Friday, April 18, 2008

(not) a lo-mo, (but) an end to hope and fantasy 

i didn't want to be the one who looks back.
i wanted to be the one who turned away and never looked back.

every day that i am here i watch myself disappear to myself.
every day that i am here i watch the self that i like because i earned it evaporate to make space for the self that i was given as a hand-me-down. 
and i kept taking it! 
glutton! cruiser! free-rider! lame duck!

what is our we?
why do we have to keep reasserting our we?
what does it matter if someone has been there every holiday and every major meal event since you were a baby?  does having seen you as a baby make a we?

it gets better and better over here, easier and easier to be a singaporean.  and maybe there was a beautiful cusp where i wanted this and i made myself belong and i believed i belonged and it hurt to extricate me from my we -- she knew this, she must have known this. but she took my we. and now i can repeat the same habit to force myself into situations and to try to enjoy, but i am left with this, like this, incomplete stunted sentences -- no wanting. summer 07 echoes: want want back. is the land of no wanting peace?  or is the land of no wanting death?

who cares right, but i cannot explain otherwise these feelings, the complete ineptitude of being, becoming ridiculous, unbecoming, becoming unbecoming, not having will but having force.  i don't like it.

it's all not so bad but i have to understand why this desperation never gets any better, only the distractions do, to help save my days.

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