Is it fair?

I want to tell you, I want to tell you so badly, about what I’m feeling now.

I want to tell you the uncertainties that plaque my mind. It’s going to be another week before I head back to the states to see your lovely smiles and hugs. Although, as of right now, you don’t know that 🙂 

I want to tell you, that I was scared – beyond scared – when I first left the states to come back home to Asia. I was beyond scared because I had no support here at all, no safe places, no nothing here. Nothing here but bad memories that plunge me into terrible nightmares and flashbacks. Nothing here but negative feelings that plunge me into a full blown panic attack. I should be happy to leave this place, but somehow now I feel scared to return back to the states. 

Is it fair for me to be so?

Uncertainty overwhelms me as I take a dive down this roller coaster again. What am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to feel? What exactly am I supposed to feel? I used to feel so cramped up being with my family, suffocated and limited. But now that I’ll be leaving them soon, what am I supposed to feel? I feel like I don’t want them to leave. I feel like I don’t want to leave them. Again, I’m caught in between the sides of me. 

Don’t get me wrong, I still get no support here, I still have no safe place here. But somehow I feel scared of going back to the place which has all my supports in it…

Again?

There’s a rain that’ll never stop falling.

Once bitten, twice shy  never shy.

What do I do now?

I can’t think. 

You disgust me.

Tendencies of the old

It’s not going to kill me. 5 tablets is far from killing me. It’s the thought that scares me.

What if one day I’ll down 12 tablets?

What if one day I decide one cut is enough, but that cut goes in a millimetre too deep?

 

 

 

The thoughts are back.

The voices are back.

The tears are back.

This time, I’m not sure how to stop it.

Fuck You.

YOU FAGGOT FAGGOT FAGGOT ASSHOLE! 

WHY THE HELL DID YOU EVEN ENTER MY LIFE.

I WAS PERFECTLY HAPPY BEFORE YOU CAME. WHY THE FUCK DID YOU EVEN COME INTO MY FUCKING LIFE. 

YOU JERK! YOU FUCKED UP IDIOT! YOU PIECE OF WORTHLESS ASS!

I can’t imagine a life in which you were never in it, because I can’t see the light to this. The light is fading. YOU FUCKING JERK!

GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY MIND! GET OUT OF MY MEMORIES! GET THE FUCK OUT!

my fault.

I’m sorry for having depression.

I didn’t want it.

Revisiting the Past

This was from 2nd August 2012

I’m not in the states anymore, I’m back in Singapore for my summer break. And during my stay here, I decided to go through some old books. I guess I wasn’t prepared to go through it all again even though I thought I was ready.

2012 was before treatment. It was before I moved, it was before I acknowledged that depression was real and not just an excuse. 

The anguish in the words, the pain in the letters, the denial. It was as if I was reliving everything. Emotions that I used to feel ever so strongly crushed back and sat heavily on my heart. The ugly monster who was napping now raised its ugly head and roared into my ears. 

Maybe I wasn’t ready to come home. To face everything again. I slowly feel myself regressing and it’s been so hard to stay above the water. Wilson isn’t here, my support group isn’t here. And slowly, I find myself reaching out to that blade (I haven’t done it tho). I’m afraid I might. All it takes is just one push. 

 

 

Memories of a Distant Past

Ghosts.

Ghosts of the past.

Ambiguity.

Every one of them walk with a button on their faces: a replay button. Every time my eyes brush across their faces, it inevitably plays back vivid memories. Colors, smells and emotions. Each one more suffocating than the last. Waves upon waves of memories flood through me and not many are joyful. The hot tears that i swallow back down, the screams I suppress inside.

A stranger in a familiar place.

A foreigner.

An alien.

An intruder.

They seemed so focused on their rituals, I was nothing but an intruder in a comfortable life. Being in a lpace that used to be called “home” yet yearning to get away from it.

Ghosts.

Ghosts of the past.

Friends now strangers. Shadows. Blurry faces and shady colors drained of their vibrance and vigor. The once bright crimson turned into a dull, throbbing grey. The voices that once brought smiles through the tears now sound like cacophoneous and dissonant ramblings that are too loud for comfort. Like a cup of warm, tranquil tea that was left out to freeze in the blizzard of the night, their presence leave nothing but a chill which haunts the soul after everyone else leaves.