Idols.

Afraid to see the truth of what we have been worshiping, we cast down our eyes. Yet if we look up, we might find that our altar has no idols, or that the idols we put there have fallen and we behold something else shining in their place. In searching the darkness, we have found light.
Eleanor Herman in Sex With Kings

The bubble bursts into thousands of tiny shards of glass, one of them is me. I fly through the window, thrown by you into a river, in the midst of pebbles skipped by people sitting on the bank. Surrounded, I sink lower and lower, the rays of sun dull into these depths of a barren seascape. I wait, and I wait, and I wait, for a strong current, a flood, anything that will take me out to sea.
This is like nothing I ever saw, not like anything it was supposed to be underwater. I'm still breathing, I'm still conscious.
I'm still me.
I'm still waiting.

Suddenly, I want to go back to a time where I used to have regrets. Over actions, over people, over events. Now, there have been too many been-theres-and-done-thats. I used to wonder what it felt like to feel there was nothing left to lose, and now I know. It's a lonely sort of liberation, like traveling through Paris without a lover by your side. You crave because you see, not because you need. It's a passing desire, a want that aches and fades. I've got you, but in the ebb and flow of life, who knows where you'll be. Who knows where I will be, who knows where the rest of them are.

It's all gone down into a forgotten lane of memory, you'll forget me, I'll forget you. We all forget one another, what with the constant system of replacements we've cultivated for ourselves.

I wonder if this was the light I'd been looking for, if the idol was worth crashing. I wonder if I'm better off. But more than anything else, I wonder if this is what it's like to just be.

Oh, we love an audience to our misery. We love it so, so much.

Say what?

Who?

There's a lull, a silent, killing, creeping lull. It's deadly, spewing green poison into my thoughts, that oozes out into the rest of me, changes colour, turns into many more deadly hues, so many more. Muddy browns, cemented greys, a vertigo in black.

Sway, sway, sway to this non-conversation in all the dull shades of Melancholy. Who knew not-bright would be this blatant, this loud? What ricochets off the walls surrounding my mind, what rude interruptions am I trying to suppress?

Why do moonlit nights beside the seashore offer no salvation? I wouldn't take any if they were shoved in my face. Just an aching, gaping wound of something missing, but what is it? Where are my answers? Where is my peace? Where is my rainbow, my leprechaun, my gold? Where are the illusions?

This half insanity offers me no explanations. It comes and goes, like a visitor, an uninvited, pestering houseguest. Enter now, exit later, enter again, more exits, every day, hours and hours and hours of halfness, nothing completed. Hold it in, hold it together. For how long? There are no voices whispering "just a little longer."

Nothing.

Xavia, who will save us?

I want to live and breathe.

I need to wash myself again to hide all the dirt and pain
'cause I'd be scared that there's nothing underneath
And who are my real friends?
Have they all got the bends?
Am I really sinking this low?


Eighteen years in the same city, not even one friend to show for it. Some I've pushed away, some pushed me away themselves, some decided they disliked me too much as a person. And before I knew it, it was too late to make any more. I couldn't do it, it wouldn't happen.

This is a fullstop I'm stuck on, there's got to be a new chapter somewhere around the corner. Locating that particular corner is a bit of an issue... there's just so many.

In my head I sit alone in a corner, in a little emo bubble. Wondering, wondering, wondering.

Whuttodo?

"If our friendship depends on things like space and time, then when we finally overcome space and time, we've destroyed our own brotherhood! But overcome space, and all we have left is Here. Overcome time, and all we have left is Now. And in the middle of Here and Now, don't you think that we might see each other once or twice?"
— Richard Bach (Jonathan Livingston Seagull)

"I thought space and time no longer applied to us."

*They do to me.*

"Then why would you send me that quote?"

*Jao na.*

Hello, I am .

I've been walking in the same way as I did
And missing out the cracks in the pavement
And tutting my heel and strutting my feet
"Is there anything I can do for you dear? Is there anyone I could call?
No, and thank you, please madam, I ain't lost, just wandering"



Everyone loves a sad story with a happy ending. Everyone loves it when things suddenly turn around, with some lucky twist of fate and all is forgiven, forgotten. It's all in the past, lost to present happiness, into oblivion. A vacuum filled with happy, gooey, warm and cosy. Except that warm and gooey and happy and all those things don't come about in real life. Except in brief bursts that pop like flimsy bubbles from the cheap soapy water they sell outside parks here.

You end up watching excessive amounts of Grey's Anatomy and start sounding like a teenage Meredith Grey going through a midlife crisis at 18. And a weight problem (which makes it slightly Bridget Jones-isque too). Ha.

I ain't lost, just wandering.

Calendar girl.

If I am lost for a day,try to find me,
But If I don't come back then I won't look behind me.
All of the things that I thought were so easy,
Just got harder and harder each day.


I was thinking of deleting this blog, but I guess I won't after all. There's no one to talk to and nowhere to go and nothing to do and all I can do is write miserably and let the world look into my secrets. No one cares, there's only laughter and secret enjoyment. I don't blame anyone but me. I will never blame anyone but me, because expectations, as I've said before, are a whore.

I'll go back to being numb, thank you very much. I'd take that any day. It's the best I've felt.

Chocolates and butterf(lies) and rainbows and kisses and kittens and candy and..

Nothing.
=)