I predict that in the course of these few days, I'm going to have numerous blog posts and have blogging dihorrea. When I'm by myself I tend to drift into my thoughts and compulsively write them down because well, raf can't really shut her trap even for a moment.

Yesterday dinner without my secondsister was tense. There was no conversation, my mum was in a foul mood as usual, my little sister was moping by herself and conversations that I initiated went ignored. So I gave up and decided to stare at my food and shut up, fully aware that my mum was watching me. Then I sat in the living room to drink my coke and my dad came along and he started to talk about how much he ate. I know his intentions were good, but most of the time I don't know what to say to him. As we get older I find that it's harder to talk to my parents. When I want to talk to them they wouldn't talk to me, but when they want to talk to me, I completely shut them off. Sometimes it feels so fake, this facade we put up for each other. 19 years I've lived in this family, and I know absolutely nothing about my parents. I only know my mum as cold and pms-y, and I stay away from her as much as I can; I know my dad is a scary sleeping volcano and he doesn't argue with my mum that much. It's a lot worse when we're in the same elevator because the silence is awkward. It appals me that we live like strangers in the same house.

If you've wondered why I don't talk alot around people I'm not close to, it is because I never have any idea about what to say. So most of the time I'm sucked into my own daydreams and thoughts and think about what to write when I get home. Even around my own friends I drift into the world inside my shell, and when I talk it's like my heart is never there. When I met fishboy he was the person I've always wanted to meet. With him I feel like we're one entity. He pulled me out of my shell and with him I felt so real. Like my existence was justified, I was there, and I wasn't dreaming. Instead he was the one drifting into his thoughts and I loved to sit in front of him watching the little boy running deep into the fortress I could only dream of entering. On thursday that image of the little boy turned into a man and I adored this man, perfect or not. Now he's the one caught in the moment, and I am not. He catches me dreaming, my mind is not there and I reply him like a blank space. What he doesn't know is that I'm trapped in my own shell and I want him to pull me back out. I'm constantly waiting for fishboy to put all his anxiety away, until he's ready to accomodate my sorrow. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

And why the hell am I writing this here? This belongs to my livejournal, oh god.

Labels: blah, dreams, i swear i'm trying to get better, loveee, pondering, sad