Saturday, October 12, 2013

Blurt log

Bound by death and a hard place.

You know those times when a word, or phrase, gets stuck in your mind? Like, stuck to the point of auto-self-repetition? That's the phrase that's been coming to me. Over, and over, again. In my silence. In randomness. I don't know why.


Dear diary,

This portion is about the person. You know, that person. I feel like I'm holding my breath underwater so as long as it so happens that we don't talk. Sometimes it goes for days, sometimes for months. I wish I'd shut about it all. But I can't – because I don't want to. I don't know what's right. And "cheers to not knowing what's right, anymore."

She's a nice person. The definition of that.

And a great teacher.

I wish I'd stop hurting her by talking over and over. Am I being selfish? I guess so. How can I have clarity and be so confused at the same time?

Reminder: I have to watch that episode. The fifth.


I used to be on Facebook. As overactive as a child on a sugar-rush who has just discovered the joys of drumming on household objects. On my wall, there are pictures – memories reminiscent of the recent past that seems long gone. Pictures with people and the places I went to with them. All smiles. And one with her. How I adored her. My friend told me what I've observed as well – she's gone a little low following the breakup that the news haven't failed to cover. But she's a strong person. Just like her. 

Someone told me, lashing out in anger, that I pay more attention to the people whom I don't matter to. Maybe she doesn't remember me. But I know the others in the pictures do. They called me today.

Shouldn't detachment have a different feeling than this?


I'm really not a negative person. I can turn lots of things into song. It makes me happy to see that made you smile, whatever it was. I wish some things had taken a different turn.

How long am I going to keep wishing that had happened? I need to change everything. Top to bottom. Lose everything and start again.


I met some of my friends today. They offered good advice. They told me to not be sad about whatever it is I find myself stuck in, and proceed further. As I write this, I am reminded of Winston Churchill's words: "If you're going through hell, keep going."

Thing is, as I told them, too much of my time is being stolen. Some of it in me being fed up about the lack of time I manage to siphon out. It has to do with work. It has to do with transportation. It has to do with things. I turn out at wit's end. I need time to fix things. I just..

Bah. Excuses. All. 


Sometimes I wonder what good quality humor my potential girlfriend is missing out on. Seriously, woman, these are impromptu moments you need to be a part of. Granted, you exist, you just don't exist yet – or as Michael Bublé would put it – "I just haven't met you yet."

Or maybe I have.

It's just been a long time since I've heard a song properly. 


This post is beginning to get too long. My self-inflicted purgatory is beginning to show inconsistencies. I don't know why I'm posting this. I think it originated from me wanting to tell you things, but backing out because I don't want to be a bother. 

Yet, here I am – random spurts of information. 


Bound by death and a hard place.

It's just too strange, and sad a thing to come up with. 

Strange. That reminds me. I'm not a strange man, and I don't like to do strange things. Well, maybe I do. But if you meant it with a negative connotation, that's just not me. 


Bound by death and a hard place.

No comments:

Post a Comment