stripped bare


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I had a really long day at work. And before that, I had woken up earlier than necessary because of some bad dreams that I had. Right now I’m fighting to keep my eyes opened even though I’d very much like to complete this post. My thumbs and forefingers have been rubbed raw and are now swollen and painful from handling tiny hidden zips on thick layers of fabric all day. I broke two nails and pricked my fingers on fucking needles that were hidden under those layers of clothing. I have blisters under my feet from walking to and fro from the carpark to the photographer’s studio. That was all fine. What broke the straw on the camel’s back was that I discovered that something I loved had gone missing.

Earlier in the day, I had rushed home from the studio to grab my steamer because the studio didn’t have one. So I grabbed a rolled up carrier from my bedroom, one that we had bought in Yokohama on our first trip there together. It has never been used because it was too precious to me. When I discovered it missing at the studio I became flustered and asked everyone on the set if they had seen it. Of course they didn’t. My heart broke and my eyes started to sting, but I kept the tears in because I knew my colleagues would think I was crazy for crying over a cloth bag. The photographer offered me a plastic bag but what did he know? It wasn’t a particularly expensive bag, but it was dear to me. I used to take it out from my drawer and reminisce about our first trip to Japan together.

It wasn’t until I reached home and heard my cat’s bell from the other side of the door that the tears fell. It would have looked ridiculous to my neighbors if they were to come home right then, especially when I was holding my key, poised at the door, and crying uncontrollably. I came home, sat on my sofa, and had a good long cry before turning on the tv to reruns of 娛樂百分百 and a dinner of my leftover birthday cake. Nothing but a delayed reaction to all my pent-up frustrations, bottled-up emotions, and anger at myself for even thinking of using that bag today.

If I never find that bag, I can only accept that it signifies the loss of all existing hope I have of ever going back to what it used to be.

I’m so tired right now.


Written by smudgi3

September 11, 2012, Tuesday at 23:55

Posted in Dear Diary, Insanity

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