all of us strangers, dir. andrew haigh

may has arrived at my doorstep, bringing about a new wave of loneliness that doesn’t scream, but thrums.

twenty-three-almost-twenty-four lonely years.

there’s a deep longing for a partner; someone to share everything with. yes, I can do that with my friends, but there’s a line of intimacy that i can’t quite seem to breach. it’s thin, but sturdy. a reminder that the people in my life right now are platonic.

there are dreams of a figure, never a face, that holds me in my sleep. dreams of the hazy silhouette of a five year old running down the stairs; of a home full of laughter and silly tiles and stained glass. dreams of someone who sits beside me on a hot day, complaining about the heatwave that has southeast asia in a vice grip.

there’s never a face. it’s always just a shadow.

maybe that life isn’t reserved for me.

mom talks about how my rocking horse, andy, and my custom made thinking chair need to be passed onto my children.

my aunt quips: she needs to find a husband first.

in my fantasies, there would be someone chuckling next to me. the reality is that there is no one there.

two weeks ago, the blogger i used to follow when i was 16, got married. i sent the tiktok i stumbled upon to maurice.

“god we’re old,” i said.

“indeed we are,” she replied. then, after a course of dancing dots. “one day, they’d be posting about their kids. hopefully by that time, we have met our own person too.”

our own person. what a strange thing to read.

i don’t think i’ve been in love with anyone before. well once, maybe, when i was 13 and experiencing my first touch of liking girls. it ended miserably, as one’s first bout with a girl-crush does (maybe). what came next was a year of internalised homophobia, convincing everyone and myself that i was straight, all while still crushing on the same girl from 7th grade. life is strange that way.

i tell myself that i don’t need a partner; i can live without them. not like how i can’t live without my friends. but sometimes i wonder if that’s true.

when i’m alone at home, trying to sleep despite the sun in my eyes, and the silence nags at me—nibbles at my brain, ringing and ringing and ringing, rendering any attempt of a restful sleep useless, i wonder if it’s true that i don’t need a hand to hold; don't need another warm body pressed against mine like a human-sized teddy bear.

my dad once asked me what i’d do when he died.

when, not if.

i told him he can’t die, can’t leave me all alone.

“but i have to, one day,” he said. there is a light tone to his voice, a wry smile.

mom too, will die.

much like how the sun will rise from the east without fail in the morning, and how the seasons will change, and how i will get older, it is a fact that is inarguable. it cannot be contested, not like my faith or science, or literature and art.

i will be alone. me, my rocking horse andy, and my thinking chair.

i tell myself that i can—that the life of an old maid won’t bother me, but i get sucker punched in the stomach sometimes, by how overwhelming solitude is; how the silence of a house too big for just me drives me insane.

i don’t want to be alone. i’m scared.

mom, dad, no matter what you say, i cannot, in fact, be strong and do it on my own.

i don’t think i’ll ever be a big enough girl to carry the burden of lonesomeness on my own.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

there was more to this; something more substantial with a more solid direction, but i had a decent cry and then the words all slipped away, like they always do, so now it's more akin to a mess than anything else.

i spent a majority of april sleeping when i wasn't working, and playing disco elysium. during a nap, i heard my mom ask my dad "why does she sleep so much? it's all she does... i'm worried." to which my dad says "she's always liked sleeping." it's true, i enjoy a good nap.

i finished disco elysium. it was good. i'm playing it again. i need to feel something, i think.

april was pretty bad. i don't know if may will be better (it probably won't be). i'm sorry.

a song, as always.