Monday, November 01, 2004

split guts = split milk.

Why can't people ever be honest?

I can answer my own question: lies come all too easily. It's really simple. "Take care", "love you lots", "miss you", "you're such a sweetie pie" and whatever nonsense. Even someone with an IQ and EQ of sub-zero can say that.

With all the practised smiles and easily regurgitated words, hypocrisy (the nicer term is diplomacy but it means the same thing) has never been more rampant.

I just hate it when people can't tell me the truth upfront. Hey, I can take it you know. Bring it on. You just don't dare to tell the truth.

But then again, I'm guilty of that too. So what if people don't tell me the truth? I don't either.

When looking at others with a quizzing glass, use that upon yourself too, you silly twat.

Why is it so hard to be honest? What are we afraid of?

Why can't we just come forth and say what we truly mean? The unspoken words will only fester inside, like an open sore. And it will never go away.

Once again, I can answer my own question. It's our bloody PRIDE getting in the way. Isn't it funny? It's intangible, it's invisible, it's not even a physical entity, and nobody else is even affected by this mental and emotional construction of ours. It's really all in our heads, all in our minds. Yet, we cling on to it for dear life, like a babe to his mother's bosom, refusing to relinquish control of it.

Stubborn, that we are. It's silly, innit? It's just pride.

But without our pride, our self-worth, what have we left?

I suspect I'm slightly hysterical and incoherent as I have finally come clean, and I have regurgitated, puked and retched out all the nasty feelings that I'm not supposed to feel, all the caustic words I'm not supposed to say. And I would be lying if I said I didn't expect immediate absolution from spilling my guts. The funny thing is, I actually feel worse, even lower than a snake wriggling on its belly, even worse than ever before. Abject misery. In telling the truth, I have just passed on the flaming and diseased torch of churlishness to someone else.

I had forgotten my early reasons for shutting up: there's no telling what sort of sharp objects would come flying out of Pandora's Box. Knives, axes, spears... leaving behind a host of mutilated wounds to body, spirit and mind.

And I regret my insane act of folly. Had I known the severity of the repercussions, no matter how excruciatingly painful my sore would be, I would have kept it all within me. I would rather carry the burden of my own making by myself. For this is not what I wanted, not what I intended.

We can try, but we can never have everything that we want.

Had I known... had I known.

There, there. It's no use crying over spilt milk.

blueprint

I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.

fresh monodies

come, let us find elements of BDSM in Wagner.
fingers are not moving, ears are not listening.
lynne embarks on a world-wide courtesy campaign.
check this out.
My net is down. I got caught for downloading media...
full circle.
4 days in paris.
annoyed.
homework.
it takes two hands to clap.

previous rants

August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
November 2010
January 2011
February 2011
August 2011
October 2011
May 2013

treatises on life

arty jen
betty boop
carmentica
charming-linn
chasing snowy cars
cheeky lynn
cheryliciously glam
clean and cute
cyclist-mad bass
darling dominic
feisty jing
fellow ditz-sista/porkSTAR
hail mary!
hell's kitchen
hero on the beach
h-Euge heart
hunky lenny
lipgloss queen
little cheryl
live n learn, baby
lolita lou
loony loon
mr popular
musically dan
m y s t j
phringe
princess tania
roger smurf
runaway pigeon
sabotage king jeremiah
sibling angst1
sibling angst2
spector dan
spunky tian
steffy bunny
sun-sunzzz
teeny wee-nee
weeeee, leonard!
yangtze yang'en

frivolous pursuits

for shallow ppl
for very geeky ppl
for the truly bored
spun prose
binary thoughts
past imprints
some stamps
montage of images
other memories

mulling over

And there were phlegmatic souls.