Words

Hello.

Hello, world. Hello, me.

I seem to have resurfaced from my tortoise shell.

For a while, words seem so cheap they have lost some kind of meaning to me. I still have squillions (as Anna would've said) of words inside of me, floating in my mind and flowing in my veins, but so what if I say them?

Words betray me.

Words do not get through to the one I want to get through to most.

Words make me vulnerable.

Words fool me... they have fooled me so.

Words break me.

Words so make me cry.

Words - can I still trust them?


森林木 says: (7:45:43 AM)
maybe one day, i will find the courage to blog about it like you. haha. but i don't think so though. hahahahaha...........

fmm says: (7:45:52 AM)
huh?

fmm says: (7:45:57 AM)
why can'tu?

森林木 says: (7:46:08 AM)
haha. i'm very private.

fmm says: (7:46:18 AM)
yeah

fmm says: (7:46:25 AM)
i blog but not everything also mar

fmm says: (7:46:31 AM)
there are some things cannot say one

fmm says: (7:46:46 AM)
maybe i think i should jsut stop

森林木 says: (7:46:50 AM)
true. but u kind of guess abit and know a person more thru his/her words.

森林木 says: (7:46:57 AM)
which is what i don't want. hahha

森林木 says: (7:47:05 AM)
no, i think u should keep writing. it keeps u sane i guess.


Words keep me sane?

I tried running away from them. Not for very long, I suppose.

But I was truly very tired as well. Tired from the thoughts. Tired from the crying. Tired from thinking of him and everything else. Tired from trying to pack, but nothing much has in fact been packed. Tired from trying not to appear too emotional in front of people.

Tired from thinking what might happen to me today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year... when I'm an old woman.

Tired from trying.

The beer (and a little bit of Chivas) has helped me sleep through the past two nights till morning.

Mentally exhausted from the pining and physically worn out from the effects of alcohol, I couldn't really write even if I had wanted to.


Writing here may expose me more than I would like to be.

Still, there are much more intimate thoughts I can never write here. Thoughts and words meant for one and only one person, and not for the world wide web.

Story-telling has its limits, ultimately.


But you're right, my friend.

Writing here does perhaps keep me a little more in check.

Being open to public ridicule is but part and parcel of a writer's life, isn't it?



Writing here requires courage, and perhaps to a certain extent, shamelessness.

I have nothing much to fear. My words reflect exactly who I am, how I feel, what I think.

I feel no shame being who I am, feeling how I feel, thinking what I think.


Words, if you're gonna break me, go on and do so.

If you're gonna make me cry, I will.

But Words, please don't fool me no more and please don't betray me.

Please, Words, please also reach the ears and eyes, and most of all the heart, of someone out there.