Escaping and Denying Reality -- Victimising Oneself

~~~  a courageous person is someone who still feels fear but chooses to act anyway.

For a long time, I had kept myself in a blind spot and never realise what makes people despise me that much... until I looked back and see how much reality I have ignored. And I change, a little at a time, maybe not that much, but enough to let me live a normal life, that is. 

One thing that ponders me is the amount of haters I attract. Even my own close friends attempt to condemn my actions at times. I would willingly admit my wrongdoings if there were any, but it usually turn out to be us having different perspectives regarding certain issues. So there's never "wrong", but the one who demand one should follow the other. And the moment condemning happens, there comes the wrong action. Never would I dare to request ones' action to change, except when it is morally and legislatively wrong. When it comes to truth I am strongly rooted, and this bring me conflicts with my this very friend. 

Even now I am hesitating whether to write this down. The problem lies in attitude -- same as what I've done years before -- escaping and denying reality. One more spice she added into this mix, makes the situation more unbearable, is the act of victimising herself. I'm of course not responsible for her actions, but being an empath and a protective friend, I find it hard not to symphatise with her.  I thought that being a religious person herself, she could seek enlightenment in her own spiritual guidance. But after 3 years of knowing her, guiding her and supporting her, I see no improvement in her behaviour. It irritates me as time passes by, and makes me want to cut a clear line with her. 

This is because being with her has become more and more energy draining. She complains, but makes no conscious effort to deal with the problems. She condemns, but makes no reflection onto her own actions. Anything that she can't excel in, she makes petty excuses and blame it on others. Being with her for three years, all sorts of excuses have been given. For instance, when doing assignments, she always use the typical "Oh I am not good at this" to escape from commitments and responsibilities that everyone should bear as a group member. To make herself feel better, she would praise you for your "intelligence and talents", and repeat the same action again whenever she finds it necessary. Don't you have better problem solving than this? And then there is her own belief of "I have a sickness-susceptible body", where she constantly use to make her "I'm not feeling well" status of the day. I wouldn't know whether she is really sick or not, would I?

Even when it comes to little insignificant things in daily life that does not require the judgement of right nor wrong, she is still able to victimise herself by finding fault on others, and her range of others covers almost every existence within the universe. When you find a certain dish does not appeal to your taste buds, you can just coolly admit that you don't like it,  can't you? Instead she puts the blame on her origin, when the dish is of her own origin! It makes the situation so ridiculous that all of us friends are speechless. Now why would you blame others?  Whenever she speaks to me about her inferiority, she always blame it on the family institution she was brought up with. But not all of us living in complete happiness, do we? I do know family affects the most, but it is of one conscious effort to walk out of the trauma or whatever shadows existed. Yet all I heard from her is blaming and no dealing actions. 

It is heartbreaking -- because she makes no effort, and she ignores my advice when I tried to help. 

I believe the time will come when I give up on her; because she never attempt to save herself anyway. 

For further reading: https://lonerwolf.com/types-energy-vampire/

It Started. It Ended.

Tee was quiet when they first met. He seemed to be a person with stories behind his intent, distant gaze, and the polite curl of his lips when he introduced himself. He avoided eye contact,as if he were too shy, and Chiara thought he was cute. Their fate intertwined that spring, when flowers blossom, as well as love.

He was lonely. Among huge crowd of comrades who work for the same event, he stood out a bit too much. They worked under the same department, and had to take authority on handling the performances. Performances required rehearsals, and meetings, therefore these two individuals spent quite an amount of time with each other. There were always moments of comfortable silence between both, and instance liking gradually turned into something deeper.

She started to become curious, of him, of his underlying stories. Strangely enough, he told her all. She liked his frankness. She could show her weak spots and insecurities in front of him, and she liked it that he understood her struggles. Whenever they had meetings till late night, he would let her lean on his shoulder and rest. He would massage her stiff neck and shoulders, and lent her his jacket. Chiara thought he was nice and warm. So when he proposed, she accepted.

Their relationship had just officially entered the third week when Tee started avoiding meeting Chiara. Whenever she asked him out for lunch, or dinner, he would give excuses. He said he was busy. But Chiara saw his chat head constantly online on Facebook, and thought maybe he was not that busy after all. Nevertheless, she restrained herself from disturbing him.

The situation went on for a week, until Chiara texted him “I love you” before she went to bed. When Tee merely replied her a smiley face, she demanded him the “proper reply”. He refused, and finally asked her out for a talk. Chiara sixth sense was on blue code, but she forced herself to get dress and meet him. 

“Hey,” her voice quivered while she greeted him.

“Hmm,” he answered but avoid her gaze.

“What you wanna talk about? Tell me.” She barely contained her nervousness. Her fingers kept fiddling with her t-shirt. “What’s it? Have I done something wrong?”

“Why, I’m here to talk, not to punish you for anything. No, you have not.”

“Then why? Why the sudden ‘we need to talk’ message?” She searched his eyes for explanation, yet he was still avoiding.

“Let’s sit down and talk,” he gestured her to have a seat. It was after midnight and the café was vacant.

“Please, speak. The suspense’s killing me.” She seated herself in front of his boyfriend. He seemed distant and unfamiliar.

“The thing is…” he paused, trying to search for a proper word. “I think I should not have treated you like this. It’s not fair you know.”

“What do you mean by not fair?” She reprimanded. “Explain.”

“You know right, my ex-girlfriend…” 

She waited.

“I keep having the feeling that I should not have treated you as I have treated her. It hurts so much when…”

“Okay, I got it. You mean we shouldn’t DATE, right? That’s what you basically did with your ex.” 

Chiara started to lose patience. She knew too well that Tee was simply beating around the bush.

“No, it’s … you know, how I ended up losing her.” His eyes turned foggy when he gazed into Chiara.

“So what?” she retorted. 

“Please. If you wanna say something, just say it. Listen to your heart and say it. I don’t care how you gonna tell it. Just say it.”

“I … we …I can’t continue our relationship anymore.”

Chiara’s heart skipped a beat.

“What did you just say?” her words came out in a barely audible whisper.

“Let’s break up,” he said. 

“Say it again,” she stared at him in defiance. “Say it again,” she gritted her teeth while the words escaped from her lips with a tinge of menace.

“Let’s break up,” he dared not meet her gaze.

“Say it again,” she challenged him.

“I won’t change my decision,” say her ex-to-be.  

“All this while I listened to you, and now you are dumping me?” Chiara let out a chuckle. 

“Fine.” She got on her heels and spun around to leave.

“It’s late. Let me send you back,” the unfamiliar man offered. 

Clenching her fists, she turned and met his eyes. “I never needed company. I am fine ALONE.”

She left, without looking back.

At first, she thought he looked alone, and wanted to keep him company; and now, she was the lonely one. 

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No More -- A Narrative Fiction

“What did you just say?” her words came out in a barely audible whisper.

“Let’s break up,” he said.

“Say it again,” she stared at him in defiance. “Say it again,” she gritted her teeth while the words escaped from her lips with a tinge of menace.

“Let’s break up,” he dared not meet her gaze.

“Fine.” She got on her heels and spun around to leave.

“It’s late. Let me send you back,” the man offered.

Clenching her fists, she turned and met his eyes. “I never needed company. I am fine ALONE.”

She left, without looking back.

That’s her first love, ended with shattered remnants of her broken heart. Chiara had never thought the first choice she made in life, after so much contemplating, ended up as nothing. She never thought affection could be repaid by coldness and indifference. Never did she expect that this would be the end between them. No more. No more of his spiteful comments on her appearance, on how she wears, on how she should behave. No more of his late night moonlit walks around the campus, the deep conversation that only both had, and the intense gaze and electricity that flowed between them. When they first met, it was as if they have found their long-lost halves. There was an instant recognition, as if they have known each other for years. But no more. No more. She had nothing but a hollowness that surrounded her wherever she went. An overwhelming sense of loneliness among bustling crowd. She now knew that all those scenarios in Korean dramas weren’t exaggerated after all. The pain was real.

             Every corner around the campus made her think of him, every footstep she made she was thinking about meeting him. The happiness of others made her felt ridiculed, as if she did not deserve to be happy. No more. His promises rang aloud in her head: Let’s go out for a movie this weekend. There was never a movie. There was never a speck of kiss on her cheek. There was never “I love you” … She should have seen that coming. His acts of affection toward her was simply mean comments to ask her improve her physical appearance. And yet she thought he loved her. How silly.

             She had almost used to missing him: sudden visits of memories when she strolled around the campus; and had almost used to not seeing him around. She had stopped her hopes of meeting him, of having a peek or glimpse of him walking by, or hearing a news or two about him. She had used to his inexistence, with the existence of him in her memories. No more. No more.

           When he suddenly appeared in front of her, she could not respond. Her muscles tensed, and her breath hitched. She dipped her head and clung tightly onto her coat. He passed by her with his group of friends, beaming with chatter and laughter. She stood there dumbfounded, stunned, and only regained her normal composure after minutes. Never. Never did she get a chance to be among his friends, to enjoy the feeling of belonging to his family. Never. And now no more. She felt a dull ache spreading from her chest. It hurts.

            
          After that, she started seeing more and more of him.  She found out that she will meet him every Tuesday at 3 p.m. as his class would continue at the same lecture hall as hers. She would cross path with him if she departed from her hostel to the bus stop at 10.30 a.m. every Thursday. She would bump into him occasionally: when having dinner with friends at the restaurant, when she was on her way to the library, when she was doing her groceries.

           
        Then she was used to his existence as a stranger, and the existence of the constant shatter of something within her every time he appeared. She was used to the sudden deprivation of air out of her lungs, and the sudden blindness of her eyes by his laughter. No more. No more.

            
         There was no more between them; the only thing that’s left was the pang of agony, accompanied by insomnia, nightmares and lack of breath.

In her diary, on a page full of scribbles, she scratched something on a tiny space among the words. No more.

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