Thursday, June 18, 2009
Time
My remembrance of some distant memory at a point in time in my life is always linked back to say, how so-and-so's child was x years old when the said incident occurred; whether person Y was single at that point in time and is now married for x months or years and so on and so forth.
Therein, my notion of time is intrinsically connected to the significance of certain past experiences being etched in my nostalgic mind. Whenever my mind turns to an unresolved experience, be it at present, occuring only in my mind, heart or in real life, unwittingly I refer to the chronology of my personal history like a timeline to gauge how and when all these events have come into play in that certain era of my life.
Lately, though my mind continues it routine of lurking around the periphery of my recent past life of 2008 doing its usual repeated revisions of making sense, I feel a strange metamorphosis in the way I view or feel. Quite indifferent this time, I must admit. And quite sexless. No matter how I try to rouse myself to excitement
I am trying to keep myself sane. If one were to chart my emotional patterns of the last five years or so, it would have been markedly patterned into one with some high peaks and many deep troughs. These days I find the pulse of my emotional constitution weak, slight tremors or reverberations carried over from my recent past continues to rattle me a little. But I stop myself whenever I find myself beginning to dwell too deep and begin to feel the oncoming onslaught of pain defeating me once more. I run away from the wave of panic and anxiety before it could engulf me. The tide subsided but a new one awaited me for another day. I keep running and running away...
*****
Time heal all wounds as they say.
Maybe I can stop running from that wave one day. The wave might stop at some stage. It must stop, mustn't it?
*****
De-toxing has always been the hardest thing to adhere.
Recently, I stop going to events, parties and most things socially glamourous. I cold turkeyed.
By keeping to a routine and going home at a godly hour with little alcohol in my system this season, I realise my angst has quietened down by leaps and bounds.
However, I still keep waking up at various intervals of sleep.
I even stopped pining and pro-activing missing a certain individual (whom you all know who he is).
Other propositions coming my way are beginning to confound my recent history.
A dirty trip was recently propositioned by another individual. It kept my dirty mind occupied with an excitement that could never beat the peak of my hysteria when I was propositioned by the Big Boy years ago. Controlled excitement is what I find myself feeling this day (as I temporarily put my guilt on hold at the back of mind). I try to indulge myself with the pleasure, mainly in thought not action. I need something to keep P alive, mustn't I?
But I know the Gods are smiling my way and will effect some form of intervention that will render the propositioner busy to make his fantasies remain as it is-wanking fodder. For I, the sinner in me will be spared from committing yet another carnal crime.
I have just digressed.
I meant to say time helps to smooth out any kinks incurred during a certain era of one's life.
I slipped a little again last night, in fact still did at 3am this morning. I felt the pulse of my love for that certain individual still. My sad, glassy eyes betrayed my panic and vulnerability again, darting nervously, making a sad frown every so often.
It is what it is. I have already rode with the roughest wave since. In time, I believe I will have rode it out until I am brought to shore forever more. Some day, somehow.
My remembrance of some distant memory at a point in time in my life is always linked back to say, how so-and-so's child was x years old when the said incident occurred; whether person Y was single at that point in time and is now married for x months or years and so on and so forth.
Therein, my notion of time is intrinsically connected to the significance of certain past experiences being etched in my nostalgic mind. Whenever my mind turns to an unresolved experience, be it at present, occuring only in my mind, heart or in real life, unwittingly I refer to the chronology of my personal history like a timeline to gauge how and when all these events have come into play in that certain era of my life.
Lately, though my mind continues it routine of lurking around the periphery of my recent past life of 2008 doing its usual repeated revisions of making sense, I feel a strange metamorphosis in the way I view or feel. Quite indifferent this time, I must admit. And quite sexless. No matter how I try to rouse myself to excitement
I am trying to keep myself sane. If one were to chart my emotional patterns of the last five years or so, it would have been markedly patterned into one with some high peaks and many deep troughs. These days I find the pulse of my emotional constitution weak, slight tremors or reverberations carried over from my recent past continues to rattle me a little. But I stop myself whenever I find myself beginning to dwell too deep and begin to feel the oncoming onslaught of pain defeating me once more. I run away from the wave of panic and anxiety before it could engulf me. The tide subsided but a new one awaited me for another day. I keep running and running away...
*****
Time heal all wounds as they say.
Maybe I can stop running from that wave one day. The wave might stop at some stage. It must stop, mustn't it?
*****
De-toxing has always been the hardest thing to adhere.
Recently, I stop going to events, parties and most things socially glamourous. I cold turkeyed.
By keeping to a routine and going home at a godly hour with little alcohol in my system this season, I realise my angst has quietened down by leaps and bounds.
However, I still keep waking up at various intervals of sleep.
I even stopped pining and pro-activing missing a certain individual (whom you all know who he is).
Other propositions coming my way are beginning to confound my recent history.
A dirty trip was recently propositioned by another individual. It kept my dirty mind occupied with an excitement that could never beat the peak of my hysteria when I was propositioned by the Big Boy years ago. Controlled excitement is what I find myself feeling this day (as I temporarily put my guilt on hold at the back of mind). I try to indulge myself with the pleasure, mainly in thought not action. I need something to keep P alive, mustn't I?
But I know the Gods are smiling my way and will effect some form of intervention that will render the propositioner busy to make his fantasies remain as it is-wanking fodder. For I, the sinner in me will be spared from committing yet another carnal crime.
I have just digressed.
I meant to say time helps to smooth out any kinks incurred during a certain era of one's life.
I slipped a little again last night, in fact still did at 3am this morning. I felt the pulse of my love for that certain individual still. My sad, glassy eyes betrayed my panic and vulnerability again, darting nervously, making a sad frown every so often.
It is what it is. I have already rode with the roughest wave since. In time, I believe I will have rode it out until I am brought to shore forever more. Some day, somehow.
