I think I’ve reached this breaking point and I’m about ready to break everybody’s heart.
I couldn’t care less if there are slashes across your chest and blood pooling at your feet. Don’t look at me with watery eyes and grasp hold of my hand.
I don’t care about anyone. I just need to survive because I can barely breathe anymore.
things I can’t explain to my mother
1. When I look at you, anger blossoms in the fissures of my skin. This winter, the California flowers are already blooming and the trees are still heavy with leaves they cannot shed. It’s too early for me to become spoiled by your heat. I love summer days, but in California, it seems out of place to have this 80 degree weather during February mornings. You don’t understand why I miss the cold, but we don’t understand much of each other lately, anyhow.
2. I have plenty of short dresses and see-through shirts and self respect neatly tucked between denim jeans and empty coat hangers in my closet.
3. Divorce him. I know you’re not happy.
4. People used to believe that the world was a flat line, and that, if you sailed far enough, you’d fall right off the edge of the world. Well, you and I are holding on to opposite ends of this frayed map and sooner or later we are both going to let go. Sometimes, I really do feel like there are continents and oceans splayed between us like that. Sometimes, I think it would be better that way. Traces of you run through my veins, and sometimes I need those miles between us to remind me that I am not you - that maybe if I cut this gash deep enough, I can still bleed out the last of you in me.
When we let go of our own respective edges of the earth, I hope that maybe one day we will find each other again during the fall.
5. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you why.
You have to learn to say no without feeling guilty. Setting boundaries is healthy. You need to learn to respect and take care of yourself.
It’s a whole lot harder than just putting words together. Look, a sentence is being formed. Does it resonate any emotions or attachments though?
There is a difference between writing and writing. We can all string sentences after sentences, and still wouldn’t mean a single thing to anybody. But it’s when you’re able to paint images and bring characters to life, that’s when you really write.
I fear that I have lost my ability to write, and that I can only do this. Put words together in a half ass effort. It’s making me anxious.
I don’t really care if I come across as blunt or cold-hearted. I’m finally learning how to do things for myself and make my own decisions rather than worry about what others think.
You’re not getting in the way of that.
New Years Resolution
I only managed to commit to 5 (and a half) out of 10 resolutions last year. Let’s see how I fair this year:
- Get my P’s before November
- Pass all my subjects (>H2A)
- Keep up to date with blogging/YouTube
- Save $6,000
- Get fit and healthy! (so vague lol)
- Volunteer for charity
- Read 50 books
- Swim twice a month
- Buy no more than 10 books a month
Numbers 1, 7 and 8 I’m repeating from last year because I didn’t get to it. Numbers 2 and 4 are reoccurring because it’s like a necessity for me.
Let’s see how I do in the next 10 months.
I’m probably going to go to hell for saying this, but I find the saying “you should be grateful to have what others would wish for” rather exaggerated. (I’m pretty sure that’s the saying).
Yes, I am grateful to have good food, clean water, warm shelter and a healthy body. But does that mean that I’m happy? Not necessarily. I’m constantly bombarded with complaints that I take everything for granted. That I can’t do anything for myself because I assume my parents will be there forever.
I’m not stupid.
Just because I have a home doesn’t mean it’s warm. In fact, I think it would help with our relationship so much if we spent some time apart. I’m neither angry or resentful anymore, just restless. I want to do things on my own and figure out my life.
I want to live life my way and whilst that sounds easy, and if not a little spoilt, I struggle to ever have a say. I don’t remember ever feeling truly happy, and that’s what I’m seeking for these days. Happiness.
So don’t blast me with lists of things I should be happy to have when in reality, I don’t even come close to being happy.
daily reminder that the boy you’re in love with at 16 probably won’t matter when you’re 25.
daily reminder that the math test you failed your freshman year of high school probably won’t matter when you’re graduating college.
daily reminder that the problems you’re facing today may seem like the worlds end, but they will not matter in a year.
daily reminder that you’re going to be okay.
everything is going to be okay.
the truth will set you free is a lie. it’s a cliche. it’s a quote made by someone in the past with no knowledge about saying the truth make someone’s mood change. it’s a group of words people say, hypocrites say. your mom say it, your father does. all you friends do, your neighbors murmur the truth, and your dog barks facts. but the truth won’t set you free, the truth haunts, the truth prevents you in sleeping. truths are like tiny hands hidden against the corridor walls which will grasp you in surprise. truths make the doors ajar. truths kill people. truths are salt you taste when you damp your head down in the ocean. the truth makes people sad, they are the reason why storms are produced, why monsoons are created. they are the ones that make people cry. truths are supposed to be caged, pushed inside a chest of memories. they need to be buried deep down in the canals of your heart. you don’t need to let it go. don’t say the truth.
Self Reflection Pt. I
It’s been a very long time and this blog has now started to collect dust. I literally had to sift through everything and delete stuff that was automatically posted by my book blog (which you can find here).
I’ve stuck with Tumblr for a long time and it’s always been an on and off thing. I’m so use to blogging for a mass audience that now I’m uncertain how to venture back into this area. I know Tumblr is preferably used for personal use and even now I’m not sure who I’m addressing this to, but I’m plodding through whatever it is I’m trying to say anyways.
I guess when I started, I was immediately drawn to the “secrecy” that revolved around Tumblr. The fact that it was like a small society had me thrilled. It was that belonging feel. being in the “in-crowd” that existed online. Then it became more of a therapeutic thing. I was finding it easy to convey my emotions into words, even if it sounded juvenile and definitely not up to the English standard. Still, it made for a great journal of sorts. Soon I began to gather followers from all over the world. I was interacting with people and it excited me. My writing got a little better and I was venturing into short stories/prose. People on the outside world didn’t even know I had a Tumblr.