Do you remember meeting all of my new friends, shaking hands, making conversations?
Do you remember playing drinking games, until I was so pissed because I drank from your cup and apparently you were having everything neat? My taste buds were dead by then so I definitely couldn't tell.
Do you remember escorting me to my various toilet trips that night?
Do you remember waking up with me, hearing that I have no idea when I took the pictures that appeared in my phone?
Because I do.
I remember asking you if I did anything stupid that night. It was my first JASH, as a freshman into university.
I remember you reassuring me, telling me that I was just a generally happy drunk. And that I'd talk more than usual in that state, but no biggie.
I would do anything to have that old me back right now.
Not because I still pine for you, but because my psyche was intact.
Do you know that after we broke up, every time I get shit drunk, or even remotely high, I would cry at the drop of a hat?
Do you know that for years, as long as anyone asked me why was I still single, I would tear, because I would think of what I'm still healing from, just to realise that chasm inside was our breakup.
Do you know that the first company christmas dinner I had, I broke down because my new colleague asked me the trigger-question: Why are you still single?
The best part of it all is that, I have no fucking clue why is that wound so deep. It's so deep that my happy subconscious has been broken. I cry when I don't have control over myself. I cry so hard, that it shocks everyone around me. I cry like I just had my heart ripped out. AND I DON'T KNOW WHY OR HOW TO HEAL FROM THIS!!!!
Of course I spent 3 months of my exchange crying myself to sleep every night. Of course the first time I got shit drunk abroad, was on a cruise. And I terrified all of my friends by running up and down the entire cruise ship, searching our cabin, everyone's bags and even their pockets. "What are you looking for?", they asked.
"Answers", I replied.
I didn't even know it until everyone was making fun of it the next day. Only then did I know how fucked up inside I was, the extent of how broken.
Another thing that definitely cemented it was when my dad accused me of "Why did you bring him to Penang to meet all of our relatives, just to break up with him later?"
I could have said a million things right back at him, to pierce it where it hurt, but I was too caught up with realising that in his eyes, I was a "failure" in the relationship scene. I know it wasn't a rational question, but it cut deep all the same. He looked at me like it was my fault, that I should have known better, that I should have been smarter.
How was I to know?
How was I to know that we wouldn't last?
How was I to know?
How?
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Flash forward 4 years and I'm still the same.
I don't know.
I don't know how to knit myself back, in places where I am supposed to have healed.
How do I fix a wound when I can't find it?
I have even stopped feeling embarrassed when someone tells me that I cried again during a night out. I don't even blush, I just feel resigned.
Somebody, please tell me what to do, I don't feel that I am a healthy, whole person with this lingering past the border of my thoughts.
I just want that lighthearted and happy subconscious back.
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