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silver lining
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yesterday was achingly surreal. i wandered along roads, trying to will myself to cross the road with my eyes closed.
a disgusting emotional heap, that was me last night. a slobbery mess of tears, mucus and a renewed determination to die with a bang.
i hate it when i feel sorry for myself because there simply is nothing i should be sorry about, considering how blessed i really am, and the situation i am stuck in, a consequence of choice, not circumstances. the situation being the omnipresent heartache a.k.a m the ex boyfriend. but thats another story.
it is frustrating to read about how people point fingers at the young ones like me, saying that we get worked up over nothing, that we're just spoilt little emperors upset over the most trivial of matters.
that i agree to an extent. but really, who wants to be suffering from extreme mood swings that can only be satiated by sleep and medication?
it is hard to describe the turmoil the minority of us inflicted with fucked up heads experience. i would liken the lows as taking long seemingly endless bus rides without a destination in mind, listening to the same god damn depressing song on repeat. you finally alight to blindingly bright sunshine, bask in the sudden exurberence, only to get on the next fucking bus not long after. it's a tedious cycle. one that i cannot wait to break out of. everytime i thought i have finally suceeded in doing so, the next crash comes.
with every such numbing wave i am rendered useless. i am unable to write my articles, i never bother to eat, replacing solids with liquids because i cannot be bothered to chew. i sit around, wallowing in self pity, thoroughly disgusted with myself for doing so.
but i cannot help it. such episodes never usually last more than two days, thank god. but everytime it does, i come out feeling like a stone jutting out from a breakwater, slowly eroding with every wave that crashes upon me. slowly but surely i'd be reduced to nothing but mere grains of sand dispersed throughout.
and then there's the hunger to feel pain. again this is an inexplicable phenomenom. like how the experts dish us bullshit advice like clenching fists and counting to ten, some of us do it another way. the keyword being therapeutic. i started out pinching my waist until it sometimes resulted in bruising, which escalated to other forms which alarmed even myself.
yesterday i got another tattoo. a small one. the rush which accompanies the calming buzzing sound soothes me instantly.
i look at it now, a better person than i was last night, and i smile like an idiot.
allow me to quote a line from murakami's norwegian wood, which i have just finished reading.
"don't feel sorry for yourself", he said. "only assholes do that".
not exactly a groundbreaking inspiring quote but makes a great deal of sense.
fantastic book by the way.
in the meantime, i am fine, still kicking ass.
