Psychic Regression

With the setting of the sun, the tears fall freely. For a very long time, I have not sought solace and comfort in my words. But tonight, they are all I have. Last night I lost the last shred of self-worth I possessed. I couldn't quite understand why I felt so troubled initially, but now I know. I'm not cut out for this. My despair has regressed to a quiet resignation. I am resigned to my fate. And I know it will always be this way. Some men would die for the life I lead. Well, it certainly is killing me. I'm moving the piano to Bedok. I've moved out for good. I can't take it. The stress, the pain. And so I compounded my earlier mistake by messaging J. Told him what I missed, and he fell silent. Contemplate away, J. I've said what I've been fighting to hold back all these years, and now you know, do what you will. I have nothing more to say or do. Ball's in your court now. R has a ton of other responsibilities to juggle; I get that now. Z...*big great sigh* Z is something I wish I could undo. It shouldn't have happened, and now I feel contaminated. It's stupid, yeah. Look before you leap and all that. Great advice. Really. Only I've already leapt and landed on the sharp pointy rocks in the ravine below. So...nice sentiment, but it's too late. The deed is done, and my hands remain bloody. Let the clouds obscure the moon, the stars. Take away everything that is good and pure, for I have been condemned. Salvation is just a passing thought. There is no redemption for me. But Z, believe me, that one moment when our gazes locked and you were a breath away, I honestly thought I was a move away from checkmating the darkness that wells up within me. I can't do this anymore. I am regressing to the shadows from which I sprung. I have tried everything I know to rid myself of this stain upon my soul, but some things can't be washed away. I reached out to my angels, but then...I realised...why go on corrupting those who remain pure? I've done enough, and I'm pulling away. Let them live in light and flourish in lavish luxury. I will remain here, reunited with my piano, and no more reason to leave my sanctuary. Sanctuary. The very word makes me laugh. It is a harsh, bitter sound that expels from my lips. The very notion that one so darkened should have the audacity to have a place of peace...it's absurd. There are many things I regret, and I'm tired of always being wary, of being cautious, of being afraid. So reader beware. I will spill all in this post, length and caution be damned. I regret not telling one of the few people I've ever loved that I'm gay. My grandmother died as I was contemplating telling her precisely why I was so troubled. She had been trying to reach me for weeks, and I never got the chance to say goodbye, or explain to her why I resented so much. I was beside her when she passed on, but I couldn't find the strength to disappoint her by telling her I wasn't normal, at least by society's standards. We were very close, and I frequently spent my days with her before she succumbed to illness. The weeks that followed are a blank. I do not discuss her with any of my family members, though God knows they try. That's at the top of my regret list. Second is when I went for a chalet with my family. It was on a Friday, and on that very same day, my grand-uncle passed on. Coincidentally, he was very close to my grandmother too. The three of us often spent a great deal of time together. I was not told until Sunday, when we finally returned home. He was asking for me in his last moments, and I let the second person I loved down. These things haunt me, yet I have thrown them into the back of my mind to fester away. I am tired of always having to repress bad memories and fight to maintain equilibrium in a life so often riddled with loss. Then there are all the bad memories of the men I have had the misfortune to come across when I was younger. Suffice it to say that the experience is perhaps the chief reason why I cannot trust. I do not trust, I cannot trust, and today...I finally see the reason why. Oil and water, light and dark. I am throwing everything up today. A desperate attempt to find peace, but screw that. I deserve peace after all the shit that has happened. All the fights with the people I care about, all the little things about me that I can never explain. I am so so sorry, Z. For once, I want to have at least a week where I can sleep in peace and not be troubed by the demons that lurk in my mind, spawned by the devils in my past. Why can I not find peace? I can't. I tried to reach out to bridge the gap that has widened between me and the people I've driven away. I have lost my father, my dad, and the list goes on, ad infinitum. If loss only makes you stronger, how come I feel so weak now? Everyone agrees that I gave in to temptation with Z. Well, excuse me for wanting to be loved! I have spent my entire teenage formative years believing that I am on a fast train ride to hell with my homosexual orientation, and that I was undeserving of love and affection. Emotion is new to me, it is addictive. I am fascinated by the myriad of emotion that different people invoke in me. Love, lust, dislike,resentment. All this fascinates me. Excuse me for spending half my life as an emotional zombie completely devoid of feeling! Excuse me for trying to find affection when all I can come home to is four walls and total silence. Why do you think I am so attached to the piano? At least it fills up the silence. Why do I keep running away from everyone? Why can I not learn to trust? NO one knows much about me, and it is my fault for keeping it that way. It is my defense mechanism, and it is all I have left. I am lonely, yes. Who wouldn't be? All I have are the four walls that close in on me. I miss the sound of laughter, I miss the gaiety that a household should have. But I can't go back, because for me, thereis no redemption. So tell me, Gabriel. Where is your light now, angelus? I can't go home, I won't go home. I want a father to take me to the park, to play frisbee with me. I want a mum who won't judge me, who won't keep insinuating that I am an atrocity in the eyes of God. Most of all, I want peace. I'm tired of the loneliness, and I'm tired of all my mistakes in trying to ease that pain. I am so tired. I want to close my eyes and dream of contentment that lasts forever. I can't see R again. I can't see X. I can't see J. I've driven them all away with my inability to trust. I sit here in my room, and all I have is the silence. I am so tired of fighting, of missing everyone that I love. Of losing them to forces beyond my control. I love everyone that I come across, and it really really hurts when I have to attend their funerals knowing that there is so much left unsaid. That's it. If it hurts this much to feel, then I don't want to feel at all. Kit's words still haunt me. "Everyone you love leaves you. You don't deserve anyone." I'm so tired. All this because I tried to find affection for one brief, shining moment. Judge me, but my punishment has already been meted out. My solitude shall be my penance. Tomorrow my piano will arrive, freshly tuned and waiting to be placed. I cannot love, I cannot lust, I cannot have, I cannot trust. I give up. I tried, and tried and tried. And failed and failed and failed. So there. Voila. The universe is trying to tell me something, but I was deafened by my insistence that I deserve love. Well, the earplugs are coming off now, and the piano, the darkness, and my pen shall be my constant companions.
The black of night shall drown out all light. For me there is neither wrong nor right.

Psychic Confusion

The night was so calm and peaceful, with a heavy storm brewing overhead. Z was up and awake, talking to me online. It was nice to actually talk and not fight as we normally do. Then he asked how I was...and he came down to my place in a cab. At five in the bloody morning. I went down to fetch him, while Heaven wept all around me. The lightning was an ominous sign, and the thunder was a constant warning. We went to my room...and talked. We were both lying on my bed, and he was pouring his heart out to me. I didn't know what to say, or do. I mean, we're kinda in the same boat with our woes of unrequited love. Basically my mind was this huge vacuum, and then his hand was on my shoulder, and sliding down my thigh. My reaction was completely natural, and one thing led to another. So yes, we wound up having sex, and he whispered that we ought to 'see each other' on a regular basis. My mind is fucked up now. It isn't fair. I should have been asleep tonight, I shouldn't have spoken to Z, I should have been thinking! My mind is whirling. What the fuck have I done? Oh, someone please shoot me now. He was affectionate all the way to the bus-stop, and I was this frozen marble statue. Completely devoid of emotion. Kill me. Please. I don't know what will ripple outward from this latest event, but I don't care. I'm close to tears and I want someone to talk to, someone who will tell me everything will be alright, and that things will go back to how they used to be. I can't do this anymore. Kenneth was right. Heck, even Phoebe may be right. I'm tired of the sex, the tears, the blood, the whole entire cycle. Sure, I've lusted after Z for years. I finally got to sleep with him this morning. But then what? We were both thinking of other people while doing the dastardly deed. That isn't normal! THIS isn't normal. It's all fucked up. I need a break. I need to breathe. I can't breathe. YOu know what? I needto run away somewhere. Liquor. Yes. I need a drink. GOD, I need a drink. Get away from it all, andI sure as hell don't have a vacation home in Majorca. Liqour's the only way to go! Z, I'm sorry. Give me some time to figure it all out. I've done everything a friend would do, and then some. *bangs head on wall* Bad Faiz! Badbadbadbad! Nonono. I need a leash and a muzzle for myself. *cries* What have I done?! I'm so used to having sex with one of my old flames that a new one feels completely alien to me? Does the problem lie with me? Ok, so I'm attuned to my flames. I know each and every one of their G-spots, their warning signs, their scent right before orgasm. WOw. I never knew a breath of fresh air could kill. ARGH! ENOUGH! I will not think about Z anymore. I'll go strangle myself now. R was asking yesterday if I'd met any new guys. Maybe I can go rant about my mistake to him. Not that Z was a mistake...I can still taste him. NO! ARGH! NONONO! *smacks head* Please. Shoot. Me. Now. SEIF!!

Psychic Burst

R came back, I threw a tantrum, and J spoke to me after I was done being a bitch. There. An emotional explosion that I can't and won't elaborate upon. I'd much rather focus on the darkness that swirls around me. The darkness is not as static and unmoving as most people understand it to be. It moves unseen, a shadow that lurks in every corner, hiding from the light. As do I. I believe the time has come for me to retreat from the sun, and cultivate the seeds of darkness that were sown a long time ago. Shadows dance around my room in a mockery of the vibrancy of life. The Darkness is a living entity that accompanies Night on her dark sojourn through the world, bringing her cousins Sleep and Dreams with her. She is a goddess in her own right, yet none pay obeisance to her. She cloaks the world with her dark embrace, and all fall prey before her cousins. Only I remain immune to the wiles of such a charming family. Night arrives in her unearthly chariot, and unleashes her cousins Sleep and Dreams, taking over the world, spreading darkness with her touch. Perhaps I am not the only mortal to witness such glory in motion. Nor do I care much if I am. I have marked gardens all over this island as my territory, and the night is mine to do with it as I wish. I can recline among luxuriant blooms as night unfurls in all her splendour, with her cloak of stars and moonlight. And I, the ever observant one, shall witness her nightly murder of the sun. Kill him, and day fades away into obscurity. The queen shall rule with her mighty cousins, and I shall bow before such power. Not in fear, never that. I do not fear power, only those who abuse it with such nonchalance. Nor do I fear karmic debts, for repercussions have no effect on me. I bow out of respect before such a powerful entity. The eternal duality of night and day entrances me. It captivates the imagination, it empowers the wise. Suddenly the burst of emotion that has threatened to suffocate my soul fades away before Night herself. I stand in her court with my head held high, and she drains all the negativity away. Oh, Nick. If you were alive today to see the glory of night, and let me show you all the beauty that our world contains...I will continue to pray that your soul will find the peace you never could have in this life. Death is sobering, and I am dead serious (pun intended) about my tragic death. If I could choose the time and place when I die...I'd want it to be at midnight when Night holds court, and when the stars smile down from the heavens. I'd want to die among blooming flowers, and breathe my last nestled in Nature's bosom. I am no more immortal than the great men before me, and I can die in peace knowing I won't be the last. For I have found that I am not alone. Nick before me, and the great philosophers before him. The wisdom of these men is matched only by their mortal misery. I think it's part of life that greatness goes hand in hand with strife. The angels of night are singing their heavenly choir, and I find my pain is eased for just a few moments. Thanks, Z. I'll see you tomorrow. =)
A burst of hope, and I am momentarily at peace.

Psychic Chaos

*sigh* It appears that some fates are meant to be unchanged. I missed him yet again, but this time...I am not scrabbling to tie up loose ends. It's evolved to the stage where I feel that if it's meant to be, it's meant to be. You know? Life goes on, the world continues spinning on its axis. I'm just a tiny speck among millions of other life-forms. What do I have to offer, what do I possess that makes me different? At 3 in the morning, heat has flooded my veins and suddenly I find myself reaching for the bottle. Heck, I don't smoke. I'm allowed the occasional drink. I am just so tired of the continual misunderstandings, the hot and cold periods that always leave me high and dry. It's not just my troubled relations that is bugging me tonight. It's the fact that...if I do go through with this...it'll mean I've moved out for good. I'm not going back, and both my parents know this. I have not stayed there for longer than four hours in over two years. And suddenly the implications of that sentence have hit me. Well...it's fly or die. Everyone has a fatal flaw...and mine is that I cannot trust. Every time it seems like someone is getting too close, my barriers go all the way up and I end up driving the person away. God, I can practically taste the alcohol. I wish it dosn' have to be this way. But when chaos strikes (and I am always at ground zero when it happens) I just need to find some release. I can't do this, I'm not strong nough. Chocolates and alcohol. Yum. My mind is going all blurry...oh, wait. I think that's my eyelids falling shut. I was frightened today, when eh messaged me, and I thought...well, this is it. I was frightened because I realisd today...I don't do trust. Frightening? You tell me. So...J. Here itcomes. It's not you, it's me. I don't trust you, adn the fact that you left me alone all these years doesn't help your credibility. So you came back. Big whoop. R has vanished, making me hate him too. What is up with these guys? Shit, my taste in men sucks big time. I'm going to take a long walk along the short pier at the reservoir. Maybe I'll fall in and at least fulfil my prophecies of a tragic death. I can't think anymore, because if I do, the weight of my thoughts will suffocate me. It's already hard to breathe as it is. So,J. Here itis. I love you, still do, forever and always. Stupid, cliched, annoyinly irritating for me. Some stupid emotion that clings to me like limpets on a rock atlow tide. Screw you. In every sense of the word. I hate you, then I love you, and I hate how much power that gives you over me. Heck, my parents dont even have a fraction of the control you exert over me. Continue keeping me on this short leash. Maybe it'll choke me. I can't see you. I just can't. God, I need more acohol. There's an ugly hammerng at the backof my head, and I feel vaguely nauseated. Ugh. I have been the center of so many firestorms recently, the catalyst for chaos that I think my karmic debt iscatchting up with me. Oh. Brian just died. I'm off to space out somewhere with a trusty bottle and lots of chocolate. If R is still alive, I'm gonna kill him. *annoyed* J, your words are nothing without your presense to back it up. If you mean what you say, prove it.
Look around you; I'm the king of everything and nothing.

Psychic Composure

Ignoring the panic that threatens to overwhelm me, I have decided to maintain a cool composure tomorrow. Unruffled, uncaring. I am so over this guy! Right? Oh, shut up heart. I'm flooded with nervous energy, so I've been bouncing around just trying to tell myself this is a good idea. It is. Really. I just don't see how yet. Deep breaths. Deeeeep breaths. *screams* I think I'll go pretend to beat up shadow people to ease the stress, which is starting to affect my consciousness in that I'm beginning to lose it. =/ By the by...ANTIBIOTICS ARE MEANT TO BE COMPLETED! How bout that. Oh, well. Something new everyday.

Psychic Imbalance

Something weighs heavily on my mind tonight. Twice I have written lengthy posts only to delete them on moments of impulse. The darkness, which usually I find so comforting, suddenly seems tight and suffocating to me. I do not wish for darkness tonight. I want someplace bright, well-lit, like a sunny field where violet blooms wave merrily in the passing breeze. I want the warmth of my angels, yet one has fallen, one is incarcerated, and one more beyond my reach. Ah, my taste in men is questionable. *shakes head* With Nelly Furtado screaming 'TRY' at me, I finally typed out a brief but emotionally laden message to J. How apt. Well, my timing is, as they say, impeccable. I can only hope my English remains so, particularly when I'm trying to 'break in' at the moment. *sigh*
So we meet. We love. We part bitter. Wow. In three short sentences, I have summarised the whole purpose of this game they call love. Bravo. *applauds* Before I allow my hormones to completely overwhelm me and end up watching some chick flick and cry buckets (God forbid) I think I should go get some shuteye. Tomorrow is....Wednesday. I think I have something on...but at this point in time, I can hardly say I care. *miserable* I need chocolates, a good comedy (FRIENDS!!!) and a long chat on the phone with R. Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention that. He's still alive and kicking. I don't want to know where he went, or why he chose to go incommunicado, so screw that. He's here, he's within my reach and GOD I need him.
On a lighter note, my younger brother is following in my footsteps. In a good way, I should point out. He's gotten certificates stating that he is fluent in both Malay and Chinese! Good for him. Which reminds me...I'm supposed to giving French tuition tomorrow. Ah. Time to dig out the old books. My sister plays two instrument, my brother speaks three languages, and I...just do everything else that people seem to find so odd.
I sense a disturbance in the Force tonight. :P

Psychic Longing

There is something about the night that draws my soul out. Tonight I remember all the feelings that once were so foreign to me, something I could not understand at first. The euphoria of first love, the bitterness of first parting. The freedom I discovered hidden in the night air, the exhilaration as I run along the corridors of darkness that belong solely to me. Wings of darkness lifted me up. I may see him again, I don't know. But I sense change in the air, as surely as a blind bat senses nightfall. My illness cannot contain me anymore; I have risen. I will continue rising, I will continue fighting. I will continue hoping that you'll understand someday, J.
R has vanished completely, yet again. I feel a pang as I remember what we both went through the last time he confronted his personal demons. It was years before we spoke again. I'm not sure if I can keep this cycle going. Love, sex, silence. On and on, ad infinitum. Perhaps it is time I broke it, R. If you can't decide what you want, then maybe I should. I don't want to wait; I'm tired of doing that for all the people who matter. Night usually sees me dewed in sweat, regardless of how chilly the air gets, but tonight I feel perfectly cool with nary a drop anywhere. Music fills my heart and head, and suddenly I am not some dying lovelorn boy who cannot bend the universe to his will. I am nowhere and everywhere all at once, and I can feel his warmth. The stars are no longer beyond my reach; they are all around me. Will you be the brightest jewel in my court, J? The stars pale in comparison to the bright sun that you are. You are joy incarnate. Laughter flows in waves from your expressive eyes, and you give me peace on days that seem endless and long. The silence kills me slowly, but I cannot deny you the peace and freedom that I know you so deserve. Even if it kills me to pine for you quietly, I know you have sacrificed too much for me. Oh, the thorns of love are many and puncture deeper than I thought they ever would. But if nothing else, this proves that the love I have for you is not false. And that fact alone gives me strength to bear the wounds only love can bring. I have not faltered once in all these years, but sometimes...I wonder. If I had not hidden my insecurities behind petty arguments and terrible tantrums...would you have stayed to calm the storms in my heart? That question brings a rueful smile to my face. You're still here, aren't you? Each year brings that much healing back to us. Perhaps this year, J. Your bag still sits next to my drawers, growing more forlorn every year, as does the man who still loves you. I saw the look you tried to hide that night, as you watched me go. You caught my hesitation, but the traffic lights had already changed. Maybe soon, J. Maybe soon. I can only hope...and wait.
For you I'd pen a thousand songs.

Psychic Stumble

Well. SO much can happen in so little time. I hardly know where to begin. My health is improving, slowly, but surely. I have yet to figure out what triggers the nausea, but the pills help me to keep my food down. I have not exercised since I fell ill (the horror!) and I feel worse everytime I look at my usual exercise spot, so long forgotten. I will be seeing J soon. I will be determinedly polite and civil, regardless of the emotional turmoil the sight of him invokes in me. I had supper with my family yesterday night, on my sister's birthday. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife, I swear. But I was nice and ever so polite, even if a bit frosty. Some deep-seated resentments don't just vanish after a few years. While at the martial arts convention, my mum sought me out from where I was seated in the garden, watching from afar, and we talked. It was lucky my dad wasn't there when I was 'talking' to her, or we would have given those coloured belts a run for their money. She just can't understand my fascination with music and languages, and how I can find beauty in the most mundane things. Philosophy? To her it is a subject as dead as the Latin language, used by men in times long gone. Of course, I am not entirely surprised. Hardly anyone understands me, and sometimes I don't know why I do certain things. I'm sorry, J. It was because of my family that I did what I did that August two years ago. *sigh* I am on the mend, I have been eating regularly, even. But there is still that little hole in my heart to fill, that void that only two men have managed to lessen. At one point during the martial arts meet, my mother told me, "Among my children, you are by far the brightest. You could read even when others were still struggling with words." I agree. So many people have over the years been commenting on my intelligence that I find myself numb already. "You could be on your way to university by now," she continued, not sensing the sudden anger that was flaring up in me. "You could be a high-flyer." Right. "I don't want to be a high-flyer," I tried to keep my voice calm, in spite of the heat that was racing through my veins. "All I care about are my music and languages and philosophies. I don't want money, I don't want material wealth only to come home to an empty house." There was silence as she tried to understand why I was so passionate about these subjects hardly anyone cares about anymore. Then she struck me with a really low blow. I won't elaborate, but it stung. Of course, then I had to explain all over again that if I had really wanted to go to university, then I would have gone along that path. She offered to send me off to some distant land to study medicine. I tried not to laugh, but it came out anyway. A harsh sound, I'm sure. I'm not interested in medicine, as I told her. She looked lost. Then the polarity of the world appeared to change. I told her my hopes, my dreams. My aims of mastering the English language, languages in general, and how I wanted to teach others to appreciate what I love so much. THere is an art to languages, one not everyone can master. The same with music and writing. Philosophy is so broad, it has such a universal appeal. It is only recently when I have opened my writings to the people I trust that the idea of me teaching philosophy was broached. I don't know. The world is vast, our lives long, hopefully. Why do we all have to rush to secure our places in life? Why can't we slow the pace down, stop and smell the roses? I wondered if I could write. I was offered a job authoring children's books, but I declined. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so quick to say no. The offer still haunts me. It could have been my big break, but at that time I was suffering from serious writer's block and a severe confidence deficiency. *sigh* I don't know if the offer has been rescinded, but if it has, I have many other books to write. Oh, J. When we meet, do not look too badly upon me, for I have walked the path too many avoid. I fear my eventual destination will be financial and mortal ruin. On a sidenote, I am surprised my mum did not mention the gay angle. It has been a point of contention between my parents and me for so long. Could it be they have finally accepted that I cannot be changed?
I only want the best.

Psychic Nausea

I care not about the fever that wracks my body. The flu-like symptoms don't faze me in the least. It is the nausea that damns me. I cannot eat, I cannot breathe for ten minutes without wanting to puke. I have not eaten for two days now. "Cyclic vomiting syndrome." I'll be sure to take that up with the nice doctor. The one who has plenty of sharp needles at his disposal. Actually, right about now, I don't really care what he does to my physical self as long as he can get the nausea to subside and I can finally eat. It is terribly damning to feel hungry and nauseous at the same time. I have been vomiting water for the past hour, and now I feel even more tired. Vomiting takes up a lot of energy, apparently. Especially when it's followed by dry heaves, which is painfully excruciating. If this post seems fractured, it's because I've had to run to the loo to empty my already empty stomach. The night is cold, but I am dewed with sweat. Ok, not so much 'dewed'. More like floods. Heck, I am feeling cold. So why am I sweating? I think I need food and medication pronto. Two days without food is detrimental to one's health, so I've heard. Ach. My head is pounding, and my body is slowly killing me. It's back to the good doctor tomorrow, needles and all. I don't care, as long as I can eat without regurgitating my food.
Suddenly the phrase 'ad nauseum' takes on a whole new meaning.

Psychic Lucidity

My temperature has been unstable, and my moods unpredictable. Took the blood test...the second needle in a week that I've faced. I have not been able to eat, since anything that goes in goes right out. I half fancy my chest will explode from the strain of puking so much. I'm in one of my more lucid moments here. The fever's receded. My arm still hurts where the needle penetrated it. *shudders* I hate having my veins touched. I couldn't focus enough to play my piano, and my eyes and head went all swimmy. I had porridge (threw that up), then a few hours later ate rice and soup (threw that up too). I feel like I'm floating through clouds. The back of my head is ringing like a church bell, and the nausea is a constant irritation. My appetite died out halfway while I was eating the rice, so I predict I will be on an involuntary diet for the next few days. I tried contacting J, but he appears to have gone under my radar. *sigh* Hot and cold, J. Hot and cold. I have to do something, before I go insane from the weight of my mind and my failing recovery. For well over a week now, I have missed the glory of night. My illness has sapped me of the capability to remain awake for longer than a few hours at a time. *sigh* I'm off to conceal my conscious state from one who will never gain my trust.
J...is it too late for us?

Psychic Relapse

I am ill again. I can barely focus. I am weakened, and I am far from a peaceful place where I can recover. I have not the strength to stumble back home, and I regret my impulsive decision to leave today. This illness saps me of my strength, making me susceptible to unconsciousness. I have been fighting to keep my eyes open for the past hour. I must remain conscious, at least until I can somehow stagger back home. The nausea torments me, and I have emptied the contents of my stomach into Mr. Porcelain. My temperature is erratic, as are my moods. Right now I'm hard pressed to pick which one annoys me more, my fluctuating body heat, or my mood swings. My mind is skipping. I think it's the rising fever. I am ready to empty my body, and collapse on the floor. But I can't. Not here, not now. Why? I can't focus. I'm losing this fight. I have to find my way home. The nausea is making me swoon. I can't decide if I am going to puke or faint.

Psychic Yearning

The harshness of the years I spent in solitude away from you have taught me nothing. Nothing. I have not learnt to treasure each moment of connection, each silver drop in time that I know will slip between my fingers despite my best efforts. I wanted your comfort, your love, as twisted as it was, during the moments when I was down on my knees. But now that I have risen, I fall back down with the realisation that you were right. I didn't treasure you then, I treated you much the same way I do now. On some level, we both know our connection was intense, primal and all-consuming. We spoke for hours, days, without words. I still feel the same way, but you keep blowing hot and cold, and you leave me so confused. You say you've moved on, but why have you returned? Kenneth's words were illuminating, and what Yushaa said haunts me. "It's about power. Control." The struggle for dominance, and you know I can never fight those I love. I can't fight you. You stayed long enough to make sure I was fine, and then you were gone. I was terrified, that sometime between today and yesterday I'd managed to lose you. Again. Once was enough to shatter my entire existence, and force me to remould myself. But when I kneel before you, I'm still the same scared little boy. How many tears have we shed over this? Why do we not have the strength to end what should have died long ago? Why do you have to keep reiterating the fact that I do not and possibly may never learn to treasure you? "Treasure." You know nothing about what I treasure, every message that I still save in my cell, every word written down in your hand, the many letters that I hoard like a miser with his pennies. The bag filled with you that is half my height. I do. I do treasure you so much that sometimes I'm afraid you'll just slip away for another year, two, three...and leave me pining away. I admit, I am wary of you. Everyone is. Why do you still care? You're within my reach, but I suddenly find myself paralysed. I don't want to lose you again, but I fear that in my hesitation, I will lose you anyway. I regret the times when you came so close, when I could have accepted what you were trying to say without running away, but I couldn't-I didn't know how to deal. Now the years have made me wiser, but you still remain an enigma to me. This emotion I feel for you gifts me with an innate energy that I can't seem to drain away. I don't want to lose you. I can't say how much you mean to me. I can't tell you all this when you're standing tall in front of me. I can only watch and want and waste. It was sweet of you to worry for me, but now that I'm ok, will you fly away again, my angel?
So sad but true, for me there's only you.

Psychic Silverlining

Amid the furore of emotional storms and another illness scare, a silver lining has emerged, and his name starts with J. Therefore for all intents and purposes, he shall henceforth be christened J. The weekend was terrible, and I thought that on more than one occasion, I would flee and run home to hide under my blanket. But I stuck it out, tears and fears notwithstanding. I want him back as a father figure, minus the incest angle. Maybe it is still possible, but I'm not gonna suffocate holding my breath waiting for it to happen. During the weekend, J messaged. Somehow or another, bridges were rebuilt and his concern for me was evident. It felt just like old times, when my phone's inbox was filled with messages from him. Gentle where need be, firm when necessary, he made me feel soothed even when the storm was breaking right there at ground zero. Today we were talking the whole day. Even though we were miles apart, I thought he stood right next to me, I could feel his spirit. Warm and healing, and it made me feel like I could take on the world. Emotion to me is everything. It is what animates men, it is what spurs artists to create masterpieces that last through time. Perhaps the signals are confusing, but there is no denying the prize. He still cares. I could withstand a thousand illnesses just for those three words. And for him...a thousand bullets I would take. =) That is the strength of what I feel, and I embrace it. I cannot present illusions before the bright sun that he is, he is worth so much. I can only be myself and hope that it will be enough. Now I want to telephone Kenneth and feel the warmth of my other earthbound angel. =)

Psychic Realisation

I was talking to him, and it suddenly struck me how foolish my endeavour was. I cannot breathe life back into what Azrael has claimed, regardless of how much willpower I possess. I cannot help hearts that are closed. The unspoken message, his confusion, and my pain all swirled around me. I kept my calm, leashed my emotions tightly, and guided him through till the end. Then I resolved to begin separating us from each other. The connection was intense, therefore the separation will be painful. I cannot quite understand his confusion, and the unspoken awkwardness, but what I can understand is that this time, I cannot heal what I do not know has been wounded. It is better left unsaid, and our history better left unfinished. I have wondered, and now I know. There are many more questions, but I know I cannot bend steel. I don't deny that I had a hand in his confusion, since I myself happen to be an amalgamation of paradoxes and contradictions, but I have attempted to remove the barriers I placed on him. Whether my attempts are successful or not is none of my concern. He will come to understand when the time is right. I still think he is a beautiful soul, certainly one of the brightest I have touched so far, but there is a barrier between us that I cannot cross, not until he learns to trust me. I have yet to figure out how to regain that trust, and perhaps I never will. But other issues require my attention, therefore he must take a backseat for now. The subtle message I gave him was acknowledged, and so I can rest easy knowing that he knows he is not forgotten. Never that. It was never about love. It was about power, and who could dominate the other. While on the surface, it appeared that I acquiesced to his wishes, we both knew that we kept the other on equally short leashes. Now that he is free to explore his newfound freedom, I find myself relieved that he is no longer my burden to bear. Perhaps one day he will return, healed and ready to accept the truth of what I feel. But until then, we continue forging two separate destinies.
You did not listen then, you're not listening still. Perhaps you never will.

Psychic Reworking

It is time to rework what has gone wrong. My health is on a steady decline, and I have coughed myself voiceless for today. Bloody lungs and all. My fingers, deft as ever, are still working on the ivories. Tomorrow will see me reunited with my resurrected piano at long last, instead of the broken down monstrosity residing in the corner of my lair. I have found several manuals on martial arts, and while they make for a dull read, I believe my skills in that area have vanished abruptly. Therefore it makes sense that during this period, I should be improving my fighting skills. My defeat two months ago still haunts me, even if it was to a more experienced black belt. Perhaps my training will see an improvement in my health as well. Next Tuesday remains a red flag in my calendar, and while I am trying my utmost to remain calm, panic still swamps me on occasion. My appetite has wavered and finally died out, and I have trouble keeping my medication on track, given the potency of several of them. My last tango with the powerful expectorant knocked me out for half a day, making me miss my second dosage. Nonetheless, I have resolved to keep mind and body in top fighting form. Tomorrow will be all about the music. But today, I fight the shadows.

Psychic Haemoptysis

I had a restful night. Woke up with a bad cough, but that's nothing new. Used up an entire box of tissues...then I realised they were spotted with blood. Nothing to worry about, just a few drops. But when I got to the toilet, it was a whole different matter. I coughed up a thick wad of blood. Not quite liquid, but not fully solid either. Coffee grounds. Yeah. Now I feel queasy, and my throat itches. I feel a panic attack coming on, now that there is undeniable proof there is something terribly wrong with my physical health. My plans will proceed, but they will have to carry on without me. I have to find out exactly what is wrong with me. My mind blanked out when I realised I was staring at a bloody mass in the sink. It's time. The music may deafen me, but I'll face it anyway. Not that I have a choice. Ugh. I was so stricken I forgot to note the colour of the blood, which may give a clue to its origins. I feel ill all over again. Must...not...puke. If it's not too late by the time I'm done today, maybe I'll drop by my parents' place. That and if I'm given a clean bill of health by a reliable doctor, not some quack who's more interested in his lunch than his patients' welfare.
Oh, Raphael, angel of healing. Guide me as I walk through that madhouse of the ill and infirm.

Psychic Degeneration

I have often spoken about spiritual or emotional regeneration in previous posts. But lately I have been confronted with another harsh reality. My physical self is falling apart at the seams. I believe I have isolated the root of the problem, but it is much more complex than that. In some strange, twisted irony of fate, I actually feel worse at night, when my body is supposed to be at its peak. I oscillate between two extremes. One finds me shivering under layers of sheets, the other sees me stripped down to the bare essentials but still burning. Let's not forget the 'tween times when I feel physically cold, but find myself sweating. I can't make any sudden movements, so fights are beyond me at the moment. Rising too quickly from my diurnal resting place unbalances me quite literally. I cannot walk more than fifteen steps without stumbling. All of which point to the disturbing truth that my body is, in fact, degenerating. Even as I type, an ugly headache threatens to overwhelm me. Ill as I am, I managed to keep in touch with some contacts of mine, although my own sense leads me to believe the truth was clouded in favour of my feelings. I wasn't particularly inclined to forcibly demand honesty, considering that I could barely walk unsupported, but my mental defences were in overdrive. Needless to say, this particular contact was in every position to inflict great harm upon me, should she have wished to do so. Even though technically, that circle of influence remains broken. I played my part well, and the only reference to my illness came at our moment of parting. I look like hell, and two days have already robbed me of the zest I am so well known for. The fierce fever is held in check by my own desire to join him, and if I cannot recover by week's end, I know I will have lost more than the battle for my health. I have carefully evaluated my every move with this mark, but while I was indisposed, several leaks appeared. Time will tell if he has been tipped off, for I am in no condition to monitor his movements. If he has...well, maybe my failing health is symbolic of my dying humanity, the very same compassion that scarred me with false pretences and silly preconceived notions of love and romance. My contact was all too eager to discuss my efforts in tracking him, which immediately raised red flags in my mind. When caught up in such dealings, it is not uncommon to find double agents playing for both teams. I was initially amused at the incompetence displayed, and then insulted. I am sick, not mentally handicapped. The illness will pass with enough sun and rest. Her transgression will not. This mark is mine, as it always has been. Perhaps I'm a little bit slow to bare my fangs, but as long as I can trace him, there is every chance I'll finish the job. The illness is like a wave, it comes and goes, and right now it's high tide for me. Therefore I believe I will retreat to my corner and sleep the rest of the day away. The night is mine.
Carpe noctem.

Psychic Twist (with a hint of lime)

I was planning to flit off to Sembawang for the weekend, since I'd left a few essentials there on my last visit. Then I grew bored, realised that I had a few hours to burn, and decided to telephone Yushaa on a whim. And I got invited out for a whirlwind night in town. Kenneth came. =) I mean, he was there. No innuendos here, folks. It was nice to see him. It's also the first time I've hugged him. I think. Now the alcohol is wending its way through my system, so I'm a bit sleepy, but too buzzed to sleep. Long Island Tea at the second bar we went to was absolutely orgasmic. The first bar's LIT was a bit...lacking. The Zombie was too sweet, and I couldn't taste the alcohol in the Boston Beach Party. I seriously doubt there was any. The passionfruit Daiquiri was quite nice, though. Liked the burst of fruity sweetness with each sip. Kenneth got Bailey's Irish Cream, and I was torn between ordering a butterscotch liquer concoction, and a HoneyBear. So I picked the Honeybear. Bad choice. The lime was too bitter, and the mint overpowered the other flavours. I felt like I was drinking Listerine. I endured the merciless teasings over my choice of drinks with a gracious smile and dignified silence. But I was choking on the bitterness. Oh, yes. I must must must recommend continuous applause for the pianist at the Jazz bar tonight. Excellently nimble and emotive on the ivories, his playing sent chills up my spine. Can I just mention yet again how nice it is to see Kenneth? =) Suddenly all the storms seem to be powerless against my earthly angel. We split up at 12, in time for Kenneth to catch 80 home, Yushaa taking 51 back to her place, and Phoebe and I on the night rider bus back to our area. I ended up at her place, and took a cab back at 1am. Now exhausted, but too bored to sleep, I am mentally reviewing my schedule for tomorrow. The folks are coming home tomorrow morning, so I should go home for a while and get reacquainted with my piano. Particularly now that I am connected to a huge database of sheet music that covers all genres. I must say, tonight at the bar with a few close friends really lifted my mood, although I kept it to myself. =) Thanks, guys. *sigh* He's coming home tomorrow too. Time to face the music. Do I end things now, or hope they will improve? Next time we hit the night circuit, Yushaa's ordering a Flaming Lamborghini. Cool. I did something incredibly stupid today. While on the train, my fingers moved on their own volition, and before I knew it, I'd smsed Justin. Mentally kicked myself all the way to Sizzler. Anyway, my eyes are falling shut. If I don't get any rest today, I won't be able to sit in front of my piano. A big hug for all the hearts who were with me tonight, in body and spirit. =)

Psychic Overload

A few nights ago, when the moon was a bloody orb, I was in a position to defend myself and explain part of my reclusive nature. After I was done, I was informed that I, apparently, am a bitter old fart. It is hard, tonight, not to feel bitter when I am so deathly afraid and indescribably alone. He is leaving, and I don't really know when he will be back. I don't know if I care right now. We were supposed to meet for lunch tomorrow, even though we'd both agreed we'd take a break from each other. But screw that. I am hurting both inside and out, and I don't know how to express the rage and total helplessness I feel. I pictured tomorrow being a fresh start, a way for me to ease the pain that is constantly burning within me. After witnessing so many deaths and departures, it is with feeling that I proclaim my right to be bitter. How many people have I seen die before my eyes? How many people has death/Fate taken from me? I have honestly lost count. Right now, I have no access to my piano, nor can I turn to the man who I'm starting to believe is no different from the rest. It is not easy for me to forge connections with other people. I can never truly open up. What my friends know about me is shattered, fractured pieces of information that is both abstract and puzzling. It is difficult for people to drag a straight answer out of me, and I believe even my parents have resigned themselves to never understanding the enigma that I personify. I feel like someone has thrown the switch to overload. He's gone, they're gone, everyone's leaving. I just...why? Why do they all leave? I can't bring them back, even if I can force myself to ask them to stay. I of all people understand about chances, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. And yet...it doesn't feel right that they're all leaving at the same bloody time! Suddenly I feel as though it is not worth the trouble to establish connections and get to know people. What's the point? They all leave anyway. I want someone to talk to right now, but given the late hour...
It's not so much his canceling our lunch tomorrow, but the fact that he's leaving. Kaput. Finito. The end. My wounds are worsening, and although I have been tending to them, I suspect I am only delaying the inevitable. Inevitable. Perhaps I am a bitter old fart after all. I just don't understand...how can people gifted with empathy feel the touch of death and yet remain optimistic? Maybe there is a reason why pessimists live such short lives.
Even when they leave, some stupid part of me is hoping they'll come back. HE is coming back on Sunday, but that's not the point is it? I'll always be left here like a stupid leashed puppy while everyone around me goes out to explore the world. Waiting for him, waiting for the next big break, waiting for my angel to realise Heaven is a place on earth, dramatic as that sounds. Yes. Even when I'm seeing someone, I still recognise the fact that there is only one person who I know I love so far. Like I said in my previous posts, emotions are new to me. I don't always know what I feel, and half of what I do know comes from the people around me. I know I love him, but that's it. It's hard to capture something so intangible into words, like trying to catch the wind in a bottle. It just doesn't work. *sigh* Goodbye, contentment. Hello, depression. Let the dark age begin. Oh, and just fyi, my piano will be unavailable to me for a while. So there's another cause for celebration. Oh, angel. I've pined away for you for far too long. Will you come back to ease my pain, if you know how much I'm hurting? The purity of what I feel for you is something time cannot sully. I'm starting to calm down slightly. So people are leaving, I might lose one of my houses, and possibly my piano, in additon to my comfortable life. There. Most of my problems in a nutshell. If only they were as small, and therefore easy to bin away. Damn it. The bonewhite moon is drifting high overhead, lost in her own world, and suddenly I wonder if it's not such a bad life. A solitary one. Sure, the loneliness can be a killer. But the stresses of living and loving sure aren't a garden of roses. Ah, goodbye X. And R. I can't love another man when I've already given my heart away. I'll still be here when you get back, for our rescheduled lunch. As friends. And maybe I will go overseas tomorrow morning. There's still time to catch that proverbial last flight. It's just too lonesome being in Singapore all by myself during the weekend, particularly when there were dates and plans which had already been set. Say hello to the trash bin for me. I feel like screaming from the sheer pressure.

Psychic Choice?

I hang my head, weary beyond belief. My efforts to stave off a monumental crisis have been completely futile. Kenneth...don't make me choose. I've chosen you over someone else before, and I'm still scarred from that experience. It's painful, and I am tired of having to take sides in this stupid situation that I always find myself in. What am I supposed to do? It was a stupid promise, I agree. But I was protecting both of you, and in that same instant, I placed myself in the direct line of fire. Fine. You don't know the lengths I would go to to save you. Both of you. What was I supposed to have done? Funny what a few seconds and several choice words can do to my perspective. From being my angel, my protector against the constant flood of tears, you are now part of the pain that needles my heart. Kenneth, I don't want to choose again. I used to be insubstantial, but now I'm human. I'm new to all these emotions, and I don't know how to handle half of what I feel. I screw up sometimes, yeah. But this isn't my screwup. I'm tired of choosing, of sacrificing for the greater good. None of you know how often I wish I could regain that incorporeal state of being I used to possess. I can walk in the sun, I can feel, I breathe. But if it means this pain is also part of this life, then don't make me do it. Kenneth, this isn't a question of who is more important, but who needed me more that night. I'm not going to choose, and if you force me to, I will lose another angel. I've already chosen you over Justin, isn't that enough? How many times do you want me to prove that I remain loyal to you? I'm already down on my knees, and I don't think I can take anymore. I don't want to lose you...please don't go. I've lost too many already. Do you want me on my knees for you?

Psychic Love

What has been broken can be fixed. Can it? I still recall vividly...that night, when the evening mists rolled around us, and you left for what I'm afraid is the last time. You looked at me with such sadness, but you only saw the coldness of the illusion I wove tightly around myself. You didn't see that my heart was breaking after our two year hello and goodbye. I saw the edges blur as the engine revved up, and then you were only a speck in the distance. Only then did I allow the tears and sadness to touch my face. How can we say that nothing is left, after the bond that was created out of pure love still remains? Not many will understand, and more will mock me for still tending to an ageless fire long forgotten. I do not forsake the one I love, even when he believes himself to be beyond redemption. But I do understand that healing has to come from within, before salvation can set in. I do not care, these words that pour from my heart reverberate with truth. Do you remember that word? Reverberate? I teased you about it, the exact day when our lives took an unexpected turn. You found me in tears that night, and you offered me your hand. In return, I gave you my heart. The days and months that followed were filled with golden sunlight, interspersed with terrible storms in which I was sure I would lose you forever. Even when anger seized us, you'd vow, "I will never leave you." It is the curse of being who I am. Vehemently resistant to change as I am, it is inevitable that people will leave me. The lost boys left Peter. You cried, and I wept inside for each tear you shed, each shard that scarred my heart. I remember when you found out the depth of love I bear for you. It was late afternoon, and the sun was dying, surrendering his throne to his lunar queen. I tried not to cry, but I didn't want you to know that I had the audacity to love you. It was laughable. A demon in love with a mortal angel. You gently lifted my chin with a finger, and whispered the words that still haunt me to this day. "Love is not something you should be afraid of." I melted, and the tears that I cried were enough to flood the Sahara. I have kept every memory alive, in this garden that once held two. I knew that when I met you, and touched your heart, you would be destined for great things. That calling would lead you away from me, away from the darkness where I reign supreme. I tried to make our parting as bitter as possible, I wanted you to leave hating me. You know what they say about wishes and carefulness. You did leave bitter and disillusioned. For two years, I worried what would become of you. And when I finally saw...the air left my lungs. You have grown into your own. Heartbreaker. I say that with affection. I was immensely relieved that the years had not made you unrecognisable. I saw you from a mile away, recognised that chiseled profile, regardless of the minor changes the others kept marveling over. I remembered that musical laugh, the mischief that shone in such soulful eyes. I permitted myself a glance, no more. Remembered how those hands had cradled me in my worst moments, remembered the tears that frosted those eyelashes when you saw the full extent of my anguish. You were like a flower finally in bloom, and I was too afraid to come near, lest the scent drove me mad. That is why I kept my distance. You have finally grown to be who you were. I'm still figuring out who I will be. The sea breeze stung my eyes, that's why they kept filling up. The air was cool, but I was warmed...because I know at last you will survive. You don't need me, you never did. I wonder if I can say the same for myself. This...emotion, I have heard tell of it. Musicians sing praises of it, artists attempt to capture it on canvas, and angels guard it scrupulously. It is called love, and you taught me what it means. Can I fix what I have broken? Please say yes.
Gabriel, if love is cherished so, why are we condemned for loving?