it’s a sad thing to know that you have been pushed out of the position to make someone happy – the only relief is to know someone can replace you – but in that relief is pure pain and agony. I miss you.
I normally only write as a means to relieve myself of anguish or anger. But maybe it’s time to put down in words the positives of life.
I appreciate being able to wake up and look out to the world, with its green and blue horizon. Being able to witness the human race going about its daily life and being a part of it. I appreciate being able to appreciate. I appreciate words and I appreciate you reading this. I appreciate having parents I look up to very much and appreciate how they have raised me. I appreciate having siblings that I know would be there for me, though I try not to have to have someone to have to be there. I appreciate silence and I appreciate the breeze. The sun, rain and all its glory. I appreciate my able limbs and able mind. I appreciate emotions – that every living soul has them. I appreciate that I can look at a human, a tortoise or a cat and being able to feel connected. I appreciate it.
I woke up today and looked out to the world and I appreciate it.
I always have, and always will.
Let not sadness succumb me. Please.
I’m unsure of how long I can last. To hurt and to be hurt. Although pain is relative, it is truth. And to trivialize and compare pain is inhumane. The death of a loved one is equal to a child’s first cut – if the child says so.
If your body didn’t demand that you need sleep, would you still sleep?
I don’t think I would and that scares me.
It makes me realize the height of my discontent with the here and now. That I can’t afford to waste time – that I must use each and every second I have to pave the way to a happier future. I can’t seem to accept this seemingly slow but truthfully vicious transition into adulthood – and all the nasties that come with it. To realize that stereotypes are there for a reason – because men will actually always be men. To realize that no one appreciates or cares. To know that you are not that special – even to yourself. Honestly, it depresses me. And I try to console myself – chanting like a mantra “it will get better if you can get out, get out, get out.” But I know it’s not true. I know it. To find yourself in a horrible mess without ever having evil intentions – it just happened that way. To want nothing but to escape yet knowing that the same shit would happen irregardless of where I am or who I meet. Every 4 years on average I move countries, schools, faces. It’s become a habit, just a matter of fact. That my anchor was cut loose a while ago.
Dreamers truly are the saddest people out there. Those who have it good are living their dreams – they managed to convert. Their dreams are now their reality. Those who don’t dream – well, nothing really matters does it.
But it’s the dreamers. Those who wake up everyday with that spark within them that they believe “Today is the day. Today I make a change. Today.” They go to sleep at night feeling lost and unsettled. They can’t seem to shake it off. They have such big, grand and seemingly unreachable goals set for themselves. But they can’t help it. They can’t go through the day without making a conscious effort to make that day count. They realize that the sum of a few wasted days is innumerable and unquantifiable.
They have the biggest smiles and optimism – but they are the saddest bunch.
Sometimes, I wish society hadn’t evolved the way it has. That we wouldn’t be so scared and paranoid. That we could be kind to each other without second guessing what everyone’s motives were. That I could tell a stranger who just walked in my life that I appreciate them – that I don’t think of them as a stranger. That the smallest acts and the shortest words actually mean a lot more than they probably should. I wish I could let them know that they have all played a role in shaping me as a person, every single smile or frown, compliment or insult. I wish they all knew that I could never put into words just how much it means when they share a piece of themselves with me. I wish for all of this without having to doubt or worry about appearing as an oversentimental creep. And I wish that people could do the same to me, without me thinking of it wrongly too. Because, sometimes, that’s all we need. That assurance of what people think of you. To feel understood and to confirm the thoughts you imprison within yourselves. To hear those words said to you – “You are appreciated. You mean something to me. You are loved.”
Because, sometimes, that’s all we need to save ourselves.
Solitude is apparently what I need,
But solitude is all I’ve been having.
Kept inside, frustrated. Fuck.
Be at peace with yourself. Take care of yourself. Be okay with yourself.
Before you feel yourself slip too far away.
More and more I see myself swirling down a stream into chronic depression – and no one seems to understand. Is it just a phase?
I am not perfect. Nobody is.
I’m struggling. I know I’m lost, but I also know that that only means I have to try and find my way. I feel comfortable in this. That this is my journey and that I didn’t have a predetermined future. My faith is far beyond shaken, but I choose to believe in God. For some reason, no matter how many times I’ve felt strongly against the concept of religion, I do feel a strong connection to this idea of a single God. I may see innocent people get killed and the bad get rewarded, and I endlessly question the reason behind this, but God is there. I don’t know, I just can’t shake that feeling off and I’m glad. I think it brings me comfort.
I must admit though – I question life. I question its purpose and my own purpose of having a life. Is it fair to think that perhaps the ego of humans is the only thing that made us believe that we even have the right to question the purpose of life? Do insects question their purpose? Or even cells. They are living beings too. I wonder.
And I wonder, why. Why do we see good people get beat down? I have turned into a pessimist who regularly uses the word “fuck” in daily conversations. I can’t help it. I’m saturated with despair, anger and frustration. I would like to label myself as a good person but I know I am far from it. Is it that this applies to everyone out there? That those we perceive to be good people may just be the worst people? Or perhaps it is that suffering which makes the people, good? A cause and effect mystery. Which came first? The suffering or the good? The rewards or the evil?
And I get frustrated knowing that all this thinking, and all this worrying, and all this sadness, all these tears that have fallen for the sadness of others, the worries that others have gone through, I know that it all amounts to nothing. But it doesn’t for a second stop how real it is. How real it is that my friends and the people I love are going through fucked up shit constantly. That innocent people are suffering and the evil constantly rewarded. I fail to understand this over and over, and I try so hard. I don’t know how to keep doing this anymore. Our daily lives are so trivial. And I can’t help but feel that we all have a bigger purpose than this. That we are not meant to go to offices and sit in a little corner for 8 hours a day, come back exhausted, just to repeat the same thing 5 days in a row. No, I refuse this to be the accepted norm. It can’t be.
And why do people keep so many secrets. Why are we all playing games with each other. Why can’t you just be honest to me and I be honest to you. We are all flawed and fucked up. Why can’t we all just accept that. That deep inside, we all have the potential to be murderers, rapists, psychotic weirdo freaks. Fuck. Wouldn’t it all be easier if we were all honest? Some people believe that life is all about finding happiness, before we die and cease to exist. How can anyone find even a grain of happiness when everyone is plotting secret agendas.
I do not think that I am the most holy, the best or the perfect image of a human being but instead wish we could all just accept that no one is.
I wish that the world was fair. That people get what they deserve and everything just worked. That everything was just simple. It’s a shame then that we only experience that as a child. If life was reversed, we’d be born with this fucked up world and as we age we’d see the beauty in life, and laugh and joke and be innocent. We would have known what drugs, alcohol and sex were but we wouldn’t have needed them. We’d have our finger paints, toy cars and mommy’s hugs.
I do wish that I’ll see the light sooner rather than later. To laugh with no second thoughts and that everything and everyone was happy. I know this won’t happen but I sure as hell won’t stop believing, hoping and wishing for it.
You know that phrase, “nice guys finish last”?
Recently, I had a long discussion (if you can call it that) with a stranger over Facebook.
1. He asked me to read in between the lines of what he said. But there was nothing there. He claimed so to make it seem like I was beneath him. That his level of intelligence is far superior and I wouldn’t be able to understand the complex ideas behind his thoughts. But there was, honestly, nothing much beyond shallow and sensationalist statements.
2. He was very defensive. He was not open to ideas that were suggested to him and chose to stick by what he said. Perhaps it’s because he’s a law student, so he has learnt the art of sticking by his word even though he may have realized they were false. Either that or he’s just blinded by his own arrogance.
3. He was derogatory.
4. He lacked any hints of humanism.
5. As self-righteous as I may be, this guy was above and beyond that.
6. He is manipulative. His post gained many likes and shares over a short period of time. He sent me a friend request as he wanted proof that I was whatever he thought I was claiming to be. He claimed that his own profile had everything on public and that he had nothing to hide. He has since blocked me on Facebook. He deleted one of my comments and he edited many of his own comments. Many people commented and applauded him.
It frustrates me to no end that a guy like that has such power but wastes it completely. And why are so many following behind him?
Many of my own friends told me that it was completely pointless that I kept commenting, and I agree. But I have this innate sense of moral responsibility. I can’t help it. I get attached very quickly and feel like I have to do everything I can to get people to understand my thoughts and formulate their own. Do not accept what is given to you.
UGH. I still can’t write about this as fluently as I would like. Maybe I’ll try again later.