It had been a rather emotional weekend for me. Saturday was bad at first but good later on. I woke up feeling upset, as I was missing a dear friend, and the fact that the date itself had always held a significance to me. Also, someone got married on that day.
I did not attend the wedding. I did say I might not turn up, and I got my best friend to send over my gift on my behalf. Perhaps it is petty of me, but I know if I turned up, I would be subject to all kinds of scrutiny by his family members, our mutual acquaintances and by her. And I did not feel strong enough to withstand all the finger-pointing, back-talking and awkwardness around.
Luckily most of the rest of the day went by pretty well. We went to the new ViVoCity and watched two shows, "The Prestige" and "The Guardian". Unfortuntately, we did not have the time to walk around the new mall, so we may be going back again this week or another day to explore the place.
On Sunday, I had to clean my room as my family will be expecting a house guest this Christmas. She is the daughter of my dad's business associate in China. They took care of my brother when he is there, and this girl is now doing an immersion and foundation course in a Chinese college in Malaysia, after which, she will enter one of the Australian universities.
Anyway, she will be vacationing for two weeks around Christmas, and rather than incurring the expenses to go home for just a short while, my parents (and hers) agreed to let her come and stay with us.
So she will be sharing my room. My mum said if it is a guy he will go to my brothers' room. I never had anyone share my room before, so the room really have to be cleaned up for good. And while I was cleaning, I came across two journals.
One contains all my memoirs of the time with my second ex. Coincidentally I found that of all things! And coincidentally again, I set the book down and it opened to a certain page - a page where I noted down all his love poems and notes to me, even with the date and time!
The very last one caught my attention. It was sent to me that fateful day I took a flight to Sydney to attend my cousin's wedding. He sent me the message when I was on the plane, but when I touched down, it was the first thing I read.
The message was, "Without you, my heart is aching. Thinking of you not by my side makes me wish for the days to go faster, where I can feast my eyes on your beautiful form again upon your return. I love you always."
It brought a smile to my lips and a tear to my eye at that moment. Was it any wonder why I was so bewildered when I came home a week later to find him disappeared on me? Or perhaps the message was never meant for me in the first place; perhaps it was for someone else, which meant I had been taken for a ride all along.
But what I find ironic is that I found this the day after his solemnisation. I had been trying to find it all these while and it had somehow always evaded me. I got to the conclusion that I probably left it at his place and he held it back. And now, I managed to find it. So I kept it together in the box that contained all his letters and some photos and put it away.
The second book I managed to find is my own journal. I should not say "find" since it had been right in front of my line of vision for the past few months. My journal entries have been getting longer and my blog entries have been getting shorter (some at least), when it used to be the other way.
I started writing longer journal entries ever since July or so when I was contemplating whether to shut down my blog completely. It got to a stage when I could no longer post anything without people attacking me.
At first I told myself not to bother. But when the attacks became more and more personal, some involving my family and friends, I got really upset. I tried turning on the comment moderation so that I could screen through any nasty remarks but the attacks got even worse.
People think I deliberately turn on the comment moderation so I would not reply to any comments or disapprove or disregard what they have to say. Thus, I got labelled as a fat, ugly cowardly chicken, never want to hear anything bad.
To clarify, I accept negative remarks too. If it is on anything I write and which I have offended others about, I will accept it. But if it is on things that I cannot change about myself, namely how I look or the family I come from, then I will not tolerate it.
I have been told my parents must be idiots to give birth to idiotic children, that my boyfriend will dump me soon since I have been dumped all the time and I deserve that, that I do not have the guts to face the truth that I am a loser.
At times I wonder, if these people deem me as such, why do they still bother reading what a loser writes? My guy brought up the point that perhaps this anonymous is someone I know. In the beginning I refused to believe that anyone I know would backstab me this way, but after recent events, perhaps it may be true after all. Some people whom one deem as "friends" may turn out to be otherwise.
Then I got a gut feeling that it is a whole group of anonymous people, who may be people I know, or people who know people I know. And somehow they chose me to create a havoc in my blog.
Maybe each time I posted something, one of them would then send a message to the rest, saying,"Look, she's done it again! Let's go in and make her feel miserable about herself! Let's make her give up and face the truth that she is better off not living, that the world will be a better place without her!"
And thus, all the personal attacks started coming. I never used to believe that people are so sadistic to make others feel bad about themselves. Perhaps I am idealistic, but I always think people are not that bad, nobody will deliberately make anyone feel lousy or bad.
Especially not people whom I do not know personally (and vice versa). Because if they do not know me personally, by right it is none of their business what I do and what I write. I had asked myself why is it I am the one that get attacked and not others?
Perhaps because others write about happy stuff and general affairs. Whereas I blog about my feelings, good and bad. But that is just life. Life is full of happiness and sadness. And I am someone who lives more on my heart, so when I am upset, I get really moody. When I am happy, I am very happy.
But then again, it is just me. I believe in saying things like it is. And this is my own haven to do as I please. So why must I blog to please others anyway? People can think what they like, and if they choose not to be my friend just because they do not like what I write, there is nothing I can do.
It does not make me a worse person or a worse friend. What I write is only an aspect. People have to really know me in person before they know me. And a true friend will stand by me, no matter what happens, no matter how disapproving he / she is of what I do or write.
I did not attend the wedding. I did say I might not turn up, and I got my best friend to send over my gift on my behalf. Perhaps it is petty of me, but I know if I turned up, I would be subject to all kinds of scrutiny by his family members, our mutual acquaintances and by her. And I did not feel strong enough to withstand all the finger-pointing, back-talking and awkwardness around.
Luckily most of the rest of the day went by pretty well. We went to the new ViVoCity and watched two shows, "The Prestige" and "The Guardian". Unfortuntately, we did not have the time to walk around the new mall, so we may be going back again this week or another day to explore the place.
On Sunday, I had to clean my room as my family will be expecting a house guest this Christmas. She is the daughter of my dad's business associate in China. They took care of my brother when he is there, and this girl is now doing an immersion and foundation course in a Chinese college in Malaysia, after which, she will enter one of the Australian universities.
Anyway, she will be vacationing for two weeks around Christmas, and rather than incurring the expenses to go home for just a short while, my parents (and hers) agreed to let her come and stay with us.
So she will be sharing my room. My mum said if it is a guy he will go to my brothers' room. I never had anyone share my room before, so the room really have to be cleaned up for good. And while I was cleaning, I came across two journals.
One contains all my memoirs of the time with my second ex. Coincidentally I found that of all things! And coincidentally again, I set the book down and it opened to a certain page - a page where I noted down all his love poems and notes to me, even with the date and time!
The very last one caught my attention. It was sent to me that fateful day I took a flight to Sydney to attend my cousin's wedding. He sent me the message when I was on the plane, but when I touched down, it was the first thing I read.
The message was, "Without you, my heart is aching. Thinking of you not by my side makes me wish for the days to go faster, where I can feast my eyes on your beautiful form again upon your return. I love you always."
It brought a smile to my lips and a tear to my eye at that moment. Was it any wonder why I was so bewildered when I came home a week later to find him disappeared on me? Or perhaps the message was never meant for me in the first place; perhaps it was for someone else, which meant I had been taken for a ride all along.
But what I find ironic is that I found this the day after his solemnisation. I had been trying to find it all these while and it had somehow always evaded me. I got to the conclusion that I probably left it at his place and he held it back. And now, I managed to find it. So I kept it together in the box that contained all his letters and some photos and put it away.
The second book I managed to find is my own journal. I should not say "find" since it had been right in front of my line of vision for the past few months. My journal entries have been getting longer and my blog entries have been getting shorter (some at least), when it used to be the other way.
I started writing longer journal entries ever since July or so when I was contemplating whether to shut down my blog completely. It got to a stage when I could no longer post anything without people attacking me.
At first I told myself not to bother. But when the attacks became more and more personal, some involving my family and friends, I got really upset. I tried turning on the comment moderation so that I could screen through any nasty remarks but the attacks got even worse.
People think I deliberately turn on the comment moderation so I would not reply to any comments or disapprove or disregard what they have to say. Thus, I got labelled as a fat, ugly cowardly chicken, never want to hear anything bad.
To clarify, I accept negative remarks too. If it is on anything I write and which I have offended others about, I will accept it. But if it is on things that I cannot change about myself, namely how I look or the family I come from, then I will not tolerate it.
I have been told my parents must be idiots to give birth to idiotic children, that my boyfriend will dump me soon since I have been dumped all the time and I deserve that, that I do not have the guts to face the truth that I am a loser.
At times I wonder, if these people deem me as such, why do they still bother reading what a loser writes? My guy brought up the point that perhaps this anonymous is someone I know. In the beginning I refused to believe that anyone I know would backstab me this way, but after recent events, perhaps it may be true after all. Some people whom one deem as "friends" may turn out to be otherwise.
Then I got a gut feeling that it is a whole group of anonymous people, who may be people I know, or people who know people I know. And somehow they chose me to create a havoc in my blog.
Maybe each time I posted something, one of them would then send a message to the rest, saying,"Look, she's done it again! Let's go in and make her feel miserable about herself! Let's make her give up and face the truth that she is better off not living, that the world will be a better place without her!"
And thus, all the personal attacks started coming. I never used to believe that people are so sadistic to make others feel bad about themselves. Perhaps I am idealistic, but I always think people are not that bad, nobody will deliberately make anyone feel lousy or bad.
Especially not people whom I do not know personally (and vice versa). Because if they do not know me personally, by right it is none of their business what I do and what I write. I had asked myself why is it I am the one that get attacked and not others?
Perhaps because others write about happy stuff and general affairs. Whereas I blog about my feelings, good and bad. But that is just life. Life is full of happiness and sadness. And I am someone who lives more on my heart, so when I am upset, I get really moody. When I am happy, I am very happy.
But then again, it is just me. I believe in saying things like it is. And this is my own haven to do as I please. So why must I blog to please others anyway? People can think what they like, and if they choose not to be my friend just because they do not like what I write, there is nothing I can do.
It does not make me a worse person or a worse friend. What I write is only an aspect. People have to really know me in person before they know me. And a true friend will stand by me, no matter what happens, no matter how disapproving he / she is of what I do or write.
3 comments:
People are interesting, I quite often find the behave in a manner different from the beliefs and values they profess. However, they see no disconnect. Somehow, in their mind, everything is rationalized out. This may well be the case with your second ex who sincerely thought and believed consciously in one way, yet acted in another. Never seeing the inconsistancy in his actions.
I have often been surprised by the vitriolic comments you have drawn. It is most likely a single individual, rather than a group. If you had some sort of IP tracker, then you could confirm it yourself.
Curiously, the opposite of love is not hate. You can read my thoughts here.
Actually I sort of suspected it's an individual, not a group. Or rather, it might have been a group of people, but only that certain individual put in his / her two cents worth of personal attacks, which I still see no reason for the person to do so.
Why write about them at all?
Out of sight, out of mind.
Although there really are people out there who thrives on other people's misery.
Post a Comment