I almost hate you so much right now I don't even want to be in the same space with you.

Actually, I DON'T want to be in the same space with you.

You say it is all my fault you are not nice to me anymore.

But hey, I didn't get unhappy without you failing to try.

I have fantasies sometimes, of us having amazing, intense, passionate sex.

Just that.

And at times too I wish there was more tenderness.

But I guess you are Chinese and genetically incapable of that.

Or so the rumour is...

These days we are lucky if we can even manage being civil and not screaming at each other.

I am so tired of you and of us, if there is any of the latter left.

I have to try harder these days to find it.

Happy Fucking Anniversary.

Three is a dud.

May there not be many more like these.  My life is too short for time wasting.

I Get It

I get it.  Your life sucks.  And you think that everything is on your shoulders, and no one else does as much or is helping.

You forget - I have been there.  And every ounce of frustration you feel is what I felt ten, twelve months ago when you were in KL and we were here scrambling to get everything up and running.

Everyone ran to me every time something broke down then.

Everyone ran to me every time they fought with one another then.

And all you did was sit in KL where you weren't actually needed.

So I held it all together, without you.

And when you came you were too busy to do anything else except focus on the business.

Which meant I unpacked the house all by myself.  Every single fucking box.

If not for me, you wouldn't know what is in this house or where.

So tell me again you do everything and I do nothing.

Tell me a million times.  Or two.  It won't make a difference because I am past listening.  I am past caring even, because you were not there when I needed you.

You see, I have learned now not to depend on you at all.  Not even to do the bloody laundry.

If not for me, we would not have clean clothes.

You think I don't work as hard?  Well, then tell me how I got here.

Because here is everything I have worked my fingers to the bone for, cried tears, lost lovers, fought battles till my insides have bled and frozen over.

Look at it.  It is where you work.  It is where you sleep.  It is where you live.

If you still don't think I work hard, then think again.

And think about what, really, in your life is so darned difficult you can't find a way to juggle your ONE JOB.

Because it is really ONE JOB.  The other one is not even active.  It's still a pipe dream.

I really need to figure out why I keep attracting you losers.

I need to change my mantra.

Pains In My Ass

I wish you would actually listen to yourself.

Every time I ask a question, you respond by raising your voice.

It is grating on my ears.

I hate it, and it makes me hate being near you.

I hate you on some days.  On most days now I don't really care whether you are around or not, because ignoring you is easier on my soul.

That is the truth.

You and your darned cousins have been pains in my ass from the start.  You all don't listen to one another, you just all yell without actually listening to what the other person has to say.  Then your arguments converge into a tangled mess that makes no sense whatsoever to anyone else but your muddled selves.

You all don't meed deadlines.  You just point fingers at one another, and when nagged, get tetchy.  Your egos are all as huge as mountains, but the work is not enough to fill a darned thimble.  You are like mice, scurrying around on your own individual wheels without much thought as to whether anyone else who should know understands what you are doing and whether there is quorum.

You just do whatever you want basically, without checking with one another.

You don't keep written records so everyone has a collective frame of reference.  Instead everything is based on hearsay.

No wonder none of you are huge successes.

In this new home, much is the same and yet different.

The furniture, their familiar shapes and colours, sit in different spots.  Pictures hang on walls in rooms different from the previous.  Some try to reclaim their old territories by hanging on walls that would have been their equivalent in the old house.

This house, unlike the previous, is like Grand Central station.  People seem to make themselves at home here, causing me to distance myself and not claim ownership of it fully.  I don't like sharing my home and personal space.  This house is anything but personal.  It belongs, sometimes I feel, to everyone.

But it still feels empty, devoid of a soul.  Like an airport or a train station - somewhere to rest.

I don't yet like let alone love it.  It was built out of necessity and practicality as a guide for determining the way it looks and is laid out.

I don't wander its spaces, admiring it with a warm-hearted feeling.

The garden, although large, will take years before it will feel like it is mine.

The only place, the only space that I love is the balcony outside my bedroom.  There, I sit and gaze at stars, search for the moon as I used to in the old house outside.  But without the intermittent zoom of a motorbike or other traffic noises marring the whole experience.  Here I sit, at night, alone, in the company of crickets and birds, the rustling of tree branches and the gently howling wind, and all becomes right in my world.

I wish, at times like this, I could just disappear.

I do not want to be here, I do not want to be near her or anything to do with her.

I wonder whether it is me that has the problem.  Everyone I have dated, I always have an issue sooner or later with their families.

Except maybe Anne's.  With her, it was just Shirl and the demands Shirl made on her.

It seems as if I repeatedly get stuck with people who have the same issues.  It's annoying.

I always seem to date them before they get somewhere.

Well, I am tired.  I want to be with someone who is already well on their way to being the person they are supposed to be.  

I don't know if such a person exists.

Maybe I am better off alone.

Catch up

You want to know why you fail.  It is because you and those cousins of yours talk more than work.

Because you choose to focus on the miniscule, and do not know how to delegate.

Because you do not focus on what is vital or important.

And you can't communicate.

In fact, I don't know anyone in your family who can.

You are all pig-headed, loud, psychotic, meddlesome people who know more about minding everyone's business but your own.  People who know better how to do other people's work than to do yours.

It is annoying.

And you treat the house as if it is something that magically takes care of itself.

Well it does.  The it is me.  I do the laundry.  I clear up the mess and pick up things.  I pick up clothes and put them in the laundry hamper.  I make sure things are fixed, unclogged, re-wired and unplugged.

You, on the other hand, just sleep and eat and shit.

Because, you say, you are too darned busy to do any of that stuff.  Because everyone runs to you.

Well everyone but ME.

I do things on my own.  I don't depend on you.  I never have.

I never wanted to, I guess, because I knew early on that you are undependable.

Because you can't even get a handle on your own life, let alone something bigger.

You just need to grow up and learn how to walk away from things that are failing and beyond repair.

Walk away from things that are stupid and hopeless.

Stop banging your head on the wall.

And for God's sake, get fucking organised, so that you have a routine, and deadlines that you meet.  Not just talk, talk, talk about things and never get them done.

This is why you are always running on the same spot and your life is in a rut.

In fact, if I had not hauled you out of it, you would still be there.

I need to stop doing this.

I need to just focus on my own thing.

And if you happen to catch up, then well and good.

If not, I guess I will move on.