I will not let you be narcissus seeds, I promise.

rrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
sometimes it feels like the whole world, ever word, every bit wants to come down on my head and poop on it.
sometimes it feels slimy like chicken egg, and sometimes it makes me laugh because it is ridiculous.  sometimes there is so much hate I laugh.

dear narcissus,
you do not deserve to talk to my husband you do not deserve to talk to me you do not deserve your daughters.  what is the opposite of "dear"?

loathed narcissus,
you do not deserve his time you do not deserve his breath you do not deserve our love you do not deserve our children.

pained narcissus,
you have fallen and fallen and you like it down there.  you like the muck and the cold.  you like being hungry all the time.  you like what you take as sympathy.  you suck everyone dry.

abhorrent, false narcissus,
you you you you you.

each petal is a head and I am tearing it off.  I do not want to care what the outcome is.  I do not want to think "he loves me (not)".  I do not want to smell you anymore.

I have little molecules, little seeds in my belly and I can feel them sometimes.  they do not speak and they do not feel the way I feel.  the way people feel.  they are seeds.  but I feel that I need to protect them.  I need to protect me not just for me but for the seeds.  they comfort me and that makes me feel dirty.  I am afraid I am using the seeds the same way grown ups used me when I was small.  for comfort, for love.  at least they do not have sex organs so I cannot use them that way.

I am afraid I will leave my body completely, that a force that is evil and cold will take it over, with all the little seeds, and hurt little sprouts.  I am afraid I made myself go away so that I don't know I hurt people.  I am afraid I am like my parents.  amaranth says I am afraid of this because I still think my parents weren't in their bodies when they hurt me.  rather, I think that they weren't themselves.  that they didn't mean it.

yesterday I spent some time with a friends' daughter.  she was so sweet and cute and adorable.  us three young women were delighted.  I was putting her in her car seat, and it was the first time I had held her, and I was terrified.  I didn't want the baby to know I was terrified, and I was so zoned out, my vision was blurry.
my vision was so blurry that I hit the baby's head on the car door.

I was deeply ashamed.  the baby was alright (I mean, I did hurt her, but she cried and we cooed and she forgave me, and reached her little arms up to be held again, and I said "no baby remember last time?" but she insisted and I held her and was so so careful).  I was so angry.  not at the child!  of course not.  not even at myself (though that was a hard battle to fight in my head.  I didn't want to sink into utter depression, not around a child.  I feel like it's my duty to keep on as much of a smile as I can around a child.  that doesn't mean fake it... oh well, it's hard to explain.  maybe you'll understand).  I was so pissed at my dad for raising me that way.  he was so scared of molesting me that (he did) he was always zoned out.  just gone.  he didn't hear me calling him half the time.  and I got injured a lot too; he was always accidentally shutting doors on my hands, or bumping my head when he would carry me. 

why didn't he do something about it?  why didn't he heal so he could-- oh it doesn't matter.  what matters is that I heal so I don't bump any baby heads on doors any more.

because I know I won't molest children, I am aware of the danger of being a sex abuse survivor and so I won't.  and I won't ever hit a child, I was hit as a child and I would never do that.  but can I guarantee I won't be so out of my body with fear that I neglect children?  no.  I can't guarantee that.  and until I can, I won't have children.

and you shouldn't either, mean people I see on the street.  mean people who used to be in my life.  mean people who raised my friends (though I love my friends, and I'm glad you started their "seeds," even if you are terrible gardeners).  even nice people.  superficially nice people, I discover more and more, can harbour vitriol towards themselves that shows when they have babies.

so please don't, people.  please love yourself first.  and please stop yelling at me because I love myself first.

anniversary

my dad added me on facebook (and sent me a message about how much he loved me) and lo!  IMMEDIATELY I backed out, I thought "he didn't do those things to me, he didn't  mean it, he loves me, he just wants to help me, I'm ungrateful, I'm mean," so I didn't read the whole message, I deleted it, I blocked him, and I removed all of his friends from access to my page.

saw his picture and the anger came back, I realised that the "dad" I think of in my head when I tell myself he loves me and all this shit, doesn't exist, and the real person my dad is irritates me at best.  there is no reason for me to receive contact from him.

then I realised that this is the anniversary of his molesting me.  happy fucking anniversary you sad sack of shit.  I loved you and got my heart broke over and over for your selfish aims.

i won't eat my friends or enemies and I'll ask for help when I need it

The dreams have been getting worse and worse.  I hope that's a good thing.  I've been isolating myself in my blankets because having someone else in the bed is too much sometimes.  I feel like I owe him something and we both know I don't.  So it helps me to be isolated, but I am also lonely.  Maybe I should trudge through the inside out feeling?  When I get close to someone physically or emotionally I feel like I'm being torn out through my birth canal.  Vagina, vagina, genitals are not words we should be afraid of.  I miss crowds but I freeze in them.  This town is full of fear.  Everyones' face is plastered with it.  Sometimes I tell myself that that is a construct of my own abuse talking but I think I know better than that.

It's funny to me now, but sad.  Because the mountains are right there, and the ocean is right there and I don't think many people care.  They look at the sidewalk and go through life one step at a time.  Which I think sometimes should be admired as I am not very good at it; my neck hurts when I look at the sidewalk and I want to lift my head even if it's to look at gross things, but of course like anyone the gross things make me cry, and it's hard to cry if you've been told it's a bad thing to do.  It's not a bad thing to do.  I feel like it clears out the spots I see in my eyes.  On days I cry, I don't see spots.

I've been angry a lot lately.  I wake up so stiff I want to punch a hole in the wall, but then the cold air would have an even easier time getting in.  I feel guilty for the things that bring me the most pleasure.  I don't think life should be so cruel for anyone.  I'll keep trying to make it easy for me and for others.

We learned that the pilgrims in Jamestown ate corpses and excrement rather than going to the nearby "savage" indians for help.  One man even killed his wife while she slept and ate her.  I don't feel like most people have changed much since then.

the full moon

so I don't know how I feel.  sad I guess.  I've been having a lot of dreams about my dad.  last night I was happy with him.  but then I was in a baseball field with [amaranth] and [eglantine], and there was a UFO in the sky.  I have been scared of aliens since I was maybe five.  it was bobbing in the sky.  I was terrified that it would see us.  but also strangely exhilarated.  I noted how strange it was to be excited and kept it to myself.  I knew [amaranth] and [eglantine] well enough to know they knew how scared I was.  [amaranth] kept turning into my best friend [fennel].  we watched the UFO disappear and a small biplane replace it, realising that the UFO was attempting to cloak itself.  it turned into seven different planes.  dusk was falling and it was beginning to get very dark.  I asked [eglantine] and [amaranth]/[fennel] to be on each side of me in case aliens came out of the UFO.  they held my hands and led me to the bus station, which was actually an MRT station.  the train/bus came and we got on but I didn't have fare.  (the not fare thing happened three times in my dreams last night; in each dream I would get on a bus but not have any money).

before I fell asleep I remembered my dad coming into our room (we used to share a bed because i was too scared to sleep alone after my mama left) the night I asked what sex was.  I could see him in my room, here and now.  I knew no one was there but I was terrified anyway.  I wasn't able to move my limbs the way I wanted, or talk right.  I could only make moans and grunts though i was trying to say words.  I was terrified.

and then when I fell asleep I had good dreams about him. I can't remember them but I feel a little guilty now.  what if I made all of this up and he really was a good dad?  and then i remember his cutting his balls off and that helps.  so I guess it's a good thing he did that, in a way, because it snaps me out of my dream.

today, just today

I felt like someone felt it. But I also felt so alone
I just... I couldn't sleep, I was convinced that someone was going to come in and rape me, even though the door was locked. And I felt like there were ghosts all around and demons and they were waiting for me to let my guard down so they could fucking bite me and rip me to shreds, but slowly, so inconcievably slowly.
So I read books, I had to hop from book to book because I was so upset and delirious and I tried to calm down and it just wouldn't work
I guess I finally fell asleep, but I woke up at 8:30 am and even though it was daytime, I felt completely terrified
已寄出 (星期五 ，下午 01:47)
so I read and read and finally mustered up the courage to eat and ate a little and then mustered up the courage to shower and I just felt so hopeless and small and I knew it was because I was little once and everything was awful but it felt like the end of the world and I thought "how can I bear being alone the rest of this week? how can I bear ANOTHER fucking week? how the fuck am I going to be able to work[....]on my own for a week? I'm never gonna get to go home," and then I thought "maybe [my husband] will send me home with the money he made this week," and then I imagined being in [our home country] without him and I felt so desolate and then I felt disgusting for being so codependent but then I thought "love isn't bad, I'm figuring it out" but then I read one of his journal entries about [....] I remembered how he used to be super retarded about his dad [....] and he's not retarded [....] anymore but he's retarded about how he was retarded, he hates talking about it because he feels like if he breaks any modicum of my trust even once he doesn't deserve me, because he was my "兄 ちゃん" and he's supposed to be more honourable than that, and I hate it because I hate how he'll just give up and decide he doesn't deserve me, it makes me sick, and then I thought I hated him for leaving me here, even though I'm the one who sent him and we need this money, to get home, and I thought .... that's a lot of text. haha
eventually I thought "I am being negative because I am hungry and about to bleed, it's okay, it's gonna be okay, just go out and eat." so I went out, and it's so beautiful today, it breaks my heart in a good way,
and I got on the bus, and was feeling much better though still very vulnerable and there was this guy I've seen before, he looks about 17 and his cell phone rang and he talked to the person in english, American english
and I got really excited but it took me 10 minutes to muster up the courage to say anything and I did and I walked him to the MRT and it felt so, so good to talk to someone in person about anything and I felt dumb and big and fat and ugly but I didn't care, and I went to 50Lan for some tea but was upset already, and I didn't know how to tell them "I want something fruity but not passionfruit." I mean, I did tell them that in chinese but they were like "uhhhh crap we don't know english" so they yelled at each other for a while, and then the nice nice boss lady came out and was like, "oh hey sweetie what's up" but in chinese and I was like "hurrr" and they laughed and I brought out my DS and looked up "lemon" (檸檬) and showed them so they made me a lemon tea and then the boss lady gave me a cheatsheet of all their teas in english. so that was nice.
and then I went to the bakery in the basement of trendy ass [mall] and bought some garlic bread, a "french egg sandwich" and a donut. and I've only eaten one tiny garlic bread but I read an email from [oxeye] and one from [kincaid] and I feel better now, but I know once I have to go back up to that awful [house] and be all alone in the dark I'll feel awful again.
and [eglantine]'s stupid phone is dead, and I know they
're probably not dead but what if [amaranth] is? and why do I care so much? why do I feel like my life would be over if he were dead? and I think "he's your husband, aren't you supposed to think things like that?" and then I think "well people who are dependent and don't love themselves super annoy me" and then I think "BUT I DON'T FEEL LOVED I NEED TO FEEL LOVED HE LOVES ME HE'S GONNA DIE" and then I scream and sob and sob and sob.


已寄出 (星期五 ，下午 02:25)
a thunderstorm is coming I think...
maybe I'll bleed when it bursts


I dreamed that there was a yellowed skeleton on my wall, and it was creeping slowly slowly towards me, and as it creeped it grew more flesh. It moved like a spider weaving its web. I watched it for many days and when it finally grew near me....somehow I stopped it. It dropped to the floor, dead. But my stepmother entered my room and fussed and said things like "oh this won't do" and hung it back up, on the door so that it was looking right at me. I watched as its dead papery flesh began to shift and grow once more.

I feel guilty and small

I feel awful, in waves. Things are going well and I feel like I'm going to get into trouble. I wake up feeling guilty. Cripplingly guilty, like my very existence is blasphemous to god. I smell bad. I am ugly. My face is fat. My hair is frizzy. My shoulders hurt. I am hungry. I am thirsty. These things are all my fault. It's my fault that I'm too scared (I call myself "stupid" instead) to get up and fix these things, to nurture myself. The downstairs is dirty and I didn't make it that way, but I feel guilty for it. The grime and the flies and the mysterious fridge that has been unplugged for months but no one's touched it remind me of being a small child. Filth reminds me of being little. Carrots remind me of being little. Being hungry and tired reminds me of being little. My stomach hurting reminds me of being little. I don't get nostalgic, I get sick. I think I'm on top of something and then it feels like it falls back on me and I'm suffocating. I keep cutting off my parents but both they and I know I can't keep it up for long. I know that the biggest reason I am attached to them is because I desire their love, or rather the child inside me desires their love and nurturing because the adult I have become would be disgusted if they treated me that way (proof that they aren't really capable of such things, or I wouldn't feel like they were molesting me with them). My mother keeps sending me an "e-card" and the only reason I can think that she keeps sending it to me is that I haven't responded to it and she wants me to for some reason. I feel guilty about this. I changed my email address so that I never have to hear from them and I feel guilty about it. It's all I can think about. It makes me break out in rashes and my back hurts. I don't know how to get rid of the self-loathing and hatred and guilt, guilt, guilt! I walk down the street and am terrified I am going to have my ears boxed, or be raped when I go to the bathroom. I don't get any rest, I wake up with sharp pains. I know it's all in my head and I'm trying to be nice to myself. It feels like it will never go away! It feels like there's no such thing as hope, as a happy or calm life. I feel like everyone else in the world is trying to impress this upon me, with their bad attitudes and meanness. I just want to be happy. I deserve that, right? Why do I feel like I owe my parents anything when all they gave me was incest and pain? It makes me... it makes me so angry!