hey you, ludic lover

And this is how it feels like having nothing to say, having nothing you want to tell to others. Since I only like to scream and shout when things aren't going my way, when I do nothing but complain and whine but not doing anything to make something better, and apparently I'm an emotional wreck that gets uncontrollable and scary, then why not just keep everything inside. But I don't do it much anymore. Maybe I just can't be bothered, maybe I've zen-ed, or maybe I'm just plain tired.

You don't know how phobic I can get, how I experience a distaste so bad with those words. And I end up getting disgusted with myself, but I just can't brush that feeling away. It just makes me want to retch. I'm done trying to be another person, so done. If it's come to this, what's the point? What am I still holding on to? I would love the thrills, the adrenaline, without the fucking stress. You'll never notice, never comprehend, never try to make anything better. Everybody's just living in their own locked up world, seeing nobody else but themselves.

Yes, I'm done being somebody else. But I want to really be somebody else. I want to be unrecognizable. I need a bloody change. I want to look into the mirror and see somebody else, other than myself. Nothing that can remind me of everything I had been.

No, no baby steps. You can't afford to. Nobody ever waits for anyone. The whole bloody world moves on.

只有身体在狂欢, 心就没负担. 耳朵被音乐塞满, 抛向云端.

And I love how we can sing as loud as we like, knowing that we'll never see the people ever again anyway. Just like how we can dance as much and as crazy as we like, because once you step out, it's another world altogether totally. And when the lights go low and the music blasts the walls, that's the only time when I feel I can be anybody I like, because nobody knows me, because there's no glaring lights exposing everything you wanted to hide. And I'll only hope my head remains light-headed and maybe, maybe it can really never stop. And I swear, that's the time when I feel that nothing, really nothing matters anyway.

And I wake up these days, with the same images going through my mind over and over again. It's like I can't brush them away, because every time when I try to shut my eyes to shut everything out, that's the time they appear, over and over again. How do you choose between haunting dreams that make you hope your heart would crash and waking up to a place where you don't want to be anymore? Well, you can't.

where does it end, you say.

Because I'm glad, for days like this.

I'm supposed to do my term paper, on Happiness. And what can I say? Nabei. I really don't know what to write. Nothing remotely related to the subject inspires me. The more I think about it, the more bewildered I am. It has become strangely unfamiliar to me. Hello, what is it again?

.... . ._.. ._ _.

Why does it only take a small thing to trigger everything I'm trying so hard to push back down. It only takes a word, a thought, to bring me to place where I can't pull myself out of. Why does it have to bring out everything in me that I never ever wanted others to see, that I never ever wanted to feel. Why does it have to make me hate myself for becoming someone I hate to see myself becoming.

Can't you see my calculated steps, my patronizing smiles, my faked laughs and how everything inside me is threatening to burst although I force myself to be seen as otherwise. And how the very best I could do is still to keep on smiling. If not I'll at least try to shut my eyes and hope my tears won't fall and shut my thoughts out and not say a word.

Because I still feel, I still think, I still see. But I won't say, because I know those are selfish thoughts, because I know those are not totally logical thoughts. Or maybe my expectations are higher, maybe I expected otherwise. But it doesn't matter, because nothing's changed, because at the end of the day, they still cut at me, over and over again. Because I know I'm losing, and not to anyone else even though I tell myself it is. Because I should know better, it's a battle I'm fighting with myself.

And when you realize you can't be yourself anymore around your friends, something's terribly wrong. And because sometimes I really really feel tired and have no sense of where to begin, I end up giving up and throwing the thoughts away. But maybe it doesn't matter after all, when it's only yourself.

And it pains me to even write these, when I even don't have the courage to write simply, when I only know how to do what I do best, writing like nobody else can understand except myself. But don't give me the words I hate hearing, if it's going to do anything, it's going to make it a million times worse than make it a little better.

I need the very very last thing I can do.

And when my head hurts like this, I feel as if I could puke everything in me out. But no, it chooses to stay within me, wrecking me, tearing me inside out, ripping me apart.

Okay, you win, I lose.

zen, darling, zen. please.

I didn’t know you, yet I feel that I did. Perhaps it’s because you have touched my life, albeit in an indirect way. And I had written that note to you. That’s why I could not stop myself from crying when I read about you. It stopped me in my tracks, making everything seemed so surreal for an instant. It seemed so unreal, like how things would revert back to normal once I snap out of my trance. But they don’t. They just don’t. And I never like oscillating between what’s real and what seems real. I hate it. I really do. And what are we walking towards, isn’t it nothing but just the end? With that realization, then why does anything matter at all? In the same sense, why does anything not matter at all? I know I shouldn’t say this, but I wished I could take your place.

That day, I dreamt that I smashed a glass bottle and cut myself. In the dream, my mind was in a whirl, thinking about how I was going to do it, feeling that it wouldn’t be of any pain at all. It was horribly morbid, but I didn't mean to dream it. These days, if it isn’t insomnia, it would be that my body just refuses to wake up. I can’t bloody will my body to wake up with my mind at all.

Sometimes I wonder if you’re still the person I once knew. I can’t seem to find anything to disconfirm my no. Sometimes I wonder if you’re still there. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the one who’s not here anymore. Sometimes I wonder if it’s still all the same. But I don’t dare to say it, I don’t dare to tell myself no. Because it matters to me, even though sometimes I force myself to make everything not matter anymore. Because it would be much easier, much easier if I could do it.

So I’ll shut my eyes tight, because tears won’t fall if I keep them closed. So I’ll clench my fists tight until the fingernails draw blood, because the screams would remain silent if I do so. So I’ll squat in the middle of the sidewalk, because every step forward makes me take another step backwards. So I’ll sit and stare at the rain, because the cold would chill my bones, my brain, my heart.

路太远, 我忘了.

我喜欢, 躺在地上, 用耳机听音乐的感觉.
似乎好像被带到另一个时空, 另一个世界去.
也不知眼泪为什么会一直掉,
只希望音乐能把泪滴的声音末过去.