Saturday, 6 August 2011


... what do people know?
Of this desolate life.
I thought at least that my parents would sympathize and maybe understand a little of why I feel like running away from everything and going home.
But they don't.
I understand, they have their own lives to live - people to see, my brother to love.
Oh, I am lovable too - as long as I stay "independent" - not whining or complaining - being self-sufficient and reassuring them that they are loved.
I'm being bitter, I know.
But what do people know?
Of this desolate life.
The walls do not speak to me.
If they could, may be things would be better.
But they do not and things are the miserable way they are now.
Having been an emotionally intense child, I learned ways to deal with my hyper-sensitivity.
But it doesn't always work now.
Sometimes, the companionship of friends help.
Other times, the comfort they offer disappears as quickly as it came and I'm left in the unbearable silence.
The silence!!! Oh, how I loathe it!
Do you understand my pain? My insanity.
People should not have to deal with my madness.
The world would be better off if I rid it of me.
But curse my conscience - it holds me back - the grief it would cause on my family, loved one and friends.
So I have to continue to walk this life.
Endure the pain - the silence.
I try but it grows overbearing.
Tell me, please.
How do I turn the silence off?
Please, will someone tell me?
It's so deafening, it's drowning me in my thoughts.
Someone please tell me, how do I turn it off?
I need to turn it off.

Thursday, 23 June 2011

First post - w00t

I contemplated posting notes on my Facebook page but then I wasn't too sure I wanted everyone on Facebook to read my posts.  It's a weird sort of feeling and it's going to sound contradictory but I wanted to speak what's on my mind and want it to be known to people - just not all people, especially not everyone on Facebook.  Maybe it's the fear of the repercussions - of being judged by the people I know.  And that's how this page was born. 

This post is probably going to come out sounding really random but you know what?  That probably represents me best - random.  I digress.  

I'm a young working adult working in the heart of Vancouver, BC.  I guess you can call me a first-generation immigrant.  No, not a 'first generation of a family born in the new country'. That's a second-generation immigrant.  First generation refers to immigrant themselves [Wikipedia].  My family, which consists of my parents and only older brother, does not reside with me.  My parents are in our motherland, Malaysia and my brother is pursuing further studies in the UK. 

Having had a string of bad experiences of housemates, I decided in 2009 that I would live alone.  Honest to God, living with people has its perks but man, when you happen to live with certain difficult individuals, life at home becomes a struggle.  It has been two years since I started living on my own and I honestly feel that it's slowly but surely making me become deranged.  

Having no one to speak to at home for such a long period of time has made me more socially inept.  I think it's because I no longer practice the consideration that I would normally have to living around people.  That and I have no TV, which most of my work colleagues feel is essential to a home.  I guess having a TV would keep me in the loop (i.e. the latest trends, lingo and news).  I feel that I am well on my way to becoming a social degenerate.

-sigh- I don't know what to do, honestly.  The people whom I have voiced my concerns to reassure me that I am not going mad and that I am not insufferable.  But they are people who either are my friends or people who have to deal with me on a daily basis and therefore will not want to hurt my feelings for one reason or another (i.e. they care for me so they don't want to hurt me or they feel that being forthright, it will make me even more miserable to deal with the following day).  

I really just hope that their reassurance is because they earnestly enjoy my company and do not think I'm absolutely bonkers.