Okay I have finally, painstakingly updated the Anna blog (link above) and gotten frustrated and upset over the html giving me problems and whatnot.

With every day life feels less meaningful than the day preceding it and little distresses all cumulate and pile up most unevenly and drag one's soul further down.

I feel very frustrated and under an immense load of emotional stress.

Sometimes it seems like disappointment is one big ball of cells, like for every little disappointment there is, a cell is added into it. Disappointments like:
1) Patrick
2) Not being able to go to France
3) Not being able to go to Phuket
4) There being no Campbell's soup at home
5) Middlemarch being spoilt
6) 'Spoilt' not being in Firefox's dictionary
7) Only being able to understand 9/18 references

And then the ball grows and becomes larger and more grey (I don't know why but these disappointment cells look grey to me).

8) 'Grey' not being in Firefox's dictionary
9) Thinking I've spelled things wrongly only to find that it's American English being a bastard to it's far more elegant and original British English counterpart

Contrary to popular belief, happiness doesn't actually make the ball shrink. Oh no, the ball only grows, it never gets smaller. What happiness does it is hugs the ball, it doesn't mind it's weird jelly-ness. Happiness loves disappointment, it embraces it and in doing so it stops disappointment from growing bigger and slipping. But when happiness goes, disappointment is left alone again - ever ready to drop.

Then one day the ball will grow so big and huge that it tips over and starts to roll down a hill, and when it finally reaches the bottom of the hill you die.

On my left hand there is a scar.

It's tiny, a mere dot.

It was where the needle once was, mis-poked and quickly abandoned. It was where goodness and life were supposed to flow through and enter me, nourish me. Instead it opened a passageway for me to escape, little droplets of blood leaking out.

Now, the hole has been plugged by a mixture of platelets, plasma and suicidal red blood cells. But inside? Oh it looks like it still bleeds.

A small hole, minuscule. Underneath the skin a small amoeba shaped bruise like colour. Blood flowing, but blood trapped. I think it wants to run away, just like me.

I want to touch it, perhaps the colour will dissipate if I do, but it looks too much like a bruise. I don't want to make it worse. The prick spot looks like a nucleus of the cell of this newly foreign spot on my body - one of many.

I opt to kiss it instead. A gentle grazing. It feels lukewarm to my lips. I look at it again, no, nothing has changed, the colour remains. I wonder if anyone has ever kissed that spot before, had it ever been loved before someone came and rudely stuck a needle into it?

I wonder if it still bleeds, like me - or has it managed to move on faster than I have?

I'm gonna make it right
Some future in my eyes, bright

I finally fell down today.

My foot feels throbby, but no sharp pain - so all should be okay?

I hope so :x

I think I'm very afraid of people leaving.

I feel unremarkably depressed right now.

And no, suicide is not an option after spending $5000 on hospital fees. If I was going to commit suicide I'd go back in a time machine till earlier in the week and then hop off a cliff. Or I could always not lose my temper and not have a sliced leg to reckon with.

Hospital 1

Short, official version of what happened yesterday: I lost my temper when I found out Ryan destroyed Middlemarch (figure what this is yourself) and was kicking things to vent my anger when I kicked the glass door. Door broke, sliced open foot, rushed to A&E, had an operation, 1/2 class came to visit, discharged at 11:30~ from Gleneagles.

Long, more insightful version of what happened yesterday: This all began with an attempt to fill a hole. A Patrick Leow sized hole in my heart. Instead I wound up making a hole in a door instead.

Those of you who know me more intimately than this blog might know how much my life revolves around a few things: books, music and films. In the recent departure of one huge aspect of my life, I have been desperately trying to fill up this hole and make it full again by OD-ing on the three, especially music since I am able to use it in tandem with others things.

So yes, Middlemarch was promised to me if I did well in my exams and she came on Monday night. Tuesday night when I came back from dinner I found her lying on the floor (brother). Wednesday morning I found out she wouldn't play music anymore and hung when I tried to switch to others things. I was raging and complaining to my father because I was 1) upset she had been hurt 2) worried it might not be repaired in time for the trip to France. My dad just laughed at me, so I got even more pissed.

As I was making a call to Nicholas for help, I was kicking things in my rage. I kicked the sofa, it was unsatisfactory. I turned and kicked the glass door. It shattered loudly just as he picked up. OH FUCK. So I ended up screaming into the phone in a mix of anger, frustration, and fear of the trouble I would be in. Father came running, screamed, and picked me up and threw me into the car.

In the car I was still screaming and crying but it was more OH FUCK I'M DEAD/WHY THE HELL DID I DO THAT rather than it being actually painful. Thank you adrenaline. Meanwhile the father was cursing like hell and alternatively screaming at me. After a while I didn't feel like crying anymore, but decided to continue or else the father might think I died or something. As he drove, I felt something on my leg flapping around and some sort of cold liquid running down the seats of the car. I decided I didn't want to open my eyes.

When I finally did, I recognised the apartment next to Gleneagles (I was lying stretched on the back seat, right leg propped over left leg) and soon my dad parked the car, picked me up and ran into the A&E holding me, yelling for help. Some people came running and I was settled into a stretcher and I started to cry again at how surreal the entire thing was/sad that I let down Elliot because we were supposed to go out/afraid of getting owned for destroying the door.

I was wheeled into a special room and there the people cleaned my foot up. The A&E doctor came in, took a peep at it and decided an Orthopedic surgeon was needed. I cried again when I thought how expensive this entire thing would be, and how much I missed Patrick. I managed to borrow a phone from a nurse because I was worried at how I left Nicholas hanging/needed to tell Elliot to cancel and then I realised a problem: I only remembered one number, and that was his. Irregardless I dialed the only number I memorised and when he finally picked up I felt like melting away and dying.

Call done, I was wheeled into the x-ray room to get an x-ray done to make sure there were no fragments left in my leg. Back in the holding room, I continued to cry when I thought of him and the upcoming trips. When the surgeon finally came, he said he needed to operate and quoted a price of $4,500, I started to cry again at how expensive it was >.< (I don't think I've ever cried so much in a day before)

Throughout the entire thing, when I wasn't crying and getting upset I was remarkably alert, to the point of making snarky observations (which I kept to myself) about my predicament and life in general. Examples: it seemed like everyone in A&E was Filipino while the nurses later in my ward were China Chinese. What happened to the Singaporeans? Also there were no 90 degree corners in the hospital, like every room was shaped like an octagon for easy turning of stretchers.

My mama and yeh yeh were waiting at the ward just as I got wheeled into it. There I changed into the hospital clothes and sat there on the bed, messaging with my phone to various people when the anesthetist came in to insert an IV. Another needle! Oh my. I ended up staring at my yeh yeh's belt (brown, silver buckle, glossy, looked cheap) as he inserted in the needle. Then he started making comments like, 'oh dear', 'where is it?' to which I started rambling rubbish about the belt and how he should keep his comments to himself. After I took off the plaster today, I found two puncture holes on my left hand >.<

I hated the IV. It gave me even more pain than my foot did.

After a while, just as I heard Cielo/class noises from outside my room, the nurse came in and started preparing me for the operation, paper booties, paper hair cap, the like. I was wheeled out and caught a few glimpses of them before being sent to the operation ward. There was more paperwork and waiting before I was wheeled into the operating theatre and the anesthetist greeted me. He is a PAP man and a patriotic Singaporean. I decided not to state my stand and appear moderate in case he messed around with my dosage of anesthesia. The nurse there (she had Maria Concepcion in her name) asked me to not kick her if I got angry. I LOL-ed.

Then they put an oxygen mask over me as PAP man inserted some stuff into my IV tube. It felt cool and menthol like (which was the last thing I remember saying).

I woke up later, body feeling like I was pumped full of lead but brain alert as ever. One of the first thing I remember saying was, "Is it over?" to a nurse, even though the ward I was in didn't look the least like the operating theatre. I saw the clock, it looked close to 6/perhaps past 6?

As I was wheeled back into my ward, my father appeared and told me that apparently I had severed tendons in my leg, and it would take 4 weeks, not 2 weeks to heal. Worse still: I can't go overseas at all. I started to cry because they were my P-replacements and I needed them to move on.

Quite ironic isn't it? Because of one P-replacement, I lost 2 other P-replacements, and it wasn't like dashing my leg through a glass door was going to bring him back to me either. If you want to look at it from a more dramatic point of view, it was like wrist cutting.

Okay I tire of this, will continue at another time.

So anyway as some of you have heard...


FUCK FUCK and FUCK


Here are some bloodstains.

Thanks to all who visited me in the hospital, Chun Wui, Jim, Gen, JLC, Cheryl, Anne, Cielo, Mong, Elliot, Nicholas, Joash and Patrick (hope I didn't miss anyone).

And once again: FUCK WHAT HAVE I DONE!?!

WTF HELP WTY IS CHASING ME FOR MY EE DRAFT. (look 3 acronyms in one sentence!) and getting pissy at that >.<

Who the hell starts writing an essay with nothing and then refers back to source materials?

Tomorrow you leave for America, till the 24th November. I remember because I marked it down on my calender when we were still together.

At the end of this week, I'll be gone too, to France from the 2nd till the 14th, then a quick breather till the 16th where it's off to sunny shores with .9 and finally back on the 23rd. Funny though, we'd be gone around the same time, far and awayyy from each other.

I hope this is the *huge* break that I really need, to get through all of this mess.

Taaa.

*edit: Just found out he's leaving on Thursday instead. Oh well, my information is old and outdated as always, which should be a good thing really.

'Cause I, need time.
My heart is numb, has no feeling.
So while I'm still healing,
Just try, and have a little patience.

Speaking of numb, I feel like my brain hasn't been used at all for the past 6+ hours I've been awake. First off was Chinese, in a very warm classroom with no air conditioning and students who were merrily taking the piss from the Chinese teacher. I felt about as mentally engaged as conversing with a peanut.

After Chinese, I headed off to the Biology lab to redo the graphs that The Bio Teacher wanted us to do, the only SL person amongst the bunch of HL people working on their Biology EEs. I honestly can't think of a subject (besides the other Sciences + Math) which would make me go EEEEEEEEEE more (okay yes, done to death pun!).

Then it was off to Bukit Timah Plaza on the usual 74. As the bus drove past the bus stop before the junction of Holland Road and Clementi, I spotted two books lying sedately on the grey bum rest - no human being at the bus stop in sight. It got me thinking of the movement, the one where people leave their old books around for others to find and take. There's a proper name but I can't quite remember it nor care enough. Anyhoo the books didn't look very interesting at all, one had SUCCESS! merrily singing from the cover while the other looked like either a bible or a book with a missing jacket. *there is probably some significance to this but I can't quite pin point it*

At Popular I was hanging around the file section to buy files for EE and CAS stuff (since they both made my old files explode painfully) which also happened to be where the sole speaker in the entire store was located. Just as I was musing how the last time I was there I was with him, Take That's Patience came on full blast. Ohohoho, mainstream shit-ness. I'm sure he'd have died there on the spot and demand we get out of mainstream music land, but I'm not so persnickety myself. If the lyrics have a meaning that I can identify with, I'll listen to it and identify with Patience I did, feeling how surreal and apt it all was.

As I went off to pay for my items, I met a freshly shorn Gerald reading some football thingamabob and leaning against a low bookshelf which made me stop in my tracks and give him a O.O look. Strange stuff.

While queuing up later for fried-chicken-which-will-appear-as-pimples-on-my-face, I was zoned out and half listening to the guys in the next queue. "Eh, Where to fark (fuck) ah?". Zoom. My radar for all things controversial was alerted and I started to listen to them intently, "I think Engineering facility..." !!! IN A SCHOOL OH MY! "... has lots". Er wait what? Then I realised the guy had problems with p/f sounds. Talk about a let down >.<

On the bus back, I spotted a certain Chinese Teacher from school with the initials TJ and rhymes with pang xie (crab in Chinese) board at King Albert Park. I am ashamed/amused to note that I LOL-ed when I saw him and was silently sniggering as he came on board and saw me. I have no idea why I was even so amused, but I conclude it was because of all teachers, it had to be him who I crossed paths with today.

Meanwhile I still have a pile of EE related readings to get through a a urge to play The Sims 2 >.<>

I think that the worst of it is is that you choose to ignore me, to pretend that I don't exist. When I draw near to talk to a friend, you slowly move away. When I try to engage you, say something to parry a point you've made, give you something when handing out report slips, there's this look on your face, almost as if you're annoyed that I dared to exist in front of your nose after it all.

Beside the intertwining of our lives and experiences, there are times (oh and are they so often) when I listen to someone new, pick up a book to read, visit a place, hear of an upcoming event - and I know almost instantly that you'd love it. Montag, The Most Serene Republic, Miracle Fortress, Eeeee eee eeee, oh the list could go on and on. (Besides that, how much I'd love it if you could help me buy Stars when you watch them in concert - but this is even more than a pipe dream: it's like a marshmallow float dream, I don't dare entertain the thought more than a minute)

I could cry and lament that fact that we said we'd stay friends, but that was only one more lie that you promised me and nothing more. You pushed me away, you left me, you broke me, why are you playing the role of the defensive partner now? Moreover, why can't I stop caring? You have an exam tomorrow, the AO Chinese levels and I actually feel slightly worried for you even though you would not give a rat's ass if a grand piano fell on me tomorrow.

This must be one of the only times I've been able to post a blog post about you without actually tearing, no I'm not over you yet, just a little too hardened now after my last upset to be soft and crumble. Everyone around me can't comprehend why I'm still so stuck on you, they call you bastard and all sorts of other names and they're emotionally exhausted by my constant upsets. But fact is, and will always remain, is that you were simply all I wanted in life, the mind, the interests, the quirks, they were all there. However the most important thing you lacked which was the heart and the soul. Funny though, I was willing to live with that - but you couldn't live with the fact that I actively wanted to do good in life, the fact that I ran out of time and energy to be entertaining to you.

At the end of the day what bites so much is the fact that I asked for so little of you, but you asked for so much of me - more that I could have humanely given without risking my sanity (and goodness nows, IB is good at stealing that from you). However even after it all, the hurt and the pain, I still remain the same - my feelings - they remain the same.

I know it won't be for long however, I don't want to be stuck living in the past forever. I would love to suddenly break out into all the female empowerment stuff, oh it's your loss, you lost me, not the other way round, you're a blasted eejit, but as true as it is (ohohoho!) it's going to be all hollow with me because I still miss you at the end of the day,

especially when I see you online listening to music and popping onto msn.

Baby I'm going on without you
Maybe I'm even gonna get through
But baby I'll tell you something that'll never be true
Baby, I'll get over you

Enjoy this feeling of being loved unrequitedly though, because it isn't going to last for very much more longer (or so I tell myself)! Ohohoho.

Learning to Love You More! (cue a Cielo *squee!*)

This is quite interesting if you can navigate your way through the German-glish to read the stuff properly (die means the, at first I was wondering why the creater hated The Sims so much, then I remembered it meant 'the'). Not a very wide selection though.

We all lose one another along the way

I shall attempt to judiciously post more sober blog posts in order to try and rein in control of my life and appear less fucked in the head, also for posterity's sake because when I'm older I don't want to look back upon this time and think that my life was one big black hole - it's not. It's just that thoughts, experiences and feelings experienced during the day when (more often than not) I'm not in a depressive state are sometimes (okay liberal usage here) overwhelmed by the darkness of the night and that is all I can think of.

I know I should move on, and the opportunity to do so has presented itself to me through someone. So it is here I stand, one foot in the past and one in the present, the future hidden from me. I could easily choose him, and perhaps the future would not look so dark and dreary, so foggy - after all is not one of my greatest needs security?

But no, it's is too much for the wrong reason. I could never give all of myself when most of me is still stuck on him, remembering his words, touch, actions, quirks, the places we went, the things we shared. Funny though, if I died I don't expect him to shed a single tear for me whereas the one I can't return affections to would no doubt be distraught.

As much as I hate the idea of being viewed as an amusing bipolar exhibit, it can't stop the fact that I have no control over myself anymore and that my inner life is falling apart. Ha ha ha!

I don't feel like anything now.

I am a bitch and deserve to die.

Everyone will be happier with me dead anyway. Har de har har.

No more person to depress others. No walking reminder of a failure. No irritating female that can't get over someone everyone declares is a bastard and took her for a ride. No one who throws tantrums when she doesn't get her way.

I want to sleep and never wake up, but that is probably too good an end for all of this.

I have my Middlemarch and Possession! At Borders I was disappointed to find it missing from the display of Vintage imprint books (Murakami and Carroll were notedly missing as well) and went off to try and find it in the Literature section.

Daryl found Middlemarch for me, and it had the same cover as the special edition issue, but the price was $15~ standalone! What a rip off ): So I refused to buy it and we talked about heading to Harris at Orchard MRT to go look for it.

However we were detained at the cashiers as Daryl paid for his Joyce while Stephanie and I stood by the Vintage display and I ranted about there being no Middlemarch while telling her to read more. Just as I held up Grimm to show her, I espied a Middlemarch on the bottom! :O JOY JOY JOY!

Seizing it up, I ran over to Daryl who held me pay (hello borders discount card :D). The heading back to the display, Stephanie and I sifted through the stacks and came to the conclusion that it was the only Middlemarch left in the pile - and I found it! (with Stephanie as my lucky charm)

At Harris however, sitting forlornly on a side table lay 3 Middlemarch bundles among a few other bundles of Vintage books. Talk about a disappointment, I felt so let down by the fact that I had searched so hard for my books whereas mere plebeians who did not share the same zest I did would be able to get their grubby hands on Middlemarch - GRAWGH! NOT FAIR >.<

Anyway I have Middlemarch and Possession now, hooray :D