Just Tell Me How

I've been having a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach ever since the beginning of this week.

Maybe it's the nervousness of coming back to Melbourne.

Maybe it's the plain dread of not knowing when I would be in Singapore again.

Maybe it's the closeness that has been building up between Quoth and me for the past couple of weeks.

I've been rather worried about that we would drift apart. Thoughts about losing my best friend in Melbourne made me feel sick and weak. It's the most horrible feeling I've experienced. Thinking about it just sends me into a flood of tears.

This trip that we had planned has caused a considerable amount of strain on his relationship with his girlfriend. I really didn't want it to be this way. I was hoping for him to have a heart to heart talk with her, about her "outburst" before going on this trip with me.

A few months ago, she sent me a couple of text messages accusing me of being a "slut", a "whore" and a "fucking bitch". I would think that by Australian standards, I would be the least likely to be identified with any of those three categories. It was also laced with the disturbing racist sentiment - "You don’t belong here."

I never thought she was capable of saying such spiteful words. But suprisingly, neither did Quoth.

I cried for three days pondering over what I had done wrong. I experienced the same queasy feeling that I am having now. I couldn't eat for days. Nights were usually spent crying myself to sleep. I was a complete wreck.

I found out later from Quoth that she had been secretly emailing chat logs between me and Quoth on his computer to her own email account and was reading them at home. Apparently, there was this chat that I had been recounting about my "eventful" life in Singapore prior to pursuing my studies in Melbourne. Obviously it must have been something that I had said to let her to conclude that I wasn't someone she wanted her boyfriend to be around with.

Some of you should know that I haven't been particularly proud of some of the life choices and decisions that I've made in my life, especially during the year just before I left for Melbourne. It was the year I turned 21. My rebellious spirit came a little late. Nevertheless, I was glad it came. I learnt a lot from that year, more than what I could have learnt from anyone. I never expect that those learning lessons would come back to haunt me.

However, I had hoped for too much. The talk didn't happen. And so now to her, I probably came across as a "slut" who went off gallivanting with her boyfriend in tropical Singapore, a typical "whore" who just wants to seduce her boyfriend.

This wasn't what I had in mind at all. I guess he just didn’t see how important it was to me for him to have this talk with his girlfriend before the trip. How am I suppose to enjoy this trip with Quoth knowing that it's causing her so much pain and at the expense of her feelings? Her animosity towards me can only amplify.

Now I would be forever engraved in her mind as the "fucking bitch" who is trying to steal her boyfriend. It's just hard to cope with knowing of her having all those unfounded intense emotions about me within her.

The feeling is so overwhelming that I just simply can't bear to be around her.

All this while I have been feeling like I'm just waiting for something to happen, waiting for something bad to happen, waiting for all the pent-up emotions in her to finally explode.


Only then I can feel at ease.

Only then I can feel at peace with myself.

Because only then I will know that the worse is over.


That's assuming that I survived the explosion.



Have you ever imagined what it would be like to have your worst fears coming true?

Try doubling that and that was what I felt last evening.

I boarded the plane with a heavy heart. Just moments before I had learnt from Quoth that his girlfriend wants to pick him up from the airport.


I almost died.


As soon as the plane took off, I searched my purse feverishly to count how much Australian money I had. I knew I wouldn't have enough money to take a cab home from the airport. I was praying that somehow I would. There was no one I could think off to call in Melbourne who would pick me up at the airport at 5am in the morning.

Sobbing uncontrollably, I just couldn't help but picturing the scene at the airport. The thought about being in the same car with his girlfriend overwhelmed with the tension and hostility just made sob harder.

What hurts me most was that Quoth didn't seem to think it was that a big of a deal at all; You don't have to talk to her. You don't have to look at her. You just treat her like she's not there.

Sometimes I just wish Quoth would just take two measly seconds to consider my godamn feelings for once.

How do you expect me NOT to be affected at travelling in the same car with someone a seat away bearing a deep blinding hatred towards myself?


How?



Just tell me how?



It's not like she's sorry for what she has done. She hasn't shown any remote sign of remorse for sending me the series of hateful messages.

I'm not a person who likes confrontations. I don't like to subject myself to sit through periods of tension and hostility in the air. I do have a vindictive side. When that side of me comes out, I'm not a very nice person and I tend to get overwhelmed by all the fleeting emotions at once. The result can be very hurtful and vicious. Let's just say that I don't really like that side of me very well. I try not to utilise it as far as I can.

As soon as we stepped out into the arrival hall in Melbourne I was warmly greeted by his parents. Then the girlfriend came into view. I felt a wave of panic hit me.

Everything in the next few minutes happened in a flurry. My request to take a cab home was denied. I pulled Quoth aside to get him to salvage the situation. Then I thought about it. It was either I continue to insist that I take a cab home and risk looking like a complete idiot in front of his parents or I ride in the same car with the girlfriend of my best friend who hates my guts and thinks I'm a slut trying to steal her boyfriend.

I hate it when shit like this happens.



Tick. Tick. Tick.



I swear I heard the ticking in the car every time there was complete silence.

It was so loud I felt like I was going to go deaf.

I felt my body go weak and the panic sensation in the pit of my stomach evolved into a small storm of trepidation.

I've never been more relieved to be able to get out from a vehicle in my life.

This sick feeling has been debilitating my normally huge appetite. Now I'm just full of being sick. Feeling the hunger but I just can't bring myself to eat anything.

I'm not sure how much more of this shit I can take.

I'm not sure what's going to happen now.

It's so uncertain.

I hate uncertainty.

I hate to hate.

PS: I know this was meant to be a "happy" blog, but I just couldn't take it anymore, I've been waiting for so long to get this off my chest. I'm sorry if I had said more than I should. :(