SIMPLY READ, INDULGE AND HEARD WITH WORDS

Sunday, July 25, 2010

De one with Over and Over Again

Would you?

What kind of weird habits or personal stuff would you occupy yourself with when you are feeling sad?

*Raising thy hand* I used to hide under the pillow casing and talk to my imaginary friends when I was below ten years of age. It seemed these imaginary friends left my mind as though through an exit door when age catches up and rationalism claimed its victory over the compartments in my brain. The victorious moment took place when I turned 13.

At 13, my loneliness ventured me into a delight of hiding in the school's library and drown myself in calmness. The tranquility enhanced with air-conditioning, muffled rowdiness behind cold tempered glass doors. It was an image of "heaven" back then.

That's passed. About now, I'd put on my running sneakers and go for an evening jog, perspire it out. I guess people curse and swear. I run and sweat it off. Clears my head and shake those downers out. This would be healthier and damn, not only do you feel better, you look better. What can I say, the sense of achievement further compliment the initial thought of dispelling my negativity.

Urban legend or clinche yet true. I drink. Not to the critical stage of turning myself into an alcoholic of course. Well, one can't deny the fact that having to be concerned with a spinning headache or overnight hangover  does help keep your mind off and somewhat even make you forget part of misery. Perhaps sadness drowned itself when we become sober enough to realise how silly I was being overly-concerned and unhappy. hmm.. Perhaps the alcohol lowered our guards like an opening floodgate, thereby enabling the easiness to speak, confess and confide with others. For me, it was a moment of relaxation and letting go. Its as though time has stopped when I could finally hear myself breathe.

Pragmatism warns us time waits for no man or boy. I hate it but that's just inherent in life. Hence, it gave me a reason to board on the bus, plug on my ipod music and weep the long journey back. And I never fail to tell myself, at the destination stop, I must compose myself and chuck every single bit of gloominess at the commuter's seat.

Food is the next thing that comes inevitably. Disappointingly all the gals out there, eating to crunch sorrows never really work. It's the entire opposite of running to chase your melancholy out of your system. It's like stacking more to whatever that's on the "sad quota" when I look myself in the mirror just before or after I showered. Uackk.

But I do have a tiny confession to make, SINS chocolate proofed itself an antidote whenever I broke up. It's something rrrrreeeaaallly abnormal. Stuff I'd never do - Eat sinfully.

Well, if your advice is to eat, why not having yourself a cheesecake. That's my favourite since Initial D depict a scene of a lovesick Jay Chou stuffing himself with cheesecake as he wanted for its creator to return his call. Oh, cheesecake goes hand in hand with caramel frappachino from Starbucks. If in luck and during the rarest occasion, you might just hear me say "the caramel is sweet. the coffee is better. Bittersweet. Which is why I drink it."

It is only recent that I realised the knick for gifts "embezzles" or "liquidates" the "woe account" in my central heart. Satisfaction from the best derives joy from the joy-deprived. Be beware when Jason shops, 1 sales assistance is not enough. You better have what I want, how I want you to ask friendlily, assist earnestly, smile glamorously and (most desirably) walk me to the door chauffeuring my shopping bags.  

Ultimately, nothing beats having a concerned soul call in just to check on me. You can have dispute with your partner, ugly experience with client, quarrels with friends, sucky day with work and all it takes is a phrase from the unexpected to light a spark to eradicate or wipe off those negativity infesting your heart like a droplet of black ink in a fishbowl of water, and bloom delights to keep you smiling when you turn in for the night.

Thank you.

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