It was all becoming a little meaningless. So this is goodbye, although it was very hard to terminate renewal of this domain.
Leaving, is a very liberating experience for me, because I tend to get very attached to things. And people.
I do have a new home online. Email me at purpgurl [at] gmail [dot] com, for details if you want to know. This space will be taken down some time early next year.
I shun drama like you won’t believe it.
The let-down has been so huge so frequent lately that all I want to do is complete my 2 semesters with no outside-upm-world contact. Because that place itself has enough disappointments in store for me.
I know that’s cowardice. But I just can’t find that part of me that used to alwaaaays find the brighter side of things. In place of that optimism, appeared a long list of damaging things that I want to do, and I can’t wait to get started.
Here are a few songs I never want to hear again, due to the obvious sentimental values that I attach to them on different occasions.
Ryan Adams - Starlite Diner
Augustana - Either Way, I’ll Break Your Heart Someday
Room Eleven - Swimmer
Room Eleven - It’s Raining
The Script - I’m Yours
Lykke Li - Window Blues
Mauro di Maggio - Non Ti Voglio Fermare
But I still play them on loop when I’m already feeling too blue, even when I know the songs just worsen my mood.
I’ve been feeling like crap for the past week, if I don’t finish this book about suicide and quickly move on to chic lit, I think I might put on a load of weight from comfort eating. What the hell. I’m going to go make myself happy tomorrow by getting a bottle of D&G Pour Homme. It smells nearly unisex so why not. And that pair of heels I’ve been eyeing. Maybe even those oxfords if I would give up my Tuesday coffee.
Today I crumbled. Thrice.
Everything after the first one, might have been a result of spending the afternoon reading Nick Hornby’s A Long Way Down. Maybe, somehow I saw myself in one of his four suicidal heroes and heroines: The Has-Been, The Lesser Daughter, The Tied Down 50-something Widow, The Loser Wannabe.
When the fog cleared up today (with a little trigger from my parents who had meant well), where I saw myself standing, was a very unhappy place to be. And it made me sick, literally.
Funny how I was just dumbfounded last night, watching Vanity Lair, where this guy got sick of his own imperfections. Like, literally sick.
Either my push ups were done all wrong, or I simply haven’t exercised in a too damn long while. Because I am in some major pain now. I tried watching ANTM while eating buttery pound cake, to take my mind off this discomfort in the left arm. Did not work at all. Reruns of Friends and bitter Jamaican chocolates, didn’t work either. Just stepped out of a hot shower, and the pain came bouncing back when I left the steaming hot water.
I’ve tried applying 2387423840 varying degrees of pressure on the arm, bend them at every angle I can manage, and let them dangle at every creative position my head can come up with. Still. The. Same.
When I went to my 3am aunt agony, crying out for a way to take the pain away, he offers this solution: when that guy who ignores you adores it with much love.
Nevermind making sense of the “guy who ignores me” bit… This all just reminded me of how much I miss having someone tenderly picking up whichever limb of mine that is in pain, and showering me with “aaww you poor baby” looks.
I miss those days when I used to cut myself (accidentally of course) and having someone else do the bandaging for me.
Oh hello arm. I think the pain just went away. Bed time!
