long distance love

Hi.

I am back. And I've noticed that my viewer stats went up recently. And it was right after me moaning about how I've got 5 readers out of the gazillion world population out there. Freaky shit.

But hey, am not complaining. If you my foul language is what makes your day, be my guest. Am just glad I've managed to put a smile on your face, at least.

Still smiling? Good. Now let me wipe that smile off your face - cos I'll be writing about long distance love today. Why? Because I'm in one, and I'm fucking depressed. So you can all share my misery.

The whole world knows that I've returned from UK. God knows how much I've missed the place. Before I get blasted on how un-patriotic I am, please give me a chance to defend myself. True, there is no place like home. But home is home. I've set my sights on UK where I can build myself from scratch. Its fucking challenging, but the sense of satisfaction from achieving something is, personally, ten folds as seeing how things tend to be much, much more harder in foreign land compared to homeground. I think I'm fucked in the head that way.

So, back to my sob story. 

I've been with my boyfriend for more than 2 years now. And here's the mushy part - I'm so in love with him, its not even funny. This is serious shit. This is marriage shit. I've always been the more... ah, free spirit kinda girl, to put it nicely. But out of nowhere, bam! Love hits hard when you least expect it. 

So, given the tragedy of me having to leave the UK, the both of us have decided to give long distance a try even though the both of us have never tried this, and we don't really have much faith in such a relationship to begin with. But see here, the fact that we're making the effort goes to show how much this relationship really means to us (defensive).

But I'm not going to lie and say that its easy peasy. 

Its tough as fuck. The different time zones, the missed calls and simply trying to contact the other party, the waiting, the arguments over the phone, the webcam, the missing him, the envy over other happy couples canoodling right in front of your eyeballs etc.

It gets tiring. No shit that long distance love has its ups and downs. And right now, its a fucking downer. I haven't been able to talk to him for almost two weeks. And this weekend is no good for me as I've promised a friend that I'd join her for a beach party. And next weekend, there's a clubbing night planned out. 

Yea, yea... you can say that I can just sit at home and wait, and try to contact him.

Seems easy, but fuck no. Its fucking painful. How long are you going to wait if he doesn't pick up the phone? Every weekend, you spend your nights just trying to call him, and hoping that he picks up. If he does, oh wow, its your lucky night. If he doesn't pick up, oh well... its no different from every other weekend night. 

But the emotional turmoil is unspeakable. Only those of you who have been in a serious long distance relationship can understand this. 

It really pains to wait. I know this is harsh, but maybe I just need time for myself. Get myself out there, do something just so that I don't have to spend Saturday night gambling whether he'd pick up the phone or not. Get myself away from thinking about it. And to stop myself crying to sleep every weekend.

No, I don't need your pity. I was the one who willingly put myself in this position. And so I have to accept the consequences that come with it. 

But accepting does not make the pain any lesser. 

The only thing I can do now, is exhaust myself with work and crazy weekend nights - just so I don't have to think about anything and blissfully sink into my bed with fatique; a complete shut down of my mind. Even though the heart aches, at least the mind is not thinking about it. 

absolutely inspiring

Oh how sad. 

I just found out today that I can check how many views I'm getting for my posts. 

And on a good day, my page views ran a total of . . . . . . . wait for it . . . . . . . five. 

I feel like the saddest creature on this blogosphere because 

1. Since when did this page view stat thingy happen? Like, wtf?
2. Five readers. Five. Like, seriously. I would like to print screen and post it up here but lets not make me look even more loser here. 
3. I don't know what the fuck to blog about anymore. Every Tom, Dick and Harry are lifestyle bloggers nowadays. How do I make myself stand out? Blog about sex? Actually, why not? But what if I get so famous and my mom reads my blog? That, my dears, is called digging my own grave. 

*squeezes some brain juice*

I think I need a bigger brain.

like poison

Wow. Just wow.

The last time I posted something on this zombie space was in October. So much for reviving my blog. Feels like I am writing for myself to read.

Might as well bitch and rant to my heart's content then.

I've lost inspiration to write. What is there to write about when everything looks grey? When you're fighting depression, where the fuck do you dig up something cheery to write about? And posting about something bitter and sad is like shoving shit up the reader's nostrils.

Which is exactly what this post is about.

Ploughing through each day like a mechanical idiot, at the very least, I am still human enough to feel envy, jealousy and bitterness.

Its the holiday season. And I see so many couples canoodling like prize assholes - hands laced together, megawatt smiles plastered all over their faces, some sneaky butt-grabbing action going on... bla bla bla.

I just want to smash their faces together.

Yes, I am bitter. Yes, I am one big jealous bitch. And yes, how pitiful of me to feel disgust over displays of love which should be celebrated.

Oh, if you revel in rubbing it in other people's faces of your being in love, please allow me to show you how much my fists love your face.

Haaaaa! That's it. I'm losing my marbles. Call me a doctor.