Memoirs Of Crescent

Life’s a strange thing. It makes people climb up to the mountains and live in solitude, questioning its meaning. It makes people jump from planes or dive into shark-infested waters, searching for its purpose. It’s said to be short, when in reality it’s the longest thing we know of, and will ever know of on this earth. It’s ironic, I think, my case in point. It feels as if my life is passing me by. No, it feels as if my life HAS passed me by, and what’s left of it is bulletting pass, and at the same time, it feels like it has not begun. And truly it hasn’t. Get a life, they say. How intensely I’d like to do exactly that, in fact. As the song by Desiree aptly puts it, “Life. Oh life. Oh life. Oh life. Doo doo doo doo.” Doo doo life indeed.

A couple of inches off the waist, a couple more on the chest. A couple of inches taller, a couple of inches longer. A couple of inches to achieve a dream. How small are our dreams, when a couple of inches is all it takes? Not very big, it seems, for it takes more than a couple of inches if we’re truly reaching for the stars.

Tonight, I’ve come to the realisation that we, as human being, have a tendency to cling on to similarities we have with each other. Similarities that are relatively unique, which we can identify with. Forgive me for being deep here, but I really think it’s something worth talking about. I suppose that’s what governs the laws of attraction. You know, besides them being really hot. You know, things like sharing the same taste for salty popcorn. You know, the “crappy” unsweetened kind which everyone hates. Or hating to “waste” a weekend by sleeping in. Little, unique things like that. Yeah. It’s all good.

Today has been one of the most refreshing Mondays I’ve had in recent weeks. I was on medical leave. I wasn’t really sick, per se. I’ve been getting a lot of bowel irritation in recent months and I decided that I talk to a doctor about it. You know, so I have an excuse to take the day off. It seems I’m sensitive to lactose. Anyway, it was a much-needed break from what one would normally expect of a Monday. I’m also taking this opportunity to have a paradigm shift. I’ve been stuck in the same place for far too long: weight, work, and social life. One has to change all that he is used to in order to achieve things that he has not gotten the chance to get used to. And that is precisely what I intend to do. A little late on the whole “new year’s resolution” thing, but oh well. I’ve never been very traditional. Now’s my time. Time to push. Time to break it.

Ever wanted a particular item for so long, but didn’t think you could afford it? You want nothing as much as you want it, and you’re constantly obsessing about it, but you’re not sure it’s within your grasp. You’re perpetually thinking of ways to afford it. Then, one day, you decide that although you may be able to afford it after all, it might not be right for you. Sure, it’s nice and all that, but you find you’d rather just have other things. After all, without it, you can afford lots of other things. You’d rather have many things which you can use for a while and abandon rather than invest in something expensive and will use for life. It would be easier on me if I was actually referring to shopping, though. Sometimes when speaking of matters that are very heavy, it’s easier to just mask everything in lightness.

Some days, I find myself holding the answers to life’s most complex questions. Other days, I find myself baffled by life’s simplest, or rather, most taken for granted questions. Today is the latter. How does one drudge through the same chores daily? How does one wake up beside the same face day after day after day? How does one keep interest, or pretend to keep interest in the set of people without the pillars of boredom crashing down on them? This is the part where I try to say something provoking or interesting. But nah, I’m bored of that. For now.

I can feel my pants tighten. A couple of weeks away from the gym due to a shoulder injury preluded this disaster that is my weight. Late nights, sweet and starchy temptations, little bits of heaven. It seems I’ve lost all control of myself. I preach about how over-controlling leads to anarchy, about how freedom is the key to self-control. Yet, the preacher has committed many a mortal sin. Christmas, my Judgement Day, approaches. Condemnation is inevitable. But who will judge? When the sun completes her journey, mine will begin. The journey will end when the Son completes His journey. It’s time to repent. Merry Christmas? Happy Easter, hopefully.

Being drunk. Ah, how alcohol has a way of dissolving inhibitions and bringing repressed characteristics of a person afloat. Hateful or jovial, sobbing or smiling, the subdued personas are an interesting sight. I’ve been recently told that I’m nice when I’m drunk. What? Does this mean that my pleasantness is actually a characteristic I subconsciously repress? Does this mean I’m TRYING to be an ass when I’m not drunk? This got me thinking about facades, how we go through daily life fooling ourselves and the people around us. It bothers me. No, not the facade I put on, but rather, the facade that is being put on for me. I begin to wonder if the interest I’m being shown is genuine, or if it’s just an illusion put on to keep me entertained for a while. I begin to wonder if how I look really matters if I can’t be the man behind the iron mask. I begin to wonder if I can tell the difference between me and my facade. I begin to lose confidence. I begin to fear. I begin to end.

I’ve been told recently that there are few more repulsive traits in a man than vanity. WHAT?! WHY?! If it were a guy who told me this, I’d have laughed out loud and dismissed it as naivete, but it was actually from an old female friend whose advise and opinions I respect. For someone who is (self-proclaimed to be) not easily surprised, this is quite a shocker for me. You girls out there, please tell me - is this true? Is vanity such a sin? I mean, it can’t possibly be bad! Disregard of self-appearance, to me, is one of the most repulsive traits a guy can have. Vanity is the complete opposite of that, therefore, how can it be a bad thing? Isn’t having the desire to look good a GOOD thing? Aren’t most girls vain? I call upon you, my female readers, to enlighten me. It’s lost on me how wanting to look good can be a bad thing.

My understanding of anorexia is that is a condition whereby a the sufferer is compelled to starve due to a fallacious self-image of being overweight. I was recently told by a friend that I had anorexia. Not true. I’m fat. I eat. I eat a damn lot, in fact. After defending my normalcy, it was explained to me that anorexia is a state of mind. Then it hit me. Perhaps I am anorexic, or more appropriately, manorexic. I have a problem. I am obsessed and I am addicted. I dare say I’m paranoid about my personal image. What started as a physical pursuit has manifested as a psychological issue. I admit it and I don’t care. I’m manorexic. Sue me. I’ll do anything to be thin right now. I’ve reached a point where I can’t care about anything else. I’ll do anything to close in on the pursuit. I’ll force myself ill if I must. Somebody help me get thin. It’s miserable being fat. Some of you out there will tell me it’s all in my mind. I have a problem, yes, but I’m not imagining this. I have triangular tits. My belly touches my thigh when I sit. My belly bunches up at the middle when I do push-ups. This is real. Can someone offer me some help instead of judgement? Can someone make me feel happy about how I look? I know my pursuit will end soon. If someone could only help.