be right back

Tension builds up like a tumour in the chest, getting almost lethal with every second passing by. Push the button, the invisible, taunting button and what released are but hiccups of choked tears and emotions long held up. The frustration and anger that had seemed nonexistent before need no trigger or cause. They take over before a word can be said.

No effort is made to restrain.

Is it worth going to bed every night knowing that these whirlwinds of thoughts would have been gone by morning? Who are we kidding but ourselves with the illusion of everything being fine, when it isn’t, really.

Who am I kidding, knowing I spring up at 3 in the morning bursting into uncontrolled tears and anger fits; knowing I gaze longingly at the vertical lines all over the canvas of my body; knowing I hear voices; knowing at the bottom of this heart that I’d bring you down one day.

Unfortunately it’s no longer a medical disorder prescription pills would fix. Those days are over. One should stop giving fancy names to mind conditions. No no… it doesn’t work that way. The bare facts are ugly, people fuck up. And that’s about all there is to it.

…

i don’t think i can do this anymore.

Tong Hua

You used to play that song all the time, it’s the only full song you ever remember.

Hearing it just brought back so many memories. This is where I first saw you, you and the striking red on your hair that I repulsed. That’s where you started talking to me. The steps where we, all of us, used to spend a long time talking to each other after school has ended. Then there were barely 300 people in the whole school.

And that’s where you turned crimson red, choking on the words you wanted me to hear as I looked on and chuckled. Of course I had known all along.

It felt like yesterday. But yesterday was a long time ago.

…

and the sun will shine when the lights go out

Something’s taking over inside this head.

I’m feeling things I shouldn’t be.

Where are the pills?

sleepover

I have been tired, stressed, uninspired, unmotivated and unwillingly hopeful.

But let’s look at a photo from the recent sleepover instead. I’ll be photo-spamming this blog and giving it a makeover. It looks too cute the way it is, and I don’t feel cute.

Stolen from her Facebook.

Ps/ what I was wearing that day:

purging coffee

Oh no don’t get me wrong, it is not a relapse of any kind… just that I guess my body has had way too much caffeine in the course of a single day, after a long period of coffee rehab.

I washed my hands and realized how dramatic I looked with the glittery blue eyeliner melted and running down my cheeks when my eyes teared. It was hard to balance and walk in a straight line as the vision finally gave in, I then started seeing doubles and my hands shook like a withering old lady.

Talking about being drunk on coffee.

Words of wisdom

Check twice and thrice and again that you have removed your contact lenses before sleeping, boys and girls.

 

Or expect to look like your favourite pet has died from a car accident because you’re walking around all day with eyes that look like that.

And that was 7 bloody hours afterwards, don’t even try to imagine what it was like at first..

Questions of worth

For each other we strip our defenses, we change, we evolve.

I would do that – I would lie and I would cheat and I would fight, lest the need arouses. But it is not difficult, that. Lying and cheating I am capable of ; fighting I enjoy, for it makes me feel in control.

It is the putting down the weapon and let myself be led that is hard. That is the sacrifice, and it took a lot more than what meets the eye.

I would do that, I would give it up in a heartbeat, because I know we are all we have.  What hardened me though, was you thinking I have become weak.

That i cannot tolerate.

The Hotel

The old hotel had been there for a long time, though nobody could tell just exactly how old it was. What remained of its signboard were a couple of broken neon-lights pieces, long forgotten. The blue coat of paint had also turned into a dirty grey and most of it had already peeled off, leaving only the bare reddish-brown wall to withstand the temperamental weather of Saigon.

Calling it a hotel might have been too fanciful a name, for all it seemed to be was an ordinary street house, only built several storeys too tall to be proportionate for its three metre width. As with many other hotels in this fast-paced city, it had been built as high as the authorities would allow.

Each floor had a single balcony with a couple of languishing green plants, placed only recently in a pathetic attempt to liven up the atmosphere, or perhaps to distract one’s eyes from the balcony’s handrail, whose whiteness had been tainted with time. Hidden behind the many glass windows were curtains in a pale shade of green with parsley prints. They were very old and unkempt, masked by a sheer layer of dust, which was what made people not want to touch them, though the occasional guest with a sensitive soul could tell that those hideously old-fashioned rags were once valuable assets to somebody who cared.

Walking past the old men of the neighbourhood gathering around for their weekly chess-and-tea session, one might overhear them saying that there had been a time when the hotel was a thriving business and the people who stayed, he clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly, the people who stayed came with shiny leather cases, and were very classy.