So that was my first night at the new place, and like last year I had a little ladybird invasion in my room. They act funny and dazed, slowly dying on the ceiling and underneath my bed.
It’s the first time that I feel alone – in a negative sense. Ever since I put my novel aside for no particular reason (apart from waiting for the final comments), I’ve been occupying myself with friends and workmates; I have no idea how I’ve managed to last that long. Both cheeks are still sore from raising my cheekbones into smiles. Socialising requires a lot of energy only to pretend that you can connect with people. Blend in.
So in the last few days, I’ve been moving, shopping and arranging my room. The mattress is bliss, and so is the new duvet cover. I admit that double beds make you lonely; I’m not even the type of person who encounters that sort of feeling, ever. That’s because usually, I’m always writing, which means I’m never alone. But having abandoned writing for over a week, I feel like I’ve been wasting time.
Sorry if I criticise you for not being able to cope with loneliness. I didn’t know you were emptier than me, that you have no creativity to create an alternate world. However, I still envy you because you can cope in a world of people. You’ll probably make it further than me.
Other people play music or read books to reflect their souls, which is fine, but I want to create a reflection by myself rather than having someone do the job.
For instance, listening to Nine Inch Nails makes me wonder why I can’t create music like that. Do you know what I mean?
I understand why you feel alone, and to stop this, you mustn’t abandon your creativity. Utilise it to the max or to a point where you believe you no longer need people around you. It’s not always a bad thing.
Very often, one of your friends might ask, “Are you capable of killing someone?”
In my dreams, I am, yes, it depends on how much I’m driven by hate. There are times where I abandon my conscience. Some people aren’t good with reason, but they have reasons for acting that way: anger, indifference, etc.
Again, I envy those who are free of negative sentiments and are ruled by reason. But I don’t like them trying to teach me through talking. If I had wanted to speak, I would’ve continued seeing my psychiatrist, who was convinced that the Asian mentality defined me, that it will be a part of me forever.
How ridiculous it sounded when he first said that. I’d spent years thinking about it. Despite being more westernised than most Asians, yet showing indifference to my ethnic origin, I did see a mistake there.
Resentment and disillusion play a role in this, but I don’t feel old and mature enough to tackle this issue. I haven’t even mapped out my memoir yet. Don’t you see how busy I am?
On the outside, they say I have a beauty that attracts, attracting who and what? Freaky losers, it seems. The winners are on the other side of the globe.
I’m still paranoid about my landlord’s intentions. I hope the tenant-landlord-relationship will remain as discreet as possible, each party minding their own business. I made a shocking discovery in the bathroom the other day. Inside the shower cubicle are five thick square windows built in, revealing a blurry view of the corridor. Is this art or exposure?
The previous tenant was a gay theatre guy, my landlord said. I haven’t had a chance to meet him, although I was supposed to get the other spare keys off him, which never happened – a shame really, as I had some questions.
I met the gay couple in the other flat next door, and I met a lady in the flat beneath. She said, “Another new one!”
I wonder how long each tenant had lasted and how long I will last.
Some women are only looking to get married to kind-hearted men who aren’t emotionally challenging. All they want is security, someone to look after and cook for. And I hate how some men particularly view Asian women this way as if they were easy to bait into marriage. He might think I’m one of those. Another sign of inappropriate approach, and I will spread all possible negative energies that I have.
Unfortunately, I don’t fall in love with people. I fall in love with ideas. Now I understand why, as a kid, I always wanted to become an inventor. It makes perfect sense now.
Some people are not granted love…they are given a chance, but they let it slip. I’ve let it slip several times because I no longer know how this all works, and on the other hand, aren’t you supposed to feel a spark?
The novel’s emphasis on the heart is only to depict love differently. It’s not particularly an emotion. My capacity for decay is currently huge, so I need to get back to the novel and minimise the hole as much as possible.
But the thing about shadows…they expand, shift and swallow.