Waking Up on the Wrong Side of the Bed

Clearly, I've woken up in a bad mental state. When all I should feel is overly-attached to my pillows, blankets and very soft bed, rolling in bed first thing in the morning seems to be the last thing on my mind at the moment. I could even feel the frown on my face. My eyebrows are a bit sore from joining together since I've yet to do my unhappy-face warm-ups-- after all, I just woke up.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed-- literally. I tucked myself in nicely last night, sleeping in the center of my queen-sized mattress, but when I opened my eyes this morning, my legs were touching the cold tiles, only a part of my head was resting on the edge of the bed while some of it rested in thin air. Somehow, during my eight-hour sleep, I managed to rotate ninety-degrees.

"When you get yourself into a sticky situation, you can either try your best to pull yourself out or get sucked in deeper." I told myself a week ago. These days, my Facebook statuses are often pieces of my frustration. After updating each quotable status, I write a blog post with them as my base. Mum has been posting pictures of quotes on my wall; it seems that she gets the feeling that I have trouble letting go. I won't deny the fact that I have the memory of an elephant when it comes to regrets and mistakes, since I remember even the slightest distortion in my life from more than a decade ago. The reason why I can't forget is because I always want to undo the things I've done. I was a spoiled brat. I wish I hadn't jumped on the bed that afternoon, she wouldn't have... if I just listened to her and stopped jumping... Yes, I still remember very vividly the afternoon. Her, resting on the old mattress, the round-table lunch going on outside the door, laughter and very loud chatter... Blood, vomit, clanking of bowls, tears, flustered people and the guilt that enveloped my heart... Even as a child, I blamed myself.

I should stop.

Everything in life is temporary. So, if things are going good, enjoy it because it won't last forever. And if things are going bad, don't worry. It can't last forever either.

By posting that quote on my wall, my mum has made me ten times more depressed. It isn't a very positive post, if you ask me!

I want everything to last forever. That's just me. I believe that they can last forever. We just have to put effort in them, so they can continue to walk with us along our paths, be there until the very end. Sometimes, I'll desperately hold on to the things I don't want to lose, even after knowing that they're never coming back. I'm scared. I really am scared. It's only a matter of time before my ship gets wrecked again, I'm sailing right into the typhoon because I'm ridiculously courageous. I know what the outcome will be, yet I'm sailing full-speed ahead. Fuck myself, I know. This tantalizing taste of excitement is truly something that would cause the end of me someday.

Every time a person disappears from my life, my heart would break a little. No matter how insignificant or worthless they may be, I'd still feel hurt. I still have faith in humanity, if not, I wouldn't be this silly little girl that's still wearing rose-coloured glasses.