Merci beaucoup!

I'd like to express my gratitude to the minority of my readers who actually like my blog and appreciate what I write. Merci beaucoup! Thank you very much. 

Sorry if I'd failed you in any way. My blog content is apparently not based on what other people like to read. My blog is nothing more than a private punching bag of mine which allows me to unleash the negative emotions and feelings welled up in me. Whenever I blog about something unhappy, I actually feel happier. I convert my negative thoughts to voiceless words, make myself sound as devastated as possible and place them on my blog.

Unhappy thoughts may not be permanently erasable. But, blogging not only makes it easier for them to be relegated to the back of my mind, if not completely obliterated, but it also replaces all the sadness with an ephemeral pleasure.

Hence, my gullible readers, don't be fooled by the melancholic tone of most of my blog entries. In fact, I'm quite a jovial person who laughs a lot. =) I seldom blog about happy events because, unlike negative emotions, they don't inflict a gnawing pain on your heart and make you feel unloved and bullied or as if you're going to explode.

Stress is detrimental to one's soul. Mental illnesses are multifactorial. And stress is known to play a vital role in the aetiology of such mental illnesses as schizophrenia, major depressive disorder and bipolar disorder. I certainly do not want to wake up one morning only to realize that I fulfill the DSM-IV criteria for any of the aforementioned psychiatric disorders.

On top of that, blogging also allows me to jot down and beautifully describe every micro-emotion that I feel. This is something my digital camera cannot capture. And if I don't write and blog about them, I'm afraid I'll forget. If only I had better vocabulary and more time!

By the way, I'll be going back to university later in the evening. And I'm anticipating a lot of stress. Ahh! I could really use a bang hug sometimes!

So, do I write like a doctor already? xD Yeah, that's my handwriting in the photo above.

Life's impermanence

When I first met her, her entire right breast appeared grotesque with an ulcer with blood-stained serous discharge, peau d'orange sign and satellite nodules. The prognosis was really bad, with the presence of ipsilateral axillary and supraclavicular lymphadenopathy, lymphoedema, malignant pleural effusion and liver secondaries. 

It's painful to see her wither away with such an advanced breast cancer. Really. As I listened sympathetically to her history, I was also angry at her ignorance of her painless right breast lump which had been there for 4 years. I was incensed by the gross stupidity of the traditional medicine practitioner who gave her the misleading advice that it wasn't malignant. Shouldn't these people know that a painless breast lump in a middle-aged woman is cancerous until proven otherwise?

Sometimes, I close my eyes, and ask myself, "What if she's my mom?"

Immediately, I can envision my entire world crumbling down on me. I can imagine myself consumed with anger, cursing destiny for its paradoxes and injustices. I can visualize myself sitting forlornly at a corner, ensnared in self-pity and a devastation unfathomable by others. I can picture myself swimming aimlessly across the ocean of depression with the heartbreaking awareness of mankind's mortality.

Mom called a few times to ask if I'd be going back to hometown after my exam, an idea which I'm ambivalent about. The only thing holding me back is the astronomical price of the return air ticket.

On one hand, I was thinking that I could use the money saved to buy myself a new suit so that I could look stunningly gorgeous presentable during my brother's wedding next February. On the other hand, I really do miss Mom. The approaching exam and my innumerable trivial personal problems, coupled with my impending obesity, are giving me a considerable amount of stress.

Life is impermanent. Certain things ought to be cherished before they vanish forever. I wanna spend as much time as I can with Mom when I still can, even though, inevitably, this means having to come up with a plausible explanation of why I'm still single.

You might want to diagnose me with dependent personality disorder. But, I guess I just miss my mom. And I'm getting very agitated now because, most probably, I'm not going back during my break after the exam.

AirAsia, please have mercy!

I miss my mom

I'm eating my breakfast which I bought from the cafeteria downstairs. I didn't want to take the trouble to drive out. It doesn't taste nice at all.

I miss my mom the most whenever I'm sitting an exam.

I can distinctly recall how the world revolved around me when a exam was around the corner back in primary of high school. My mom was always there. She was my emotional pillar. I had the tendency to tell her how nervous and helpless I felt just to swap for a few words of encouragement although deep in my heart, I knew I would always pass, if not ace. Besides, I always had the nicest and most nutritious food to eat. It felt so nice to be pampered.

With the passing of time, the game became harder and more complicated. Now, with the passing mark set at 65 %, the stress is exsanguinating.

Aih. I'm still struggling to finsh my breakfast. I need the glucose.

I still have 20,000 topics to revise.

I miss my mom. I wish I didn't have to grow up.

No. Just in case you're wondering, I don't have dependent personality disorder. I just miss my mom.

Can someone just pamper me till my exam ends? ;p

Bisexuality

This is just my personal view on bisexualilty as a conservative, old-fashioned, lovesick and desperate gay.

I face a lot discrimination just simply because I'm different.

I'm grappling with a kind of fear unfathomable to my family members and friends. Homosexuality definitely doesn't define me entirely. However, I'm certain that my homophobic friends are just going to label me as gay (if they knew) despite the fact that it's just a minute part of my life. They will condemn you at all cost. All you can do is to silently endure their mockery. Of course, I've never come close to being in such an undesirable situation, but I guess that's roughly how the scenario will be like.

Being different, therefore, has taught me to be less judgmental and more receptive to the differences of other people. If you flip through any psychiatry textbook, you'll be able to find out how many sexual paraphilias human beings are known to have. Beastiality. Paedophilia. Necrophilia. Coprophilia. Sadism. Masochism. Theoretically speaking, these disorders, some of which are illegal, are characterized by sexual impulses, fantasies and practices that're deviant, unusual and bizarre.  They might be psychologically damaged. Nonetheless, frankly speaking, I don't really find them that contemptible. They might be undergoing something I don't understand. I feel the same towards transsexuals, transvestites and last but not least, bisexuals.

Well, as far as I'm concerned, bisexuality per se, is nothing wrong. I don't it's easy for them either to live a double life. To experience so much confusion and deal with so many quandaries and dilemmas.

Yet, I'm pretty sure most of us gays have a deep sense of revulsion against bisexuality principally because bisexuals are notorious for having extra-marital affairs, their disloyalty, toying with our feelings and eventually settling down with the opposite gender, leaving us heartbroken (Little Dove, hugs). They get married and reproduce to to conform to the norms of society and to measure up to their parents' expectations. And in the meantime, they fuck guys. Now, that's what nauseates me.

I sympathize with their wives.

Sometimes, it's so annoying that they have a choice. And they can have everything. Wives. Children. Blessings from their parents and relatives. And a clandestine relationship with a guy. (Drew, I'm not referring to you.) =D

Truth be told, some of them can be really hot. Sizzling hot. Though it's wrong to generalize that all bisexuals are all only into sex, those whom I've come across are into sex with no strings attached. Forbidden fruits aren't supposed to be eaten. The heartbreaks are not worth it.

Ah! If only I had a uterus. If only I were straight.

Hanging out with Caleb

I decided to come out to Dan two days ago after months of deliberation.

The much coveted chance of hanging out with Caleb finally came yesterday. I was so elated. Of course, Dan was with us too. In fact, Dan's the one who planned the whole thing and asked me out. So, apparently, he had no trouble accepting the truth about my sexual preference.

Caleb's startling talkativeness was similar to the pressure of speech noted the patients with bipolar mood disorder in manic phase in the ward. I didn't know he could be so talkative. He asked me a lot questions. And I could hardly keep up with his tempo while admiring the mesmerizing beauty of this smile. Well, is that a sign that we've known each other better and become closer?

Caleb’s cute. He’s brainy, lean and almost as tall as I am. He was very nicely dressed yesterday which made me even more ecstatic. Pink T-shirt. Nice jeans. A pair of Adidas shoes. Oh, did I mention I once saw Caleb topless from afar by accident? Haha. Scrumptious!

I did come clean to Dan about my liking for Caleb. He warned me that I might be disappointed.

I know how heart-wrenching it is to confess your love to a straight guy only to be brutally rejected. My past experiences have taught me well. At times, I don’t understand why I’d squander my time on falling for straight guys while I have a list of potential gay guys to choose from.

I don’t want to invest hope in something that’s unattainable. It’s exhausting and in the end, no one will get hurt but me.

Caleb, I like you.

Let this just be an infatuation that will dwindle into nothing with the passing of time. I’m penning this down so that I can have something sweet to reminisce and to laugh at when I'm grappling with osteoarthritis as my hair turns white.