Clusterfucks and Fuckers

Tuesday, 08 October 2013

7.53 am

The morning started early enough that I feel confident that I won't be late. Of course, that is entirely at the mercy of unpredictable traffic. Some days it feels like the world is making way for you. Then, there are days that make you question getting up that morning in the first place. In those days you find yourself on the van's worst seat possible. Your seated next to some schmuck who likes to spread himself out in an incredibly cramp place and the driver is a disrespectful twat who likes to swerve and drive like a maniac. Those days you're sure the driver is trying to kill his passengers.

I guess it's pretty obvious that commute to work isn't something I enjoy. Can you blame me though? It's mostly fearing for your life and invasion of personal space.

Today, however, is a better day. Nice seat, considerate stranger for a seatmate, and so far the driver seems okay. Traffic seems amicable, too.

Should I take this as a sign that it's gonna be a good day?

Nah. Experience has told me that's not always the case.

Unless this is the day that I get to meet his sexiness Tom Hiddleston, the jury is still out.

So far commute is going relatively smooth. I might hazard to say that I may get to work by 8.30 am, friendly road forecast permitting.

9.12 am

One of the main issues I have with work is people overstepping their bounds. It seriously rubs me the wrong way, even if you tell me that it was done with the best of intentions.

With full vehemence I say fuck that noise or I will find a way to fuck up your shit.

I have my responsibilities and I try my damnest to make sure I keep up with them. Even if the workplace is an absolute clusterfuck right now, I always give my best at what I do; I've tried doing subpar work and it just wasn't in me.

To the meddling punk ass bitch at work:

Don't make me feel like I'm not doing a good enough job by trying to take over work I'm responsible for. You don't see me in an arms race and gunning for your job. Sit your ass down and mind your own business. You are the very last thing I need to be dealing with.

1.57 pm

A friend from work and I decided to head out of the office for lunch. We were due for a change of scenery, even if for just an hour and a half.

Conversation consisted mostly of the woes of work. We both had ideas of how things could change for the better. We discussed worries and ideals that we're sure most people at work would agree on -- silently or otherwise.

Call it ranting, but we were due for that as well.

It is clear that change is needed but how do I spark it when I have no means? It's easy enough to dream of having things my way. Just the same, the whole situation isn't just about me. There's a bigger picture to consider; one that affects all the lives connected to it.

So I resign myself to focusing on what I can control: my responsibilities and doing right by my work.

6.30 pm

More conversations followed for the rest of the afternoon. Work, people at work, insufferable people at work. It wasn't the work itself that erodes patience, kindness, and consideration. It was people spreading toxicity.

Blame it on the stress if you must but rudeness is inexcusable. Take it this way: if being disrespectful is frowned upon on children who, generally, are still grasping the concepts of propriety, what more with grown, fully functioning adults?

Making an example from what happened just before I left work: if a colleague humanely asks for you and your group to tone down your voices, it would be a kindness for you to consider the request and deliver. To answer derisively is criminal on my book. I don't think quietness is such an incredible mole hill to climb.

Perhaps people need to go trekking up the heights of their massive egos to get over themselves.

Today's moral: Don't be a cunt. No matter how bad your day is.

To the Boy that Broke My Heart

It’s been years since we've truly spoken to one another and with all the things I have to say an hour simply will not suffice, even if you wanted to speak to me about our past, which you’ve made clear you do not. So I write this simply letter that you will never get to read. I do this for my benefit, for the sake of closure you couldn't deign to give me.

I’ve actually written another letter before, one in anger. This will be once of acceptance and one of lingering hurt.

In the time I thought I had relinquished feelings for you, I discovered that the feelings have indeed lingered. I tried very hard to dispel them but I guess it takes more time than others in matters of forgetting what once was. At that time you had moved on with another love and I can honestly say that I was happy for you. After all, you needed to move on from your previous destructive relationship, one I thought I could sway you from.

Contrary to what our peers may think, I wasn't jealous. Curious would've been more apt. I hadn't known about you and her; I was surprised. But the rumor mill started churning and I became the brunt of unwanted speculation from everyone else.

Soon after I learned why.

Of course they would think I was jealous. You gave them no choice. To say that what happened was nothing is the most hurtful thing you could've done to me. By that you relegated my feelings and whatever feelings you had for me then as nonexistent. But how could that be when I remember clearly our moments, our conversations, and your promises.

I cannot fathom why you chose to do what you did. Is it to protect your new relationship from me? A relationship that I have no interest whatsoever other than mild curiosity. Maybe to protect yourself? Is it because you were ashamed of me?

You hurt me. No amount of apology you have or will ever give me will erase that. And I don’t think you care or think about it now.

My pain still makes itself felt today but it grows fleeting and fleeting. One day it won’t hurt anymore. The past I shared with you will always be there no matter how much you try to forget or deny.

I’ve accepted that you will never be able to face me properly or give me the closure I once vied for. I’ve accepted that all of that is in the past. You are the past and like some people you don’t matter any longer. 

This has been a Saturday post brought to you by The Purple Madhouse.

Flashback Friday: The One I Want

Prose, 2005 — Another short story for this Friday post. A little trivia: back in 2005, I used the nom de plume First Class Fool. I heard it in a Joss Stone song and I thought it appropriate for my teenage self, being as I was unwittingly foolish at the time with the subject of love. Aren't we all though? Like the previous prose post, this one starts a bit sad but picks up towards a happier ending. I think this was me projecting my want of a happy ending for myself in my writing. 

The One I Want

She hurriedly ran towards their meeting place – that grove in the park where they would always meet back when they were getting acquainted with each other. She ran faster now, knowing that he wouldn’t wait for long. She nearly tripped as she came to a stop by the trees. He was standing with his back facing her. He was looking up the night sky, up to the moon. She didn’t know how to approach him. She didn’t even know if he wanted to talk to her. But she had to do it. She had to talk to him and let him know how she truly feels.

“Richard?”

He turned then, and her heart nearly broke at the sight of him. His blue eyes looked so sad – like he’d lost somebody… like he’d lost her. “Marie?” He sounded incredulous. It was as if he could not believe she was there. He opened his arms wide then and she came rushing into him. They embraced tightly, sinking into one another.

They withdrew from one another, and like before they looked up the night sky and up the moon. There was a peaceful silence then, and for a moment they were content. They were standing with him behind her, still embracing.

He spoke then, “How did it go?”

She stiffened a little, hesitating whether she was going to tell him what had happened. She had gone to a party where her sister and her fiancé, Brian, were the celebrants. She had decided to go to see, if there was still something left in her heart for Brian, to whom she was once in love with, but once Brian saw her sister, Elizabeth, he had clearly fallen love at first sight with her. So Marie stood in the sidelines watching their love grow and feeling so thorn apart about it. Until she met Richard.

Since she met him she smiled more often than not. She laughed. She learned how to have fun again. She was happy. But still there was a shadow of doubt lingering in the back of her mind and in her heart. So she went to the party just to see, and now she was here, with him, ready to take the first step in moving on.

“How did it go?” He repeated.

She was still quiet. He started to let go of her. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it…”

She turned to him. “I do want to talk about it! It’s just that I –”

“You what?” There was a hurt look in his eyes and she knew she could not deny him any longer.

She placed her hands on his cheeks and lowered his face so she could kiss him softly on his lips. She hugged him tightly and proceeded to tell him what exactly happened.

“I saw them together.” She began. “They were happy and all I could think about was –”
“How you should have been the one with him instead of her?” he supplied spitefully.

“No!” She exclaimed. “That’s not it, Richard.”

“Then what?” He said, his tone rising. “I mean when we first met all you could talk about was Brian and your whole heart ache!”

“No…” She said, placing a hand on his cheek. “I saw them together and all I could think about was you and how happy you make me. All that I’ve felt for Brian before – they are all gone, and all that’s left in my heart is you. I don’t want Brian… I want you.”

He kissed her then. Holding her tight as if he was afraid she would disappear at any moment. “I’m glad…” He whispered. “That you chose me.”

“I love you.” She said. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

“I love you too.” He whispered back.. “Be with me?”

“Forever…” She whispered.

This has been a Friday post brought to you by The Purple Madhouse.

Flashback Friday: Come Back

Prose, 2005 — This one was written when I was 15 as well. In fact, expect that all posts from 2005 were written by 15-year-old me. 15 was a trying age for me, what with my love-sickness and all that pining for romance. Naturally, most of what I've written at that time was themed as such. 

This story is about love found again. I can't quite recall what inspired this story. Perhaps I was high on romance novels back then. As I expected, I did cringe when I read this again after seven years of it laying dormant in the archives, but not as much as I did with my poetry from the last Flashback Friday post. So now, with further ado...

Come Back

 

She watched wearily as he approached her, her eyes noting every single ounce of perecftion. She never thoguht he'd come back; never thought she'd see him again. But there he was, like a ghostly apparition of some nightmare-dream.

He stopped a mere few feet from her, near enough to hold her captive should she choose to turn away.

She looked into his eyes, and she nearly drowned into those green depths. Her father once said that the eyes were windows to one's soul and to one's heart, but looking into his eyes, she saw nothing. No love. No hate. No happiness nor sadness, just cold emptiness. 

She didn't know what to do. Common sense told her to turn the opposite way and run like the dogs of hell were after her, but what she wanted to do was to wrap her arms around him, hold him close to her, and never let him go.

Tears were starting to fall now. they shown brightly against her rosy cheeks. A tentative hand rested against them to wipe the tears away and she placed her own hand over his rough and calloused one.

Finally she saw emotion in those green eyes. There was sadness and remorse, but most of all there was regret.

She didn't know how it had happened — if she made the first move or he did — but they were in each others arms. Wrapped in an embrace so tight, she thought she would sink into him and she wanted to.

He whisphered words in hear ear. His regret in leaving her. the sadness that followed him everywhere. The contentment and satisfaction he could not find with any other woman but only with her. And in return she told him of her own sadness and her own regrets.

He whispered his love to her and she to him. Finally they released each other, only to embrace once more in a never ending love.

The sun broke into the horizon. It shined its bright rays of light at them. It marked a new day. A new day for him. A new day for her. A new day for the both of them — together.

This has been a Friday post brought to you by The Purple Madhouse.