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you're at: www.myperfectlies.blogspot.com
the Ms is: Melissa Ng
started since: 05-12-1991
contents: diary

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December 2008
January 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009

At this moment, the truth was never clearer.
It was almost laughing in my face.
I’m tearing now, for what it’s worth.
So you think I’m a fool? Its okay, I think I’m one too.
Only a fool like me would let this happen over and over again.
And true to my foolishness, just let history repeats itself.

I whisper to myself inside, when would all these end?
Or is it just a vicious cycle, a never-ending torment;
Forever reminding me of things that would never be.
Then again what are the connotations of forever?
I used to believe in forever, but the present is overwhelming.
And if I were to be brutally honest with myself, forever is just a lie to make you cry.
It’s a lie told to make you smile now, and a lie told that will haunt your memories and teach you the saltiness that is your tears.

I sat down by the stairway looking down at the scene below.
I just looked and looked.
They all looked so happy, beneath my unhappiness, I’m glad.
I don’t belong there, but I don’t belong anywhere else either.
But I know something, I’m tired of smiling, I’m tired of pretending.
And somewhere in my subconscious, I guess I was waiting for someone to look up and see me,
But no one did.
And that just reinforced my belief that I didn’t fit in.
No, I’m not saying that they are unkind, not exactly.
It’s just that they only served to emphasize my displacement even more.

And I’m sick of the biasness.
I’m sick of feeling like I have to prove myself for everything.
I’m sick of needing to defend my every action, to justify every word.
I’m so sick of all this.
I told myself to see past it, to not dwell on it, and even to reflect on my own self.
I did and understood certain things, but it still made no difference in certain things.
And that is that the bitterness is going to kill me, if my unhappiness does not.

I know happiness is in our own hands and that we shouldn’t rely on others to make us happy.
But I’m a human and not a cyborg.
I cannot live like that; after all, happiness is still dependent on the people around us to a certain extent, isn’t it?
Happiness seems like an enigma to me.
The biting words and stabbing looks, it still haunts my memory.

I’m no longer seeking the difference.
I’m no longer seeking anything.
I’m just trying my best to see past my pain.
After all, there are more noble people suffering for more worthwhile causes, what am i?

My last thought was this.
Pain can be a blessing too.
When you are familiar with pain, it’d no longer be your enemy.

The lesser you expect, the lesser you’ll be disappointed.
This will be my mantra now.

There’s this poem that I’ve read a long long time ago, and I came across it again while flipping through some stuff, it’s called still I rise by Maya Angelou.

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise


Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise


I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise


Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise


Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise


I rise


I rise.



- Maya Angelou

It touched me deeply once again, perhaps this time i was able to read this poem with just a little more insight than I could 4 years ago. Even if i cannot say that i understand or am able to relate to her pain, for the shallow being that i am would have chose delusions over the reality, when I read it again, somehow that facade of mine cracked a little.

I have no idea on how things are going to be, which path I’m going to choose, what and how I’m going to do it. At this moment, the future is still a blank leaf.

But my greatest wish for myself this year; would only be this.

I hope to be able to live life on my own terms and to be true to myself.

To the year ahead then.