Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Lone wolf.

(Apparently, as famous as that saying is, I've since found out that a "lone wolf" is actually a wolf that has been cast out from its pack after being defeated in a fight, and is doomed to die soon. Since its supposed to personify a person that likes being alone, I think its a horribly inaccurate saying, and should be replaced with something like "lone tiger" or "lone wolverine".

But I digress.)

So my baby sister has been gone for a week now. Off to Japan for a homestay programme (which I never had the privilege to attend so I am very, very envious), and won't be back for a few more days.

And to my complete shock, I do not miss her.

Perhaps I should explain. My sister is the person I make a habit of annoying numerous times every single day. We are also roommates and rarely do I ever go to sleep without her next to me. I am so used to having her be a part of my day, I thought there would be an unbearable ache when she would be gone for so long.

But nope, I have been completely fine on my own. If anything, I am annoyed that the days are going so fast and the week is already almost gone, as I have yet to take to the books at all. (Am on a study break currently for a week, and it has been completely unproductive thus far.)

What bothers me is this: I have been so sucked into my little self-absorbed bubble that I do not rely on interactions with others to complete my day anymore. If I were a Sim, my social bar would be practically non-existent, as I have become so introverted that it is now worrying.

I enjoy being alone, yes, but I'd always thought that one day I'd blossom into a social butterfly. Like all those pretty, popular girls we all know that head out every week to party all night long, and whose phone never seems to stop buzzing. Seems that as I grow older however, I've only retreated further into myself, and cannot be bothered with late nights out nor chatting.

And this worries me. Because I'll have to go choose my 47 cats now to begin my days as a lonely spinster, doomed to spend forever in reclusive loneliness, and truly not feeling any loss.

Butbutbut, this can't be good. Because you see, I don't like cats one bit.

Monday, May 21, 2012


Is effectively what I am doing right now.

I've ranted countless times about my uncertainty about my future choice in career. Complain, complain, complain about how "poor me" has to suffer through indecisiveness and may end up with a miserable future with a job I detest. Well, despite my professed love for writing, I've yet to take any concrete steps towards making something out of myself.

It is time to put my (non-existent) money where my whining mouth is.

Prior to this, blogging has been an outlet to vent. To express emotions that would have otherwise been stamped down and promptly repressed. To expose myself and hope that somewhere out there, someone might be reading this and may relate, and I might help that someone through my words.

I enjoy writing. At the moment, there is nothing I truly enjoy more than formulating thoughts, and scrambling with the endless frustrations to pen them down with the exact words that best emulate my emotions and thought processes.

However, I have never consistently sat myself down to write, choosing only to write when convenient to do so and when inspiration struck. According to the number of posts I currently have, both events have not often run concurrently. If ever I were to take up a writing career, would I be able to cope with the pressure of having to write everyday?

Could I handle the struggle of not being able to summon my inner creative spirit at will, with the guillotine blade of "jobless bum" over my neck? How would I be able to cope with being given an assignment with an unfavourable topic? Is writing my calling, or a mere hobby?

And so, I have decided to become an active blogger. By writing at least twice a week, about anything under the sun, as long as it is not too ridiculously short and meaningless. I need to regain perspective of my life; and find out once and for all, if writing is what I need to be doing.

So basically, I've just become engaged to my writing dreams. Only time will tell if there will be a joyous everlasting union, or a bittersweet lovers parting at the end of this period.

Friday, May 11, 2012

What if?

"For that moment;
Wished we'd missed?

Bear it meaning?
We'll never know.

I guess we'll never know."

Rhiannon thought she had it all. Callum was everything she wanted, and then some. She had been madly infatuated with him for five years; even when she was dating other guys, it was never real for her, because she still always had Callum at the back of her mind. Crazy as it seems, she actually believed that if she wished hard enough, things might actually fall into place and something might blossom from this massive crush.

It seems the cosmic forces thought that something should. Four years into her infatuation, to her surprise and pleasure, Callum started acting differently towards her. More engaging, more caring, than he had ever been for all the previous years of platonic (on his end anyway) friendship.

And then it happened: Callum asked her out one day to be his date for a corporate social event. Rhiannon had suspected that they were now more than friends, but here was concrete, indisputable proof of Callum's changed intentions. Imagine her excitement!

She imagined all her girlish fantasies come to life that day. Callum would pick her up in his car, present her with a corsage (that matched her dress because she told him what colour she was wearing), they would talk and laugh and flirt throughout the night, and she'd stumble through the door breathless and reeling from the zeal of their first shared kiss at the end of it all. The night was the culmination of years' worth of daydreams and secret hopes, and she was determined to thoroughly enjoy herself throughout it.

She never got the chance.

Throughout the night, Callum barely paid any attention towards her. Although they sat together, there was no magical bubble of unsuppressed emotions that tended to surround newborn couples at any given moment. They had certain small moments of pure frizzion where she truly believed he had frisked her very soul, but they all amounted to the same thing: Zilch. Nada. Zen.

Rhiannon was dumped not long after that night. Unsurprisingly, Callum had distanced himself from her in the weeks that followed. To her disgust in hindsight, Rhiannon realised that she had carried out the cliché response of holding on tighter the more he tried to let go, refusing to believe that her four years worth of infatuations were coming to an end after barely a month of reciprocation.

She exhausted herself by trying every possible way to fix them. Nothing worked. Callum remained resolute in his decision to leave.

Rhiannon cried herself to sleep in the month that followed. And was temporarily abandoned by all her friends, who had long grown sick of her repeated sob stories and her aura of depressing energy. Notably, temptingly, some friends had even offered to give Callum a light bashing for toying with her emotions.

Soon afterwards, Callum was up and about, chasing after the next pretty young thing.

Rhiannon slipped ever further into her coma of depression and self-loathing. She stopped talking about Callum, and managed to put a brave face on in public, but never went to sleep with a smile on her face for the next few months.

Then along came Austin. He fell immediately in love with Rhiannon. His meticulous, unrelenting pursuance finally melted her frozen heart, and treated her exactly like how Callum should have.

But it wasn't to last, for Rhiannon did not love Austin. She merely loved the endless attention and care he gave her, that she never got from Callum. They parted ways, and Rhiannon promised to never let herself be reeled in by anything but true love ever again.

You should know, if you've made it thus far, that Rhiannon and Callum never left each others' lives completely. They still saw each other at social events and generally got along swimmingly. They'd laugh, talk about how each other's life was going, and perhaps joke about old times.

Sometimes, Rhiannon and Callum would find themselves alone. It sometimes felt awkward, but when conversation kicked in, things would just fall into place, and it would feel like it was just them against the world, like what they'd both once wanted.

Callum sometimes wondered what he'd left behind by leaving so easily, after being entangled so deeply. When there were moments of frizzion, both imagined what would have transpired if they had managed to stay together all that time ago. Fleeting feelings of regret and loss would fill them, then leave as soon as they arrived.

For there was too much stilted history and repressed emotions between them. Things that neither Rhiannon nor Callum wanted to take the effort to sort out, as there was no guarantee of a happy ending.

The temptation remained to discover the journey they would have made together if only they had tried. The moments they would have shared if only they hadn't given up. The possibility of them still being together and continuing to share their lives together.

But they both refused to try to start over.

And so they chose to live forever with the repressed regret and curiosity of what might have been.


Moving forward is never easy. But living in the past, refusing to let go of old hopes and dreams, would only be counter-productive and draw one into the soul-draining void of self-loathing and non-existent self esteem.

Rhiannon has new dreams now. They are so intangible that she doesn't even know what they are yet, but she knows where they are taking her: forward and upwards. She will always have a soft spot for Callum, but she understands that her feelings for him will no longer hold her back.

Where once two hearts had beat as one, they will always recognise their old harmonies when they cross paths. But there are now new songs to sing, greater melodies to discover, and a beautiful life ahead.

And Rhiannon is embracing it all.

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