By Ms Chor Lor | Friday, June 4, 2010 | 11:55 pm | 3,014 views
Today, my world came crashing down.
I feel so tired. I can’t find the courage to quit my job. Cause only quitting it, then can I leave the man who hurt me again and again. I can’t see where I am if I quit. I can go back to Changi, but I don’t think I want that. I realise I had no courage to live on. I can’t face reality. I can’t handle reality. I wish to die. I can’t find the courage to die.
I took up smoking at 12. Hoping I will die one day. I rode a bike. Hoping I will die in an accident one day. When I was young, I would cut myself with sharp objects. But I never have the courage to cut deep enough for it to bleed non-stop. I will tie a plastic bag over my head to suffocate myself. But I never lasted more than 5 minutes. Why hasn’t my wish come true yet. i wish I can just sleep and never wake up again.
Good people always die young. Good people are dying eveyday. Bad people always live long. I’m a bad person. But I don’t want to live long. For 35 years, I tired to be strong. I tired to live on. But it was tough. It was difficult. It had been a tough road. I just wish I could rest. Rest forever.
I feel I’m a disposable plastic. I feel I’m expandable. Being dumped and hurt when I’m no longer useful. I feel like I am a living zombie. I feel I’m a coward.
A tough life having my dad around. After he’s gone, a tough life with my bro around. When can I ever rest.
I really feel like quitting on the spot. I can jolly well pay back one month’s salary for not giving notice. But do I have the courage? Did I not want to quit the job, or did I not want to leave him? I’m not sure.
For twice, he lied right at my face. Never a moment twitch an eyelid. A good liar indeed. If I never dig, if I never search, forever the truth is buried.
Is it better when you don’t know? Does the truth always hurt? Yes it does.
Being a prostitute before, maybe you will come to accept it’s hard to trust a man. Where married men and attached Bf can come looking for you, how can you ever know when they are telling the truth.
When he can be so stubborn telling you, insisting that he is not lying and hiding anything. It hurts most is not when you find out the truth. It’s when you realise how well he had lied to you. It’s the hurt of how he had manipulated your trust in him and made you a fool.
I thought I had been happy. I was wrong. I thought my life had turned for the better. I was wrong. So many things had bottled up. I can’t find a place to shout it out. It was miserable.
All these years, it was not the courage to live on that I seek everyday. It was the courage to die I seek everyday. To seek death, I really have to die. if I don’t die, I’m in trouble with the law. So all I can do, is to wait. Wait and suffer at the same time, to see when death will seek me.
The difficult part is not not to trust. The difficult part is to convince yourself to trust again. When you are hurt once, it really is hard to trust again. Not to mention when you are hurt again and again. And it really is a miracle, the tears have not dried up yet.
Someone ever said. Men lied to cover up for their wrong doings. Women lied to make the men feel better.
What should I do? Where’s my courage? Where do I go from here?
Maybe it’s time I find my courage. The courage to leave the job, to leave the man, to leave all these unhappiness.
I had only wanted to talk about this below next time in my transgender story. But I guess this is the right moment.
Last Saturday, I went down to Changi to seek old friends and chatted with them. Being at the wrong place, wrong time, it happens two groups of sistas decide to quarell it out. After many years of unhappiness with each other. End of the day, they never fight and ended up well. But there I was, being at the wrong place at the wrong time, I got beaten up for nothing.
One of the old sista thought I was there to interfere. I was actually already standing far away, not wanting to get involved in anything. Yet I am still dragged into it. She chased after me, asking me to fuck off. Kept shouting I want to interfere isit. She took her heels and beat me up three times, on my body, my hand, my face. She pulled my hair. It was not physical pain. It was emotional pain.
I didn’t cry. I just asked, why am I always a victim.
I don’t even have the courage to defend myself. I don’t even have the courage to fight back. If only that had been some gangsters, chasing at me with knives. That would have been better.
I don’t wish to live old. Cause I am scared of loneliness. I don’t wish to live old. Cause I don’t want to be sick and old. Please let me die young. I really have had enough.
I don’t need pity. I don’t need encouragement. I just need courage.Random Posts