Ximending,
25thMay 2005
|
The Maiden
Medical undergraduate
Stubborn, whimsical and perpetually in a state of daydream.Loves and Desires
The rain, the sea and the cliffsShopping for pretty things Be a good doctor Pet-Peeves
CatsEnclosed areas Screaming people Autobiography Light is a many splendored thing Archives Guestbook Dirty Laundry
2S03MAlvin Barry Chingsian ChiuWeng Denyse Genghis Gerald Gwenda Huimin Huishan Jessica Jianfu JingJing Joanna Judo girls KahSuan KhengChuan MC Mr M Natalie Qiumei Raymond Sharon Shawn Tie Han Wang Wenshan Wenyang Xiaoke Xinyi Yucai Mail me Other Vindications
ARTBrowntown Buttermilk Oikono OneLittleTwit Now playing
La Vie En RoseBy Louis Armstrong  |
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Mindless RamblingI am very bored. I could jolly well get down to reading or writing or doodling, occupy myself with things I used to enjoy doing. Except that a part of me screams for company. I don't want to be left alone, I don't want to be engulfed by the silence. I am afraid. It shouldn't be a problem of course. The world is filled with wonderful people, all affable enough to douse me with heart-to-heart chats, warm hugs and sincere advice. Just that the pride in me demands I remain a social recluse. Because I still think that I am strong enough to handle things on my own. And because I know I need to survive even when the world lets me down. J said a couple of days ago that time doesn't heal all wounds. It simply allows us to learn, cope and get on with life. And it came to light how I ended up the way I am these days. Scarring after scarring of events not forgotten but hidden away. Yet it isn't the hatred that is swallowing me, for I am not adequately hard-hearted to abhor. It is fear annihilating my soul. What I wouldn't give to get back those days of childhood, when I could disrupt lessons just to scream across the class that someone is singing a song wrongly. Or when I had the guts to ask other kids at the KAP Mac's to be my friend. Those were the days when I only feared cats and statues. I told everyone I met about my dreams and aspirations. I was a perfectionist, and failure was an unknown concept. Then things went downhill, mostly due to unmet expectations. There was a point of time when I couldn't bear looking into mirrors. I shunned being in photographs. Stopped smiling, stopped communicating with others. I wrote dark stories, composed music I never bothered to jot down and was termed morbid for my little idiosyncrasies. Yet as J says, we learn to cope with time. It was a painstaking process, putting myself back into society again. Picking up the pieces, recultivating my confidence, making new acquaintances and mending my life so that the cracks weren't too significant. I grew more cheerful, even occasionally taking on a sunshine demeanor. I could argue my case in school, point out mistakes that the professors make, speak to absolute strangers. I thought I had found myself again. No longer trembling, no longer frightened. I could go all out and secure the world. Or so I thought till certain recent events proved otherwise. Am I not as strong as I think? I simply want my soul back. I don't want to walk around like a half-dead zombie. But I will try till I succeed. The maiden spoke at 10:06 PM
Comments:
Post a Comment
|
||