Friday. That is...3 days away.
3 more days of furball delights, a whiney Wiley and a cuddlesome Riley.
3 more days of their most manja meows ever, their lovely large eyes peering up at me earnestly everytime I step into the house.
3 more days of hugging them, stroking their soft belly fur, watching them close their eyes in ecstasy as I give them their daily rubdown.
3 more days of watching them jump (for joy) for their treats, and listen to them gulp them down as fast as they can.
3 more days of Riley sleeping on my keyboard, 3 more days of Wiley stepping all over my keyboard and falling asleep on my lap as I type away at my
articles.
3 more days of them running around the house, watching them play hide-and-seek with each other.
3 more days. The countdown has begun.
I hope you are fucking happy now, because I am fucking sad. I am fucking mad at you, yet I can't do a fucking thing about it.
I hope you are fucking satisfied with what you have done, because you have succeeded in destroying me.
I know you fucking don't care about me losing what I love, because you don't wanna fucking lose me.
It is fucking unfair, but I know you do not fucking give a fuck about it.
You say, "You cry over those cats, but not over your mother."
"You can hate your mother, just because of those two animals."
You took away what I love. So much.
You do not even give yourself a chance to love them.
Why should I give myself a chance to love you despite what you did?
You say, "You can keep those cats as long as you have the time to clean the house."
Which is, well - everyday.
Your expectations are bloody insanely high.
I can hardly keep up with you. I mopped the damn floor, I swept the entire house, I cleaned my table, I washed my own clothes, I ironed them (and yours), I cleaned the room, both old house and new house. I packed my stuff. Yet you always asked more from me.
"Why can't you ever wash the clothes everytime you come back? Wash them immediately cannot issit?"
"You don't ever keep your clothes. I always have to do them for you."
(That's because you always come back earlier than I do and you cannot stand the sight of clothes sitting in the open)
You call me everyday, whether I am at work or anytime anyday...just to say, "Have you cleared their litter? Have you swept the kitchen? Have you cleaned the house?"
EVERY FUCKING DAY.
Don't you fucking get sick of it? I am.
Every damn fucking 3 times a day, I get the same damn shit about those cats from you.
I provided you my solution. I fucking compromised. BUT YOU DIDN'T.
Up till now.
Every fucking day, you whine about how dirty your house is, no matter how many times I mop myself to blisters cleaning it.
You don't care. You say, "This is what you should do. If you don't wanna clean the house this many times, then don't have cats!"
When is it not about the cats? You link them to every damn thing that happens to you.
You feel miserable because you can't go back to your own place - thanks to the cats.
You blame me for coming back late just because I go to the new place to spend time with the cats.
You blame me for dirtying the current room (at the old place) because I brought back fur from the new house - thanks to the cats.
You think I got my flu bug - thanks to the cats.
People tell me, "She loves you, she just doesn't want to lose you."
"She's going through a difficult time. Learning to let go of you, and having to deal with her insecurities at the same time. Be patient with her."
"Hormonal changes are common at her age, it is difficult. You will be like her next time."
"You are her only one. You are all that she has. She is all that you have. Family is priority over everything else."
I tried. I tried to understand how you would feel, I tried to give some of my time to you.
I bought the yoga mat for you, but you treated it like another burden I have added to your cluttered room, and threw it in one corner.
That fucking hurts. You have no fucking idea how hard I fought to hold my tears back.
I brought you to Japanese dinners, you complained about the lousy choice of food. No thank yous, nothing.
You have no idea how horrible I felt deep down inside.
I settled the bills when I finally had the cash, so that you would not have to worry about money for a while...to show you I am independent and you can finally depend on me.
But, it finally dawned upon me that all these I have done...are nothing, but merely duties I have to fulfil starting from now.
Those darling boys of mine are going to a better home this Friday. Do you think the problems will cease?
You say they will. You said, "If you never brought the cats home, things wouldn't be like that."
I say, it will still be the same.
The hurt remains, the despair lingers.
I hate to return home.
I do not have the heart to hate you. I can't. But I'm really, really wounded.
Monday, May 21, 20073 more days of furball delights, a whiney Wiley and a cuddlesome Riley.
3 more days of their most manja meows ever, their lovely large eyes peering up at me earnestly everytime I step into the house.
3 more days of hugging them, stroking their soft belly fur, watching them close their eyes in ecstasy as I give them their daily rubdown.
3 more days of watching them jump (for joy) for their treats, and listen to them gulp them down as fast as they can.
3 more days of Riley sleeping on my keyboard, 3 more days of Wiley stepping all over my keyboard and falling asleep on my lap as I type away at my
articles.
3 more days of them running around the house, watching them play hide-and-seek with each other.
3 more days. The countdown has begun.
I hope you are fucking happy now, because I am fucking sad. I am fucking mad at you, yet I can't do a fucking thing about it.
I hope you are fucking satisfied with what you have done, because you have succeeded in destroying me.
I know you fucking don't care about me losing what I love, because you don't wanna fucking lose me.
It is fucking unfair, but I know you do not fucking give a fuck about it.
You say, "You cry over those cats, but not over your mother."
"You can hate your mother, just because of those two animals."
You took away what I love. So much.
You do not even give yourself a chance to love them.
Why should I give myself a chance to love you despite what you did?
You say, "You can keep those cats as long as you have the time to clean the house."
Which is, well - everyday.
Your expectations are bloody insanely high.
I can hardly keep up with you. I mopped the damn floor, I swept the entire house, I cleaned my table, I washed my own clothes, I ironed them (and yours), I cleaned the room, both old house and new house. I packed my stuff. Yet you always asked more from me.
"Why can't you ever wash the clothes everytime you come back? Wash them immediately cannot issit?"
"You don't ever keep your clothes. I always have to do them for you."
(That's because you always come back earlier than I do and you cannot stand the sight of clothes sitting in the open)
You call me everyday, whether I am at work or anytime anyday...just to say, "Have you cleared their litter? Have you swept the kitchen? Have you cleaned the house?"
EVERY FUCKING DAY.
Don't you fucking get sick of it? I am.
Every damn fucking 3 times a day, I get the same damn shit about those cats from you.
I provided you my solution. I fucking compromised. BUT YOU DIDN'T.
Up till now.
Every fucking day, you whine about how dirty your house is, no matter how many times I mop myself to blisters cleaning it.
You don't care. You say, "This is what you should do. If you don't wanna clean the house this many times, then don't have cats!"
When is it not about the cats? You link them to every damn thing that happens to you.
You feel miserable because you can't go back to your own place - thanks to the cats.
You blame me for coming back late just because I go to the new place to spend time with the cats.
You blame me for dirtying the current room (at the old place) because I brought back fur from the new house - thanks to the cats.
You think I got my flu bug - thanks to the cats.
People tell me, "She loves you, she just doesn't want to lose you."
"She's going through a difficult time. Learning to let go of you, and having to deal with her insecurities at the same time. Be patient with her."
"Hormonal changes are common at her age, it is difficult. You will be like her next time."
"You are her only one. You are all that she has. She is all that you have. Family is priority over everything else."
I tried. I tried to understand how you would feel, I tried to give some of my time to you.
I bought the yoga mat for you, but you treated it like another burden I have added to your cluttered room, and threw it in one corner.
That fucking hurts. You have no fucking idea how hard I fought to hold my tears back.
I brought you to Japanese dinners, you complained about the lousy choice of food. No thank yous, nothing.
You have no idea how horrible I felt deep down inside.
I settled the bills when I finally had the cash, so that you would not have to worry about money for a while...to show you I am independent and you can finally depend on me.
But, it finally dawned upon me that all these I have done...are nothing, but merely duties I have to fulfil starting from now.
Those darling boys of mine are going to a better home this Friday. Do you think the problems will cease?
You say they will. You said, "If you never brought the cats home, things wouldn't be like that."
I say, it will still be the same.
The hurt remains, the despair lingers.
I hate to return home.
I do not have the heart to hate you. I can't. But I'm really, really wounded.
Finally Blogger looks okay!
In just a twinkling of the eye, almost 3 weeks will have passed since the last day of my paper. Almost a month of break, and time flies by even quicker than the speed of light. (or so I perceive) Then again, looking at my May schedule, it has been a crazy one, so typical of me. There's reviews, writings, events to go for...wakeboard sessions take up at least twice a week. On top of that, there is an (almost) endless coffee list to clear on my side considering I haven't had much time in the past to spare a meet-up with my old pals; there's the crazy cleaning-of-house-every-3-days which involves a mop-down of my new place (thanks to my cats and the fur they shed) as well as tidying up of my old place...and of course, exercise. Blame the sports junkie in me, or perhaps within the soul lingers a permanent guilt of having to exercise in order to balance off the amount of calories that have entered my mouth since I started on restaurant reviews.
So there. A stay home today, no thanks to a flu bug that left my muscles tingling, my body weak and a come-and-go nauseous bout.
I'm physically and emotionally drained out. Physical exhaustion from attempting to exercise everyday, wakeboarding more often (I just can't clear that last jump), and moping the damn house. Emotionally drained from...my mum. Soon, I will be financially drained from upkeeping the new place.
Sunday, May 13, 2007In just a twinkling of the eye, almost 3 weeks will have passed since the last day of my paper. Almost a month of break, and time flies by even quicker than the speed of light. (or so I perceive) Then again, looking at my May schedule, it has been a crazy one, so typical of me. There's reviews, writings, events to go for...wakeboard sessions take up at least twice a week. On top of that, there is an (almost) endless coffee list to clear on my side considering I haven't had much time in the past to spare a meet-up with my old pals; there's the crazy cleaning-of-house-every-3-days which involves a mop-down of my new place (thanks to my cats and the fur they shed) as well as tidying up of my old place...and of course, exercise. Blame the sports junkie in me, or perhaps within the soul lingers a permanent guilt of having to exercise in order to balance off the amount of calories that have entered my mouth since I started on restaurant reviews.
So there. A stay home today, no thanks to a flu bug that left my muscles tingling, my body weak and a come-and-go nauseous bout.
I'm physically and emotionally drained out. Physical exhaustion from attempting to exercise everyday, wakeboarding more often (I just can't clear that last jump), and moping the damn house. Emotionally drained from...my mum. Soon, I will be financially drained from upkeeping the new place.
"I am going to stress you and stress you everyday until you do something about them."
I cleaned the house. You ain't happy.
They aren't in sight. They are afraid of you. You still ain't happy.
I did my laundry. You still complained.
I bought the detergent. I settled the furniture. Will you like me to climb outside the windows to scrub your walls too?
You tell me,
"You haven't found a job."
"When you are home, there's so many clothes to wash."
"I tell you hor, you had better be more organized abit."
Conform. Bend. Adapt. Accept. Embrace.
You do none. It is time, that I do none of them too.
"I've been suffering for the past half of my life. Do you want me to suffer the rest of my life?"
Thank you, for telling me that I've came into this world to make your life absolutely wretched. Thank you, for telling me that I should not exist.
So that is what I am to you. A burden, a suffering.
Just what am I worth? It takes so much to see that smile on your face. And when I finally do, I find that I am not happy myself.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007I cleaned the house. You ain't happy.
They aren't in sight. They are afraid of you. You still ain't happy.
I did my laundry. You still complained.
I bought the detergent. I settled the furniture. Will you like me to climb outside the windows to scrub your walls too?
You tell me,
"You haven't found a job."
"When you are home, there's so many clothes to wash."
"I tell you hor, you had better be more organized abit."
Conform. Bend. Adapt. Accept. Embrace.
You do none. It is time, that I do none of them too.
"I've been suffering for the past half of my life. Do you want me to suffer the rest of my life?"
Thank you, for telling me that I've came into this world to make your life absolutely wretched. Thank you, for telling me that I should not exist.
So that is what I am to you. A burden, a suffering.
Just what am I worth? It takes so much to see that smile on your face. And when I finally do, I find that I am not happy myself.
"You either choose me, or your cats."
We're worlds apart.
An animal lover; someone who will not hesitate to throw newborn kittens away.
I didn't know that.
What if, I gave them away and there are no furry ones to make me feel happy again?
Will you be the source to my comfort?
"I have done my duty."
So, that's what it is these days.
Sunday, May 06, 2007We're worlds apart.
An animal lover; someone who will not hesitate to throw newborn kittens away.
I didn't know that.
What if, I gave them away and there are no furry ones to make me feel happy again?
Will you be the source to my comfort?
"I have done my duty."
So, that's what it is these days.
Coming Home.
I'm back in Tampines. Back in the east, away from the West for a long long while before I decided to pack my bags and leave, be it marriage or studying overseas. Prior to this final move I had so many mixed feelings within - away from neighbours right at my doorstep, away from my West end friends, away from supper khakis just 5 minutes away, away from my room.
But there's at least something waiting for me back in Tampines. My very own room, my own cosy corner, my chill-out corner of dark brown and orange, finally - my belongings all in one place. A bigger place for stayovers, a new hide-out for friends and coffee-sessions. A bigger fridge, a cleaner place, 5 minutes from the central.
The boys (Riley & Wiley) have been traumatised when they saw me packing my bags; they watched the hostel room emptying gradually as we all anticipated the final move. Desperate meows, whining pleas..it was heartbreaking to watch them react this way, because they would have thought I will leave them forever. Even the mosquitoes seem to sense this move, with vengeful red pelts appearing on my skin every night.
Finally, home.
To Nick, you will be glad to hear the boys are settling in nicely. Bought a scratching tower for them but they seem to be more preoccupied with exploring the house. Riley (the fat one) has never ran about and moved so much for the past 3 months. Wiley loves my sofa to bits, whilst Riley has discovered a woolen rug and claimed it for his own.
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And so closes the chapter on my NUS stint, and hello to the world out there. 3 years flew by just like that.