What on Earth

What on earth am I doing here?

2022.

I'm still alive. Well, barely. I read some previous posts I made a few years ago. Fears and all that. It's funny because the fears are still there but some have taken shape into different forms.

A week ago I wanted to hang myself. 

No kidding.

I sent myself to a crowded morning clinic, did the DASS, had "severe depression" written on my card. After that? Nothing happened. I'm still alive, although some nights I do still think of how does it feel like to get to the other side, to finish this all, because really the journey has become too long and I'm tired and I've seen enough.

Kitty died. 

Kitty died a week ago, on 3rd August 2022. Or maybe somewhere before midnight on 2nd August. I wasn't there to say goodbye to her. The last I saw her was in early June when I came back for the holidays. I had fears of losing her when I first moved here in April. 2022 sucks.

And it's not only that. 

I lost the guy I love, or loved, or thought I loved. I don't know which is correct, at the rate how things are going now. I don't even know when's the official breakup date. Just on 28th June something shitty happened and the whole July was a mess, and the first week of August was a total wreck for me.

I'm writing this down as if it's a diary entry of a teen in a YA novel, all angst and anger, but comedic. The fact is it isn't. It's painful as hell. When Kitty died it wrecked me further, because I realised when I came back here in June it was the final time things were "normal" back in Kuching. My next holiday is going to be completely different. And I hate different. I hate changes. I hate growth! I hate the fact that things are temporary but my own death is coming too slow!

It's not like I really want to die. I'm sure if Death came knocking at my door (a rented room in a rented house) tonight, I'd shit my pants. But really I'm just tired. If I jumped off Saujana in 2016 I wouldn't have to work where I worked at, met him, fell in love and end up with this pain I'll perhaps carry for a lifetime. I don't know if this is just a fresh wound and I'm being overly dramatic, but I'm still in denial and it hurts as hell to watch a person change right in front of your very eyes, turning into a monster you no longer recognise. The same person who sent you good morning texts and video called you and said he loves you and talked to you daily about the smallest things in your boring routine! How could someone maintain a deception and transform in a blink of an eye--without any arguments, no warnings, nothing.

But I guess things were doomed to fail and the past almost-three years were a lie after all, as how he worded it. A lie. That's what he said. Well fuck, right.

For many years I knew that trusting people is a mistake, and that everything is a lie. An then for two years I let my guard down, and quoting Lewis Capaldi, he pulled the rug. 

The big question now is will I ever heal?

The second big question is will I actually live to see my greatest fear, which is to die alone, old, wrinkly, never been loved and cared and protected by a life companion?

Will I always remember him fondly, even when I'm like 65? Because damn that will hurt.

I got what I wanted this year. A job. A job I knew would give me some sense of better purpose in life, unlike those sucky retail jobs I've had (and feared of having until old age). 

But why do things still feel wrong?

What is this constant chase for more? What is this void that never got filled?

I'm in a small town now, it's like where I lived at in Kuching. Quite suburb, has a little small town vibe to it. It's not entirely bad. In fact, for the whole months of April, May and June I think I was contented about things. I was settling down. And then came late June and July and now I want to die once again, the feeling I've realised I lost when I worked my last retail job. (I remember very vividly I was just between the aisles of stationeries realising I didn't have suicidal thoughts for probably months despite the harsh working conditions and long hours, and I had goosebumps because for the first time things felt normal).

But now I guess I'm back to square one.

It's not like I'm crying now. (Which is weird). I'll probably cry and wet my pillow before my eyes shut down tonight. I won't lie and say I don't miss him. He's been a huge part of my life in the past three years, sharing hobbies, reading the same books, telling punny jokes, all those quirky stuff I always dreamt of having someone to share with. 

And now he's gone, just like that. In the arms of someone else.

No hope of getting back with me, because I know his family disapproves.

And again, he's turning into someone I don't recognise anymore.

I said Kitty died.

And he said "I thought we stopped."

And he wants me to be "Gone forever," which hurts like hell because to be gone forever means to die.

And again I know it sounds stupid but I do feel like dying and just giving him what he wants--me to be gone forever. How would he like that?

But then I can't, because there's my favourite nephew who'll grow up and learn his Monono died of suicide and I can't do that to him. And my kids at school. They're teens. I'm supposed to live and be here until life decides for me my time is up.

Which sucks, but what choice do I have?

I have so many other people to consider and now this is sending me to tears. Because my mum will definitely be crushed. And again, my kids. And again, my little nephew. 

I have a fantasy that if I cross to the other side I'll probably be free from all this heartache and see Kitty again and everything else won't matter.

But of course I'm scared. I can't commit to the idea.

I want to type "What did I do to deserve this?" but that sounds whiny because I'm not the only person on earth facing a tragedy (or perhaps this is just a minor inconvenience).

But really, I'm so tired. I'm exhausted. I miss the feeling of crawling into someone's big, fat arms, getting a nice warm hug and someone telling me it'll be alright. And someone promising me to be there. The comfort, the security. 

I can't do this on my own. 

I hope this isn't the last post I'll hit publish here, because if that's the case then probably I did it, I made it to the other side and mustered up my courage to end all this.

#1 Monday the 14th

Here we go again.

I never thought I'd be coming back here. After all the years of typing out my end-of-year reflections, last year I have failed miserably and sometimes I feel like I don't even have the proper time to sit and reflect. But wasn't that what I asked for?

Somewhere in the middle of last year I hoped for a time where I'd be busy so that I could distract myself away from the thoughts of what had passed. I got what I wanted, I believe. But sometimes when I'm tired I begin to realise that not having the time to sit and reflect is also not cool.

I'm typing this out tonight because in a few hours I am going to take one crucial step in my life. I hate to sound dramatic, but I believe what's going to happen in a few hours' time is going to either build me of break me. I've never done this before, so I'm anxious. 

When I took the first step about two weeks ago, I was excited about it. I was in a good state, in high spirits, a bit optimistic than usual. But who would've thought that in a few days after that something happened again and it left me to reflect on how much I needed this. But again, the past two to three days things seemed to be looking up, so tonight I'm not sure. I'm not sure whether confronting my demons at this moment is really needed. I'm not sure whether this step is necessary. And above all, I suddenly feel reluctant to even think about what's been bothering me all this while. It suddenly feels alright. 

I've never sought professional help. I'm not sure whether it's a wise step. So I think it's natural to feel scared. What if I hear things that I won't like tomorrow? What if the truth comes with more pain than what I've endured? All of a sudden everything feels like it's not worth it, but it's already too late. I can't cancel things. And I admit, as much as I am scared, I really want to check out how helpful it's going to be for me. Even if it won't be helpful I just want to try it for once.

I'm not sure how I'm going to be tomorrow. I'm not sure whether I'll come back with a different thought. I'm not sure whether I'll see my family, friends, and workmates the same way again. As much as I want to fix this thing, a part of me says there's nothing much to be fixed anyway. What if it ruins my whole perception about everything? What if some steps are harder than I think they are? I'm still young anyway, all I want to do right now is live my life and laugh along my workmates, do stuff I enjoy, so what if actually there's nothing wrong about me and my whole situation?

I don't know. It's so easy to change my mind when I'm feeling good like today. But I admit it was hard when minor inconveniences happen. That's when the monster rises above me, talking louder than my own real voice. 

I'm liking my current chapter, to be honest. I have wonderful people around me, I still have some friends from my previous chapter, and as much as I feel frustrated over things, I know my parents love me. I'm not doing things that are expected of me, but I'm contented. I get tired occasionally, but that's normal. I feel like sleeping behind the wheels on some days, but that's normal. I feel lonely at times, but that's probably just because I fail to see how lucky I am to actually be surrounded by people who do enjoy my company. It's easy to forget when I don't feel as good as today. It's easier to believe the other way round. I don't get why that happens. 

For now I guess as there's nothing much I can do, I'll just go ahead with what I promised for tomorrow. Maybe it'll be like my 2016 trip to Serian. I'm not sure. 

I guess in the end it's just like what everyone says, the first step is always the hardest. With that, I can only hope that I've walked past the hardest part. 

Adulting (For Real)

You know it's funny to think on how back when I was 18 I felt it was already time to become an adult, to grow up, to be strong, yet after all the years, I'm still the same.

Of course I've grown a lot. But I'm still the same.

Take this for instance, this act of blogging. I don't exactly know why I'm here at the moment. Back then I used to write a lot here. A bit too much, in fact. But these days no one blogs anymore. Everyone's grown old.

But I'm here, seated in front of my bedroom window, looking out at the darkness of the night, listening to Passenger, feeling that same mixture of feelings I've always felt whenever I blogged back then. It's funny, how those years are gone, but I'm still here, still doing the same thing, yet in my life, as a whole, I'm a whole different person, doing a whole different thing.

I've stepped into adulthood, worked my ass off for money, paid my own remaining fees required for graduation, spent my money on things like food, toiletries, and entertainment. I've worked until the skin of the palm of my hands split open. I've woken up to the feeling as if I've gotten into a brawl the night before. And within a month, I've closed a chapter by quitting and opened another chapter by running away into a new place.

It's remarkable, how much change can happen within just a few weeks. Impulsive decisions, isolation, emotional roller-coasters, everything just keeps on cycling and cycling and I think I've got what I wanted: To be too busy to even think about nostalgic moments in my life.

To be too busy to feel frightened about the future.

To be too busy to even think about how unfair things are in my life. 

To be too tired to even remember about broken dreams.

It's becoming real, me settling as a mediocre adult. And while I can't deny that sometimes I stare into nothingness and wished that I at least had a shot to keep chasing my dreams and the circumstances were a lot easier in my life, I actually feel that I'm tired of running and chasing. 

I feel as if I haven't really given myself the chance to live up to a certain expectation I've set for myself in the years I grew up, and that I'm really not making use of my full potential, but in the end what's the use? What's the use of running and chasing and achieving?

And these questions make me sad because I know I'm better than this. But at the same time I'm tired. I'm tired of living and that fact scares me. 

Within less than a month I've tried F&B and retail, and that's just a month after teaching, which coincidentally overlapped with the brief period of getting the feel on how it is to be a published author.

That's like four chances in a year to live four different lives, so I know I shouldn't be complaining. I can sort of say that my 2018 has so far become quite colourful. 

Nothing could ever replace my busriding phase which I'm absofuckinglutely sure is one of the best chapters in my life. But right now I'm quite contented with what I'm doing and where I am and with the people I'm surrounded with. It's hard to go around feeling a bit skeptical on building connections with people, fearing that I'm thinking too highly of the people I'm with, but I'm learning. I'm learning to just be in the moment and trust that they genuinely enjoy my presence as much as I actually enjoy being with them. But there's that annoying little feeling of self-doubt that always screams into me, telling that I don't belong, and I hate it.

I hate it because that voice yells at me everywhere I go. I always get the feeling that I don't belong, that people actually don't like me, that I'm actually the only one feeling happy to be 'part' of them. And with the presence of this fear, I already know that in this new place, I'm actually liking these people a bit too much to the point that I can't act natural around them. I feel the need to please everyone. And that is, again, absofuckinglutely annoying because hell, screw everyone, screw everything, I actually want to be an island and not get attached to anyone or anything anymore.

But this is the essence of me, and lately I begin to think that it's a curse to have this feeling. Because actually it's this nice feeling that also makes me feel I want to just isolate myself and not build connections because in the end everyone will hurt you. Or you know, even more accurately, you hurt yourself and you know no one can help you even when they want to. In the end, it's you who doesn't want to be helped.

I think as I'm getting older I'm getting quite good at understanding myself and that's the scary part. The more I understand myself the more I understand what I really want in life and my wants scare me. 

I'm not worried, of course. It's who I am that scares me. It's the issues within me that I never really dealt with that scares me. You know I don't want to be a shitty adult who releases everything at everyone else, but honestly in these past two months I've learnt some ugly things within me that I know I should be dealing with.

Then again I'm not really sure whether at this age I'm already old or still too young or somewhere in between, or something that people can still label as a 'work in progress.' If that's the case, if I'm still allowed to feel like a work in progress, then again I think I shouldn't worry much about this adulting thing. 

For now, life would revolve around working my ass off for money. I know that sounds pretty boring and meaningless, as if I've lost all ambitions and hope, but that's the only accurate way to describe it. It also sounds like a tragedy, how the most-likely-to-succeed back in high school is now a minimum wage paid worker in the retail line, but again I'm just trying to keep myself alive without troubling others. 

I guess in the end I'm just walking my way towards living my own prophecy in my song 'Canned Coffee,' sipping away that bitterness and living life as how it is. 

I'll probably die as another no-one, but everyone's a no-one anyway. I'll probably just end up as a boring adult working my ass off until the day I die, but everyone's doing that anyway.

Farewell to a Friend

Things like these are easier to type out if we're talking about a dead person. A living thing that has lost its life. A friend. 

But I befriended buses once upon a time, and 22 days after the passing of STC buses, I'm still here feeling like a lousy friend who didn't get to revisit my dying, sickly, friend suffering of a silent terminal illness. 

This year's summer marks the summer where I could sing the lyrics to one of my favourite Thai songs, which simply goes

Standing looking at the sky,

it's not like it used to be

This summer I don't have you like before, like in the old days

And I can't help to not think of Summer 2016 when I first felt the true joy of busriding, when everything slowly turned into a crutch because life went spiralling down after that summer. And bus rides was the thing that saved me. Specifically, Spaceship and Creeks saved me. I remember dark early mornings on Creeks, feeling cold and alone but belonged, always excited to see the driver's comforting, fatherly smile accompanied by his jovial remarks that made me feel I was cared about. I remember going back in the late afternoons on Spaceship, sweat dripping at the back of my neck, and I'd refuse to take my hoodie off until it became too warm for me to act cool anymore. And on Spaceship I always felt welcomed, like the bus was mine, and since every single adult around me kept on losing their shit at that time, the driver became my silent teacher, teaching me the ways of patience and calmness through his actions and expressions.

It's not hard to see why I can't move on. I had high hopes to tell my favourite drivers that I managed to get a novel published, that I'm graduating first class honours and that I'm genuinely thankful for their presence in my life throughout my university years. It may sound odd that I have this inexplicable fondness towards them and their buses, but those were the things and people who were there for me when I thought of jumping off a building. And the sad thing is that they'll never know how much of an impact they have truly left in my life. And worse still, after this news, I'm pretty sure I'll never get to see them ever again in my lifetime. I never really had the chance to say thank you. And not being able to say thank you pains me.

As for the buses, I'm just disappointed that I never knew it would be this fast, this year, this moment when I was away being busy with a routine I couldn't escape and worse still, I actually did have a chance to come back if I knew but I didn't know it was about to happen. Hence, it felt like a lost chance although I had tried to let go since February, preparing myself for the possibility that this could happen when I was away. But the difference is, I was pretty sure I had more chances to go back and sit and hop on another creaky ride. 

It's a really hard time for me but unfortunately there's no one who can talk to my about it and make me feel better because I'm like the only one feeling this way. I can't imagine the next few weeks and months trying to cope with life and realising that one of my crutches is really gone out there. And every act of looking back just hurts me. I'm supposed to feel happy about the good memories but nostalgia leaves an empty hole in my heart right now and I wish I can just forget it all as if everything hadn't carried any meaning at all for me. At this rate I'm also beginning to worry that if I could feel this intensely towards the death of buses and farewell to strangers, then in the future surely a breakup or death of a loved one will wreck me even worse. 

And these feelings, everything, every thought, every reaction, just made me realise that I haven't changed a bit after all. I'm still weak as ever, still missing a lot of things in the past, still hoping for a hope to continue living, still finding that something that can fill in this constant void that refuses to leave me. 

But this summer, surely I am allowed to grieve for a friend I've lost, for a crutch taken away from me while I'm still struggling to walk. I'm not sure for how long I will continue to mourn, but I hope one day I'll find something that will make me whole again, just like how bus rides made me whole again on that summer that has long gone. 

Goodbye Spaceship, goodbye Creeks. 

Thank you for saving my life so many times. 

1

I haven't been doing this in a long time.

My thoughts are scattered, on Instagram, on Facebook, so many places, so many different places but none of them feels so genuine. None of them feels like what I've always written here and on my personal journal.

When I ended my busriding phase I said I'll never be able to write the same way again, and now, four months later, I think I really knew what I was trying to say back then.

Things have been a bit different in my life now. Chapters have ended, familiar faces are gone, days can be so lonely and nights can feel so long. And one thing has been gone for quite some time. My ability to express my emotions in words.

I've somehow stopped journaling and never allowed myself to sit and do nothing but think about what I'm truly feeling at the moment. I don't know why, but I suspect that I'm scared. Reflection involves vulnerability, and being vulnerable is one thing I learnt to leave behind when I wanted to adult up four months ago.

But I miss that feeling. I miss that feeling of knowing who I am and accepting how I feel. And maybe tonight is the right time to get back to it.

My novel has been out for about almost two months now. When my close friends ask me how I feel about it, I really don't know what to say. It's easy to show how excited I am about it on social media but the truth is it's just another random thing that happened in my life. I'm glad that this time I feel that my work is acknowledged, unlike my songwriting project and blog project and my fingerstyle guitar project, but I'm just glad for that reason.

There's some pressure to push myself to never stop but truth be told I really have stopped writing. I tried to get back and write a story last night but I only managed to write about 300 words. I think I don't have any more stories to tell at the moment.

I really don't know where I'm supposed to go from here. It feels like I'm back to my 17-year-old self, just right after SPM, trying to decide on what shit I want to get involved in in the future. While I'm pretty sure I want to teach until the day I die, I don't know whether I'm employable enough and whether I'll have the luck to get into the profession. 

And then there's more dilemma in terms of money and age or maybe it's just because I'm over-complicating things. I really don't want to go into details but I'm at this stage of life where I think I'm done living with my parents and I want to be able to be responsible for my own life but at the same time I want to stay in this suburban part of Kuching. I really can't imagine myself drifting into some other lonely city in this country (or beyond). 

Maybe I've become too comfortable here. I don't know. But I'm pretty sure I've already figured out what kind of life I want to live until I'm old and grey.

At the same time, I'm not worrying much. Maybe because I've gone through so much shit in the past years I find myself in a rather calm position at the moment. I'm being too calm that sometimes I fear all this peace and serenity might end soon with yet another argument, another kick, another thought of jumping off the bridge. 

I miss Spaceship so terribly but I've come to terms with the fact that I can no longer go back. Right now my crutches is just memories and coffee and there's really nothing much to be done. I haven't been out of the house for days and situations make it quite tempting to go back to my old self, but I'm doing my best to move forward.

Do I miss teaching? I do, but the feeling has somehow faded away. It's easier to move on from that phase compared to the busriding phase. I really loved the teaching phase though. I was so happy and I felt so loved and accepted. At home, things were great because there weren't much time for me to feel sad about anything when I returned home at 7pm. Some teachers were very nice, and kids were always making me feel precious. It was a really great brief chapter.

I don't know why I'm telling all this here. I met some old friends but I didn't know how to talk about what I really feel. I've come to believe that I'll never get comfortable of talking to anyone my real emotions and my real struggles. Maybe I'm getting old. 

I have no plans in the near future. I don't want to plan. And even if I have a plan, I don't think I want to tell it here. The truth is that everything's the same despite the changes. People don't just decide to genuinely love you or hate you for things you do or stuff you achieve. Even if they do, that normally isn't a good thing anyway so I shouldn't be bothered.

I think I've come to an ending here. Writing has become so difficult. There's nothing much to say anyway. Maybe that's why I've been gone. There's really nothing much to say here anymore.