otamot

Mot: means witty saying. Short for Mote (speck of dust), reverse of Tom (Cruise), which is in turn short for Tomato.

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Saturday, September 30, 2006
lluvia de mar

this sudden feeling of emptiness has just come over me, immersing me in perfect realization of my strange solitude.

there is no one else at home tonight, and there isn't enough in me to push on.

it's like stepping off a cliff and falling into an abyss of nothingness. aimlessness. swimming in a pool of quicksand- sinking further the more i try, and gosh, im breathless once again...

suddenly things dont really seem to matter anymore.

and this just shows how fickle i can be- how moodswings affect me. and then i realize that perhaps if you take away all the distractions lately, im actually just a sad, self-pitying person who wallows in a vain yearning that cannot be explained.

and deep inside, i dont know what that is. i cannot articulate it, and i feel trapped in myself.

anyway, the recent number of deaths has been brought to my attention a certain thing called the treatment of life.

one was saying how cowardly and irresponsible committing suicide is. but i disagree, really. we only say that because we have no guts to do the same, and because we can never empathize although we think we can.

oh it's just grades- what does it matter? we have done worse.
oh family problems! he hasnt been in mine for sure.

but in that judgement we pass there is a clear disregard for circumstances which perhaps havent befallen us. we are anthropocentric after all, and there is always the assumption that what others do with their lives is so trivial and that we cldve handled it better.

you have no idea. we have no idea.

i dont think i will ever have the courage to kill myself unless smthing bigger than all that has ever happened before happens to me. i know because on many of those endless nights i walked over to the window and faced the blank and the occasional lights in deep contemplation. and looking down, despite forgetting for a moment if i was really living a life that was mine, and despite being engulfed in surreal thoughts abt my existence, smthing in me tugged me back into the room of books, into the lights inside, telling myself that tomorrow will be a better day, and that nights like these just have to come and go.

i wld envision my funeral on my terms. there has to be good music playing, and i would want people to remember me for the good things.

so im not ready to go. i love myself too much. and that's living for myself.

dont tell me it's a sin.

so i dont think it's cowardice, neither do i believe its inconsideration, because inconsideration is the very thing that drove him/her to the other world. and right on if that's what it takes for people to notice you again, to realize that theyve hurt you, to make them feel guilty for the rest of their lives. sometimes things just happen and if it be that way, there's no reason for bystanders like us to pretend like we've seen it all, like we knew that person, like our values and beliefs can be imposed onto an analysis or judgement on their actions.

just let it go.

but i do believe, if i may air my opinions, that it was folly. if only- one more second, another day, things mightve changed from night to day. and i do believe that at the end of the storm there will always be a place in you which you can call home, where you can feel safe in your own skin and be not nobody but yourself. it's a waste, especially when all around you people are dying beyond their will, helpless and fighting for one last breath; or worst still, being confronted with a sudden robbing and tragic loss of a loved one. that aint fair. i cannot bear to think of things like that because they make me feel...squirmy. and once again i am inarticulate.

hmmm. i pause now because i realized that a lot of things dont make sense, especially when we try to make sense of them.

enough, no more.

6:10 AM