Thursday, August 10, 2006
9:52 pm
sometimes i just wished that i could do something to stop anything.
to try just anything to stop something.
stop my mother's irritating behaviour; how she keeps assuming that i'm eight instead of eighteen, how she goes on talking about redundant things and not noticing that no one gives a damn about what crap comes out of her mouth.
stop her perverse pleasure of trying to put me down and then denying of having done anything like that.
and then there is this raw animalistic instinct to take out the frustration on the nearest tangible object.
throw stuff, smash things, hurt someone, snap at anyone who dares talk to me, bash my head against the wall or just take a knife and draw it across my skin and end it all.
regardless of how tempting said knife looked under the artificial lighting, there is this weakness that stops me from doing anything more with it.
a weakness that says i'm above all these.
she's not worth my life, no one is.
a life is still a life, and no matter how many blisters the journey gives along the way, the right to exist is too great to violate.
the hopelessness of knowing that i can't do anything about things hurt worse than the physical hurt from the pain of blood, of destruction and the likes.
ah, well.
life sucks, big time.
it's like a "live and fight" or "crash and burn" sort of thing.
on a lighter note, i think it's reassuring, in a nostalgic sort of way, when one realises that we were all young and innocent once.
while in the bus on my way home, i saw one of my psychology classmates alight the bus and walk off and that was when i saw her back.
weirdly it reminded me of how we were merely children once.
even though we're in poly now, we were only two years older than when we were all simple students in uniforms, rushing to school, trying to memorise a neverending list of formulas and theories, slacking at the "seniors' corner" of the school watching the rest of the people in school.
no matter how matured some people want themselves to be, from the back, the gait still retains that "newly-acquired-but-not-yet-full" confident air.
and that faraway-yet-still-fresh memory somehow keeps us intact from the excessive growing up we have to do and helps with the transition from adolescence to adulthood.
at least there's something there definite that we can hold on to, through the pain of having to grow up too fast too soon.
crap, now i've successfully made myself sound like some grumpy old hag, wrinkled and shriveled, with a mouth of dentures and only barely-visible strands of silver hair on my head, reminiscing about the ghost of a youth that possibly happened half a century ago.
gah.