it has been awhile since i last updated. and reading through all my previous entries, i realised the last few that i wrote lack a certain.. how shall i put it? a certain feeling of seriousness, a lack of compassion, lack of humanity? writing for the sake of updating, writing one-liners for lack of better words to really explain how i really felt. and i am ashamed.. ashamed that i am unable to express myself like how i usually do.
the problem lies with me really. i must admit, of late i have become quite the compulsive liar, but to my defense i lie not because to cover my own behind, but i lie to defend others. past few months i have made a series of bad choices and bad decisions, and though i used to pride myself on being able to know what people really are, to read others, i am afraid i am unable to do so anymore. the past two months has been really bad.. the choices i have made has really shamed me. never have i been so down on my luck before, and the fact that these bad choices and decisions came from a source that i trust, now that makes things even more worse. i have been lied to, i have been stolen from right from under my very nose by the one person that i gave my trust to, i have had everything stripped of from me and i was at bare minimum, all because of one. and instead of being angry, i relented. i was the one that was left disappointed, i was the one who had everything taken away from her but i wasnt the one who was being cajoled. in fact i was doing all the cajoling. i was the one trying to keep the other happy. whatever burden that person was carrying, i carried it as well. in order to save the person’s face, i carried on with a plan that was made without my knowing, even though i knew in all my gut it was really a bad idea and that i should run away, run fast, run far. but i stayed. all the problems that that person encountered i shouldered, and willingly, yes laugh at my face if you will, willingly i solved the problems, amidst cried of “DONT!” from my friends and promises of “of course i will not help!” i made to my friends. nobody pointed agun to my head and forced me to help, i willingly helped. i’ll say it one more time. i willingly helped. i put myself out there and i helped, even when i knew i had nothing else left, i still helped. and i wonder, really how did i survive all this while.
my mum once said, helping people is a gift, it’s a good thing, and that we will be rewarded. but i guess she forgot to mention that if you help someone using all the wrong resources, then the bad cancels out the good. but no bother, in my mind, as long as the person is being helped it would be fine, everything would be fine when all the problems go away. unfortunately the problems never did go away, or at least when one did go away, ten others added on. the problems never ended. and i was left drained. on top to that i was beginning to be neglected, and i was for the most part being ignored. so it was all take, take, take and i was all give, give,give but i got nothing in return.
i had typed a whole eventful more, but contrary to before, i dont want to air my dirty laundry here. and i have said more than enough, more than what i really intend to anyway. bottomline is past few months have left me feeling really ashamed. i am no longer the person i was. and along with those feelings, i felt that i was being dishonest with my writings. and since i consider my writings sacred and a part of myself, i didnt want to be dishonest with myself as well, like i have been with others. when i ceased writing i burned all my writing books, where i kept all the various stories that i had written, funny anecdotes, my ideas book and i even deleted all the compositions and short stories i had saved. i wanted nothing more to do with writing. i had nothing to write, nothing to show for, i was drained.
but i was proven wrong. it wasnt ideas that i was lacking of. i was merely afraid to see myself in the stories that i write. each story, each imaginary conversation that i write is an image of myself. there is always a bit of me in them. and i was afraid of that. i was afraid to come face to face myself. to see the weakling i have become. to see the changes, ugly changes. sad changes. and mostly sad changes. i was afraid of the truth.. the truth being, i was fighting a lost cause. there really is no use fighting or helping anymore. it was never my cause in the first place. it wasnt my battle, it wasnt my fight. and that was what i didnt want to see.
a week ago, i was told to put my creative juices to work, and i was surprised at the over flow of ideas i had. i realised i really miss writing. writing had always been second nature to me. a few days after that, i sat in front of the computer, and as though it had a life own, ideas began to flow, words began to fly, self arranging themselves to form a story.. i was merely sitting there, just a vessel for the stories to draw their energy from. as i read the story, i began to see the truth.. and here i am today.
i am apologising. that is really the reason for this really long story today. i am apologising, to myself. i blamed so many things, but i didnt blame myself. it was all my fault.. all those bad decisions, bad choices. i changed, and not for the better. i wanted to fight a battle, i wanted to correct a person. but when i realise that i was losing, i chose to chuck that realisation away and pretend that i didnt know about it. and i hid from my writing because i didnt want to be reflected with the truth. and for that i apologise to myself… and of course to my friends who have been everything.
though i have learnt an important lesson, i havent given up yet. yes, i am being stubborn.. but i havent given up on the chance that one day the battle would be won. i just have to bide my time well. today the battle is lost, the fight is over, tomorrow it might be won..
