Selling yourself out

Ah shit!

Rolling uncontrollably downhill.

Been trying really hard not to get caught in this whirlwind that can only lead to destruction. Today for some reason I miss home. Wish I could go out for a movie with Murni, go out for dinner with the girls, go to klcc for a walkabout. Go into Zara and Topshop pretending like I can afford it. Get a pretzel from Auntie Annie's or whatever you call that place. Have 'Boss' nasi lemak from the bottom of the hill. Drive in my parents' Proton Waja until god knows what time in the early morning.

Life isn't fair. Some people live their life in one place forever and never have to feel like they didn't belong. Other people have to move so often that they have nothing left to remind them of their roots. With every move, you give away a little part of you. The old stuffed toys, old books, year books from school, clothes from the formative years...everything eventually gets given away until there is nothing left.

Everything is so new, so unfamiliar. Then one day you wake up and realize that your entire history has been wiped out. You don't exist anymore. The day I realized I sold myself out was about a year ago. At a garage sale, we were selling off a lot of our old stuff. This lady came by and picked out my charcoal sketch Bob Marley t-shirt which my dad bought for me on our trip to Thailand when I was a teenager. She bought it for $2. Was I crazy to have sold that bit of memory for such an insignificant amount of money? Now, do you get what I mean?

A movie years ago said that the reason why relationships are important is that we need someone there with us through life to validate our existence. If all of a sudden we perish, our memory will live on. We will not be gone forever. Guess this is the underlying explanation to the fear of dying alone. If I died today, who will remember me? What will I be remembered for? I am disturbed. Sad and disturbed.