A post that’s half a year late is still a post

It’s been a while. November 2011 to be exact. I’ve been with the noobs 14 weeks now, and frankly sometimes it’s frustrating when they choose not to listen.

I begin to doubt a lot. About whether I should still be in The Job. Whether there’s going to be more to life than marking at Ed’s, straddling two subjects, gym and teaching a bunch of people you don’t or can’t really get through.

Then of course to top it all there’s the annulment. I don’t know how I’m going to get through that and everything else. Yes it had to be done – this was never really a union to begin with, but it’s still a loss and it’s still painful in ways I don’t think I can express. And then there’s my longing for female companionship. V calls it obsession; I don’t know what to make of it anymore. Isn’t it normal to want to share your life with someone, to make it your utmost priority where everything else falls away, burns away because it’s material and grossly earthly until there’s only this, this connection between two people that fixes certainty on existence? Or maybe that’s just the Mils and Boon of commodified ideas. I don’t know if I can ever get used to, deal with being alone.

It’s all very confusing right now.

I miss spending time with J. We used to be so close – at least I felt we were close. Now we barely talk anymore. I feel we’re drifting apart day by day, all the reasons given merely hollow excuses. I really wish you’d tell me what happened between us, what CHANGED. I can take it if you don’t want us to be friends anymore, but I wish you’d just tell me that honestly – no more ‘sometimes I prefer to be quiet’ or ‘I’m not always with my phone’ or ‘I thought you needed some time off’. I want to tell you so many things, but each time I try to I stop myself, not knowing if you really bother anymore. I feel taken for granted; approached only when you need my help. But the truth is I want to spend time with you. I like it when we are in contact. And then I beat myself ever so hard when it’s over and the reality dawns that you never had this depth of feeling I did about us and it’s all one-sided and there is actually no relationship, no us, but still I’m happy for that little time when you contact me because I want to be deluded you care about me and that somewhere, somehow, I matter in your universe.

But when I ask myself deep down, do I want to spend the rest of my life with you, the answer’s no. We’re separated by too many things and you need to go out there and live, and we’re at different phases of our lives. So why do I feel so bad we don’t talk anymore? What is this depth of feeling, this ‘I wish I matter in your universe’ that I’m going on about? What drives me to hunt the entire plaza for your Instax to the point where WS declares enough is enough? To put 150% into your assignments even though I have a shitload of marking? To carefully craft out the appeal letter which you eventually did not use?

As you see – confused.

You said just now you wanted to read my blog. In a funny way actually I hope you’ll get to read this. Maybe it’s just vanity but you don’t know how many times I’ve rehearsed telling you what I’ve written here. I know I can’t bear to hear you deny there’s a problem, so I guess I just have to write it down and get it off my chest and hopefully I’d feel better.

Moving on is hard. And I thought going to the gym would be the killer. In actual fact sweating it out is less painful than dealing with all this. I’m just human, with human needs and human dreams. And yet oftentimes I feel I’m asked to be more than human, to be patient in the face of unreasonableness, to be understanding when faced with indifferent resistance, to be kind when others are unkind. I feel I do try, but nothing’s ever enough. If someone doesn’t accuse me of not doing more, I end up accusing myself. So what’s the solution?

I really hope I get my shit together soon, because Term 3 is going to be a doozy – marking and more marking and I hope I can sustain gym together with all the craziness. And I guess I need to get started on the speech too; another chore I’m beginning to regret agreeing to do. Maybe all I need is more work to distract me from all this thinking, from the fantasy that it would have been really nice to be RC to you, sweetie princess.


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