Sulking and Crying

Everyone has a temper right?
A side to them they are not readily going to gush to their friends and family about right?

I'm ashamed to say so, but I'm going to admit on record now I'm actually not as angelic and tolerant as how I want people to believe and think of me as. My attempts at portraying a calm and composed front usually do not betrayed the fact that underneath the thinly-veiled surface, were all these roaring cacophony of thoughts and conflicting emotions ringing constantly within my head.

Sometimes, I think I'm going crazy. So I do what I can to help myself.

I sulk.

I love sulking.

Sulking is like second nature to me at times. And I only allowed it to show behind the safety of my closed doors. I pout my lips, bite it till it's swollen, tension puckering my forehead, do a little stomping exercise with my feet and sometimes grumbled to my stuffed bears. I don't do the throwing of things around act, as the cleaning up is really too much of a hassle to do later. (I can never comprehend people who throw plates around and then have to go to Takashimaya to get a new set.)

Sometimes, I'll burst into tears even. I can't help it.I have to vent it out somehow right?

Plus, I swear my tear ducts seemed to be lacking an off button now. Somehow, one way or another, the tears just start welling up and I try so hard to stop them by thinking about puppies or the hundred uses for Vaseline, the 100% pure petroleum jelly (1.apply on minor cuts or burns 2.use to tame flyaway hair 3.tame unruly eyebrows 4...). But they always come eventually, even if I stop them midway after a tear or two had glided down my cheeks, they returned to me later in the night.

And it's ridiculous now.

For no apparent reason, I felt like crying and yelling when I was biting into my Top chocolate bar the other day. I had to suck it up and focused all my attention on the crunchy bits of my choc bar and tried to memorize the exact shape so that if you get me to replicate it now, I am able to sketch it out for you immediately. It finally stopped after I convinced myself that throwing a fit in the parking lot of my school is just going to gain me the reputation of a nutty recluse who yelled at her choc bar and stomped on it later.

So, I walked myself over to Little India and sat down in one of those dirty greasy unnamed Indian coffee shops and ordered a cup of tea. Amongst the blustering crowd and loud incomprehensible Hindi music in the background, I finally found calm and quiet in myself. The nice Indian man with his indecipherable accent at the counter even taught me what a vadai was and how to cook and eat it.

So, I was thinking. Maybe this is the new cure for my temper and emotional turmoils?


Dear friends, please note that these are not frequent occurrences. I have not be able to lay a finger on the exact cause but am feeling better since the last incident. So there is no cause for you to feel alarmed that I am displaying schizophrenic-like behavior here.