Its another emo night that began just like any other emo night, with me sitting in front of my macbook in my room, with the lights turned off, and with emo music playing on my itunes playlist. For some reason or another, my emoness strikes when I least expects it too, and my mood swings from being upbeat and chirpy to being slightly depressed and all contemplative. I don’t mind being contemplative at times, but when contemplativeness turns my thoughts to the past, and starts raking up regrets, reopening old scars and wounds, I start to sink back down into the sinkhole from which I emerged from not too long ago.

I’ve made so many decisions in my life, so many choices and so many crossroads to choose from, and amongst them, I’ve made many a wrong decision. A wrong word along the way, a word decision to do or not to do, that in one way or another, changed the course of my life for better, but mostly, for worse. Decisions that left impacts in my left, both physical and emotional, and that altered the way I’d ever view certain things in life.

Charlotte’s gonna nag at me to stop being emo and start blogging the way I usually blog, to entertain her and everybody who reads my blog (anonymously, no doubt), to not be an emo-wuss, an emonemo and suck it up. Peh’s gonna tell me to “Just suck it up”, and I know of more than one person who’d love to tell me to wake up and stop wallowing in self-pity. But hey, its my life, and this is the way I’d like to reminisce and look back upon old memories.

I’ve let so many people down, and again, I’m at a loss. I don’t even know where to start or who to start apologising to. I’ve let people who thought I could’ve gotten my single chocolate bar down. It doesn’t matter if I know that I could’ve gotten it, or that I deserve it, or that I was so close to getting it. The mere fact still remains that I failed to get it. I failed to march past the grandstand in my ceremonial number 1 uniform, and I failed to slow march out to the tune of Auld Lang Syne, to get the bar and to march back to the strains of the OCS School Song.

The funny thing’s that my dream kinda died along with my spirit to fight on or do my best after that. I never did tell many people about it, but I did intend to make it my career. It is a leadership position, and I still believe that my forte’s in leadership positions. People say I’m arrogant, that I’m cocky and that ultimately I’m useless as a leader, but I don’t really give a rat’s ass about it. Because leadership doesn’t mean I have to do things that make others happy. Being a leader does not mean conforming to every whim and request of every single individual to please them all. Leadership means doing things that you deem fit, you, being the leader of the pack, the alpha male. Leadership means doing things to make other things possible. Well, now that one career path just vanished, I guess its back to the drawing board for more career paths.

I’ve let people who’ve loved me down. People who loved me unconditionally, who were there for me in my darkest moments and my lowest points in life. People who’d give their all for me. I’ve let them down. It doesn’t matter that I’m sorry for what I’ve done now, or that I’m regretting my actions. The mere fact still remains that what’s done cannot be undone and wounds that’re inflicted cannot be uninflicted, or that scars that exist cannot be removed. I’m sorry.

What’s funny’s that I’ve tried to fix others all my life as well. I’ve listened to more than one person tell me about their life problems, both in school and during my NS liability. I’ve provided more advice for others than I ever did for myself. People tell me I’m a good listener, and that I’m an entertainer. People tell me that they’re thankful that I was always there for them when they needed someone, and that they were grateful to me for providing that much needed bit of humour, no matter how dry or lame, in their lives at the most crucial moment. I do that with unconditionally, that’s for sure. But I’ve always wondered who’ll be there for me, to be my listener and entertainer, to provide me with some dry humour in my most crucial and darkest points in life. I thought I found it once, but a brief stint in Brunei proved otherwise. I thought I found it again, but again, certain mitigating factors proved otherwise.

and the tears come streaming down your face
when you lose something you can’t replace
when you love some one but it goes to waste
could it be worse?

Yes it can be worse, yes it definitely can.