you just might make me believe

what's your mode of transport?
mine is the sun.
when it rises dripping from
the sea when it falls like honey on
the trees when it swallows up
clouds my soul moves with it.

mine is you.
when you lift your eyes
when you look straight ahead
when you try to speak my
heart moves with you.

We'll keep marching on.
10:37:00 AM
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
bop to the top
This is not exactly the first post that I would want to write after my very long hiatus in the world of Tumblr blogging. But there are definitely certain things that I would rather not share to a whole bunch of unknown followers. I don't want to feed something so negative into a space that has made me feel happy and warm inside. In this case, I'm throwing this entry out into the wilderness of cyberspace, which is freeing, in a weird sense.

The notion of being free- I guess, that's the theme for this entry. The feeling of being trapped, or terkongkong, that there's no escape so there's no point trying. I hate to be consigned to my fate of being the person who would ALWAYS be there. The girl who would go down and cheer you up at a moment's call, or would call back diligently if she sees a missed call. The girl who feed words of encouragement through a text message. The girl who would listen to your troubles and try her hardest to give down-to-earth advice. I don't want to always be there for someone else. For a change, I would want someone to be there for me. But there is no truly such person who thinks that silence can be comfortable or have to be filled with endless interesting small talk. There is no such person in the world for someone to spend a free day just for me, because frankly, I don't think I deserve it. Already I see people bored by just 10mins of my talking, let alone the whole day. You may say that I'm "emo-ing" (whatever that means- is it wrong to feel some sort of emotion other than cheerfulness? What, you expect me to be a freaking happy clown all the time?) because it's one day before the exams and I've hardly touched my tomb of readings. But really, who do I go to when I need a cheering up? Not a boyfriend cos I don't have the patience for one. Not my own friends, who have their own lives to lead and their own significant other to cater to. Not my family, who are all absorbed in their own lives. My parents don't understand, because all they see is a commodity, someone who can do stuff for them at a moment's notice and then be thrusted into the limelight to boost their own ego. Begging for time from the people I know is like begging the ground to produce rain. They hurt me with their callousness, always needing to fill a space with endless chatter, and assume that insulting or making careless remarks about me would be the best way to make me "improve". People sometimes forget that I have feelings so saying things like "You're very kampung, very clumsy and not "atas" like other girls are", "Don't smile so wide, you have ugly gaping teeth and have a big nose. Don't make it worse." "You're inherently selfish because you won't share your laptop or money" just does wonders for my already edgy self esteem.

It isn't a crime to be sensible or boring or righteous. But there is even more pressure to let people hear my voice or else be drowned out by other, more charismatic voices. Which is why I act overly ditzy or bimbotic or incapable. Because that's probably the only way I can get people to notice me, even if it's not really the real me. Whatever the real me is. No one will miss me. All they miss will be the girl who used to always be there, and then if I'm gone, it doesn't matter anyway, it is not as though I add on to the conversation anyway. All they do is take, and all I do is give. Is it hardly a wonder then, that I've almost forgotten what it means to have an opinion rather than keep quiet and not "talk back" because speaking my mind is "un-girly" behaviour. Maybe if I was more rebellious when I was younger, or prettier, I can get away with more. Sometimes I feel like Anne Hathaway's character in Ella Enchanted who is forced to do what others tell her to and tries to break free from such a trapped life.

I know I have many things to be grateful for. I have a roof over my head, I'm not disabled or handicapped in any way, I've got a healthy body and a functioning mind. What I do want is a decent chance to let me do my own thing and not always be burdened by responsibilities which I should not be the only one holding in the first place. That I'm not inhibited by what others think or expect of me. I want to be able to go to cafes and libraries and bookstores in my free time without someone labeling me as a "loner". Look just because you like to surround yourself with more friends than you can count does not make you a likable or popular person. I don't understand why it's shocking to people I know when I want to wear eyeliner, curse, or refuse to help. Also, would it kill you to give honest compliments rather than saying stuff you don't mean because "that's what friends do?". Being random is not to be weird; it's a way of expressing what you subconsciously want to do. I want to be more than the pigeon hole that they ascribe me to but I don't know how, other than socially cutting everyone off and not come home for a year.

honesty is the best policy