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Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Fear and Blame

I've been experiencing pretty quicksilver moods lately, for reasons unknown. One minute I feel fine, the next minute I'm depressed. It twists and turns, but this is nothing unusual. It happens to me all the time. This morning I felt fine, a little tired, in the afternoon I was overtaken by a sudden and unexplained rage, and an urge to throw breakable things at a wall and beat somebody up. Then I was overtaken by a calm sort of disconsolation. Now I just feel nothing. The conflicting signals in my mind have disappeared, albeit it's only a matter of time before they return again to plague me. I don't know what to write anymore, for the past few days I've been wanting to say things in here, but they seem to vanish the moment my fingers touch the keyboard, and I'm left with a blank mind. I sit for awhile, staring at the wall, at nothing in particular, an invisible spot perhaps, lost to my sight but visible to my mind and nothing comes to mind. Nothing at all. If anything, I'm just tired of caring about anything.

A lot of people tell me I need to smile more. Because I give strangers the impression that I'm snooty and arrogant. I don't care, I've learnt long ago that it's easier to disregard what other people think or feel about me, it protects me from a sort of emotional vulnerability. Once every so often, someone comes along and breaks the wall of ice I've built around myself and I am left, alone to pick up the pieces. I don't smile if there's no reason for me to, not because I'm unhappy but because I just don't feel like it. I don't think I'm a very friendly person at first glance, but it's okay I guess, it deflects the attention of strange people whom I've had to deal with on several different occasions. People have to know me to know what I really am like, and people have to really know me to know me deep inside. And not everybody does. I just don't like showing my true self to every Tom, Dick and Harry, I hate the feeling of vulnerability. People take advantage of it, and I'm tired of whinging and tired of getting hurt. Given a choice between being alone and being bruised, I'd choose the former. Pain is only good for me if it's self- inflicted. Physical pain is an outlet to my pent up frustrations, it reminds me that I'm real, and that everything I feel is real and not something concocted up by the little me living in me. I'm human, I'm allowed to make mistakes. I learn from them. I hate being anaclitic.