I don’t know.

I’m feeling… numb.

I asked my parents out tonight; took them to see a movie. I haven’t done so in a while. My mother chose the film. She chose a horror movie. It was another cliché of every horror film they’ve produced for the past twenty years. A group of teenagers, a psycho killer. What the film makers do is they get you to like the characters the first half of the film. You dwell on the suspense that something horrifying is going to happen with the fast editing, the sudden moves, the closet doors shutting, and O the sound effects. The second half revolves around all the people you’ve fallen in love with falling… one… by… one.
The main character always lives… who’s usually the second hottest chick in the film. The hottest one dies first… usually during a make-up session or sex.

I was fine the first fifteen minutes of the film. Then I saw it coming. A couple… reminded me of what could have been. O how I wish I was built differently. I wish I never cared about many things… but I do. I stared in awe at that couple and thought to myself this could have been us.
But there’s no us anymore, is there?

There is no first time I ask her for a dance, no first bouquet, no first kiss, no P room… no more I’m smilings. I wanted to tell her to forget about all our differences, to forget about what they have been telling her… to remember the good times we had and to… take a chance, to jump…
But I didn’t… because right there, I realized that it’s pointless, because there was nothing there anymore. I have become a stranger again.
Nevertheless, I’m fine. I know how to move on. I have my ways.
I’ve made changes, obviously. I’ve even started a new blog page. For those of you who stuck with me in 2006 when I moved to this place, please forgive me. It’s time.
The bells are tolling again.

Right now, however, I’m too afraid of uncovering it. Will the day come for me to unleash that page like the unmasking of the elephant man buried behind the curtains? I’d say yes. I need courage.

I know the day will come when I say Behold… the freak show is on. Enjoy. Entertain yourselves with my words. Judge me. Hate me. Feel sorry for me. Love my pain. Laugh at my batteekh. Touch my chains and breathe my smoke.
For people to gasp in amazement as I unveil my wrinkling, hideous being as they Oooh and Aaaah all over my body;
As I silently beg them to look away.

Am I ready?
No.
I am not ready.
What do I do to stop feeling this way?
What do I do to stop feeling?

Nevertheless, I’m fine. I am fine because I have tasted the sweet and now… I can hate the sour even more. I am fine because I am strong in nature. Because right here… I can fall. I can get down on my knees and cry. I can fucking melt. Right here… where my words never once let me down, I can express fully how I feel.

Right here… I can let go.

I feel like moving out of home… every inch of this page I built with my bare hands. The red shade that covered my words, the links, the subscription link, the wall paint, the floor tiles I picked, the dark corner, the party hall, my purple rose. I’ll miss you. I had it all… but it no longer feels like home. I’m being kicked out. I don’t suit this place anymore. They don’t want me here… for I am no longer this.

Arrivederci, dear stangers. Stick around…

the frrrrreak show’s yet to begin.