Excuse me,

Do pardon my non-AFF-related rambling here. Just a little something I notice about myself recently.. A little (too) personal, but this is the only place I actually get to ramble without being judged too much, so I'm sorry if you feel a little uncomfortable reading this.

I will do a little... Self-psychoanalysis.. If you may.. I'm a Counselling student. I can't help it. *shrugs*

I'm sure some of you know, my favourite kind of story is the one that stirs all sorts of emotions in you and just make you weep like a pathetic baby.

I have always said I love stories with abusive characters, but recently (more like a few days ago) I found out that I don't just like those abuse stories, but I prefer stories that really stir all sorts of unwanted emotions in you. And I cry. Like a baby. I kid you not when I say I cry really easily when I read stories.

Susan Elizabeth Phillips is a because some - if not all - of her books make me cry. And I love reading her books. I just finished reading Kiss An Angel a second time (in less than a year, which really says a lot considering I don't read any book more than once within a span of at least 3 years). The first time I read that book I cried, and the second time I read that book I.... Cried...

So yeahh.. I'm a crybaby when it comes to books. I guess you could say I really dive into the book once I start. See the bad news is, I read in public. So can you imagine the looks I get when I suddenly tear up while reading?

Back to my psychoanalysis, I realise that I cry easier when I'm PMS-ing or... Recently..

I wasn't that much of a crybaby, but these few months I have been crying way too easily. When I look back on it, I realise that it could be the fact that in real life, I don't let myself cry that easily. I don't even allow any negative emotion to invade my thoughts at all times, so all these emotions are almost always pushed all the way back and deep inside.

I am detached (not so much estranged as distanced) from my family, I constantly feel patronised and I feel like I hardly have much say, if any. My mum talks to me, yes, but it feels like she does not support or like the choices I make. My dad says he doesn't really care about my choices, but it seems he, too, is not very happy with my choices. My siblings sometimes talk to me in a condescending tone. More often than not they ignore or exclude me in family discussions. They will discuss, decide, and then they tell me to follow. I work in a school so my leaves are best taken during the term/semestral break. My younger sister works shift and her leaves are in blocks (a few days leave at a time). My elder brother does not really have to follow a certain timing to take leaves. My younger brother is schooling, but his breaks are different from mine. It seems that no one gives any or much regard to me, My brother is allowed to not follow because he has activities. I am expected to take leave even though they know my situation.

Despite all these, I force myself to ignore and pretend it's not happening. I know I am distant, but I pretend it's only because we're all growing up, or we just don't see each other that often.

My best friend is another matter altogether, and I'm stil chiding myself for being petty considering she deserves her happiness but sometimes I just can't help that feeling.

I feel helpless.

But I force any negativity away from me and refuse to cry. I mentally kick myself when I tear up.

The only negative feelings I allow myself is at work. When colleagues are not co-operative, and the things get a little hectic, I allow myself that small little tantrum I throw every now and then, but even then, it's not so serious. People know my tantrums or anger usually don't last long. It's not as personal, therefore as close to the heart as family or friends, so I allow that little bit of anger to seep in every now and then, just to make me sane.

So when I tell people I'm content with my life but not happy, they wonder why. When I tell them what I really feel, they get a little surprised. They've always seen me smiling, and they get stunned when I tell them all these.

I wonder if you're as surprised as them, reading this. Hmm..

So anyway, I'm guessing the reason I love reading stories that incite sadness and tears is because of all that above. Because I don't allow myself the freedom to cry in real life, I subconsciuosly seek solace in books or stories. I wouldn't feel so weak crying over a book as compared to crying over something more close to heart. Like I refuse to acknowledge that I am feeling lost, insecure and alone, and because of that refusal, I look for books instead to allow myself to cry. Everytime something bad happens that makes me cry, I look for a really sad book so that consciously, I know that I'm crying because of the storyline, and it does not make me feel so weak. On the other hand, maybe subconsciously, I'm really crying because of that situation I'm in, but because I don't allow myself that notion, I find comfort in thinking I'm crying because of the book, and that I'm still a strong person.

I could be wrong, though, I don't know. I'm not a psychologist or a counsellor, and I don't intend on being one (not full-time at least) (even though I'm studying it *shrugs*) It's just a little reflection and observation I made of myself.

Once again, sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable.

love,

EFJ