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IOI

August 4, 2006

IOII Owe I

I owe myself a hefty lot. And I mean a lot.

Haven’t been really doing myself the favour of getting rid of my thoughts in here. Instead, I kept them rewinding in my head until they just faded away. Until, of course, one fine day, where something just triggers it again.

I’ve a problem with memory. Certain things just get imprinted forever, no matter how many times I tell myself to get over them. Other times, I just remember unnecessarily. There are times, when I just obligedly brush them aside. There are times, when I pretend that they never occured — ignorance.

You know, they always say ignorance is bliss. Well, it does work that way to an extent. Still, there’s a limit. There just comes a point of time, where that bliss stops and reality just has to have its hand in it.

So happens that that person may have just been toying with it afterall. I was disappointed. I’d thought that perhaps I’d made a really good friend. But, after the person disappeared just like that, I’d had second thoughts. Okay, school work made the  person very very occupied. Still, it was as if everything changed after that. Maybe, my play of ignorance wasn’t enough. I should have been unfeeling too.

Oh, and the friends that I made, in the end, in the same place, turns out to be real nice. As in, friends. Not like how the person had made it out to be. Okay, perhaps, I’d thought too much about it. Let’s forget this episode about the person. It’s just another human out there.

There’s this thing called memory again.

Why is it that, when something doesn’t really go your way, you just have to say that it’s because I didn’t do what you asked? If you ask me for help, I’ll gladly help you in whatever way I can, if it’s practical to me. Otherwise, I’ll probably just help by giving you suggestions to improve it, or even critic. I believe it helps. If it’s something that you can do, I’ll most probably not help you with it. It’s not a matter of being selfish. It’s a matter of trying to learn to cope with it. Of course, the help I mean, is to aid you out of a sticky situation.

I did help. I helped give suggestions. I tried to let you have a good piece. I tried giving ideas. Feeded scenarios so that the things that came out of it, is really yours. It happens only when I get really inspired. I’m good with ideas on certain subjects.

Yet, when another sticky situation comes up, and I wasn’t really aware to help, what was done wasn’t remembered?

I was sick for these past few weeks. For that first week I fell ill, yeah I was always with my laptop. You’d think I’m having fun with MS, chatting, surfing, etc. What you don’t know, is that half that time, I was delirious. I had headaches. I felt really really heated up in the head. But, lying down in bed all day couldn’t help. So, doing something else helps to get it off my mind. Though, I can still brainlessly press the keys on the keyboard. I can don’t hear what you’ve said. It’s like trying to believe that I’m not all that ill.

You’d think I’m crazy. But I’m just trying to get myself occupied.

Yet, people thought I was ignoring them. That I was capable yet unwilling to help. You’d think I never reflect on myself. I do. I may not be the perfect person. But I know. Do you? Do you consider what I feel? I have flaws too.

You’d think I’m having fun. I’m just trying to get over the thoughts that perhaps there’s really something wrong with my immune system. Getting sick in a few weeks, recover and getting sick again.

I do observe when I’m alert. If I’m not, then please forgive my ignorance.

You ask me for something. I said I don’t have it. I really mean I don’t have it. Yet, you found something that looked like it and says isn’t this it? when in fact it wasn’t it. You didn’t realise it wasn’t it until I said what it was. You know what it feels like? It feels like I wasn’t trusted. Like I was that unwilling to co-operate in helping.

I don’t know what some of the people that I really care about, think sometimes. I seriously don’t know. What I do know is that sometimes I get treated as if I were invisible. I don’t know if it was meant to be that way. I just felt hurt. I don’t know what to think nor what to say. There are times, when I just brush them aside. There are times, when the tears really sting. But no one knows.

I talk too loud? It’s not because I want to be rude. But, when you start talking, you talk so loud, it’s like you don’t even want to hear me out. I just wanted to be heard.

I only wanted people to listen to my stories and maybe give me a response.

I guess no one thinks the same way as I do.

It’s like I’m invisible.

If I were to owe anyone an explanation, I’d owe one to myself first.

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One comment

  1. talk to me. what happened?

    i love moo moo.

    moOoOoooOoooOoo



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