Monday, October 21, 2019
Saturday, October 19, 2019
Sunday, October 13, 2019
Giving up the fight
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| Kings Park, Perth, WA - 2013 |
She wants to slice the rope that keeps her alive.
Her brain, interwoven with draining thoughts;
It can no longer hold on for dear life.
Yet she succeeds in her attempt.
Her essence sucked out of her body,
Surrounded by pools of sticky metallic red.
She slides, and slides at a dizzying speed.
A peaceful zombie takes on her appearance.
Her exhaustion, it bleeds out of her eyes.
Sinking like an anchor to the bottom of the sea,
Relieving her heavy shoulders of the earthly worries.
A lightweight body resting away from sight,
Not wanting to be discovered.
Her shadow floats around to protect her loved ones,
Blending in with her newfound environment with peace.
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
The Eventual Departure
With an exhausted heart,
Yet she carve a path out of this mess.
These shoulders of hers,
They are heavy from unspoken burdens.
A different life haunts her with memories.
Her current life taunts her with obstacles.
Withdrawing into her shell,
She seeks solace in the silence.
Darkness welcomes her with open arms,
A place where she can call her home.
Isolation is the protective mask she wears,
As she descends into the dark abyss.
Her burdens disintegrate into particles.
Her eyes are dull and lack of life,
Describing her eventual permanent vacation
As she spends the rest of her days as a zombie.
Monday, October 7, 2019
Yet another ranting
The morning commute is draining me even more than I expected no thanks to the late nights and early mornings of my accord. I mean, who wants to willingly wake up at the crack of dawn and rush to their workplace with the fear of running late? No one, right? Yet I know a handful of people who do that on a daily basis as they live a terrible distance away. Even though I’ve the option of relying on either the public transport or the family car, it’s still a drag for me because it’s hard for me to sleep earlier. I don’t like to fall asleep during the commute as that would make me look like I didn’t sleep for 30 hours straight.
Mind you, I’ve done it before in real life. I remember it well: I was on the go the moment I landed in Adelaide. While I scooped my luggage from the baggage carousel and cleared Customs, I kept track of the time in the hopes that I wouldn’t be late for class. Due to a miscalculation on my part, I landed mere hours before the start of an academic week. I ordered an Uber cab from my phone and convinced the driver to use whatever route necessary to avoid the morning peak hour congestion so that I can arrive at my residence for a change of clothes on time. I managed to arrive on campus in time for my Evidence tutorial and somehow let it slip that “I spent the entire night on my return flight”. I caught up with the sister over coffee and lunch, completed errands at the grocery store and finally headed home - all about 5 hours later. As I was too exhausted to cook dinner, I purchased a bowl of salad from Poke Me (located somewhere in Gawler Place, near Hello Sarnie) and had it delivered via UberEats. I figured that the tiredness would send me to bed immediately after dinner but I found myself floating in the air for the next 7 to 8 hours with a book in hand. By the time I slept, it was 4 am the next morning. And if it hadn’t been for classes the next day, I’m sure I’d be awake for close to 36 hours.
As what I referenced earlier, if I keep busy with the paperwork, time flies faster than expected. Before I’m aware of it, the office takes a life of its own and sends everyone scurrying to complete their paperwork. That’s not to say that I’m not in a rush myself, but I can’t focus whenever there is a buzz of activity around me. Throw me in a silent office before or after hours and you’ll see me flourish at an unprecedented rate with music blasting through the headphones. Only problem? You’ll see the significantly permanent BB cream on my face. But the more hours I pull for work, the less I have for myself - and that’ll signal the entrance of a burnout, be it an emotional or physical kind. It wouldn’t be worth it to sacrifice my health once again.
If I don’t keep myself busy, the stack of files will grow in height and there’ll be an added pressure to complete it. And I don’t want this either; nothing in life is worth the amount of stress - and I’m already dealing with enough stress as it is in my personal life, solidifying the frown lines on my face. We both know what continual exposure to stress would do to one’s system: either high blood pressure will say hello or I’ll collapse from a heart condition. IF you read online articles, a majority of it, if not all, have illustrated the dangerous effects of cortisol on the body and on the emotions.
Mind you, I’ve done it before in real life. I remember it well: I was on the go the moment I landed in Adelaide. While I scooped my luggage from the baggage carousel and cleared Customs, I kept track of the time in the hopes that I wouldn’t be late for class. Due to a miscalculation on my part, I landed mere hours before the start of an academic week. I ordered an Uber cab from my phone and convinced the driver to use whatever route necessary to avoid the morning peak hour congestion so that I can arrive at my residence for a change of clothes on time. I managed to arrive on campus in time for my Evidence tutorial and somehow let it slip that “I spent the entire night on my return flight”. I caught up with the sister over coffee and lunch, completed errands at the grocery store and finally headed home - all about 5 hours later. As I was too exhausted to cook dinner, I purchased a bowl of salad from Poke Me (located somewhere in Gawler Place, near Hello Sarnie) and had it delivered via UberEats. I figured that the tiredness would send me to bed immediately after dinner but I found myself floating in the air for the next 7 to 8 hours with a book in hand. By the time I slept, it was 4 am the next morning. And if it hadn’t been for classes the next day, I’m sure I’d be awake for close to 36 hours.
As what I referenced earlier, if I keep busy with the paperwork, time flies faster than expected. Before I’m aware of it, the office takes a life of its own and sends everyone scurrying to complete their paperwork. That’s not to say that I’m not in a rush myself, but I can’t focus whenever there is a buzz of activity around me. Throw me in a silent office before or after hours and you’ll see me flourish at an unprecedented rate with music blasting through the headphones. Only problem? You’ll see the significantly permanent BB cream on my face. But the more hours I pull for work, the less I have for myself - and that’ll signal the entrance of a burnout, be it an emotional or physical kind. It wouldn’t be worth it to sacrifice my health once again.
If I don’t keep myself busy, the stack of files will grow in height and there’ll be an added pressure to complete it. And I don’t want this either; nothing in life is worth the amount of stress - and I’m already dealing with enough stress as it is in my personal life, solidifying the frown lines on my face. We both know what continual exposure to stress would do to one’s system: either high blood pressure will say hello or I’ll collapse from a heart condition. IF you read online articles, a majority of it, if not all, have illustrated the dangerous effects of cortisol on the body and on the emotions.
Sunday, October 6, 2019
10/06/2019
This is one of my most personal thoughts to date, so please don’t be offended if certain parts of this post have that element of anger or apathy.
There’s a part of me who feels that I’m losing the battle, but whining is not an option as there wouldn’t be anyone capable of understanding it from my angle. I don’t want any suggestions or any advice because it’s my life we’re talking about. My life has enough stress from my personal and work life as it stands. I don’t need the extra stress to weigh me down or incite a tension headache. What I truly need is someone who comprehends and not pressure me with irritating words. The said person should be someone who is there for me in the silence.
It’s rather evident to me that my own happiness is being drained from my system, leaving me with nothing to fall back on or even hold on to. Finding my way out of this emotionally draining journey is already an arduous matter. If I have nothing as a foundation block, it’s not going to help much. The fact that history is repeating itself isn’t helping either. I feign normalcy and keep to myself with my exterior mask. On the inside, my ticker is exhausted and heavy with all of the negativity. What it sees now is pure black and white. The middle part known as gray doesn’t exist for me. It’s either this or that with no in-between. At least with the gray part, you have an insight as to how unpredictable life is.
But not for the current me. The ancient day me accepts the gray part and would attempt to work with it, never allowing it to pose as a nagging obstacle.
Sometimes I miss those days when I tread along the sandy beach, deep in thought and comforted by its serenity. With the sound of waves crashing into the shoreline, it works to flush the negativity in my heart. The thought of being welcomed by the limitless water does have its way of making me feel emotionally better - even if temporarily. But not now. Speaking of the issues bothering me would do nothing good. In fact, the opposite may happen. It’d worsen things as I highly doubt those around me would jump at the first instance to assist me or drag me out of the situation. I mean, how would they be able to? They’re not the one experiencing the full consequences of it. Most of them won’t be able to relate in any way. Their criticisms and suggestions would leave me gaping out of horror. Since there’s a probability of that occurring, the best method for me to deal with my issues is to isolate and withdraw into my shell to have a bearing of everything. This may be a dangerous ideology due to the invisible sufferings - and the potential of slipping through the cracks into darkness.
Sometimes I long for those days when I didn’t have to shoulder the weight of the whole world and pretend that life is okay and stable. Those days when my eyes crinkle into a smile that is full of warmth and contentment. That’d have to be one of those rare moments in my life where I genuinely experienced merriment, but I’m aware that wishing for the past is now useless. We have to live in the present and for the future.
But life does not work that way.
A part of me is conscious of the consequences should things go south. It’s nothing good either. Think of it as a leaky icebox spilling liquid everywhere. If I want to prevent that from occurring, I guess I’ll just have to find a way to cope and not crash under the pressure like breadcrumbs.
There’s a part of me who feels that I’m losing the battle, but whining is not an option as there wouldn’t be anyone capable of understanding it from my angle. I don’t want any suggestions or any advice because it’s my life we’re talking about. My life has enough stress from my personal and work life as it stands. I don’t need the extra stress to weigh me down or incite a tension headache. What I truly need is someone who comprehends and not pressure me with irritating words. The said person should be someone who is there for me in the silence.
It’s rather evident to me that my own happiness is being drained from my system, leaving me with nothing to fall back on or even hold on to. Finding my way out of this emotionally draining journey is already an arduous matter. If I have nothing as a foundation block, it’s not going to help much. The fact that history is repeating itself isn’t helping either. I feign normalcy and keep to myself with my exterior mask. On the inside, my ticker is exhausted and heavy with all of the negativity. What it sees now is pure black and white. The middle part known as gray doesn’t exist for me. It’s either this or that with no in-between. At least with the gray part, you have an insight as to how unpredictable life is.
But not for the current me. The ancient day me accepts the gray part and would attempt to work with it, never allowing it to pose as a nagging obstacle.
Sometimes I miss those days when I tread along the sandy beach, deep in thought and comforted by its serenity. With the sound of waves crashing into the shoreline, it works to flush the negativity in my heart. The thought of being welcomed by the limitless water does have its way of making me feel emotionally better - even if temporarily. But not now. Speaking of the issues bothering me would do nothing good. In fact, the opposite may happen. It’d worsen things as I highly doubt those around me would jump at the first instance to assist me or drag me out of the situation. I mean, how would they be able to? They’re not the one experiencing the full consequences of it. Most of them won’t be able to relate in any way. Their criticisms and suggestions would leave me gaping out of horror. Since there’s a probability of that occurring, the best method for me to deal with my issues is to isolate and withdraw into my shell to have a bearing of everything. This may be a dangerous ideology due to the invisible sufferings - and the potential of slipping through the cracks into darkness.
Sometimes I long for those days when I didn’t have to shoulder the weight of the whole world and pretend that life is okay and stable. Those days when my eyes crinkle into a smile that is full of warmth and contentment. That’d have to be one of those rare moments in my life where I genuinely experienced merriment, but I’m aware that wishing for the past is now useless. We have to live in the present and for the future.
But life does not work that way.
A part of me is conscious of the consequences should things go south. It’s nothing good either. Think of it as a leaky icebox spilling liquid everywhere. If I want to prevent that from occurring, I guess I’ll just have to find a way to cope and not crash under the pressure like breadcrumbs.
Saturday, October 5, 2019
10/05/2019
Truth be told, I’m exhausted and it’s not something describable in words. I reckon words won’t suffice as a form of elaboration. I don’t know how to elucidate on it when I don’t even know what or how I’m supposed to feel. Maybe it’s the insecurity rising from the ashes to taunt my cloudy psyche. Maybe it’s an indication that my system craves to retreat into its shell.
The strong smell of someone behind the stove has sporadically lingered in the workplace for the last couple of days that it’s made me hungry too. The scent is the strongest at the area near the pantry. None of us have that extra amount of time or energy to be cooking. We’d rather be keener on the completion of our relevant paperwork. Yet the nature of the scent is unknown. Yes, there may be eateries around the office, but I highly doubt that it’s able to permeate the air indoors. As if things couldn’t become weirder, a rat visited us. Okay, maybe more like loitered outside our main door before it decided to leave. As long as it ain’t the size of the one Mama Carrie’s dog caught at home, I’m not even the slightest frightened by its presence.
I’ve been tempted more than once to transform the cubicle - and add in some personalized items like a framed photo of Swan River or Glenelg Jetty. Or even give the table a good scrub down, alone and in stress. A tidy, clean table may pose as a motivation to work harder, but not when there’s a growing stack of files that never seem to stop. Lol, I’m confident that if there’s an additional drawer (built-in or movable), it’d be occupied by the files and leaving a tad bit space for me to store my lunch bag.
The strong smell of someone behind the stove has sporadically lingered in the workplace for the last couple of days that it’s made me hungry too. The scent is the strongest at the area near the pantry. None of us have that extra amount of time or energy to be cooking. We’d rather be keener on the completion of our relevant paperwork. Yet the nature of the scent is unknown. Yes, there may be eateries around the office, but I highly doubt that it’s able to permeate the air indoors. As if things couldn’t become weirder, a rat visited us. Okay, maybe more like loitered outside our main door before it decided to leave. As long as it ain’t the size of the one Mama Carrie’s dog caught at home, I’m not even the slightest frightened by its presence.
I’ve been tempted more than once to transform the cubicle - and add in some personalized items like a framed photo of Swan River or Glenelg Jetty. Or even give the table a good scrub down, alone and in stress. A tidy, clean table may pose as a motivation to work harder, but not when there’s a growing stack of files that never seem to stop. Lol, I’m confident that if there’s an additional drawer (built-in or movable), it’d be occupied by the files and leaving a tad bit space for me to store my lunch bag.
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