| name | value |
| location | Melbourne |
| date | 2025-10-31 |
| dateFormat | dd-mmm-yyyy |
| slug | 2025October |
十月一日
A lot has happened today, a lot, and I want to write them all down before they dissolve in this haze. I already was losing them.
It is always in hindsight, do I realise I have been having a mania episode. Utterly disoriented, dissociated, I for multiple moments could not even make out where I am. The reality has become unreality, and I feel it.
The last three weeks or so I felt I was out of the cloudiness and was perfectly lucid. I feel I am losing that lucidity again.
Luckily, my new GP is actually knowledgeable and I feel I can trust him. I am ready to tackle my mental ailments with a different approach—a scientific one (after all these years) rather than just a philosophical one on its own.
Noodz liked my stories.
From that point on I think my reality started to get muddled and I started dissociating. In Sean’s van I told him I for a moment really could not tell where I was and what my reality was.
十月二日
As I was leaving my apartment, I told A the reason I agreed to this was that I wanted to be there, I wanted to help. I think if I could be of any help I would feel better myself as well, even though I already got over it—especially after that dream therapy my brain conducted for itself. Reading her posts filled me with empathy but partly also guilt.
I was firmly reminded that I shouldn’t feel guilty—it was Lawrence who withheld the information from both of us.
We sat in the empty living room of my new apartment, eating the food I paid for from a place I picked. Somehow I felt this sisterly urge to do these things for her.
After we sat down and talked more, I understood why—I noticed quite some parts of my younger self in her, and I could clearly also see the difference. Just as a week ago I eventually clocked in the fact that Lawrence is nearly three years younger than me, and is a man—should I even be surprised? Even if he truly loved me as so he claimed a million times, he could still be this man-child, immature and irresponsible.
In the eight and a half hours we sat there and talked, I have finally gained enough information to solve the puzzle. The question that has long bothered me, has a clear answer now.
Another lesson learnt: when it comes to people, I should actually always, always trust my intuition and analytical skills, lean on my sensitivity, even though sometimes the person is so well performed that no surface-level evidence can be found. Or, no solid evidence hasn’t been found only because I haven’t started looking as I haven’t decided to stop trusting.
It put things into perspective seeing the person Lawrence had spent the last four years with.
As she told me the things about Lawrence, his true colour I suspected but never could prove, finally revealed.
I felt blessed that I decided to steer away from romantic relationships after ZY and spent those developmental years on nothing but educating myself. The things I have seen and learnt shaped and consolidated me. I felt blessed that when life got challenging and rocky, I had turned to books, and I had friends to help when I really needed them.
At one point I was so worried that I was becoming someone like S. With all the information now having understood Lawrence‘s true colour it turned out he was just like S, only worse, this whole time. No wonder he had to run away. He could not keep up with his lies, his performance of pretending to be someone he wasn’t, of hiding himself. He could not keep up especially not in front of me, my discernment, my directness. I called him out, didn’t let any of his bullshit slip.
All the lies, one by one, now finally with evidence to prove that they were nothing but really lies. One by one, unfolding right there in front of me.
From listening to Noodz all my suspicions were validated. The way she spoke and texted, the things she talked about—Lawrence and her are almost just one person.
At times when she said the same things as Lawrence once mentioned but failed to elaborate, I refrained my urge to challenge her or correct her like I did Lawrence—she is not my enemy and she did not need education from me. I called out Lawrence‘s bullshit because we were friends and because I could not stand mansplaining.
Despite that I at multiple times felt very sorry for myself that I didn’t have the privileged support system as they did, it was only today from talking to her I very vividly realised that the privileged they had were birth rights, but my privileges stand longer throughout my adulthood in my education, in the resources I actively seek for myself. I’m self made, yes. But I am self made and I’m very proud of this self. I am glad that alternative to their lives, I spent the last decade educating myself, improving myself in every aspect, in maths, through reading, through seeing the world and immersing myself in arts.
I cannot be fooled by fools. My knowledge bank is abundant that unlike Noodz, I cannot even be wooed by Lawrence‘s so-called talents because honestly, he doesn’t have even a distinctive style, let alone talents. I cannot romanticise him in this way and his intelligence is way below me. These are all my privileges. I usually don’t even pay attention to them as I view everyone equally and I respect individual‘s learning and living experiences. It’s only when their own sense of inferiority gets in the way am I forced to recognise it.
That’s sad.
Because I actually never looked down at him for these reasons. But now I kind of have to.
I realised that because of these things I didn’t even like him that much, and that was why I let us get into a romantic relationship because he was turning out to be actually boring.
He lied about reading. That’s one of the first lies I could easily tell but decided to let slip. It was only a tip of the iceberg.
I didn’t fear losing him, so we got into a romantic relationship. And now I lost him. Rather, he lost me.
十月三日
I try to understand all this complicated negative emotion. Besides anger, why am I still feeling a strong angst; where is it coming from?
Is it guilt? Why do I immediately want to blame things on myself again, when every single evidence has proven me right and him in the wrong, handling things in the worst way possible? If so, then I should really stop feeling guilty because there is nothing I’m guilty of.
Is it shame? Am I worried about my self-image? Somehow that the fact that I actually had done nothing wrong but have been used and now antagonised and certain people involved would thing I was the crazy, horrible one? Maybe. But do I really care? Not really. The people would think this way would be at most Lawrence himself, his flatmate who I didn’t quite like anyway given his treatment of me as of late, Noodz potentially for whom I have more empathy than anything, Eli perhaps, the kid who has lied to me also several times anyway. Then actually I don’t care. Also if it’s only my self image, I know I am not a person who’s so egoistic that hurting a self image would really get to me. My mora compass is so grounded I know what is right and what is wrong. I don’t need to prove anything.
十月四日
I wish the drug has already started working because I’m seeing myself going through this mania episode, speaking too much, trusting people who I shouldn’t have trusted, and then regretting.
十月六日
Big beach walk The day before the full moon— tides rushing ashore tides rising in my body. ice cream melting in the city heat, Indonesian food so spicy it numbs thoughts. None of it was ever special. It was the one who romanticised it all who made promises wrapped in that romance— then betrayed every word he spoke. Every single word, was nothing but lies.
He now could not even pick up the phone More lies in silence
十月七日
My heart is full.
In spite of all my dissatisfaction with our life together, the profound trust I placed in her had remained alive in me until the day when, deranged and sick, in an at of sudden desertion and wild rebellion, she abandoned me. And I realised how much I must have loved her, how deeply I must have trusted her for her breach of trust to have such a grave and lifelong impact on me.
Did I ever experience such level of fulfilment when I was with Lawrence? Over and over again I asked myself this question. Even during the best days, I would rather have a meaningful deep conversation with A about absolutely everything, than checking my phone for his messages.
Though I did form a habit of checking for his messages.
I remember the day J and I were having a writing session and I had to leave J for Lawrence as we were going to climb together. I was fuelled by the stimulating discussion with J and was so happy. Even though I did still want to see Lawrence and want his company, I never really got the same level of stimulation from him. At least not of the intellectual type.
It seemed to me that Maria was the first woman I had really loved. I had always demanded a degree of intellect and education from the women I loved, without ever fully noticing that even the most intellectual and relatively best-educated woman never responded to the Logos in me, but rather clashed with it. I used always to take my problems and ideas along with me to my rendezvous with women, and it would have seem quite impossible for me to spend longer than an hour loving any woman who had scarcely read a book, hardly knowing what reading meant, or was unable to tell the difference between a Tchaikovsky and a Beethoven. Maria had no education. She had no need of such diversions or surrogate words because all her problems were directly sensuous in origin. Her art, her mission in life, consisted in striving to achieve as mush as sensual and sexual happiness as was humanly possible, in seeking and enticing from her partner in love — by means of the senses she had been endowed with, her exceptional figure, her colourings her hair, her voice, her skin, her vivacity — a sympathetic response and a lively, gratifying counter-play to everything she was capable of, to every apple adjustment of her curves, every extremely delicate modulation of her body.
I always knew that Lawrence didn’t read and he lied about it all the time. I knew he felt inferior in spite of my actively trying to not ever make general erudition and perspicacity in arts even remotely a big deal. He always lied about having seen or heard of the things I brought up. How pathetic. I never even needed him to be my intellectual equal.
Though yet again, rereading Steppenwolf this time confirms that my life is nowhere near being original. Also again, I am grateful that a writer like Hermann Hesse had written about these experiences and thoughts in such a refined and accurate way that I know where to go if I seek understanding.
The sensual experiences with Lawrence were indisputably new and wonderful. I didn’t know I wanted them until I have now lived those moments and I do still crave that tenderness in our caresses. He told me nobody had kissed him the way I did. I didn’t tell him that I also never kissed anybody the way I did him.
Undeniably it was thrilling to love this way and I could never forget how it felt. Imagine now loving a healthy person.
Noodle called Lawrence an easy-to-love person. I didn’t think I agreed, but I also couldn’t fully disagree for the mere fact that I did love him so dearly and deeply.
If anything I think N is easy to love. I am easy to love—am I not?
I am so grateful that N and Y entered my life at the start of this year and slowly we built and deepened our friendships.
After I recounted some parts of the conversation with Noodle, N exclaimed that how unloved she must have been, to still fall back into the same pit, calling him her soulmate after all of this bullshit. Then I again saw it very clearly: I was once also this utterly unloved person, concerningly troubled and lost. Though fortunately, Fei has been the one who showed me love and told me over and over again that I will have more love, more people will love me, and she never betrayed me.
N pointed out to me that very likely Lawrence was trying to boost his ego for precisely how smart he saw I am and to him conquering a person like me would help him overcome his sense of inferiority. I agreed with her and was glad that she also saw it this way, because that was exactly how I felt later in our relationship when he kept bringing up the whole “I don’t have a single degree” thing. I told him not to worry at the time and say between us the average number of degrees is still very decent.
It is interesting to see how at this stage of life, men are more afraid of me rather than me them, just because how discernible I am and how outspoken and grounded my moral compass is. Narcissists and psychopaths alike very quickly learn that they can not control me like they do others using their usual ticks and tactics, and they cannot get away with things with me calling out their nonsense and bullshit pretty much always immediately. So they always run away. I kind of enjoy this, even though the actual journey is painful but at the end of the day, I like how my education and self awakening have equipped me with these soft powers and I feel truly independent as a person of my own. This is also something certainly coming from age. I enjoy being (nearly) 30.
十月十二日
中文寫作還是英文寫作，好像單純只取決於當下哪種語言的使用頻率更高。
最近說了很多中文。
五月的一篇長日記，在痛經最嚴重的那天寫下。昏迷和清醒的沈浮之間，努力記下來那個滿月前後我，以及我和L。
給L看的時候，我幾乎猜不到他究竟在想什麼。反倒是他問我，你真的不知道滿月下我在想什麼嗎。
很多問題答案已經明晰得不能夠更明晰。一個我不曾問的問題卻忽然變得模糊了起來。
從始至終我沒有懷疑過L的愛，即使口頭上說「他其實沒有真的愛過我」的時候我也知道只不過這個答案更能解釋他的行為，也更容易讓我狠下心來重新出發不再回頭看。
但打心底裡，我知道他愛的時候，也是真的愛了。雖然可能只是表演型人格把自己都騙過去了，但如果他也對此深信不疑，我也無法替他決定他其實不曾愛過。
是哪個時刻他決定不愛了？好像那些時刻，是我親手製造的。我反反覆覆回憶他的每一個回應每一個表情，我已經沒辦法跳脫出這個結論了——是我親手把他給自己創造的這個愛的幻想給打破了。我不由得又開始質疑自己：我為何不更有耐心，我為何不更包容，我為何不更成熟地處理問題？
用「他不值得」來解釋我的消極在我看來也是懶惰的。
我必須承認，我也只是愛了一個幻想，而我也無法長久地把自己囿於那個幻想裡。
Y說二月好像沒有看到我的日記。其實三月也寫得很少。另一個本子裡，只有二月二十八日，我們第一次去吃冰激淋，在小公園裡聊天，回家後我只寫下一句話: I think he likes me.
最好的時候，並沒有寫下來。分開後，它們在每一個突如其來的閃回時刻，像箭雨襲來。
新家的陽台看下去能看到我們曾經坐過的長椅。那天我們說過的話。然後呢，在那之前，在那之後，是什麼？我不記得了。
Y也說，沒有看到我寫下親密的時刻。當時我說，我還無法寫下它們——僅僅是閃回的時候被迫想起，已經能讓我痛得眩暈，更別說細細回憶然後寫下來了。
今晨回憶起我們的第一個吻，已經可以不再痛了。
也許可以慢慢地，都不再痛了。慢慢地，我想都能寫下來。那些安靜的，溫柔的，熾熱的，潮濕的，磅礡的，明亮的，我都不想忘。
他頻繁在我家留宿那段時間我用的洗衣液，搬沙發的時候不知怎的就弄丟了。意識到的時候心裡長舒一口氣：至少不會再因為聞到床上那個跟他已經連繫在一起的味道而沮喪不已了。
新家的臥房不再能偷到路燈的光，我也不用再每一個轉身側睡的時刻被迫想念他在我狹小的單人床上，緊緊貼著我，暖光下金色的身體。
窗台不再對著他每次來停車的地方，也看不到街道，不用再下意識地閱讀每一輛紅車的車牌。
Thinking about C. How we had this wonderful day, doing my favourite walk & talk. I cannot love a person who does not walk & talk with me. That is my love language.
The physical intimacy with L was pleasurable, but every time after we spent a night together I felt disconnected and distant. I wanted us to share thoughts and steps, not just our bodies.
A priori, I do the same thing and speak the same way with friends and lovers. The path only forks depending on the other person‘s interpretation and then I mirror the energy and expectations.
Do I crave physical affection or hate it? I vividly remember that morning when Fei‘s alarm set off. I woke up and naturally turn around and hugged her, resting my head against her body.
I did feel it was a muscle memory from sleeping with L in my tiny little Lego bed. But how come I’ve formed such a muscle memory just for those days while I’ve refused to sleep with anybody for nearly 10 years?
十月十三日
Writing is good, thinking is better. Being smart is good, being patient is better.
My reading streak finally broke off. 112 days. 112 days of torture and subsequent search for consolation in books. 112 days of my life lived in distraught. 112 days of loving and missing a person I should not have loved and missed. 112 days of precious time that I should have spent elsewhere.
And now it is all over. I finally do not care to stalk his page. I no longer feel any pain when I recall moments and words between us. The flashbacks only scratch the surface of my mind and do not hurt me as much.
Just as he used me as his third place to heal from leaving Noodle, I had also my third places. One of them is now my first place—my new home. I have been making new friends, seeing new dates, reconnecting with old acquaintances, exploring new possibilities. Now, he is merely a past. A dead lover. A ghost.
十月十四日
Last week at dinner, N looked at me in the eyes and said, I understand what you are saying but I love you, please don’t die.
I have no self-awareness of how I control my facial expressions but in my mind I tried to look unswayed. I was touched.
Seeing her today livened me again. I do not know how I would keep living were it not for these people in front of whom I do my best to not be a burden and appear functional. Fake it until you make it, they say. And it works.
In my memory I was a lot more selfish when I was younger. I do not know when and how that has changed. With that change I am now a lot more vulnerable, prone to alexithymia for simply there are too many emotions crushing in at the same time.
There are so many things I need to do if I want to keep on living this life, but I have the energy for none.
Or, is it simply because my mania phase has past so that I feel this way?
Speaking of alexithymia, what is this vexation I am feeling right now?
I think there is an element of sadness, as the urge to cry was building up. I might also be feeling some angst? Looking it up in the chart of emotional wheel, I guess I feel frustrated, disappointed at myself. Self-loathing? But now what do I do with them?
十月十五日
During the days Lawrence and I were seeing each other, he told me countless times that he found me beautiful and he was physically attracted to me. I was never once swayed.
I did hold tightly on to the handful times when he said he liked my mind.
Taking so much pride in the way I think and perceive the world, it is all the more important for me to be seen this way. I think that’s why I like C so much. Our conversations were always interesting and intellectually stimulating. We love each other’s curiosities.
I can finally write down those intimate moments without feeling hurt.
We made love in the morning light. The balcony door is a floor to ceiling glass, facing north. Even with the curtain mostly down, my bedroom was filled with light. We saw each other so clearly. The light gold fine hair glinting over his damp body. Mine dark, forming a swirl on my back—so I was told, when he was kissing me from behind.
At one point his eyes were fixated on our private parts, obsessed, he acclaimed: aesthetically we are so compatible.
We were.
十月十七日
我在尋找一種寧靜。昨日暖風下「小區」裡的音樂裡也不受打擾的我，感受到了一種寧靜。但不是那一種。繼而我意識到，我需要一刻獨處的時間，我需要閱讀，我需要寫作。
我需要不與人說話，需要不受回應。
我需要和躁期時渴求的和行駛的，一切相反的東西。
十月十八日
昨天不僅沒能夠及時醒來去接臨時安排的CRT，醒來的時候心很沈重因為又做了很糟糕的夢。
真的不知道腦子到底想幹嘛。
最開始的時候我試圖從另一個角度看L的事情——他打破了我的寧靜但也只能說這份寧靜是我自欺欺人的歲月靜好，其實早就大廈將傾。
交論文之前我給自己安排了很多事情因為我知道交完論文我會陷入危險的境地。的確，安排的和沒安排到的一切推著我很精力充沛地跑了二十天了。好像什麼都可以好起來的樣子。
實際上我只感到疲憊。
這不就又回到，假裝什麼事情都沒有、一切都還好的狀態嗎？
根本的問題一個都沒有解決。
而且真的很累。有時候會很困惑，這一刻的我是哪個我？這是我嗎？好像一個假人。
I remember when we first touched. I remember your tremble under my fingertips.
十月十九日
There were so many things I didn’t write down because I was too busy enjoying the moments themselves, and then talking to you about it. Later they became open wounds I could not write them down as it would hurt too much I would not be able to endure.
Finally I can now revisit those memories without unbearable pain.
I have long lost count of how many times I wrote „I miss you, I miss us, I miss our past and our future“.
我頻繁在夢裡哭的時候，總有時候把臉埋在別人的手掌裡。夢裏有時候忽然切換視角，變成別人把臉埋在我的手掌裡哭。
睫毛滑過手心的觸感，像毛茸茸的小鳥。
好脆弱好純粹的無辜的東西。人忽然有了殺死什麼的權力。The banality of one‘s power to kill.
我說《夢》那部電影就給我這種感覺。
清醒這刻，我把臉埋在自己的手掌裡哭。如果殺死自己就像殺死一隻剛出生的小東西一樣簡單就好了。
十月二十一日
今日見J。（我喜歡這個句式。）還是那樣的期待和喜悅。我們保持安全距離。我希望能從偶爾的擁抱裡，傳達出我對他的喜愛。
Thinking about Lawrence‘s indecent behaviours made me feel sick, actually sick. A churn in my stomach.
十月二十三日
去冰箱拿豆奶的時候，瞥見五石給我的留言，「吃好喝好 你好」。再經過時還是這幾個字，它好像一直定在那個頁面了。打開app我才知道原來是低電量進入了節能模式。
昨天我說我最近在低能模式。
諮商師說這是你的low days？她表情充滿訝異。可她為什麼還是不知道我積蓄多久才能擺出這樣的樣子去見她？
Life sweeps me around and I just let the external to made decisions for me.
I fear it’s pushing me away from maths.
C and I went for a walk and we talked about serious matters. She cried. I didn’t know what to do. I kept reaching out my hand and taking it back. At one point I stuttered, “Can I …? Do you …? Can we …?” And she looked at me with her watery eyes and gave a mini nod. I held her. I didn’t do much else but just held her.
十月二十九日
被告知，Lawrence已經有新的女友。新藥大概是管用的，我沒有太大的波動。這兩天還是會想起愛的一切，但也沒有被擊敗。只是，關於愛的記憶，我已經不知道該怎麼重新塑造了。
十月三十日
不知道怎麼面對新生活。
我現在真的知道愛是什麼了，我也知道該怎麼去愛了。愛是尊重，是理解，是走很遠的路也要找到這裡，是在很難過很難過的時候也不放棄。
愛人和愛生命，沒有那麼多不同。
愛一件事，愛一個事業。
但痛也是真的痛啊！原來在這個大家都在把淤泥當作愛的地方，要這樣去愛是一件這麼危險的事情。人真的會碎得血肉模糊。但還好，還好，在每個年紀經歷的事情和做出的選擇都不一樣。此後，我不要淤泥，我也不要生產淤泥。
我也不要放棄愛。