It's all your fault

I have never seen someone so broken, so much hatred, resentment and anger. I wasn't sad. I was truly heartbroken.


I guess I know what it is like to be lost. I remember when I was in Beijing, I had just quit my job and the only thing I had in front of me was a plate of blow and a fridge full of beer. I did not leave my apartment for a week. 

It's hard to accept that the best you can do is to do nothing at all. You want to hold on and fix what is broken. It is almost impossible for me to look at N and say you are a lost cause and I should go because for some reason, I care for him and yes, I do love him.

I remember standing there and just looking at him. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion over and over. The look in his eyes and I knew I lost him. The man I fell in love with was gone. I was shaking. I was devastated. I felt helpless and useless. I wanted to cut myself so I could tell him I know the pain and I am here, I wanted to drink because I didn't want to believe this was happening.

Break up without tequila

“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us.”

Remaining sober is just as bad as a break up to me. I always either relied on one or another. Boyfriend or alcohol. Boyfriend and alcohol.

Men came and left, they fell in love with me as fast as they fell out of it. For many years, I have allowed multiple people who had no love for me to stay in my heart rent free. I have however managed to stay the way I am.

I am optimistic, I am dying to love, I am the wide eyed girl you meet at the bus stop who believes in true love and non-fat butter croissants. Today, I got scared. I can lose everything but this. I cannot lose my desire to love or I will lose myself.

Sometimes there is no best way to say good bye I learned. You just have to go. Run far and wide. Don't look back. Don't stop.

Go go go go my child. What yours will find its way if not let it be.

My tragic love story

The only other I ever loved more than myself was a stiff drink.

Just the other day, my shrink had asked me to picture a happy safe place. All I could think of was me on a bar stool, in a dimly lit English bar decorated in the colors of faded red and moldy green hues and standing magnificently before me would be a vodka tonic. My blanket of warmth, my best friend, my lover.

Every single time I tried to bid farewell, I would feel like I never gave it a proper good bye. I find myself at yet another bar, giving it one eulogy after another only to have the bar staff make sure it never truly died. I may stumble home with my "take away" wine and promise myself and anyone willing to listen that.. Tomorrow is another day, another good bye, another try.

Am I really an alcoholic?

I had my first drink when I was 14. I remember the taste of overwhelming lime concentrate that over powered the cheap vodka. Over the years, I would discover a whole new world. So many drinks and not enough weekends. My curiosity to drink turned into a deadly silent compulsion.

It soon became a love/hate affair, the more I tried to stay away the more I was drawn to it. I had both celebrated joyous occasions and my lowest points tied to it. Like an abusive relationship, the more hurt it inflicted, the more I craved it and I kept running back. Quickly enough, the bad outweighed the good. It was making its way into every aspect of my life and demanding to take over.

When I drank, the world became a better place. It is almost as if the world wars never happened. Care bears truly exist and I am happy. I feel trapped in a blurry bubble of joy, desperately trying to maintain balance. Too little and the buzz may wear off, too much and I end up sad about something stupid. The endless chase of "the perfect median" would keep my drinking habit alive for years and steer me further and further away from everything else and quite frankly, the possibility of perfect.

Welcome 2012

A brief recap of what happened in 2011.

I fell in love with a man and moved in with him shortly after. We had a barbeque on our balcony and buddah paintings I collected from my various Asian travels we hung around the apartment. Then we fought and fought some more. I started playing bowling with the empty wine bottles I had collected. I tried to leap out the balcony one night. I finally decided to end it in a less messy way by doing shots of vodka and popping sleeping pills with each. I passed out at the 27th. I woke up with bags of my belongings next to me at the hospital. He had left me in the most brutal way possible.

Angry, alcohol deprived me is not to be fucked with. I went back to "our" apartment and tried to stab him. I didn't manage to stab him even though I distinctly remember pulling two knives. Oh well.

Briefly homeless, I had spent weekends at friends, week nights at relatives and finally moving back home with my parents. The idea didn't sit well with me so I trolled Craiglist for a room mate. I finally decided that it was easier giving losers on dating websites an impression I might fall in love with them. I moved into someone I met off the website's spare room shortly after.

My drinking got progressively worst. I had started chopping up my prescription medication and snorting them because happy dust is unavailable in this city then I would be sad when there was no rush and drank some more. This was also when I met N. (This deserves a story on its own)

One night I decided that I was going to end it (again). I had 3 drinks at a bar downstairs, feeling more depressed with each drink, I think the decision to end my life was a brilliant one. I found myself sitting in that spare room feeling empty. I opened the window and looked down. 24 floors down. Fuck this. I poured myself another drink. Looks like we are back to shots and pills. The last thing I remembered was finishing possibly all alcohol in the apartment and everything I could find that resembled a pill in any shape or form. I passed out at the 40th.

N saved me.

I was in a coma for 2 days. Doctors say I was "inches from death". My liver was going to fail on me. I remember being slightly amused that I was put in an adult diaper. I also had a pee bag. My sister said N stroked my hair while was in the ICU. 

Fast forward to 2012.

I am 8 days sober. I am attending AA meetings. I no longer hate my shrink. I haven't tried to kill myself or anyone yet.

I think this year might be a better year. 

Happy 2011

Being me, this post is 24 days late.

2011 started off well, my cat and I moved in with the BF, we also became official on Facebook, I still don't have a job and I'm one apron away from the ideal stepford wife clique.

I decided to restart my blog and start writing again because I am bored. at. home. pretending. to. not. be. bored. and of course, my love for writing.

2010 was to me one of those years you would never tell your kids about or you would only tell them if they are about to go to jail and you use it as a reference to say "Mummy knows best, you should have listened."

Many people (my family mostly) are against me writing stories about my life or what I have done but because I know no shame, I don't see a point why not. I am a changed person now. Please re-read paragraph 1, the apron bit.

Before you continue reading this,

You must understand

I have bipolar.

I am also a recovering addict.

I have also been sober for 18 hours now. 12 of which I spent asleep.

Welcome to my life.

Healthy?

I have massive issues with my weight. Anyone who tells me I look healthy should fuck off. I don't feel healthy, I feel bloated, ugly and disgusted with myself.

Current weight: 58
Ideal weight: 45

I remember when I was 63 and everyone said I looked fine and bubbly, skinny girls aren't boring, clothes hang off them well, they look fit. Healthy = fat. Jesus. You really think I buy that crap?

Because of my medication, my metabolism rate has gone mental on me. Be happy and fat or skinny and depressed? I'll pick the latter any day.

Palm me

Today I had my palms read.

I will meet The One 3-4 years from now and have 4-5 children eventually.

People often ask my why I'm in a rush. I'm 20 going on 21, I just finished college, I've got the whole world ahead of me. I'll tell you why. There are days before I go to sleep, I wish I was that girl who is 20 going on 21, just finished college, got the whole world ahead of her.

I wish I wasn't that girl that ran away from the loony bin and only had to be brought back a couple of years later with various addictions because she had to. I wish I wasn't that girl that had spent all week in Vegas with my phone off just so she could "have fun with the girls" but in fact gambled away her plane ticket money to New York. I wish I wasn't that girl who had an affair with her gay meth addict room mate. I wish I wasn't that girl her mother checked into a rehabilitation center on Father's Day. I wish I wasn't that girl that had to take a year off because she has to attend AA meetings or meeting with her psychologist and psychiatrist every week.

When you tell this to someone, life isn't like the movies. Boy hears sad story, boy tears up and boy accept girl for who she is. Real life, boy sees girl as a liability and boy fucks off. True story.

So will I really meet The One 3-4 years from now and have 4-5 children eventually?

boys and beaches

Today I bumped into a boy that I had been ignoring for the past 3 years. I don't remember why I stopped liking him or why we stopped going out but what I do remember is, when I used to door bitch at this by guestlist only club, he arrived with 2 other friends and I went like 'You in, you in and you not' and he remembers that too. Why was I such a bitch to him? I have absolutely no clue now. The shit you don't remember 3 years back. Hmm.

He comes up to me while I was standing on the steps watching flame throwers endanger lives of unsuspecting patrons and half drunk couples making out. 'Hey, how have you been?' One hand on my shoulder, leans in and kisses me on my cheek. Hang on one second buddy, when did I stop ignoring you? I looked at him. I just looked at him and he says 'Are you still doing this?' For a short period of time sometime this year we worked at the same building and I would see him during my lunch breaks, smoke breaks or just passing each other down the stairs or elevator rides and it got to the point where I was like, is fate taking a shit on me or what? But anyhow, we started chatting because I'm a forgiving person and that's what forgiving people do.

He tells me it's his birthday tomorrow, I tell him happy birthday, he thanks me and says I have grown up. These days it's really mature to wish people happy birthday it seems. We took a walk along the beach, he offers to take me out to dinner this week and politely decline. He asks me why and I reply that I have a lot of food in my fridge right now so maybe next time. I tell him my birthday is sometime this month and he offers to take me out to dinner again, 'not on your birthday of course, that wouldn't be in my place.. Or is it?'. No it isn't. And I let that thought wonder out loud.

You got prawn-ed

Today I went for a dinner interview.

Due to a big mess up in times with the recruiter and my supposed future employer and pouring rain, I was nearly 3 hours late for my interview.

"You are the epitome of arrogance. You waltz in here, 3 hours late, order yourself a beer and have the audacity to face the other way and check out the entire bar. " Future boss takes a sip of his drink. "When can you start?"

Done and done. We sealed the deal. I got the job. He briefed me on the recent projects, penciled me into a lunch meeting he has with one of his clients coming Monday.

After 22 kamikaze shots and 15 Heinekens, his business partner and my friend who had later joined us for a mini celebration were forced to go get "Indian stuff to eat" because "he is English and that's what English people do after drinking."

Half past ten, we sat around dishes of alogobi and nans and resumed our conversation on the projects. I was aboslutely psyched that he was intending to let me handle the up coming music festival, I didn't see that coming ! I mean it's huge! What I also didn't see coming was that he decided that mid way through the conversation, he decides to throw a prawn at me. Maybe English people do that when they are drunk, go to indian restuatants and call all the waitstaff muthu and throw prawns at each other but whatever it is,

HE THREW A FUCKING PRAWN AT ME.

There it was, the prawn, glistering in slimy green curry sitting on my lap. He proceeded to tell me, "You are a star, continue shining bright... cause if you don't.. I'll fire you." All this being said, with the bloody prawn sitting there, almost greening-ly mockingly in the bright contrast of my newly bought black pencil skirt.

What the fuck?

Oliver

It was a Monday night. I was new in town, I just got my nails done, looked through the lonely planet... Pretty good reviews of the bar right next to where my apartment was, why not?

So there I was, in my tracksuit... having an apple martini. First of all, I don't know anyone in this city. Secondly, I don't really care what people who hang out at bars on a Monday night think about me.

The bartender took pity on me (I think), she bought me 2 drinks after I took forever trying to figure out the exchange rate. I guess wearing a pull over from a crap university along with horrible calculating skills makes you look like a poor little thing but if this is what gets me free drinks, I'm wearing this every time I leave the house.

2 am. I'm still sitting by the bar alone. They turn on the lights, they start playing fuck off songs and then one particular song came up and I find myself singing to it and I wasn't the only one.... I look to my right and there he was, right at end of the bar.

Oli and I had such a tempestuous relationship, it would have made a roller coaster look like a joke. We'll fight for 2 days, not speak to each other for a week and then spend the whole weekend after naked under the sheets. We had absolutely no trust in each other. He stole my number of his then bi-sexual girlfriend's phone who had been "on to me" that same night. I didn't see it as that, I mean someone asking you to "hang out" and go "shopping" isn't exactly an invitation to munch on her carpet or is it? Conveniently "dumps" her and by that I mean don't pick up her calls and lead her to believing he had gone to Germany for some rather urgent business and changes the locks on her by our 3rd date, you could see why we couldn't possibly work this. I woke up on him checking my emails by the 6th date. I had his ex-girlfriend/semi-girlfriend or whatever you call her crying outside my door one night ... and this was when I pulled the plug and called my landlord to move the fuck out of there.

Towards the end, he came by my new apartment (making him promise he kept my address a secret from his psycho girl) with a bottle of vodka. We both knew it had to end somehow. We looked at each other and all we could say was.. What really went wrong?

The both of us just desperately trying to find that very feeling that we had, the "special" connection we felt the first time we met... or with that other special someone.. We both fell in deeply in love once. Not with each other or the partners we were with.. but some one from the past and trying to re-visit that was harder then we thought and when that didn't work, we drank ourselves into believing that it did.

We had so much baggage of our own, I think deep down, we both knew we were using each other as an excuse to not face up. It was easy to just sing to that same song, get completely fucked out of our heads. Did we really want to do this or were we just finding that other someone that left us a long time ago in each other?

I remember how he would always use whisper to me "If you don't sleep, its easier to wake up." He would stroke my hair and tell me this over and over again as I desperately try to sleep. I finally knew what he meant on that last night.

We still talk now. It's quite obviously we make much better friends then lovers. He still makes fun of what I was wearing the first night he met me. All in all, I'm glad I made the decision that night... Well, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't live a lie that I myself can't keep up with.

I have decided that as of today, I shall no long be dwelling in sadness but rather going out and just getting drunk. I came to this conclusion after I met an Italian stripper.



Words fail me so I just eye-fucked the shit out of him while he was thrusting his hips like no other, he made me want to fish dollar bills out of my purse. My friend introduces us and he asks me "Are you looking for a boyfriend?" At that time, my thoughts were stuck on the various things I have been planning to do to him in my head. I looked at him and said, "No.. no..." (What I actually meant to say was, those hips....... need to meet mine)

Do you love me? Do you mean what you say?

Do you know how it feels like when you just know it's never going to be but somehow.. you have that tiny bit of you that wants to believe.

I feel like my soul has been sucked out of me. I'm just this hollow shell.

I felt like ending my life today. I was by the pool and I felt lonely. No. I wasn't going to drown myself. I have bigger plans.

It was like being in this dark tunnel with no light, you're exhausted and the only way to survive is to move on.. but what if on is nothing just another path of endlessness? Do you go or do you chose to give up?

It's 2010. I gained 8 kilograms, lost a job and boyfriend.

When I saw frogs in a tank. It instantly reminded of being back home... a place where hopes and dreams crash and burn.

You win

Okay, break ups are bad. We all know that one. How bad is bad? I never truly understood when people went on and on about "pain" and "suffering" after break ups. I just chose to avoid all that by packing my bags and moving to a new city almost immediatly and also not remaining sober.

All that sadistic feelings people talked about, today, it hit me.

It's been 6 months. I have dated other people. I also went through the mandatory "slutty phase" and drunkenly fucked strangers for weeks on end. I moved to a new city, made new friends, changed my hair and adopted a puppy.

I am back home for a visit and I still live at my old place. I never bothered doing the post-break-upspring-clean. So looking at it is now, it was like he never left really. His office keys on the table, clothes in the drawer, our portrait hanging on the wall. I still find myself sleeping on my side and putting the cat on his. I was just used to it and I was happy having things like this.

Okay whatever it is, for whatever reason when I was in the room, I found myself crying.

And I couldn't stop crying. 1 box of kleenex later, I was still sobbing. What the fuck? Is this what people have been trying to tell me? Is this what break ups feel like?

This snowball of emotions just ran me over. God, to think I thought I had ran far enough from it! Fuck! What happens next? How do we make this stop?

A lesson learnt

I ended up in Hong Kong after T a.k.a Monster Cock left. Hong Kong has got to be the easiest place to get laid. Forget pick up lines, just use hand signals. Trust me.

I got sent to Beijing not long after and spent 3 months of my life partying like a rockstar. We're talking to the point I ended up in a wheelchair my flight home to Singas.

Going back for Xmas, got my classy little dress ready.

This time, no more fucking people for free.

Sometimes I just look at him, when our eyes meet, it kills me that I don't know what it is. One thing for sure he always has his thoughts somewhere else, always so distant. He's never really with me as much as I like him to be. But, I want to feel as close to him as I can, I want to please him so much, I want him to stay on me till his sweat forms a layer on my bare skin, I want to be drenched in his scent, I want to be a part of him. He doesn't know that, even if he does, there isn't any room for me. This is it. It has to be it.

The first time T and I had sex, I was too drunk to remember how it went exactly.

I remember waking up, crusty eyed from last night's mascara, feeling the unfamilar sheets and recalling how cold the room was. I never ever sleep with the A/C on. I turn over and I see that he is already awake.

He didn't look so bad. I must have liked something about him last night. Then he said something to me which I didn't quite understand. God, he was so European. I get it now, I must have liked his accent.

I had to do the morning thing, pee and brush my teeth. I don't usually use people's tooth brushes but considering the fact that my mouth might have explored areas far more private then his toothbrush, I really couldn't bother anymore. I scan for clothes and I only see my runched up thong lying somewhere a few feet from me. I decided to brave the A/C.

We didn't talk too much. I remember trying to leave his apartment twice only to have him shag me somemore. By the afternoon, we exhausted his condom supply.

Some days I feel destructive, I just want consume as much alcohol or whatever people offer me till I reach a state my mind falls into the depths of a black hole. I just want to hurt myself because I feel worthless and ashamed of everything I had done before. I just want to bury myself in misery. I am stained.
Some days I think about the past, I think about how everything might have been. I lie on my side of the bed and cry into his pillow. I curse at the Gods and ask them how did it all end up like this, did he really love me? Why did the one thing I had so much hope in walk out on me? What did I do wrong? I thought things could get better. I cry so hard my chest hurts, I get exhausted, I pop some more pills and fall asleep.
Some days I wake up feeling like the happiest girl, I feel like I've got everything going on in my life, I feel free, I feel liberated. I feel like I can do whatever the fuck I want and no one can bring me down anymore. I feel like someone cut the shackles and that the day he left me was the day I had been finally set free.. Set free to be myself.
Some days I stay in bed and don't think about anything at all. I just lay in silence, dust till dawn, watching time pass.

December 5th 2009

December 5th 2009 (Mental note to self : Do not kill yourself. You have a flight 2 days from now)

I spent most of today crying. Reading and re-reading emails, watching and re-watching videos from "the ex" also known was "Goldilocks". Those who read my previous blog have seen the transition from "that underaged party girl" to "boring girlfriend" to "that party girl". I'm right back where I started. Matthew calls this the "Cycle of Suck". I really don't like this.

"Vodka soda please."

Hmmm. I didn't react for awhile. He gave me a frown. Like he was waiting for me to say something. Oh now I remember...

" You look familiar. You were here last night weren't you."

" Yeah." He smiles.

I didn't really talk much with him until much later. Maybe until I eased up after a couple of glasses of champange from the 2 bottles of moet he ordered.

" Wanna go for a smoke?"

" Sure." He got off the bar stool almost immediatly.

Both of us, sitting on an orange ice box outside the bar smoking, looking at the cars passing by, I start swinging my legs.

" Hey, I got something for you." He puts into his hand into his right pocket and digs for it.

" Here." He places it on my belly. " Don't look at it now."

I ignore him and unfold the slightly crushed paper with messy scribbles all over. I turn to the next side and ah ha !

" Ignore the other side of the this. I just wanted to say hi and thank you for being so smiley + happy. Please look me up.. even if you don't, drop me a line :) You are so sweet and from the first time I saw you yesterday I fell in love with your smile. xxx "

" Can't believe you just read that infront of me. And I had to write that in the loo. Couldn't get that Pakistani guy off my back."

" You make me feel like I'm back in high school....." I gave him a nudge and both of us laugh.

" Will you call me?"

"I don't know actually." I look away and take another drag off my cigarette.

I can never blog the same way knowing that Goldilocks keeps a link of my blog. I feel like he has stolen a part of me.

Today he got on the train without me.

I tried my best but I took the wrong street and still got lost along the way. When I reached the train station slightly later then expected, I ran around trying to search for him, I knew he would be mad and I didn't want to fight. All I had infront of me was the sea of unfamiliar faces looking back at me, where are you? I picked up my cell phone and called him. He told me he left and that I could catch the next train to him or make my own plans, then he hung up. I fall to the ground and cry. I never felt so lost, so abandoned before. The person next to me asked me if I was okay and I said no, I'm not okay.

I miss being under the showers with you, the heat fogging up the mirrors, I feel warm both inside out. You take me in your arms and you tell me to wait it out, that it'll all end soon, you said you really love me and need me in your life. I forgive you and I love you too but the last time you told me this was in Decemeber and it's May now.

An IM window pops up on my screen. It's Goldilocks. What a surprise.

"London, Barcelona, Sweden, Milan, Madrid, Florence or Rome?"

Hmmm.. As tempted as I was to just randomly pick one, I decided against it. After a hard 2 minutes of mental debating and testing myself on whatever knowledge I had on the countries, I picked two instead.

" Barcelona or Rome? "

" Well, apart from these two cause I have already been there. I was thinking London or Sweden actually. What do you think?"

Well, fuck you.

London or Sweden? I wouldn't have minded on going to either but why ask me to chose and then tell me to pick something else? In that case, I don't want to go to London or Sweden. Just.

" GBP is three times my currency so I might as well be prepared to be depressed since I will either keep thinking of shop lifting or live rather miserably because I cannot afford anything. I've been there as a child. Don't remember being very impressed. "

"Sweden?"

"Sweden sounds boring. What do they have? Meatballs... Blonde chicks big tits. Not my thing."

I am not pleased. I want to go to anywhere but Sweden or London. I have decided that since he has irritated me, I shall just insist on going to Barcelona or Rome. Then again, Milan sounds nice. Not going to mention that today until he apologizes.

"I haven't been to those 2 places and I really want to go there."

"I want to go to France."

"Hate France, been there. You wouldn't like it."

At this point, I stop replying.

"What is wrong with you?"

Something wrong with me??? Are you kidding? Nothing is wrong. Nothing really... Apart from the fact that you asked ME to chose and happily over-write my choice. This is not the first time! Why is it always about you? Pffft!

What is wrong with you?!?!

Dear xxx, I was never a believer of monogamy. Hated morals, social norms and the masses notion of true love. Now, you just waltz into my life and reduced me into this infatuated, starry doe eyed cunt.

Tin Tin

Just then, he leans forward with his lips brushing against my ear, he whispers, " I might just steal you. " I look straight into this olive eyes, not knowing what to say, I smile and bite on my lower lip. He leans forward again and I look away this time.

" Look girl, I really like you.. " He paused, stroking my hair, holding me closer and closer to him but before I let him get to the moment, I threw my head back and laughed. I then asked him " So as you were saying?"

"And I am really jealous of that boyfriend of yours baby. "

I look to the side of the road.

" So this is when you put me into a taxi and I will text you saying how much I enjoyed tonight."

" Are we going to see each other again?"

I nod my head.

I can't take this anymore

I'm willing to put my conscience on hold, so that in this pitch dark of night, I'll reach out and not feel an empty space beside me. I'll shut that voice that sings of the truth, so as the sun rises and invades my bedroom, I can turn and say " Isn't this a beautiful morning?" and hear you reply.

But it doesn't happen. I switch my cellphone off and drown myself in stale tea and cigarettes. I wallow in self-pity. Why must this night be so endless? Why must the morning sun be so blinding?

Too many times I walk through the door and ask myself "Why hasn't the party ended?" I don't want the bubly. I don't need the boys. Tequila doesn't make my problems go away. It makes me cry, makes my mascara run, makes me get fucked by blokes I don't like or in that case ever grow to like.

So what if they're hot? They take advantage of this vulnerable me. The emotional me. The me that happens after 7 shots. Pull my skirt up and feel my legs, how their touch disgust me. I wish they would just leave, leave me alone.