lips of an angel

Oh dear me, it’s Sunday again. I know I don’t have much to do today and very soon, I’d be going through my hand phone contact list and might just start to send out messages to tell people that I am very depressed blah blah blah.

In the past, some might offer words of encouragement and sympathy. But I suppose they soon realized that it’s pointless doing that because I seemed to be running in circles. Guilty as charged.

Though I never thought that I’d be a difficult child, but in fact I am one. And still is one. I pity my friends sometimes…because I always thought that they never cared about me though all of them truly cared for me. Half the time I am just so engrossed in my own world that I kept on lamenting that I felt so cut out from the world, my friends and family. But the question is, did I even make any attempts to see them? Or the least that I could do would be to join them when they invited me, but I just don’t do that.

I choose to lock myself in the house…staring at the ceiling and letting my mind wander. As the mind wanders, more crazy and negative thought begin to manifest. Is that doing me any good? I doubt it. It is my stubbornness and unwillingness to change for the better perhaps.

So pretty soon, when I tell my friends of the same problem yet again, they just keep quiet. Why? Because in the past, when they gave 1001 suggestions, all of those 1001 suggestions got shot down by me. It gives people the impression that I am ungrateful and that I just choose to remain in the same rut, and yet I keep screaming for help. Then I wallow in my self pity, crying myself to sleep thinking if I died tomorrow, no one would shed a tear.

Naturally, when there is a problem identified, most normal people would want to solve the problem and move on to something bigger and better in life. But not for me I guess. Sometimes I wonder if I have lived in my misery long enough that it has become my comfort zone that I don’t want to get out of it at all. And yet when I see people basking in joy and laughter, I felt left out…I felt like I am missing out on a greater deal of life. Having said that, my efforts seldom commensurate the outcome.

I just feel like a very stubborn mule or donkey or ass.

I know I’d be depressed if I were to be single, but I’d be equally if not more depressed if I were to be attached.  Funny thing is, I know myself too well and yet I am not making any changes or efforts at all. I continue to waste my life…I weep so frequently these days because of my self inflicted insomnia. The daunting hours of sleepless night and the blankness that will shroud my mind come morning.

I know I want to be a better person, but I don’t know how to. I don’t enjoy telling myself that I’d soon die young due to depression related diseases. My friends tell me that I have so much potentials and capabilities that it saddened them I am constantly talking or thinking about suicide.

But to me, I just wanted an easy and fast way out. If I never wake up tomorrow, then I won’t have to worry about this miserable life that I am leading. Pity my parents for the years of nurturing and education and what-nots…but I think I have reached a stage where I am reckless with myself so I cannot be held responsible for other people anymore.

I only chose to blog about certain issues and matters simply because my Friendster and blog profile has been a face and identity. Some people just don’t need so much information about my life…

And yet, blogging has been my escape channel for quite a while now…I don’t support the idea of keeping a journal where I jot down my daily thoughts because I am a perfectionist. A freak. An obsessive compulsive disorder. My handwriting must be organized and uniformed and there must be no errors at all. So it was too much of a hassle for me to fulfill the inner psycho in me, hence blogging just solved one of my woes.

I can choose to type in Word document and then transfer to the blog site or type in the site itself. Any errors, be it grammatical or spelling errors can be rectified with a click of the mouse. Voila, a new entry is produced.

Some people choose to keep their thoughts to themselves, which is a valid thing to do. But I have attention deficit disorder…hence the need to blog perhaps?