Lately it seems like anything makes me cry, be it sad or happy. True, I am depressed. I still have nightmares. But it is only human to have feelings, unless I am totally cold-blooded, then that is another story.
I was house-cleaning, or rather, room-cleaning, when I came across a lot of old momentos earlier on. The gifts and cards given by my former students. Those kids are really so sweet, despite the numerous times I disciplined them.
I came across a photo album, consisting of our photos. As in photos with a certain duh-man (sorry Angie, stole your phrase) who made my life so miserable. I wanted so much to take a pen and stabbed his photo, but then I much rather have the pleasure of doing that to his real person.
I came across a card, made by my third ex. I remember being so touched by the card because it was our first Christmas, and he really made it very nice for me. I came across a wooden jewellery box, carved by him, and where I had to send it for cleaning last year as ants were attacking the insides.
But most of all, I came across a nicely decorated box, which consist of momentos with my loved one. And that is the most priceless treasure of all. All our memories and good times and movie ticket stubs and receipts are stored inside. And that is a box that I will carry with me throughout my life.
I came across all these and cried. Sadness, nostalgia, happiness. Everything and anything. My tears just started flowing. At times I wish I can turn off this pipe in my eyes, then perhaps I will not cry so much.
What is really torturing is that I have to put on a farce and show that I am alright in front of my parents. What I really want is a good cry, and a good scream, but not when my parents are still in the middle of a cold war of sorts.
And I have to show that I am strong in order to "inspire" others to be strong too. Come to think of it, who is going to inspire me then? Someone told me I seem stronger than others, but actually it is not true.
I am not as lucky as others to have everyone pamper me and fuss over me. I depend on myself to survive. Each time I was unhappy in the past, my parents would just leave me alone to sort out my own feelings, or else be totally sarcastic.
So what do I do? When I cry, I cry alone. When I laugh, I laugh with others. When I break down, I do it alone. When I have problems, I try to solve it myself, unless it became a major problem then in which case I will ask my guy to help me out.
Seldom do I bother my parents as they have their own problems too. On one hand, I try not to be such a burden, on the other hand, at times, I wish they can show more concern for me. As in really listen to what I want, what I need, instead of always thinking their ways are the right ways of the world.
I am not as strong as others think. But I try my best to put up a brave front in front of others. Only thing is this can be so tiring at times, because on the exterior, I can be all smiling and whatnot, internally I feel like screaming and crying.
I am grateful to wonderful people who have shown me care and concern. And for that, I can only say thank you a thousand times. And for a certain anonymous person who wants to put me down by thinking you know so much, which in fact you do not, let me say this : if you are trying to make me feel down again, then sorry, you have not succeeded.
Why? Because I am not going to show you the satisfaction of being depressed over your shallow remarks. If you want me dead, sorry I am still alive and kicking. I am not about to die before fulfilling any of my dreams.
And let me tell you whatever things I do, I do not hide, unless it is for the protection of my family members and loved ones. I have my own identity, and people know who I am, beause I dare to bare all.
So do not assume, and do not comment if you do not know anything, especially not under the cowardly cloak of anonymity. I do not blog to please everyone, you are free to say what you like, but have the guts to identify yourself.
You think you are being so god-damn great by speaking your piece, but it backfires because if anything, it shows only your lack of intelligence and your cowardice. A real man (or woman) will have the guts to have an identity as they have nothing to hide.
I was house-cleaning, or rather, room-cleaning, when I came across a lot of old momentos earlier on. The gifts and cards given by my former students. Those kids are really so sweet, despite the numerous times I disciplined them.
I came across a photo album, consisting of our photos. As in photos with a certain duh-man (sorry Angie, stole your phrase) who made my life so miserable. I wanted so much to take a pen and stabbed his photo, but then I much rather have the pleasure of doing that to his real person.
I came across a card, made by my third ex. I remember being so touched by the card because it was our first Christmas, and he really made it very nice for me. I came across a wooden jewellery box, carved by him, and where I had to send it for cleaning last year as ants were attacking the insides.
But most of all, I came across a nicely decorated box, which consist of momentos with my loved one. And that is the most priceless treasure of all. All our memories and good times and movie ticket stubs and receipts are stored inside. And that is a box that I will carry with me throughout my life.
I came across all these and cried. Sadness, nostalgia, happiness. Everything and anything. My tears just started flowing. At times I wish I can turn off this pipe in my eyes, then perhaps I will not cry so much.
What is really torturing is that I have to put on a farce and show that I am alright in front of my parents. What I really want is a good cry, and a good scream, but not when my parents are still in the middle of a cold war of sorts.
And I have to show that I am strong in order to "inspire" others to be strong too. Come to think of it, who is going to inspire me then? Someone told me I seem stronger than others, but actually it is not true.
I am not as lucky as others to have everyone pamper me and fuss over me. I depend on myself to survive. Each time I was unhappy in the past, my parents would just leave me alone to sort out my own feelings, or else be totally sarcastic.
So what do I do? When I cry, I cry alone. When I laugh, I laugh with others. When I break down, I do it alone. When I have problems, I try to solve it myself, unless it became a major problem then in which case I will ask my guy to help me out.
Seldom do I bother my parents as they have their own problems too. On one hand, I try not to be such a burden, on the other hand, at times, I wish they can show more concern for me. As in really listen to what I want, what I need, instead of always thinking their ways are the right ways of the world.
I am not as strong as others think. But I try my best to put up a brave front in front of others. Only thing is this can be so tiring at times, because on the exterior, I can be all smiling and whatnot, internally I feel like screaming and crying.
I am grateful to wonderful people who have shown me care and concern. And for that, I can only say thank you a thousand times. And for a certain anonymous person who wants to put me down by thinking you know so much, which in fact you do not, let me say this : if you are trying to make me feel down again, then sorry, you have not succeeded.
Why? Because I am not going to show you the satisfaction of being depressed over your shallow remarks. If you want me dead, sorry I am still alive and kicking. I am not about to die before fulfilling any of my dreams.
And let me tell you whatever things I do, I do not hide, unless it is for the protection of my family members and loved ones. I have my own identity, and people know who I am, beause I dare to bare all.
So do not assume, and do not comment if you do not know anything, especially not under the cowardly cloak of anonymity. I do not blog to please everyone, you are free to say what you like, but have the guts to identify yourself.
You think you are being so god-damn great by speaking your piece, but it backfires because if anything, it shows only your lack of intelligence and your cowardice. A real man (or woman) will have the guts to have an identity as they have nothing to hide.
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