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Text of the page (random words):
walk the wrong way i will get lost lose myself in a city that doesn t know me yet and that s too much to lose at this moment i have to have something left today i m wearing blue the color of tears because i wanted to cry and as sad as that sounds tears are something matter i can touch and feel between my hands on the curve of my cheek in the hollow behind my nose that aches whenever i start tearing up i was a box for four years and i was so terribly empty and i never knew until i lost so much that empty was all i could feel so i ll sit here and cry in the middle of a sleepy cafe where everyone around me is engaged in other conversations and fill myself with tears because that s all i have for now then i ll walk out into the sunlight and keep on walking because there s no point in just sitting around and waiting life gets better doesn t it it always has so far i m trusting that it still will when the love in your eyes is a trick of the light 27 tuesday mar 2012 posted by rei in love in the asylum leave a comment the saddest thing i always thought about adele singing never mind i ll find someone like you is that she never will she ll possibly find someone who reminds her of him who she can fool herself into believing is him from afar or in the shadows of her peripheral vision but he won t be as long as all he is is a physical embodiment of a painful memory he ll never be the one she s looking for from ten years ahead i want to tell her it s okay you don t really want someone like him anyway come now truly if he hurt you so badly then you don t want another person like him in your life and if he was so right for you then it wouldn t have ended that way you fall in love because you are in love not because you want to hurt someone else and when you re there you couldn t care less who he reminds you of or how different he was from the last because it doesn t matter anymore in retrospect everyone i ve loved is perfect not for me not anymore but for who they are now and what they were to me looking back feels much like watching the sun set the last deep breath letting this day go and accepting everything that happened and everything that didn t or couldn t or wouldn t i will never find someone like you and i am glad i like you where and when you are rewinding 09 friday mar 2012 posted by rei in by my walking tears leave a comment sometimes i feel a little like flowers for algernon as if i am moving backward inexorably watching everything and everyone moving on in the opposite direction i hold on but it s a bit like clutching water feeling it slip through my fingers unresisting but implacable something i can neither control nor yield to and i am left with my fists submerged in water letting it wash by me as i remain drifting back against the tide sometimes you watch but all the time you move on and i watch myself losing you i could cry but so often it just feels useless and overdramatic crying over something as inevitable as the movement of water the tug of the undertow there is no one to blame for this loss this ache this slow steady slide of nothing and nothing and nothing so i cry the same way tears sliding in your direction letting them touch you even after my hands no longer can i miss you you are a scar on my heart you are one of a million tiny cuts that were never a killing blow reorientation 08 thursday mar 2012 posted by rei in a house not right in the head a stranger has come leave a comment when i was a little girl rip van winkle was my cautionary tale the man who fell asleep and woke up twenty years later to find that his entire life had gone by and he had missed it all his gun rusting his daughter growing up and getting married his wife dying i had nightmares that placed me in the exact same circumstance sleeping or daydreaming until i came to in a world that was no longer familiar or safe once i dreamed that i was watching my parents drive away with my sister in the back seat of a car while i yelled at them from the window of an attic where i had been playing with my dolls when i woke up they had left the house and the babysitter must have thought i was going crazy i screamed so hard and for so long it was the longest nightmare ever one that didn t end until they walked back into the house i still remember the sheer terror of that moment terror that has faded through the years into disorientation and caution because you can t stay scared when your entire life consists of going to sleep here and waking up elsewhere recently i ve been feeling like someone slapped me awake last christmas and suddenly i was conscious for the first time in years looking around at a life i m not sure that i want and completely at a loss as to how to get back to the life i understood that i thought i would get it s as if i ve been floating through that one waking moment ever since or as if i keep on drifting off into the same dream and jerking back awake again and again and again drift fugue abrupt awareness this isn t where i thought i would be the first time i felt like this i opened my four year old eyes in a small apartment in bangkok and saw not the apartment but all the people who suddenly weren t there my cousins my grandparents the girls next door who let me play with their barbies the old lady a couple doors down who gave me froot loops when i came over to visit all the things i knew and understood pan de sal in the mornings people who spoke my language a yard to play in nothing existed anymore not the way i understood it and being alive was a little bit like dreaming because i wasn t sure if any of my memories were real and yet eight years down the line i found myself wrapping my life up and putting it back into boxes comfortable in a world that had once been strange moving back to live in a place i remembered faintly like a dream i d had as a little girl the point is i shouldn t be afraid i ve lived through this before one day this memory will be faint in the background faded with the prints of all the times i ve pulled it out and mulled it over cried over it then put it aside to move on one day i ll find it soft and crumpled under the weight of other memories and laugh because like a baby blanket once upon a time it meant everything to me and since then i ll have gone years without remembering and yet every single time i wake up i m scared all over again in those moments just before i remember that i m old enough for it to just be disorientation and experienced enough to proceed with caution worth coming home to 02 friday mar 2012 posted by rei in by my walking tears love in the asylum leave a comment you wanted to come home to me but weren t ready to make a home with me seven years ago i listened to tori singing i m not like the girls that you ve known but i believe i m worth coming home to on vicious repeat trying to make myself cry the way you cut yourself after a snake bite so you can bleed out the poison i never can cry over breakups because at the end of the day it makes me feel small and stupid to be so hurt over someone not wanting me love is a choice i tell myself if someone doesn t want to love you can t love you it isn t really anyone s fault of course that doesn t erase the days and months and years that you tried to be someone that could be loved bright and funny and cuddly the way the girls in the movies are the longer you stay though the less you are like a girl in a movie your hair in the morning is never as artfully tousled your bad moods aren t that cute and your crises are as embarrassing and confusing as they are painful you are always aware that he is not your therapist and that his presence in your life will not erase anything that you have ever lived through fix anything you have broken but you don t care and you just want to not be alone dammit is that too much to ask the saddest thing about that line i always thought was that it sounded like a lady protesting too much every time i said i believe i m worth coming home to to myself i was really asking am i worth coming home to dama de noche 26 sunday feb 2012 posted by rei in a girl mad as birds by my walking tears love in the asylum leave a comment in the philippines the scent of dama de noche is associated with death not violent death i presume it s too sweet a fragrance to be linked to anything that terrible when i learned that i thought of the kind of death that comes after a life lived well and fully surrounded by loved ones we all die the best you can hope for is to be missed when you go my grandfather told me this and other similar stories because he was a farmer and he loved plants and all things that grew i remembered that when my mother told us yesterday that he died while she was sitting beside him holding his hand i miss him i miss his stories i miss his love of the earth and everything that fruited or flowered and every time i close my eyes i imagine i can smell dama de noche in the air an ache i still remember 23 thursday feb 2012 posted by rei in a house not right in the head by my walking tears love in the asylum leave a comment told myself that you were right for me but felt so lonely in your company but that was love and it s an ache i still remember somebody that i used to know gotye the tactile memories are easier to access harder to recover from i don t have to close my eyes to remember the feel of bare skin against my own the comfort and intimacy of breaching someone s private space and letting them intrude into mine it still calms my heart a little to remember the times i was no longer alone in my body the times i would hold him and listen to his breath swift then slowing as if he had run a thousand miles to collapse into me as if i was his home it was a slow steady and mutual break the two of us standing on opposite sides of a cracking glacier watching and not moving while the distance grew we threw in the towel sometime after lunar new year over skype and i watched him crying with a sort of detached sympathy thinking he isn t mine to comfort anymore and i would have killed anyone who hurt him but i can t kill myself after that i couldn t sleep for days but it didn t matter there was work there is always work a million emails and calls and people who demand your full attention and time and don t understand because they aren t paying you to eat or sleep or cry over your broken heart they are paying you to serve your fucking country by which they mean serve me a week or so after that i realized that heartbreak isn t supposed to manifest physically and that realization landed me in the emergency room i fled singapore that same afternoon and twelve hours after i left work i was back in manila i spent the first week being angry at my body how dare it betray me how dare it be weak at such an inconvenient time in my life then that faded and i spent the rest of the time snapping at everybody else because i was angry at something about something that i didn t want to think about and objectively speaking there was no concrete person or thing i could blame my mri scans came out normal when i got them i thought it would be funny to tell my sister well now i have medical evidence that my brain is fine it s just my heart that needs mending it wasn t last year i was at my worst fractured and frazzled and inaccessible in all possible ways it was a bad year work wise we spent the better part of a year in crisis mode stamping out fire after fire when i look back at that year i still can t bring myself to remember in detail all the things that went wrong all i can bear to think about is the panic and desperation and exhaustion the perpetually irate crowds of clients my staff coming in to ask me to intervene and me turning them away because it was too much and i had nothing to say that would change anything i remember a solid week of being so overwhelmed that everything made me cry and i was too tired to pretend to be professional and stoic at meetings and wept unashamedly in front of my boss and the other officers even as i argued with them over the next step the next alternative i remember trying and failing and failing again and watching our people get fried by the public for trying to implement my insufficient alternatives i remember watching an altercation and thinking that should be me i should be out there protecting my people and my body refusing to move because i couldn t handle yet another person telling me that whatever i was doing was just not enough when i try to remember where he was in all that mess i can t and i wonder if i am repressing him together with everything else vaguely i can recall him struggling to be there sending me comforting messages that did not comfort me in the least and offering ideas that didn t work at all i know that there were long silences while i cried and he tried to figure out something that could help and failed over and over again i feel like i m not helping he said to me once you re not i replied not having the strength left to lie it s been a month since it happened we still talk occasionally and sometimes i forget that i don t have the right to anymore and call him by an endearment instead of his name he is generous enough to not let it be awkward gentle enough to reassure me that the affection is not one sided it s a lot more than i got out of previous breakups and i am grateful to be fair to him i try to hide the lumps and bruises i am nursing from this separation partly because it is no longer his duty to comfort me and partly because i remember all the times he tried to reach out and i slapped him away i am thirty one and i have had my heart broken before i know what comes next how to dress my own wounds how to move myself along until the hobble becomes a limp that becomes a slightly uneven gait that eventually steadies back into a normal walk eventually i ll break this down into an ache i can handle small fragments that i can tuck under the surface of my everyday life so that i can grieve and heal over my failure to be a lover and partner while functioning in the roles of my life where i am still needed as supervisor subordinate employer daughter sister friend piece by piece moment by moment i am processing what hurts and how to mend it right now what hurts most is this i spent half a year crying over my work it has been a month and i have not been able not even once to cry over him and forgive me philippines forgive me public but to me he should have been so much more worth crying over than any of you older posts newer posts pages about rei about synesthetique categories a girl mad as birds a house not right in the head a stranger has come by my walking tears love in the asylum riding imagined oceans she walks the dust uncategorized archives archives select month december 2025 1 october 2020 1 february 2019 1 march 2017 1 february 2017 1 january 2017 2 july 2014 1 april 2014 1 october 2013 1 march 2013 2 november 2012 1 october 2012 1 march 2012 4 february 2012 2 january 2012 2 january 20...
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