梦开始的地方---毛毛's

as i look back at my path, i realize how many crossroads i've encountered along the journey. some are minor ones, others are life-turning. and to all of them i cannot go back. and i will never know what other paths lead to.

as i stand at a crossroad once again, i start to generalize how i used to deal with the situation before. the acculmulation of so many crossroad experiences show a rather disappointing pattern. my pattern, of making decisions. basicly, the process is like this:

1. evaluation of the paths: what are the advantages? and flip-sides? how difficult can it be? what's my projection of the future road ahead?

2. assessment of the paths (basicly a repetition of the first step)

3. dilemma (a repetition of the second step)

4. complaining (a repetition of the third step)

5. dilemma

6. assessment

7. evaluation

...

so, in a word, generally, i do nothing. yes, i do nothing.

but thats only part of the story. the story of the consciousness.

 

and here is the story of the sub-consciousness.

when i'm at a crossroad, what my sub-consciousness-self would do is this: doing whatever she can to sabotage my position, create an extreme situation for me, then thrust a decision on my face. for example, bombard the other path, blindhold me, or depress me to hell so that i no longer care about which decision i make.

sounds evil, isnt it?

but my sub-consciousness-self has saved me so many troubles: the troubles of making decision and the troubles of taking responsibilities of the decision.

 

at this point, i am thinking, whether my sub-consciousness-self has already making a decision before she go about bitching around, or she is just bitching around? if she has a choice, then i should feel lucky that i still get to choose, its just i am not aware of it. but is it my choice? is it the one that i really want to take? what if she doesnt have a choice? i feel sorry for myself.

 

so here i am again. at the crossroad.

 

 

"do you want to see the doctors? "

"did you tell your mum about this?"

"why dont you go home this may day holiday and go check with your physician?"

"arent you always having a weak stomach?"

 

so i stop telling A that i am way from being fine and well. the flu in my stomach still visits me frequently but i dont talk about it anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

it is periodical: the unspeakable pain. the constant fear. i try to encase all the darkness, but somehow they always escape. crap. the frequent is out of control, as well as their impact on me--they seem to take all the precious happiness away...so all of the sudden all the happiness, all the efforts, all the precious moments are gone, and they are being replaced, by a ghost that has been haunting me so long.

luck seems to turn his back against me recently. i am tired. i miss my old dog-eared dictionary and i lost it. and one day i saw the picture of him and caz pal, and all i could think about is, i would look much better on that pic. i am so angry. english is supposed to be my thing, but she is playing hide and seek with me. i am so unsatisfied. why am i being so lazy and stupid and weak all the time. what has become of me. where am i. i lost myself.

as i opened the door today, i suddenly saw my bedroom back at home. and the map. how can i not remember the map, and the words on it, about how i need him to be much stronger, how he has been my reasons to fight, how i wish to be with him. and at that moment, i dissolve into tears. i have no idea why i cried. catharsis, or whatever, just reminding me once again how weak i can be.

she told me that i need to relax. take my time. take health as my top priority. i know she wished all the best for me.and everytime i turn to her with all my tears and throw my weakness right at her face. everytime. and she never said a thing. and she was that little princess that was protected and loved, and now she is all by herself doing chores in that big lonely house. i just cannot imagine how she cope with it. and it kills me to think that i failed her. i am her little princess. i am this useless little princess.

i like john mccain. i'm not too into his POW experience as i'm intereted in that chanel on cindy's wrist, but i like him. simply because he says he is a maverick. and i am a maverick. so i like john mccain.

i dont like obama. technocratic is the only thing that i see on his face. i dont like changes. and obama represents change. so i dont like obama.

 

in the same logic, since i like things which is in consonant with my philosophy, i must have liked life. life is a bitch ,and i am a bitch, so i like life.

but who is the bigger bitch here? i wish i am. i wish i can be mentally strong enough to say no. i wish my hopes are not raised. i wish i can cast all the cares upon the waves and dance and laugh and scream to your tears. i am not bitch enough. what a shame.

i am deadly haunted by the weak me. she keeps whispering to my ears, turning my faces to the pains and drowning me in the past. she is the old me. she is the part of me. she is me. she is something that i am dying to get rid of, i am what i am dying to get rid of.

i need some help. but bitches dont ask for help. it wouldnt work anyway, no one can help.no one is willing to help.

no one likes the weak. and you just treat this like its my being childish, my being sentimental, and now i get it.

for a bitch, we don't keep things that has no use. and i just prove that i have no use. and neither do you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

it happends when you are waiting at a jingling cash registers, or when you are reading a book, talking on the phone, jogging along the road. then suddenly, inexplicitly, everything fades. the world fades. you fade. this feeling may last only a second, or it might linger.

of course those things around you people you are talking to are familiar, only in a unfamiliar way. and you, you cannot feel you any more. it is as if you are thrusting into this body from nowhere, only to find yourself in a dreamworld. panic? maybe. numb? every time. along with that comes an urge to stretch your hand to touch the things around you: because you wanna know if you can touch the unreal. and you go ahead and touch them, you just still donno the answer.

yes, it is the loss of the sense of reality. someone call it "alice in a wonderland"; yet in psych-world, it is known as "depersonalization". it might come as a sympton of depression , insomnia and  bipolar disorder.

the loss of reality.  sometimes it is a desirable experience when the reality is ... so real.

 

and i wake up at 2am in the morning, asking myself whether i have made a big mistake.