Mirrors

I started today by looking at myself in the mirror after two hours of
attempting to get online and also after I had to wake up at six am. My
English teacher, God rest her soul, used to tell me how we cry cos of
anger and not cos of sadness. That is extraordinarily true for me.
Never in my life have I cried cos of sadness. I cry cos I'm either
angry or happy. I think I take everything into anger but theoretically
it's quite correct.

So, I didn't cry while staring myself in the mirror but I wanted to
cos the whole connection attempts accumulated things I've bottled
inside. The "whys" I've ignored and chucked in the corner of my brain.
Why am I still single? Why am I jobless? Why am I still fat? Why did I
fuck up the application? Why am I here? Why do I have to sit
hopelessly in front of a laptop at six am in the morning and wait til
it was time to wake up when all I could view was the gmail inbox? Why
did I let my grandparents down? Why are they so good to me? Why can't
they get along with my mom if they are all good people? Why am I a
minority? Why am I gay? Why am I a Burmese who is so useless in Burma?
Why aren't we rich anymore? The list goes on.

I exited the bathroom with a huge sigh and just fell asleep for a
couple of hours before my gramps woke me up for lunch.

I went to hospital today and to my surprise and my granddad's and the
nurse's (yep, my favorite weight measuring nurse), I lost four pounds
in two days. I'm now 198 lbs and I was 202 lbs on Monday. It's true I
have been eating so few lately but I'm pretty sure it would be quite
normal to lose just one or two lbs but NOT four. I was happy. My wound
hasn't healed yet. Instead, it's produced some unhealthy tissues,
which the doctor had to chip away. Ok, it didn't hurt but when you
have your head turned the other way while the doctor poke things into
your hole (wound hole.. NOT THE ASSHOLE), you do feel like a wreck.
All I could think of was "Hostel" sequels, where they put their
victims in doubt of what's actually happening to their bodies while
the torture dude slice things off.

My sis and her hubby got back from Thailand today. She had lots of fun
there and she didnt really wanna come back. Wait til I ask her to come
to Sydney. She'd be in wonderland of freeness and good public
transports. Trust me, guys, here, transportations just suck ass.
Remember? Think "third world".

So, I ended the day by looking in the mirror. I was brushing my teeth
while I looked in the mirror and all of a sudden, I felt so sorry for
my grandparents. They're old and thank god they're healthy but they're
still having to take care of a grandson and a son who's sick in bed,
not to forget the other only walkable son (my dad) died ten years ago.
In other words, I was their only hope and my grandma knew I was gonna
only ask my mom and sis to come to Aussieland. But I've painted a new
picture now. I picture myself in a garden, with my mom, my sis, her
hubby, my boyfriend or even a wife since I'm quite amazed at how
straight relationships can be so healthy and quite NORMAL and my
grandparents. I am not really sure how my uncle's gonna hold up. Up
til now, he's one strong biyatch. I love him for that. He's so strong
minded and he's been in bed unable to walk for more than a decade and
yet he's the most sane person in our house. If only my gramps would
agree to make him come to Aussieland, I really hope I could ask all of
them to come to Australia. But then again, time and health wait for no
one. So, with as much hopelessness I've had from the internet
connection disability in the morning to this hopelessness I felt at
night about not being able to be the 'good' son, I sobbed a bit and
thought to myself how stupid the pimple on my eyelid looked. I don't
know.. I was just angry at myself. Now, I seem ok but I'm serious
about the mental picture I just described.

Mirrors do tell stories, the stories you could only get to know if you
could get to look at youself from the outside.