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dalena | 25 | counting fancies
fmps/rgps/nygh/rjc/smu (biz)
a dancer with mosaic
working at the learning lab
4th feb 1986
dalena@gmail.com
clearing out her wardrobe


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Saturday, November 12, 2005
1:52 am

November blues.


It must have been a bad omen to start the month in tears. After all that drunken fun and boisterous partying on Halloween, returning home only made me feel so alone. Loneliness - that burden that I can't seem to shake free of, creeping up behind me wherever I go, hiding in the shadows so well that I almost forget that such a thing existed. Everytime I close my eyes, I can feel its stalking presence - barely there at first, but getting more and more discernible as the days pass.

November has not proved to be a good month for me so far.

So many things - my plummeting spirits once the high of partying wore off; mortification at rising tempers (that sudden outburst and awful slamming of fists on the table); a strategically timed conversation that opened the floodgates for tears and memories to overwhelm me just when I thought I was safe again. Each time I find myself weary and tearful as I stare at my reflection with red-rimmed eyes, full of self-loathing at my helplessness and lack of control.

A phonecall that interrupted the happy chatter in the car as we unworriedly made our way to school although we were already late for lessons. The silence that followed as my brain struggled to absorb the message / the weight of their worried gazes upon my tear-streaked face / a vain attempt to retain my composure / painting a smile on to veneer over the cracks beneath / taking the escapist's way out by pretending to forget, by pretending that everything's fine and dandy even when everything's not.

I'm not sure how to handle the news now. Things are taking a turn for the worse, rolling down this slippery slope that seems to become steeper and steeper as we approach the end. All of us know - no, all of us are painfully aware - that the end is in sight.

Yet, I have always believed that there is dignity to be preserved even in sorrow. I will not mope, I will not wallow, I will not break under this pressure.

After all, people come, and people go. Life starts, and life ends.

That's the way it's always been, and that's the way it'll always be.