Tag Archives: thoughts

up high.

Each climb requires a descend,
but all I desire is to fly,
wasting away high up in the sky.

dripping down melancholy
as I soar through clouds

embracing false evolutionary instinct
as the wind pummels against my eyes.

Even with the agony of sleet
breathlessness
rain-soaked skin

I’d rather never land
and instead keep drifting through
these stratocumulus clouds.

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Escapade bursts

Been having more nightmares recently. The types that linger even though you’re dog tired daily and forget important details of your everyday waking life regularly.

1) He was taping girls, 2 of which were literally doll sized. 1 was a young adult. They started spilling vomit from their vaginas after he was finished and we went down on them. The older lady tried to push him away, shocked and repulsed but he pushed on. She eventually gave in and engaged in the fellatio as well. 

2) I will update this when I remember. A little woozy right now

3) I have been telling myself that I deserve to be treated wonderfully by my future partner. Went to bed with drowsy fever medicine during the afternoon. 

I told my friend that I deserve to be treated well. He leaned over, hand on the back of my neck to pull me in to kiss me. I pushed him away. He told me, “For someone who has so many criterias, you should have lower standards.”

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Loneliness

What is this 

Running alcohol

Of emptiness 

In between my lungs and at the centre of my lower spine.

Coldness appears like the chill unexpected at 4am after a night of tossing in humid Asia.

Mental tears forming and pooling

Empty eyes.

Fear, burrowing, curling. 

Slightest needles of agonising icy spears jabbing incessantly behind and above the breasts

Breathing getting tougher as nostrils seem to tighten and air gets sweeter.

Shrapnel sweetness of air, loneliness pains, clenched muscles in the calves and butt.
Loneliness beyond romantic and platonic friends and partners.

Loneliness in this universe, always expanding never ceasing to stop or slow down and each connection growing steadily further.
God is infinite. Is there and mind proportionate stretch of me between Him as the universe speeds on by?

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Mind state.

Desperate for love

Dejection from rejection

Agony from disdain

Sadness with solitude.

People pleasing, pleasure pursuit.

Addiction and impulsiveness.

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Understanding my fear of abandonment

Let’s break it down.

Fear of abandonment.
Afraid to be left behind, to be left alone, to be alone.
To be ignored.
Fear of neglect, silence, disregard.

Fear of a lack of care and concern.
Fear that I am unloved and unwanted.
Fear that I am not worth

attention
attraction
affection

Panic sets in with a fog of fury,
rage and discontent,
outrage and offence,
disbelief and shock.

Worry and anxiety
leading to a need for control
to “get them back”

win them back

their attention and attraction back
putting me once again at number one,
the only one,
nothing should precede me and what I mean to them.

Clingy, desperate, eager to please
yes yes yes to everything just to get a positive response,
to know I am wanted and desired again.
With that, I am therefore kept.

I won’t be alone and tossed aside and made worthless,
useless,
not worth time and effort or love.

Nothing else matters but them behaving as I wish them to be,
or even just how they were talking to me a couple minutes ago.
Even if I was the reason for the change in tone

because I suggested we slow things down
and they just leave me because I don’t want them

and they oblige instead of disagreeing and fighting for me

if they Do fight for me, they appear clingy and I get disgusted.

Ironic.

But when I do it, it’s the only thing that I can do. I can’t focus on anything else but trying to “get them back” and get things back to how they were, to being wanted and loved, to having them text me.

I don’t care that it’s 2am now compared to the 7pm then. That they have work tomorrow or are busy right now, even if they are showering. If they aren’t replying, that means they don’t want me anymore and they might even hate me and are going to ignore me and give me the silent treatment and pretend I do not exist.

 

 

My mom gives me the silent treatment and pretends I don’t exist when she’s angry at me.

When I do something wrong, my parents tell me what a disappointment I am, that their years of bringing me up was for nothing because I ended up like this. It was a waste of their time and effort raising me up, useless to have done anything to have loved me.

They said cruel things like I am the worst child, that I am nothing if my mother dies, that they won’t care if I live or die and I can go and die for all they care.

When they get angry at me, I feel like the worst, cruelest human being on earth, that I don’t deserve to have lived and I am evil. Ungrateful, evil, worthless, not worth being looked at or talked to, mentioned by name or acknowledged as a living being. I become nothing. Ranted about in the third person behind closed doors but with loud petty voice who intend for me to hear everything, yet not worth the effort nor for my existence to be acknowledged by even talking about me in front of me and having me be seen.

 

I would watch as they argued and my dad would blame my mom saying she was at fault for everything, while she told him how useless he was.

I listened and took it in too, because it would be used on me too, the same words. Taught not to get a man like my father, here are all the things NOT to get in a man. Anyone who looked at me and called me beautiful and took what I told them, repackaged and gave it back to me, paid me a smidge of attention, was worth my world. Sad.

I accepted these guys though I knew they weren’t good people or healthy for me because I accepted that my worth was that of being second choice. Never first. That’s why all the married men. Justifying with open marriages is but a weak way to assert my false self-worth to stubborn ol’ me. That’s why till now, part of me thinks that my exes’ breaking up with me because I wasn’t worth being the only one when he was still so young, and not talking to me for a whole week (radio silences) because studies > talking to me, which he felt were tedious like updating his life to a jail warden, are somehow justified.

Why should I be afraid to have them not text back or initiate conversations, to have other people in their lives that aren’t me, or not prioritize me over every and anything. That’s so needy. So dependent. I am worth so so much more.

It’s just not apparent enough to myself just how much I’m worth though.

 

Gotta fix the two of them. Self-worth tied to fear of abandonment, and I have to work on them or I will fall forever into this tar pit of murky, cloying desperation and fear, neediness and full-blown panic attacks, extreme behaviours and controlling habits.

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An Argument for Being Fat

I am fat.

Now some of you might call me curvy, and others might call me plump. The Mandarin speaking folk would call me 丰富 or abundant in English.

But I know my weight vs height and I know from the clothes that are too tight. I am fat. And while it’s not good for my health, it’s done wonders for my esteem.

Back when I lost a ton of weight and could fit tight clothes, my outward fit bod was but a vessel for my insecurities and self hatred to manifest. My exercise and makeup and clothing did not belong to me, but to the desire for male attention. My body, free from cellulite, was not free from the shackles of disrespect for myself. 

I gave myself to boys and men, gave my heart and mind to any who wanted a toy. I was a prey but a cruel predator as well, sex driven, or rather sex manipulative. All I wanted was to be loved, because I needed to not be unloved. I was hurt and I hurt. The cycle continued.

But then, came 2016. I made mistakes still up to the middle of the year where the weight started to pile on as the pressures of joblessness coupled with staying at home daily took over. After that, an intense 3 months of work that went from chronic diarrhea to binging for relief. 

Now I stand heavy. But confident. I worked for money but left with experience. Working world experience. Skills acquired from necessity and desperation. From responsibilities.

I knew my worth as a worker. Somehow that led to realisations about my worth as a person. As a woman. As me.

Boys and men alike were cast aside when they knew only of games and touch. No longer did I spare a second nor a thought on frivolous attention when my own were occupied with the career ladder. I moved on to a wider view on life, and moved away from childish perspectives on self love.

But what has this got to do with being fat, you say? Well I allowed myself to grow fat because I was moving away from seeing my body as the first point of notice for men. I allowed myself to expand because I indulged my cravings and tastebuds for me, and no one else. I gave myself permission to be lazy because I acknowledged that this body and its health is my own, not for the pleasure of others.

And perhaps now that I’m more self aware and appreciative, I will start to get back in shape and watch my health. But because I am fat and still love myself and my body with all its creases and lumps and stretch marks and bulges, when I am fit and trim and healthy and strong, I will love myself just as much. 

The attention of others will no longer factor in this strictly confidential relationship between myself and I.

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Before and Now

Things are louder now.

Brighter. 

My ears hurt more; winces are common and confrontations make me curl up.

But the head is occasionally quiet, the screaming at the back no longer around. She must have moved on.

Back then, the emotions are greater, stronger, filling me up like nuclear explosions. Toxic yet captivating. It’s muted now.

Back then I felt more, touched more, connected and fell more. Believed more. There’s the cynic now, squinting away at the brightness of the present.

It was an explosion back then, loud and always expanding, never ending reaches and I felt reckless with how far my emotions spread. Now I see the barriers, I feel the control and the careful, logical constrains. 

Respond, not react.

But am I still me?

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Anxiety 

Jumping between sweet nostalgia and fear lumping in the throat. Panic at the thought of meeting up and connecting, talking and sharing, fear and inability to breathe, constricted throat, wife awake tight lungs.

Sadness, salty singular drops down one cheek and tiny cold winds spreading across the chest before they’re sacked back in or blown away

by the suffocating paralysing fear of connecting and communicating and potentially reconnecting. 

Hunched shoulders making the body small tiny invulnerable protected and hidden 

The fear is big and swallowing me whole starting from the blocked throat tempting me to drag in deep puffs of oxygen and revive the cruel paradox of survival instincts, reaching throughout my belly and soles leaving them knotted and cold, that chill that can not be touched between the layer of atoms preventing us from truly touching anything, forever apart and forbidden true contact with everything for all we feel is the repelling of atoms against ours so the love and touch we draw our comfort from is false. A lie. We are only feeling their repulsion their rejection.

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No more. Moving on

I’m tired of downward spirals.

Mental health, physical health and emotional health will only get better from here on. Mistakes made owned up to, laziness acknowledged and just a whole lot more personal responsibility taken for the shit I do. 

That includes accepting the things I did not do and to love myself consistently, beyond mistake made and mistakes done to me. 

The planets are aligned to allow for self-realisation. All around me couples are ending their old commitments, as are people to themselves. They’re looking out for their own hearts, souls and future by sifting through the past.

I sifted through mine and found my heart still broken, found that behind the anger and hurt and bitterness was the young, innocent, fragile girl broken by the attention her body and energy attracted, broken by separating heart and body, love and sex. The one person she started to give her heart to smashed it to smithereens. He was unavailable and she took it, unable to believe that she could be wanted. She believed she was wanted and dreamed big until he revealed the lies he told through shared dreams and hopes and love.

That girl made an appearance again today when she thought of the boy she rejected for her first boyfriend, the one who she met at a time in her life when she was most detached from her heart, but told him she felt detached from him. The boy who loved so quickly she couldn’t accept it because she couldn’t love herself. And then she learnt that she could, but lost it again when she found out 8 months with her first love was all a lie.

If you’re reading this, Bug, I hope you know how sorry I am for hurting you. And I hope I’ll be able to say I’m sorry for what you had to experience rather than the apology I gave long ago that was simply a pity-party. 

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I am a woman

I am a woman.
I bleed once a month, for typically 7 to 10 days.
I crave food, chips, carbs and sleep the week before,
my mood dips and I cry while laughing at everything.

I am a woman.
I have hair on my legs, under my arm,
on my arm, on my crotch,
between my breasts,
under my belly button.

I am a woman.
I am blessed with the privilege of creating a child in my womb.
I won’t be judged for liking feminine clothes.
I can like men without being labelled “unnatural”.

I am a human.
I am able to feel a plethora of emotions and
I am also able to feel nothing at all.
I am a female human.
I am a woman.

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