Tag Archives: growth

Wading

I feel like I have to give a disclaimer before I get a call asking if I'm okay. I couldn't sleep and at precisely 0313, I did what I've been putting off for so long – I wrote. This is what came of it.

And I’m here. Reading our story and feeling so fucking overwhelmed by the utter dysfunction of it all, wondering how I managed to find love in you, in your absurdity. I can’t help but feel you’ve broken me forever and you won’t ever understand because it doesn’t matter half as much to you as it does to me. Nobody will understand. Nobody has been in love with you the way I was in love with you.

I'm floating in you, in what I want you to be. You can see me, clear as day and you know what I want yet you deny me heaven. And I deny myself by clinging on to the idea that is so evidently not you. Either I drown here and the death of me will open your eyes to the actuality of what you've done or I save myself, never to wade in you again but know you're still here, being what I don't need you to be – not mine.

I'm learning and desperately trying to unlearn the mechanisms I have used to keep myself together in this time of healing. I let myself cry, I let myself think, I let myself grieve and I realise I'm living a life that no longer exists to appease you.

Finality isn't what I thought it would be. It didn't bring about the coldness of the loneliness I know I need. I feel open. I am not new but I am.

I’d like to say thank you to everyone who encouraged me to start this again. From the people who asked me if I was still writing, to those who asked me to start writing again and to those who simply said they missed my blog. It makes me teary-eyed to think I’ve touched people enough for them to notice my absence and to care to ask me to try this all again. It means the world to me.

Just One Resolution

I haven’t felt inclined to write for a long time. I could lie and say I’ve had too much to do but besides studying, I really don’t do much and even the amount of studying I do is debatable. I have tried though. I can’t count the number of times I’ve sat on my bed, my legs crossed, my lights low and my eyes glued on a blank document, the cursor blinking at me, patiently waiting for me to do something but I couldn’t. No one asked why I hadn’t posted anything and I was surprisingly grateful for that too. It’s pressure and pressure leads to me writing absolute crap. I know, you don’t have to say it.

But here we are, in 2016 and I’m doing this. Happy New Year, everyone.

I don’t have any resolutions. Well, I had one but I think I’ve seen the light and realised how truly idiotic it was. I’m turning 20 in approximately 5 months. The actualisation of this only just sunk in about 3 weeks ago. And as expected, I freaked the fuck out. In my mind, I have, or better yet, had a timeline of how I wanted my life to pan out. I’m a semi-existentialist; I like to think I have some control over my destiny. On my timeline, around this time, I wanted to be able to drive, be living away from home, fully settled into university, be encapsulated by a self-confidence that could shatter concrete and of course, be in love. And when I consolidated what I had anticipated for myself and what I actually am, the big jigsaw puzzle that was missing really sent me into panic mode. I started thinking I was broken, like there was something wrong with me and I vowed to myself that by the 6th of May, I would be in something that resembled a relationship, by fire, by force. The people who I told this to all said the same thing: “what’s the big deal?” and it exasperated me that they couldn’t see what I was seeing. But the fact that they didn’t see what was so monumental about being 20 and single made me re-evaluate everything too and I came up with this new resolution: I won’t babble about singledom anymore. I won’t talk about boys anymore, I won’t cry about how “lonely” I feel or how “jealous” I am at the blossoming relationships around me. I’ll wait but I won’t sit and wait and I don’t want this blog to sit either.

So, with that being said, prepare to be introduced to a different side of me, I suppose. I want to try all kinds of things on here, I want to write stories, I want to collaborate, if I can teach Mandarin on here, I swear I will. I want to try new things, I want to continuously remind myself that a world exists outside the realm of boys and relationships that I’ve so tightly wound myself up in. This will be my little experiment. I will be consistent and I will post once a week, I promise. I just want to be open here, I want to grow and let you all see. I’m excited about this, I really am.

Oh and this is the year where I will edit wisely and justify my text before publishing because having it all aligned to the left is a mess.

Alrighty, see you next week!

Georgina ❤

Songs of the Week (it’s been a while)

The Issue At Hand Evolves

I have been MIA for way too long, I know. I couldn’t think of what to write and I wasn’t even prepared to bullshit you or myself through something meaningless. They say time is the best answer to everything (they don’t, I’m just making it up as I go along) but that’s all I needed. I got my mojo back.

When we were little, there was always this curiousity towards the opposite sex. There was the whole “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” kind of thing. There was this air of innocent intrigue, keyword being innocent. From year 4-6 of primary school, the whole class used to chill together, we were all friends, good friends, friends that MSN’d together at 6pm until dinner was ready. I personally think I skipped the “boys have cooties” phase, I was born hormonally charged. I’ve always liked boys; I didn’t shy for them nor them me either. I think I had my first kiss when I was 8. I remember being so blasé when we’d play truth or dare as young’uns when first kisses were imagined by others and cherished on the top shelf of the mind of others, kept with all the much-loved memories. I didn’t see it as something monumental. It was just a thing. It was almost something I could do without.

Did your mum ever give you that talk that scared the shit out of you when you were younger? Did she ever tell you touching a boy could get you pregnant? I am so lucky for a mother who didn’t wreck my mind like that. I don’t think I knew the actual mechanics of sex until I was 11/12. Boarding school made sure I knew every single excruciating detail.

But what I’m saying is, when we were young, heterosexual friendships weren’t something that was out of the blue. They didn’t threaten anyone, really. Seeing a young boy and a girl being friends didn’t necessarily raise eyebrows as it does now. Drama evolves with time. It may have been around when we were prepubescent and it is ever so present now that we are grown but it’s just so much more in your face. The fact that you’re not meant to have a genuinely friendly friendship with a member of the opposite sex is fiercely shoved down your throat. You are almost taught to believe your platonic relationship is destined to become tinged by attraction eventually. Just wait on it.

For instance, let’s say your girlfriend/boyfriend has a best friend of the opposite sex. Wouldn’t you want to know everything about this supposed best friend; be everywhere when your significant other and said best friend are together and most importantly, know whether they are having/had sex or not? It is just impossible to have peace of mind when your lover has an opposite sex friend who was there before you. There’s no way you would allow for such a friendship to form when you are in the picture, no way in hell.

Once we reach a particular age, I’m going to say 16 as that is the legal age (stay safe, kids) even though I witnessed this and have lived this since I was 12 – platonic relationships between the sexes do not exist. You cannot have a friend who is a boy/girl and just leave it at that level. There is always that underlining tone of sex being whispered in the background even if you know in your heart that you’re not necessarily attracted to the person. I remember I was texting someone I had just met and we were in that phase of asking questions and once I got past the standard enquiries such as how old are you, where are you from, what university are you studying in, I went straight for “do you have a girlfriend?” even though I knew I wouldn’t ever be with this person in any way shape or form. Or the time I was texting someone whom I had again just met and less than an hour into our text-versation and establishing common ground, he was asking to meet with a wink emoji. The wink emoji. It’s almost primal, dare I say it. Maybe it’s our bodies’ way of ensuring we find a mate and by doing so, we are psychologically programmed to find a potential, secure said potential, establish then eliminate competition. Occasionally and unknowingly, you just catch yourself on the first step of this process and ask yourself “wait what? I don’t even like him/her, what the hell am I doing?”

I guess with age, what is important to me changes. I’m getting old, I am 19 years of age. Before I can blink, the –teen will be a distant memory. With age comes maturity; comes change that I can’t fend off even if I wanted to. My attention has shifted to what matters now but might not matter in 10 years. Tastes have changed, tolerance has changed. Things that mattered, don’t. Things that I couldn’t think about without feeling a huge swirl of emotion only make me smile now. Every little thing that happens to me is a lesson to be learnt, wisdom to be acquired, another gem to be kept. The drama evolves but it will always be around. Maybe when I’m 29, I’ll look back at this phase in time and laugh too.

Song of the Week

This song makes me bust a move.

 

And this tune tune tuneeee. This album came out the year I was born.

I will be back, promise. I’ve missed writing. I’ve missed you, blogosphere.

Until then,

Georgina ❤