Psychic Driftings

I had a violent reaction to my dinner. Threw everything up, and had to clean my bathroom. Painful process, both my puking session and the cleanup after. I collapsed facedown in my corner and drifted off in dreams of sepia-toned memories. J isn't coming back. I waited two days for my phone to vibrate with a message from him, and still it remains quiet. R has vanished again, and I am forcibly reminded of the time he went off to face his personal demons and we lost contact for two years. *sigh* The night is deep, inky blackness that flows around me, weaving past light sources, racing to get to me. Talking to Aimi last night revealed something I hadn't really thought of. I was laughing with her, consoling her on her insane phone bill, when she said out of the blue, "You don't usually talk about yourself." Caught off-guard, I had no comeback. A rarity in itself, really. A memory came back to me last night, after I hung up the phone, feeling slightly wrong-footed. It happens a lot these days, for some reason. I can be out, walking in the sunlight, when suddenly shadow falls over me and I recall another painful memory. These episodes are brief, but they are the price I have to pay to keep my pain at bay, I suppose. The erasure of most of my past leaves me feeling slightly disillusioned, and sometimes I feel that something's missing from me, that I'm not quite whole. *stretches* I have...a few cherished memories from when I was younger. Not a lot, I guess...but...the terrors far outweigh the good ones. Seeing things that to this day still haunt me. *muses* Feeling things people only describe in nightmares. I don't quite know, actually, what the purpose of this early morning post is. Maybe I'm just trying to distract myself, because again, I know I cannot sleep. Dawn is not far off now, only a few hours away. I will be forced to reside in Sembawang when the weekend arrives, and only the knowledge that sunrise in that mansion will be infinitely more beautiful keeps me from rebelling and refusing to stay there. I don't want to see him, and face the unspoken recriminations that I know linger on in his mind. The questions of what passed between father and son will never be answered. I don't know. It seems everyone is preoccupied with trying to get me to start living, but I keep clinging on to that picture in my mind. Green fields and lavender blossoms, a warm gentle breeze, blue skies and that elusive feeling of contentment. I'm still trying to figure out if I have a right to live, to love. I feel so indescribably lonely, with only the thoughts in my head and my fingers to express myself on both my keyboards. My illness has come and gone in a flash, and I fancy I've expunged my emotions out with the contents of my stomach hours ago. The stars twinkle above me, I can sense them, tiny pinpricks of light, and the moon...I've wasted one month's worth of a beautiful full moon. I spend most of my nights cooped up in my room these days. The past week has been emotionally unstable. Ups and downs galore. The frantic glee I felt at my expanded library of musical sheet music, tempered with the knowledge that I might be heading up to a dead end, emotional explosions with the various people I care about, my own fire dying down to embers. And on this morning, here I am, hoping for a storm to break the heat of day, and wishing my angels would return to their rightful places in the circle around me. *sigh* In my mind, I can hear his laughter when he reads these words, his emotions as guarded as my own. We both dropped our guards years ago, and I fear the scars from that experience will embitter us forever. Well, now. My bedtime draws nearer, as the moon begins to die. I've all but given up on life itself.
'Seek and ye shall find.' I have sought for 19 long years, but peace I have never known, and perhaps may never find.