flying away

This is my first real, legit tumblr post in a long time. My parents drove me to the airport approximately an hour and a half ago. I’m currently in the airport waiting lounge ready to board my plane.

I never realized I had this feeling before: not wanting to travel. I’ve been to countless airports my whole life, and have loved it. Now, I’m sick. I’m tired of all this shit. I just want to settle down—but then that wouldn’t be my life, now would it? I’m sick of waiting, being crammed to economy class, eating crap food, waiting, anticipating, having no idea what the fuck I’ll be doing when I arrive at my destination. Things usually work out in the end, but I just wanted to stay home. With my family.

I didn’t know I’d actually get an internship; I received this news really late. I’m glad; my resume will be built up; it looks great for future jobs. But, now, I don’t give a shit anymore. I just want a real vacation. Stop moving, stop flying, stop waiting, wasting time. I just want to…

This is the saddest feeling in the world. Not knowing where I’m going. No idea where my life is headed. I know home is where the family is. But, my life has dwindled to me being a dandelion blown by the wind—the frigid wind, the humid wind, the indecisive wind, the harsh wind…

I’ll be visiting old friends, and a new close friend. But, that right now is not making me anymore happier. I keep tossing and turning like the waves of the ocean—being hurt, bashed, bruised. Then there is the calm of the ocean, peaceful, flowing freely. Not today.

Next year, I’ll be studying abroad, yet, another way not being settled down. It’s closer to ‘home.’ But, James is still far away. We, as a family, already decided we’re dysfunctional—as a joke. But, we all know deep inside, we are semi-dysfunctional. It’s the moving. The changing. I never thought I wouldn’t stop getting used to it. I AM used to it—I just hate it now. Now I’ve grown, stopped being so naïve.

I watched “up in the air,” with George Clooney. I wanted to have his life. I wanted to leave everyone. But then, he was lonely in the end. I already feel somewhat lonely enough, I don’t want to end up like him. It’s true though, we all eventually die alone. Our spouse will have died before us, or we died before them.

I have 2 luggage with me today. What did I pack it with? Useless shit.

Yesterday, my dad brought out a photo album that my grandma collected before she passed away. I miss those days, where I don’t remember anything bad happening. I don’t know why I’m so emotional. My period was over just a few days ago haha. I cried last night too, when I was watching this story about 2 best friends. One was a bitch, who turned out had cancer. Then turned to a good girl after meeting another girl who had a worst case scenario of cancer. Liz.

***

Don’t get me wrong guys. I still love traveling, and would do it in a heartbeat if given an opportunity. Today, I’m just thinking about the past, and why I’ve been doing this so much without ever complaining. I like this life—it’s just tiresome, gruesome, tiring, exhausting. I’ll have happier posts to come. Hopefully good photos of Singapore coming soon. After all, I have lived there before—it would be nice, reminiscing and somewhat sad to visit those old places again.

moving away from the past.

I hate packing. It makes me cry. I have packed multiple times, countless times. At least 10 times in my life. I hate it. Its so stressful. Why do I do it? Why am I so frustrated? I feel like I can never settle down. I want to cry. I am crying. I don’t want to move anymore. I want to go home. 

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i realized i have accumulated a lot of shit things from my past. and i can’t let go. i’ve moved/visited countless places, and i have pieces of memory of where i have been. these things have defined my past, my childhood, my actions, my thoughts. i’m finally in college. 18 years [soon to be 19 years] of my life have been consumed, and i can’t believe i have dragged so many items of my past along my short long journey. i have kept stuffed animals since i was one years old. i have kept my “chemistry/biology senior award” from a year ago. i still own things my mom and dad have had when they were around 20-30 years old. 

i can’t let go so easily. this is personality; this is how i cope; this is how i feel; this is me. i don’t want to be this way. i don’t want to have to look at my past, and feel like shit.  useless, hopeless, alone, neglected. 

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i have decided today. to donate a lot of things. and i’m proud of myself, because i would never have fathomed in a million years, i would give away the things i am giving away now. my mom would possibly be even more pissed than i am for giving away my things— but that’s another animal i will dissect in another tumblr post [asian parents].

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