different people invoke in me. Love, lust, dislike,resentment. All this fascinates me. Excuse me for spending half my life as an emotional zombie completely devoid of feeling! Excuse me for trying to find affection when all I can come home to is four walls and total silence. Why do you think I am so attached to the piano? At least it fills up the silence. Why do I keep running away from everyone? Why can I not learn to trust? NO one knows much about me, and it is my fault for keeping it that way. It is my defense mechanism, and it is all I have left. I am lonely, yes. Who wouldn't be? All I have are the four walls that close in on me. I miss the sound of laughter, I miss the gaiety that a household should have. But I can't go back, because for me, thereis no redemption. So tell me, Gabriel. Where is your light now, angelus? I can't go home, I won't go home. I want a father to take me to the park, to play frisbee with me. I want a mum who won't judge me, who won't keep insinuating that I am an atrocity in the eyes of God. Most of all, I want peace. I'm tired of the loneliness, and I'm tired of all my mistakes in trying to ease that pain. I am so tired. I want to close my eyes and dream of contentment that lasts forever. I can't see R again. I can't see X. I can't see J. I've driven them all away with my inability to trust. I sit here in my room, and all I have is the silence. I am so tired of fighting, of missing everyone that I love. Of losing them to forces beyond my control. I love everyone that I come across, and it really really hurts when I have to attend their funerals knowing that there is so much left unsaid. That's it. If it hurts this much to feel, then I don't want to feel at all. Kit's words still haunt me. "Everyone you love leaves you. You don't deserve anyone." I'm so tired. All this because I tried to find affection for one brief, shining moment. Judge me, but my punishment has already been meted out. My solitude shall be my penance. Tomorrow my piano will arrive, freshly tuned and waiting to be placed. I cannot love, I cannot lust, I cannot have, I cannot trust. I give up. I tried, and tried and tried. And failed and failed and failed. So there. Voila. The universe is trying to tell me something, but I was deafened by my insistence that I deserve love. Well, the earplugs are coming off now, and the piano, the darkness, and my pen shall be my constant companions.
The black of night shall drown out all light. For me there is neither wrong nor right.

Psychic Confusion

2007-04-29T08:21:00.000+08:00

The night was so calm and peaceful, with a heavy storm brewing overhead. Z was up and awake, talking to me online. It was nice to actually talk and not fight as we normally do. Then he asked how I was...and he came down to my place in a cab. At five in the bloody morning. I went down to fetch him, while Heaven wept all around me. The lightning was an ominous sign, and the thunder was a constant warning. We went to my room...and talked. We were both lying on my bed, and he was pouring his heart out to me. I didn't know what to say, or do. I mean, we're kinda in the same boat with our woes of unrequited love. Basically my mind was this huge vacuum, and then his hand was on my shoulder, and sliding down my thigh. My reaction was completely natural, and one thing led to another. So yes, we wound up having sex, and he whispered that we ought to 'see each other' on a regular basis. My mind is fucked up now. It isn't fair. I should have been asleep tonight, I shouldn't have spoken to Z, I should have been thinking! My mind is whirling. What the fuck have I done? Oh, someone please shoot me now. He was affectionate all the way to the bus-stop, and I was this frozen marble statue. Completely devoid of emotion. Kill me. Please. I don't know what will ripple outward from this latest event, but I don't care. I'm close to tears and I want someone to talk to, someone who will tell me everything will be alright, and that things will go back to how they used to be. I can't do this anymore. Kenneth was right. Heck, even Phoebe may be right. I'm tired of the sex, the tears, the blood, the whole entire cycle. Sure, I've lusted after Z for years. I finally got to sleep with him this morning. But then what? We were both thinking of other people while doing the dastardly deed. That isn't normal! THIS isn't normal. It's all fucked up. I need a break. I need to breathe. I can't breathe. YOu know what? I needto run away somewhere. Liquor. Yes. I need a drink. GOD, I need a drink. Get away from it all, andI sure as hell don't have a vacation home in Majorca. Liqour's the only way to go! Z, I'm sorry. Give me some time to figure it all out. I've done everything a friend would do, and then some. *bangs head on wall* Bad Faiz! Badbadbadbad! Nonono. I need a leash and a muzzle for myself. *cries* What have I done?! I'm so used to having sex with one of my old flames that a new one feels completely alien to me? Does the problem lie with me? Ok, so I'm attuned to my flames. I know each and every one of their G-spots, their warning signs, their scent right before orgasm. WOw. I never knew a breath of fresh air could kill. ARGH! ENOUGH! I will not think about Z anymore. I'll go strangle myself now. R was asking yesterday if I'd met any new guys. Maybe I can go rant about my mistake to him. Not that Z was a mistake...I can still taste him. NO! ARGH! NONONO! *smacks head* Please. Shoot. Me. Now. SEIF!!

Psychic Burst

2007-04-29T02:55:00.000+08:00

R came back, I threw a tantrum, and J spoke to me after I was done being a bitch. There. An emotional explosion that I can't and won't elaborate upon. I'd much rather focus on the darkness that swirls around me. The darkness is not as static and unmoving as most people understand it to be. It moves unseen, a shadow that lurks in every corner, hiding from the light. As do I. I believe the time has come for me to retreat from the sun, and cultivate the seeds of darkness that were sown a long time ago. Shadows dance around my room in a mockery of the vibrancy of life. The Darkness is a living entity that accompanies Night on her dark sojourn through the world, bringing her cousins Sleep and Dreams with her. She is a goddess in her own right, yet none pay obeisance to her. She cloaks the world with her dark embrace, and all fall prey before her cousins. Only I remain immune to the wiles of such a charming family. Night arrives in her unearthly chariot, and unleashes her cousins Sleep and Dreams, taking over the world, spreading darkness with her touch. Perhaps I am not the only mortal to witness such glory in motion. Nor do I care much if I am. I have marked gardens all over this island as my territory, and the night is mine to do with it as I wish. I can recline among luxuriant blooms as night unfurls in all her splendour, with her cloak of stars and moonlight. And I, the ever observant one, shall witness her nightly murder of the sun. Kill him, and day fades away into obscurity. The queen shall rule with her mighty cousins, and I shall bow before such power. Not in fear, never that. I do not fear power, only those who abuse it with such nonchalance. Nor do I fear karmic debts, for repercussions have no effect on me. I bow out of respect before such a powerful entity. The eternal duality of night and day entrances me. It captivates the imagination, it empowers the wise. Suddenly the burst of emotion that has threatened to suffocate my soul fades away before Night herself. I stand in her court with my head held high, and she drains all the negativity away. Oh, Nick. If you were alive today to see the glory of night, and let me show you all the beauty that our world contains...I will continue to pray that your soul will find the peace you never could have in this life. Death is sobering, and I am dead serious (pun intended) about my tragic death. If I could choose the time and place when I die...I'd want it to be at midnight when Night holds court, and when the stars smile down from the heavens. I'd want to die among blooming flowers, and breathe my last nestled in Nature's bosom. I am no more immortal than the great men before me, and I can die in peace knowing I won't be the last. For I have found that I am not alone. Nick before me, and the great philosophers before him. The wisdom of these men is matched only by their mortal misery. I think it's part of life that greatness goes hand in hand with strife. The angels of night are singing their heavenly choir, and I find my pain is eased for just a few moments. Thanks, Z. I'll see you tomorrow. =)
A burst of hope, and I am momentarily at peace.

Psychic Chaos

2007-04-28T02:58:00.000+08:00

*sigh* It appears that some fates are meant to be unchanged. I missed him yet again, but this time...I am not scrabbling to tie up loose ends. It's evolved to the stage where I feel that if it's meant to be, it's meant to be. You know? Life goes on, the world continues spinning on its axis. I'm just a tiny speck among millions of other life-forms. What do I have to offer, what do I possess that makes me different? At 3 in the morning, heat has flooded my veins and suddenly I find myself reaching for the bottle. Heck, I don't smoke. I'm allowed the occasional drink. I am just so tired of the continual misunderstandings, the hot and cold periods that always leave me high and dry. It's not just my troubled relations that is bugging me tonight. It's the fact that...if I do go through with this...it'll mean I've moved out for good. I'm not going back, and both my parents know this. I have not stayed there for longer than four hours in over two years. And suddenly the implications of that sentence have hit me. Well...it's fly or die. Everyone has a fatal flaw...and mine is that I cannot trust. Every time it seems like someone is getting too close, my barriers go all the way up and I end up driving the person away. God, I can practically taste the alcohol. I wish it dosn' have to be this way. But when chaos strikes (and I am always at ground zero when it happens) I just need to find some release. I can't do this, I'm not strong nough. Chocolates and alcohol. Yum. My mind is going all blurry...oh, wait. I think that's my eyelids falling shut. I was frightened today, when eh messaged me, and I thought...well, this is it. I was frightened because I realisd today...I don't do trust. Frightening? You tell me. So...J. Here itcomes. It's not you, it's me. I don't trust you, adn the fact that you left me alone all these years doesn't help your credibility. So you came back. Big whoop. R has vanished, making me hate him too. What is up with these guys? Shit, my taste in men sucks big time. I'm going to take a long walk along the short pier at the reservoir. Maybe I'll fall in and at least fulfil my prophecies of a tragic death. I can't think anymore, because if I do, the weight of my thoughts will suffocate me. It's already hard to breathe as it is. So,J. Here itis. I love you, still do, forever and always. Stupid, cliched, annoyinly irritating for me. Some stupid emotion that clings to me like limpets on a rock atlow tide. Screw you. In every sense of the word. I hate you, then I love you, and I hate how much power that gives you over me. Heck, my parents dont even have a fraction of the control you exert over me. Continue keeping me on this short leash. Maybe it'll choke me. I can't see you. I just can't. God, I need more acohol. There's an ugly hammerng at the backof my head, and I feel vaguely nauseated. Ugh. I have been the center of so many firestorms recently, the catalyst for chaos that I think my karmic debt iscatchting up with me. Oh. Brian just died. I'm off to space out somewhere with a trusty bottle and lots of chocolate. If R is still alive, I'm gonna kill him. *annoyed* J, your words are nothing without your presense to back it up. If you mean what you say, prove it.
Look around you; I'm the king of everything and nothing.

Psychic Composure

2007-04-25T22:24:00.000+08:00

Ignoring the panic that threatens to overwhelm me, I have decided to maintain a cool composure tomorrow. Unruffled, uncaring. I am so over this guy! Right? Oh, shut up heart. I'm flooded with nervous energy, so I've been bouncing around just trying to tell myself this is a good idea. It is. Really. I just don't see how yet. Deep breaths. Deeeeep breaths. *screams* I think I'll go pretend to beat up shadow people to ease the stress, which is starting to affect my consciousness in that I'm beginning to lose it. =/ By the by...ANTIBIOTICS ARE MEANT TO BE COMPLETED! How bout that. Oh, well. Something new everyday.

Psychic Imbalance

2007-04-25T00:57:00.000+08:00

Something weighs heavily on my mind tonight. Twice I have written lengthy posts only to delete them on moments of impulse. The darkness, which usually I find so comforting, suddenly seems tight and suffocating to me. I do not wish for darkness tonight. I want someplace bright, well-lit, like a sunny field where violet blooms wave merrily in the passing breeze. I want the warmth of my angels, yet one has fallen, one is incarcerated, and one more beyond my reach. Ah, my taste in men is questionable. *shakes head* With Nelly Furtado screaming 'TRY' at me, I finally typed out a brief but emotionally laden message to J. How apt. Well, my timing is, as they say, impeccable. I can only hope my English remains so, particularly when I'm trying to 'break in' at the moment. *sigh*
So we meet. We love. We part bitter. Wow. In three short sentences, I have summarised the whole purpose of this game they call love. Bravo. *applauds* Before I allow my hormones to completely overwhelm me and end up watching some chick flick and cry buckets (God forbid) I think I should go get some shuteye. Tomorrow is....Wednesday. I think I have something on...but at this point in time, I can hardly say I care. *miserable* I need chocolates, a good comedy (FRIENDS!!!) and a long chat on the phone with R. Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention that. He's still alive and kicking. I don't want to know where he went, or why he chose to go incommunicado, so screw that. He's here, he's within my reach and GOD I need him.
On a lighter note, my younger brother is following in my footsteps. In a good way, I should point out. He's gotten certificates stating that he is fluent in both Malay and Chinese! Good for him. Which reminds me...I'm supposed to giving French tuition tomorrow. Ah. Time to dig out the old books. My sister plays two instrument, my brother speaks three languages, and I...just do everything else that people seem to find so odd.
I sense a disturbance in the Force tonight. :P

Psychic Longing

2007-04-24T04:16:00.000+08:00

There is something about the night that draws my soul out. Tonight I remember all the feelings that once were so foreign to me, something I could not understand at first. The euphoria of first love, the bitterness of first parting. The freedom I discovered hidden in the night air, the exhilaration as I run along the corridors of darkness that belong solely to me. Wings of darkness lifted me up. I may see him again, I don't know. But I sense change in the air, as surely as a blind bat senses nightfall. My illness cannot contain me anymore; I have risen. I will continue rising, I will continue fighting. I will continue hoping that you'll understand someday, J.
R has vanished completely, yet again. I feel a pang as I remember what we both went through the last time he confronted his personal demons. It was years before we spoke again. I'm not sure if I can keep this cycle going. Love, sex, silence. On and on, ad infinitum. Perhaps it is time I broke it, R. If you can't decide what you want, then maybe I should. I don't want to wait; I'm tired of doing that for all the people who matter. Night usually sees me dewed in sweat, regardless of how chilly the air gets, but tonight I feel perfectly cool with nary a drop anywhere. Music fills my heart and head, and suddenly I am not some dying lovelorn boy who cannot bend the universe to his will. I am nowhere and everywhere all at once, and I can feel his warmth. The stars are no longer beyond my reach; they are all around me. Will you be the brightest jewel in my court, J? The stars pale in comparison to the bright sun that you are. You are joy incarnate. Laughter flows in waves from your expressive eyes, and you give me peace on days that seem endless and long. The silence kills me slowly, but I cannot deny you the peace and freedom that I know you so deserve. Even if it kills me to pine for you quietly, I know you have sacrificed too much for me. Oh, the thorns of love are many and puncture deeper than I thought they ever would. But if nothing else, this proves that the love I have for you is not false. And that fact alone gives me strength to bear the wounds only love can bring. I have not faltered once in all these years, but sometimes...I wonder. If I had not hidden my insecurities behind petty arguments and terrible tantrums...would you have stayed to calm the storms in my heart? That question brings a rueful smile to my face. You're still here, aren't you? Each year brings that much healing back to us. Perhaps this year, J. Your bag still sits next to my drawers, growing more forlorn every year, as does the man who still loves you. I saw the look you tried to hide that night, as you watched me go. You caught my hesitation, but the traffic lights had already changed. Maybe soon, J. Maybe soon. I can only hope...and wait.
For you I'd pen a thousand songs.

Psychic Stumble

2007-04-23T15:09:00.000+08:00

Well. SO much can happen in so little time. I hardly know where to begin. My health is improving, slowly, but surely. I have yet to figure out what triggers the nausea, but the pills help me to keep my food down. I have not exercised since I fell ill (the horror!) and I feel worse everytime I look at my usual exercise spot, so long forgotten. I will be seeing J soon. I will be determinedly polite and civil, regardless of the emotional turmoil the sight of him invokes in me. I had supper with my family yesterday night, on my sister's birthday. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife, I swear. But I was nice and ever so polite, even if a bit frosty. Some deep-seated resentments don't just vanish after a few years. While at the martial arts convention, my mum sought me out from where I was seated in the garden, watching from afar, and we talked. It was lucky my dad wasn't there when I was 'talking' to her, or we would have given those coloured belts a run for their money. She just can't understand my fascination with music and languages, and how I can find beauty in the most mundane things. Philosophy? To her it is a subject as dead as the Latin language, used by men in times long gone. Of course, I am not entirely surprised. Hardly anyone understands me, and sometimes I don't know why I do certain things. I'm sorry, J. It was because of my family that I did what I did that August two years ago. *sigh* I am on the mend, I have been eating regularly, even. But there is still that little hole in my heart to fill, that void that only two men have managed to lessen. At one point during the martial arts meet, my mother told me, "Among my children, you are by far the brightest. You could read even when others were still struggling with words." I agree. So many people have over the years been commenting on my intelligence that I find myself numb already. "You could be on your way to university by now," she continued, not sensing the sudden anger that was flaring up in me. "You could be a high-flyer." Right. "I don't want to be a high-flyer," I tried to keep my voice calm, in spite of the heat that was racing through my veins. "All I care about are my music and languages and philosophies. I don't want money, I don't want material wealth only to come home to an empty house." There was silence as she tried to understand why I was so passionate about these subjects hardly anyone cares about anymore. Then she struck me with a really low blow. I won't elaborate, but it stung. Of course, then I had to explain all over again that if I had really wanted to go to university, then I would have gone along that path. She offered to send me off to some distant land to study medicine. I tried not to laugh, but it came out anyway. A harsh sound, I'm sure. I'm not interested in medicine, as I told her. She looked lost. Then the polarity of the world appeared to change. I told her my hopes, my dreams. My aims of mastering the English language, languages in general, and how I wanted to teach others to appreciate what I love so much. THere is an art to languages, one not everyone can master. The same with music and writing. Philosophy is so broad, it has such a universal appeal. It is only recently when I have opened my writings to the people I trust that the idea of me teaching philosophy was broached. I don't know. The world is vast, our lives long, hopefully. Why do we all have to rush to secure our places in life? Why can't we slow the pace down, stop and smell the roses? I wondered if I could write. I was offered a job authoring children's books, but I declined. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so quick to say no. The offer still haunts me. It could have been my big break, but at that time I was suffering from serious writer's block and a severe confidence deficiency. *sigh* I don't know if the offer has been rescinded, but if it has, I have many other books to write. Oh, J. When we meet, do not look too badly upon me, for I have walked the path too many avoid. I fear my eventual destination will be financial and mortal ruin. On a sidenote, I am surprised my mum did not mention the gay angle. It has been a point of contention between my parents and me for so long. Could it be they have finally accepted that I cannot be changed?
I only want the best.