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?

“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?

Some become mixed up with dreams. Dreams that depict a reality or so we think that’s what it is.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The strong scent of incense in the temple pavilion wafts through my memory filters as if it were just yesterday i lay cross legged on the floor, surrounded by people decades older than i was. The flickering shadows casted by the hundreds of red candles placed all around kept a warm glow going in the golden room that was not really a room. There seemed to be too many openings, too many exits out of the place. This was necessary of course, there was no air conditioning; only the breeze that snaked it’s way into the place acting as a cooling system that worked maybe a little too well. It was hard for someone as young as me to stay awake in such conditions, i lapsed into phases of semi consciousness and sleep over the hours that we spent sitting on the wooden floor.

It was a love hate relationship with that temple i now no longer remember. Or maybe i never even knew it’s name or the exact location of the place.

The only clue i had was these cat dolls i would constantly bring back everytime we made a visit there or when my dad went and left me at home.

Over the years these cat toys disappeared from my life for reasons i cannot recall and they never made an appearance again until today. The images flashing in my head are too vivid to have been dreams.

I know that place. I know the hours i spent there and how hard it had been not to cry and wail in the circumstances of meditation at such a young age. The cats had been the official 1995 mascot of the Chiang Mai sea games. They were my best friends for the longest of time and i had an indirect obsession with them. Why did i let them disappear from sight? Where did they go? Did i not even keep a single one? This idea seems almost absurd. I love my dolls. I get too attached to things to throw them out. So why out of the multitude of other toys i had, was my Chiang Mai cats missing? I had at least 3 of them of various different sizes and materials. Is there something about that phase in my life that i was meant to forget?

But right now, at this moment; I can recall the smell and the sight almost too realistically.

Those red candles symbolised something to me. Although i do not know what but their lights had served as some sort of constant reminder of the place.

If i close my eyes and allow myself to calm enough, i can hear the chanting of the monks and the rustling of the bells. The soothing sing song way they said their Sanskrit behaved like a lullaby to me. I remember occasionally we would repeat some of these chants. I often wondered why i had such a strange affinity to those buddhist Sanskrit chants i collected from random times but it never once occurred to me that it was because of that temple and my repeated dreams of the place.

My final memory of that temple is the buckets of cold water.

The reason i hated the place.

I hate the cold and i hated how the monks would drench me in the cold water that was meant to be holy.

Yet i allowed it.

I liked how the little pinkish red candle wax floated in the water and how the water smelt. I think i even enjoyed drinking it.

I was fascinated when the wax droplets got themselves lodged in my hair and i would laugh picking them out and then collecting them to see what shapes they made out. My mother would tell me to throw them away but i always shoved them in my pockets and brought them back to the hotel with me.

I would smell like the incense they used for days there after.

It’s been well over 10 years.

I wish to stand in that pavilion again. Even if it’s just for a while.

The memories of the place are too haunting to forget.

*~*~*~*~*~*

This year, i kept my dates open to return to Chiang Mai after all those years; sacrificing my yearly 2-4 week trips i make to get away from here. Chiang Mai had never once appeared in my consciousnesses as a holiday destination but for some reason this year it appeared. My 21st.

It may be superstition or just plain coincidence but for a hidden memory to relapse after so many years just strikes me as a little strange.

21st. Chiang Mai. Reiki. Yoga. Meditation.

.

.

.

The hotel has been paid for.

Only, it may not be happening anymore.

And i wished you would stop doing this to me year after year where anticipation builds up only to be slapped back with false hopes and disappointments.

Some wishes retracted inflict a lot more damage than others.

This is one of them.

Am i happy?

What constitutes being happy?

Not being sad?

Not being upset?

Then yes, i am happy.

But happiness is such a fragile gift. It comes and goes like the wind and it’s impact shifts like the tides of the sea. There is nothing constant about it. It is merely a breath of fresh air every once in a while in this messy world we have come to live in.

It’s almost like the irritating question of is he/she the one?

Sometimes we know but sometimes we really just don’t. Or perhaps we think we know but in fact we know nothing.

Are we happy with life right now? Are we in the place that we are? With the people that we are with?

At the end of the day, do we really know?

Is it not in truth human nature to never fully be satisfied? Must we not need to reach enlightenment and transcend to our highest point of satisfaction before we discover the truth about how truly happy we really are?

But how many people actually manage to reach that point?

So what is happiness really and how much of it is enough to want it to be in that place instead of being in a constant search for something else?

No.

No, i dont know if im happy.

I dont know what i want or where i want to be.

There are too many conflicting emotions, too many different statements and actions.

But no, I dont think i am happy.

So what now?

What if this is just a fleeting moment of insecurities and confusion?

What happened to that strong girl i saw a glimpse of so many years ago?

I need her now.

I can’t do this alone anymore.

My walls are crumbling.

They are only mere specs of sand left moulded together in this compact space that is now slowly and surely disintegrating.

…

I received a strange message yesterday. It was given weeks ago but only discovered recently.

A message from someone almost part psychic.

It’s almost superstitious and strange but in it she said “do not be selfish on thyself..”

But i no longer have the capacity to love myself enough for this.

I am drained.

My body’s life energy is drained so much that even outsiders come and try to console me when i have a smile on my face.

Am i that transparent?

Or are these people just too damn good?

….

Where is my happiness now?

At first it was a melancholic post.

Or at least it was meant to be a melancholic post.

But before i even started writing, these demons come back haunting.

I am a time bomb ticking.

And my sadness is now disgust.

And this is when the demons invade me further.

And i want to gorge the eyes out of the nearest person i can find, stare straight into them as i dig my fingers into their sockets.

This is what anger turns me into.

I am merciless.

I am a monster.

You make me that monster.

I dont know why but this video is causing a lot of racist arguments instead of the point. seriously ppl??

hey,

i get it. maybe the dog was harmful maybe it wasn’t and i know it’s for the safety of the neighbourhood but what i don’t get is how they couldn’t have dealt with it in a better way =/

perhaps a little more educations on handling the matter like tranquilizing the poor fella and handing it to more experienced ppl to put it down or to send it to a shelter to see the dog’s temperament to try and give it another chance instead.

WHY is the video instead causing ppl to argue against one another about being of a different race or a hypocrite or things like that.

sigh.

and i cant help but wonder. if that dog was a damn poodle, would this video be getting more united awareness instead..

miehh

*~*~*~*~*~*

At some point, I’ve pretty much given up on the whole animal cruelty stint.

A big part of me has died so many times that i no longer have much reaction anymore in compared to how i used to react despite that pounding agitation and the usual sting of tears.

But… this being done legally in Malaysia despite all the hoohaa that was created over the whole poodle and cat issue and all the press media, i can’t help but want to blog about this and ask why isn’t anything being done about situations like this?

Hey i get it that some stray dogs really need to be dealt with but isn’t doing it this way a little too much?

What really broke my heart was what the person who took this video said in his description,

“my 3 years old daughter asked me, what are they doing? what am i to answer her??”

Yeah, what do you answer her?

Actually,

What do you answer anyone who even understands the meaning of humanity?