Christmas

Merry Christmas

It's 4:40am and I'm feeling awfully lonely.
I wish this wasn't so

Mellow ruts and progress potholes

I'm losing myself, and the mental formation of what I once considered to shape and mold my entire existence. I've become a hypocrite, a sniveling and repulsive representation of what I've always despised and haughtily scorned. Aside from the inkling that this oncoming tirade stems from the uncontrollable secretion of hormones that - yes - occur during that time of month, I cannot help but go with the flow (pun unintended) of my thoughts and attempt to resuscitate my waning eloquence.

Yesterday during class, my friend warily mentioned how strange and "mellow" I seemed, how different I was. I recall that moment specifically because I had no idea what she meant. Before I met with her suspicious and surprisingly hurtful gaze, I had felt the same as I always did, felt as though I was portraying the same me. But when the realization of the meaning behind her words hit home, that simple statement depressed me beyond anything I've encountered in a long time. Like a broken traffic light, there it was flashing in front of my eyes, crippling my smiles and further darkening the night. And that was this: I've become weakened by my circumstances, weakened by my very own happiness.

No, that was not an intended oxymoron in any sense. A life without obstacles breeds a weakened and naive mind, I've always been advised. My life - as of this moment - contains no unmanageable obstacles, no impossibly large hurdles to overcome. And I've sunk into this pothole and made myself warm and comfortable. It's disgusting how happy I've become. Odd you may find my choice of words, but I mean what I write. The past contains traumatizing experiences, ones I cannot easily forget, and for some reason, I cannot let go of the idea that I do not deserve the happiness that has been bestowed upon me.

I've managed to fall head-over-heels for a boy, who is everything I wished for and more. And I've found that a large part of my world and my path, the individual path we all travel on to our end, has become intertwined with his. With him, I am wholly and "incandescently" happy. Though it has only been six short months, I have never felt more safe or more loved with anyone else in the entire world, and all I really want every day is to have him hug me tight and tell me 'everything will be alright'. I've also found that all I ever want to do is spend time with him, just the two of us or with certain very close friends - just like those kinds of couples I've always despised, the ones who neglect everyone else for each other. I never understood before this.

Yet, even as I write these words, realism seeps in and I know that I am still only a kid with my whole life ahead of me. However much he means to me, the chances that this will remain as pristine and unchanged as it is now is realistically unlikely. I feel like House, with his propensity to pick out only failures and endings. I am in love, but I cannot stop thinking about the end, cannot stop thinking about when my heart will be broken. So I continue to mentally prepare myself for when he tells me he cheated on me with an ex, or that he's leaving me because he can't handle my temper tantrums. My subconscious does the same through my dreams and nightmares. And while we may hang on for the time being, there is always the reality that I still have countless years of school left and that he doesn't live here. Without him here, my thoughts turn against him in an attempt of self-protection from future pain.

Part of this anguish that characterizes this entry arises from how I find myself to be so damn pathetic by needing him so much. I never meant to fall so hard and so fast. What I really need is a purpose, something to take my mind off of all this contentment and complacency. I seem to have misplaced my once so concretely set purpose. I have to stop being pathetic. I need to hang out with friends more. I have to stop being a hypocrite. I have to help my parents financially. I have to be independent. I have to grow up. I have to progress.

I've made it a habit to write on this blog only in times of utter despair and anger.
This must change.

But it appears as though my eloquence only feeds off my depressed and disjointed thoughts.

A crying shame

Sometimes I don't know
if you're the best thing that ever happened to me,
or if I deserve more than this.

How can you love, if you can't love yourself?

Old habits die hard. Will I ever be rid of this crippling self-deprecation? My mind has been set on this automatic route for far too long, and I fear I will never overcome this. Tell me, how do you learn to love yourself?

in all honesty, with my heart laid bare for anyone to see.

I don't understand how to accept myself. to feel worth something. My childhood was plagued with this insecurity. But it has followed me here and now.

I can pretend. I can hope. I can brag about my future aspirations, but I can't lie to myself. I can't reach my goals. no matter how hard I try. They say never compare yourself to others, but it's human nature. There are so many people smarter than me, more capable... luckier. How do you compete with the world?

Sometimes these thoughts overwhelm me and I'm reduced to the tearful, vulnerable child I have been trying to escape since I caught up with happiness. Fatigue brings out the demons I keep carefully hidden away and it scares me. I hate feeling this way, this inadequacy and incompetence. I despise how small incidences can tear down my carefully constructed facade.

I've given up before; no, I'm not ready to give up again.
but it's hard.
and sometimes I'm just so tired of it all
the world has burnt me out

pretend, if only I could pretend it all away

Have you ever been alone in a crowded room?

"At night when all the eyes of this city are closed, I somehow always manage to be the only soul left to absorb the loneliness. It scares me how my insomnia hits whenever I wish to [or can] sleep. It occurred to me just now that all the darkness in my past, all the lonely and empty thoughts, and all the cold and hard character flaws stem from these black midnight hours."

He's asleep next to me, his rhythmic breathing doing nothing to soothe the tumultuous thoughts that threaten to break the barriers restraining my tears. The words above were taken from my phone, the only means I had of recording my 4am thoughts.

My thoughts had spanned the length of 10 text messages, but as fate enjoys to mess with me, my phone decided to shut down on me. Along with the glare of the screen, my previously recorded thoughts faded away into the dark room.

I started this post with a well-formulated idea of what to write. Now, either the annoyingly moral dialogue of the Disney channel movie I have playing in the background or else the intimidating call of the puzzle I decided to embark on earlier this night has pushed the words out. Or maybe I am just tired.

So much has begun, and yet nothing has been finished.
But why should I care if my posts follow predefined rules?
I write what I will.

Sunday, June 14, 2009. 4:13am
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Ironic manifestations

It's a persistent problem this constant flow of thoughts through my mind. Like the incessant babbling of a lonely friend, the words trip and stumble over themselves, creating havoc and chaos to what could have been a smooth ride. With this very post itself, I feel as though I'm further perpetuating my troubled thoughts by allowing this tangible manifestation to come to being. For me, the cup always seems to remain half-empty. And though I lie and convince myself that, yes, the cup is half-full, the foolish realization that I'm simply lying to myself and that no one really cares never ceases to drop all my pretensions.

For once however, my pessimism is shaped not from actions of my own, but rather the actions (or the lack of) of others. This time, self-deprecating comments don't apply. Like the allegory of an ambitious, filled-with-potential individual stranded in the midst of a town that can no longer provide anything of substance, and yet fighting with all their strength to move on to greater things, my experience seems to tell me that I reached the invisible boundaries of that town. But I can't push through. The whispered words of the attractive town in the hazy background calls to me, and in my weakened state, the sound is appealing.

Though my portrayal is hopelessly depressing, I had not meant for it to be this way. Perhaps the town is all I needed. Sometimes I wish it gave more and received less though. For in my viewpoint, all my efforts and deeds warrant nothing in return. Maybe I am too nice. While that isn't something that ought to induce shameful head hanging, there is a limit to it I suppose. I've allowed many to walk over me and take advantage of my desire to help others. Something that needs to be put on the "To change" list of myself.

Sometimes I just wish that the world would returned the favor.
I'm sitting and waiting, each day losing a fraction of the hope that I regained over these past years. Heavy winds are always just on the outskirts of my well-built mental walls, but I won't let them in. Never again. Balance is really all I'm searching for, balance and a drop of appreciation.

Hit the broken pause button. What started has yet to be ended, and this post will be continued.