It's night like this where I start to question my sanity if I'm still sane, or close to being insane.
Whether what is right from wrong, and who to trust.
Always with the truth issue.
You start to wonder when is the day where everything doesn't matter anymore because you will no longer be a part of it.
When life start getting better and happier
You want to be less scare of trusting others, and not worry whether they would be there for you always or whether it would be just another friendship of come and go
You wonder if you can click with the friend, and whether you can trust her with your secrets
You wonder if it would be different this time
They say, once bitten twice shy
The second time you kept telling yourself to trust, but inside you refuse to
Instead you hunt down the evidence until you seen what you want
Yet you still remained unconvinced
You still question, did it really happen? Or was it a pretty lie
Maybe a person is broken if she choose to be
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Monday, August 3, 2015
10days
The time read 11:14pm
The mind reads 10 days more.
10 days more to my first paper.
11 days to the smell of freedom.
For three weeks at least. But just for that taste of slight freedom, two papers must first be completed.
And after that, it's looking forward to the end of August.
The motivation. The lack that is. The nights spend in front of the computer screen typing the notes which 30% won't be memorized or used. Or rather the 50% is there to lie that you have made the effort to study.
The curse of every end semester that exams must be sat.
The dishonor of results when it is out, and it's not what you wanted. Or was it sufficient to say you did well, but it wasn't enough for the parents.
Really. What is the results desired?
The case of the 16 year-old girl who jumped to her death after receiving her o'level results. All because there was an imperfection in her results, that single B. Enough to spark a reaction, but not a consequence.
And here, I question what desire results I actually want
The mind reads 10 days more.
10 days more to my first paper.
11 days to the smell of freedom.
For three weeks at least. But just for that taste of slight freedom, two papers must first be completed.
And after that, it's looking forward to the end of August.
The motivation. The lack that is. The nights spend in front of the computer screen typing the notes which 30% won't be memorized or used. Or rather the 50% is there to lie that you have made the effort to study.
The curse of every end semester that exams must be sat.
The dishonor of results when it is out, and it's not what you wanted. Or was it sufficient to say you did well, but it wasn't enough for the parents.
Really. What is the results desired?
The case of the 16 year-old girl who jumped to her death after receiving her o'level results. All because there was an imperfection in her results, that single B. Enough to spark a reaction, but not a consequence.
And here, I question what desire results I actually want
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Yesterday
Yesterday I saw a girl who looks like me. Not physical. But a mirror image of how I look at myself everyday in the mirror 2 years ago.
That empty look, that desperate look, that helpless look.
I read her case note, I know her story, I know how she feels.
How it's like adjusting to a new life again. How it's like getting slammed in the face. How it's like not knowing what to do next. How it's like trying to explain to someone how badly you want something and getting rejected in the face. How it's like becoming desperate.
The slight moment that I wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that she has to let go, she has to know this is one thing that might not be happening soon (or at all), to let her know it's time to make a new plan, the old plan is gone.
I looked back and wondered how much have I grown since.
Did I learn to be more cautious of my replies in an argument?
Did I learn to be slow to anger?
Did I learn to be more in control of my emotions and actions?
Did I learn that being suicidal wasn't the answer?
Did I learn to be more sane?
Maybe not for some.
I can't helped but wonder, what if I had went back, would things be different now? Or would I have made the same mistake and repeat everything all over again.
Who knows.
for now, I wished I had given her my number, to tell her that if she needs a listening ear, I can offer.
But I realized I can't.
It's a breach of confidentiality.
That empty look, that desperate look, that helpless look.
I read her case note, I know her story, I know how she feels.
How it's like adjusting to a new life again. How it's like getting slammed in the face. How it's like not knowing what to do next. How it's like trying to explain to someone how badly you want something and getting rejected in the face. How it's like becoming desperate.
The slight moment that I wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that she has to let go, she has to know this is one thing that might not be happening soon (or at all), to let her know it's time to make a new plan, the old plan is gone.
I looked back and wondered how much have I grown since.
Did I learn to be more cautious of my replies in an argument?
Did I learn to be slow to anger?
Did I learn to be more in control of my emotions and actions?
Did I learn that being suicidal wasn't the answer?
Did I learn to be more sane?
Maybe not for some.
I can't helped but wonder, what if I had went back, would things be different now? Or would I have made the same mistake and repeat everything all over again.
Who knows.
for now, I wished I had given her my number, to tell her that if she needs a listening ear, I can offer.
But I realized I can't.
It's a breach of confidentiality.
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