It’s the worst feeling in the world to lose a beloved.

Especially one that you know wasn’t really to go.

She held on for days, I knew she did it just to see me and it broke my heart so bad to hear her cries and whimpers the day i left her at the vet.

My poor baby had an auto immune disease and her own body was killing her from inside and there was no cure. She had a chance of survival, though slim there was still a chance.

I came to see her the day before i left for Japan. She tried to eat and stay alive, perhaps hoping that I would finally bring her back. She yelped and whined even louder as i walked away from her cage and out the glass doors. I could still hear her from outside.

Did i break her heart this time?

Was that why she never came back?

I never thought that would be the last time i saw her, I didnt even say goodbye. No hugs and kisses just a scratch below her neck because she wasnt allowed to be brought out of the cage.

Nobody told me the day she passed away.

I just found out yesterday because nobody wanted to ruin my trip.

She died the night i flew to Japan.

Was it because she no longer felt my presence?

Did she think i had abandoned her for real this time?

I can’t help but feel like it was my fault.

I left when she needed me most and now a big part of me wished i never went.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

My baby Chippy,

I’m so sorry baby. I know for the longest time I was never around. I smelled like another dog and saw you for short hours every now and then when i came back home.

Still, you were always there by my side as i slept and followed me everywhere even awakening if i so much as stirred in my sleep. You kept me company and protected me from anything and anyone you remotely thought was a threat.

I can’t recall how old you are anymore or when we first got you.

But i remember the look in your eyes and that giant pink bow i tied around your neck. You were tiny fragile and shy. Who would have thought you would grow up to be my little soldier that believed could protect me from anything in the world despite your little size.

I hope you’re in a better place now where you’re no longer in pain.

I’m sorry for the hurt and loneliness I’ve caused.

But thank you for being my loyal guardian dog.

I love you baby.

And i really really miss you.

Rest In Peace dearest one and have fun up there in heaven.

Because I know for sure that’s where you are.

I love you.

Guess I was wrong. This isn’t the first time I’ve been wrong about you either.

Ah.

Life.

It always happens when we happily go around telling everyone how things are finally improving. Reality picks that as a cue to rear its ugly head and slap you back into situations that reveal the painful truth.

The truth still hurts.

Even after 2 years it hurts.

The same old things.

Same old situations.

And same old attitudes.

Still, I sit here waiting and waiting.

Hoping and hoping.

For something nobody else believes possible.

Why?

From an incidence of a close friend of mine to a continuous stream of movies and DVDs.

Is it really a happy thing for two people who really like each other to not end up together? Even when the feelings never really disappeared despite being years since their last meeting.

Many have said the movies I have seen were not sad at all and I was crazy to have cried as much as I did because in the end, there were always still the memories they both held on to and they skipped the pain of a love that dies after finally being together.

But there goes that constant questions of What Ifs?

And how do both parties really move on with their lives while still never really being able to let go of the other?

Isn’t it unfair to their future partners as well.

Why is that a happy ending?

Maybe I’m naive. Maybe I believe too much in fairytales and love stories but it always, ALWAYS hurts me to see two people who clearly have chemistry not end up being together even for just a little while yet still have their minds and hearts keep rotating back to each other as the years go on by.

I hate seeing things like that happen.

…

So do it.

Do it when they’re right next to you. Tell them how important they really are in your lives because that special moment is fleeting and every second of hesitation spells another opportunity for loss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(I’m sorry this post is so messy and hard to understand. It’s been a while since I last wrote and the cascade of supposedly not so sad but incredibly sad to me movies have really hit a nerve with me and my head needs a little clearing..

This post has also nothing to do with me directly or anybody else I know in particular just a wondering thought as I find being in such a situation to be such a heart wrenching one while many are able to think of how it is actually better that way.

Bah!! Even I cant understand what I’m writing….

SORREH!)

that’s what i am.

.

.

.

I miss you.

Hotel rooms.

I crave them much too often than I should.

And more often than not, I wished I could just check myself in and hide there for a while.

Alone.

But then I wonder, why pay so much money to sink into an unfamiliar bed just to cry myself to sleep?

Fact is, I don’t know.

All I know is, that’s what I wish I could do if I could really afford it.

Hotel rooms.

If they could talk, they would tell you so many different stories. That chair in that corner would have so much to say and those pillows would have a million emotions to share.

What was the previous guest like?

Was he alone? Was he lonely?

Or was he with someone? Someone special or just someone?

What were the thoughts running in every guests head?

Was the previous guest just like me?

Or was he was genuinely happy.

What secrets would the cracking walls whisper and what moving images would the mirrors reflect?

So much goes on.

All that history in the dimly lit rooms I crave.

Even mine becomes a part of that room whos number I will not remember.

Hotel rooms.

I need you more than ever.

“Acceptance”

That’s a strong word to use. Too strong a word and much too highly misunderstood.

It was never acceptance. It was called being emotionally numb. A sorrowful forced kind of acceptance that breaks one’s soul and hurts those around.

I thought I was happy. I just never knew it was at the expense of another in ways I did not wish.

2 years ago I lay in this room, my heart thumping away and my skin tingling in anticipation. I knew what was going to happen. I knew it the moment I sat crying in your arms and I let myself go completely.

Today I am lying in the same room and my heart is thumping as well. Only, this time I’m feeling things you took away that 2 years ago. Only 2 years but sometimes a year can feel so much longer, don’t you agree?

Happy silent 2 years.

It’s time I toughen up.

Most people treasure the weekends. They count the days till friday arrives and dread when it goes away. I dread the start of a new week as well but sadly, I also dread the coming of the weekend.

For many months now, weekends have served nothing but a painful reminder of an innate hate constantly directed at me before escalating into something more. Weekends fly by like the wind for this reason, empty…pointless…and a waste of the week.

I miss my happy cheerful weekends.

I miss not counting down in fear.

And I miss not waking up to a palpitating heartbeat, wary and cautious of everything that will happen in the next 48 hours.

Anger and irritation spreads quicker than a fire. Sadly, it is also much stronger than attempts at sorry and forced smiles.

So now the truth is out.

On weekends, I carry with me a false smile while dragging along a line of emotional baggage that is not really mine.

“Are you happy?”

Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

I’m sitting in my room staring at the gloomy skies thinking of the past 2 years this room has remained almost vacant because of my choice of life.

The familiarity should be of comfort but all I have been doing is sitting on the bed staring at nothing or forcing myself to sleep. The familiar has become unfamiliar and 2 years of being away has confused my body and it’s memories of where home really is.

At this point i have never wanted money as much as i do now because i wish so badly to just drop everything, especially school and just fly somewhere by my lonesome self.

I want to take a long drive to nowhere but again money becomes such a factor. The tols and the petrol, everything is a factor of everything else.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I don’t know if im lonely without you.

But i do know despite it all i still miss you.

And more than anything else.

I hate that about myself.

though all these months i’ve quietly prepared myself, on the 21st month it still hurts to read those words and to see that expression i have always imagined said to me after the 24th month.

some statements hint nothing.

but men are creatures that are unable to see the face value of most things and the seed of assumptions marks its place and roots itself grudgingly like a rock fallen into hardening cement.

occasionally the assumptions link nothing towards the non existing hint but still it damages the fragility of a simple hope and belief system that keeps a normal person continuously running instead of shutting off.

i know the truth.

so why am i still here?

“He doesn’t know you before… I did.”

Untamable.

That’s what he meant.

That’s what they all said.

And that’s what they all laugh about when i smile and shake my head.

In exchange for an affection i had wanted only from you, I gave myself up by will. But in our hearts we leave too much room for expectations that we fail to look at the reality of the whole picture. One way, two way. We are all guilty of such sinful demeanor.

At 10 I flew on my own to Perth to live with a friend for a month not missing the words home even once.

At 11 i took cabs and walked out of the house with only the words I’m going out. Freedom was my everything. Not coming home for days meant absolutely nothing.

At 12, i fell asleep in clubs, bars and friend’s homes with people i meet on random whims because alcohol made me sleep.

Silently, being alone became a part of me as i grew up and casually edged myself away from my safest nests.

Everyone cared. I had more love than i needed from family, friends and strangers alike.

I craved the attention. I needed the company.

But still i drifted into my corner that earned me the title of “the social antisocial.”

At 15, I walked around the neighbourhood, up the hilll taking as long as i could to reach home in heels and skirts so short you would stop and stare even if i was ugly. All this at 4am in the morning. Screams and fights and the screeching of car breaks as i scramble my way out and slam the car doors mid motion through the empty streets that scream solitude at such hours.

Trips to Bali made me happy. Walking along the dirty alleyways hand in hand in the dark and making friends with the dodgiest looking of people. There had been no lines drawn. No rights or wrongs. I did as i willed with him accompanying me along. Watching, keeping me away from harm.

Fast forward.

School trip to Seoul. School trip to Kyoto.

Midnight walks. Empty streets. Quiet carriage trains. Cold breeze. Signboards i couldn’t read.

I never felt safer.

Men who spoke in pauses and men who sometimes drew pictures. Men 3 times my age.

People never understood.

I got along with them too well.

Laughter filled my heart.

Laughter in the unknown place with men who could rape me at any given minute.

They never did.

They gave me advice and told me I was beautiful refusing to believe i was not even legal.

Fast forward more.

Parents suddenly put a collar. My freedom became restricted.

I never understood why.

I never did drugs. I never picked up a cigarette.

They said it was because i was ripe.

Funny.

I hadn’t changed a bit since i hit puberty at 10-11.

I guess people never really noticed.

My downfall then began.

I fail when I am bounded.

Depression came and go much too often.

Fast forward to 2007.

He helped me pick my clothes.

He knew my taste. He let me roam. I always came back. I was his.

Corea Seoul.

I carried his picture in a photoframe.

I missed him so much i hated the couples on the street.

Still i loved this place.

I felt like i never wanted to leave.

First night alone, she directed me home by myself.

I was scared.

For the first time ever I had been scared to walk in a strange place by myself in the dark.

It had been all the restraints put on me. That extraction of freedom from me.

10 days.

I had my own little apartment in a not so busy street.

I grew to remember the joys of lonely walks at the hours people were normally asleep.

I crave that right now.

at 21. My freedom has been restricted.

Things that made me happy now become wrong for reasons of a past that did not even involve me.

I always come back. I always do.

My trips that replenish my soul just keep being taken away from me.

I need this.

There is no way to explain it to you.

It’s not about holidays.

It’s more than just this.

It’s an accumulation of a collar that keeps getting tighter as i age and you being the one to tighten that leash.

Horses run wild.

But I walked into your stables.

I am thinning.

I need you still.

But i am dying without my fresh pastures and free runs across uncharted mappings.

Take a ride with me.

Or else let me run free.

I’ll be right here again.

I never leave.

Not until you push me.