oh, instincts are misleading. http://lightness.posterous.com you shouldn't think what you're feeling. posterous.com Sat, 23 Mar 2013 10:39:00 -0700 leaves http://lightness.posterous.com/leaves http://lightness.posterous.com/leaves

If you see this - if I have decided to show it to you - then it's because I need you try to understand me. Please, please do. I keep this blog because my feelings can get so overwhelming that I need to let them out, irrationality included, so that I can calm down enough to function normally. So that I can try to understand how I feel and then try and self-diagnose myself. But that usually entails typing every single thought I have, no matter how ugly they are, and this entry is not an exception.

This is linked to my Facebook, which is one reason I said I couldn't trust you with my account. I was afraid you'd see it in my laptop, which is why I was so paranoid when I asked you if you'd checked my history. I never wanted you to see all my outbursts or stupidity or insecurity. You said you didn't want to see me in pain. You said you didn't want to hurt me. Well, I feel the same - I didn't want to show you my pain. Never wanted to tell you all the times I felt inadequate and undeserving, or all the times I've felt like you should break up with me because I can't make you happy. Never wanted you to have to go through the trouble of understanding me, because most of the time I can't even understand myself. I felt like you didn't deserve to go through the unhappiness of knowing you hurt me, because I know I get hurt too easily, anyway. This is a burden that I've tried to get over alone, because like you, people can't deal with seeing others constantly sad or hurt. But I can't handle myself anymore. I can't control my feelings now. It's affecting us, and I'm too afraid of losing you.

I know I'm hard to love. I'm either really clingy and needy, emotionally detached and distant, or completely hysterical. I wish I could be more stable but it's so hard. Right now, I can barely stop myself from crying. Honestly, I thought I got better after high school - I used to feel so empty then. I used to go home feeling like my days weren't worth anything, and I wasn't exactly sure what I was living for, or even if I wanted to live at all. My mood swings were horrible. Either I was really cynical and disparaging, thinking that I was better than everyone else, or I was convinced that I was the stupidest person on earth and no one would ever really love me because I was a failure. Once, I cried in the bathroom for no reason at all.

Since then, and until only recently, I thought I was recovering slowly but surely, because I was able to be more productive and didn't have suicidal thoughts too often. But looking back on it, I have never been truly well. I'm still the same. In fact, it may have gotten worse because I realize I'm so good at hiding it, sometimes even from myself. The truth is, I still beat myself up for not scoring higher on tests (and this is only one manifestation of my depression). I compare myself to my friends, and it's horrible because I either think really highly of myself for doing better, or I think I'm a complete failure because I didn't. They're not things I can just shrug off. To be honest, I think this particular depressive episode may have stemmed from being rejected by all the companies I applied to. I wasn't able to get into an internship whereas they all did, and I've been feeling so bad about it that it's hindering me from doing other things. I probably did badly on that exam on Friday, for one. And of course, there's that issue of you getting iffy about me hugging you all the time.

About that - I'm sorry. Again, I beg you to please understand me. I'm not asking you to constantly accept my hugs, but I'm so insecure about everything in my life that I need constant assurance that I'm alright. That someone actually cares and loves me. It's difficult for me to trust someone because they usually don't understand how I feel, so I rely on affection as one of the ways to boost my self-esteem, which is also why I hug and kiss my friends a lot.

When you came along, it became a kind of obsession to feel loved. It's horrible. I don't want this either - I want to love you; I want us to have a healthy relationship; I want us to work out. But I'm becoming too dependent on your love to function. I cry incessantly when we don't get along, even if it's just the smallest thing. Last Friday, I cried in the car and then all night at home after I felt like you didn't want to respond to my affection. I thought maybe we needed to talk, and that's why I said I felt needy, but then I felt like you didn't want to talk to me so I just tried to sleep so that I would have a break from all the self-destructive thoughts.

I really, really love you. Apart from the obsession I sometimes feel, I do. I want to help you and see you happy and support you and care about you. But I know I'm not good for you in this state, and I don't want this relationship to be a sad one because you have to take care of me. You deserve happiness, and I can't give it to you right now. To be honest, if I were you I'd get out of this quickly, because I can't guarantee that I'm ever going to fully recover. I've been like this for 9 years, ever since grade 6. But I'm too selfish to tell you to leave me. I want you here.

That's why I'm finally going to seek professional help. I'm afraid and I really don't want to take medication, and I don't want to be deprived of my opportunities when people find out I'm depressed (because employers won't want me, and even our org won't want to have someone this unstable as one of its leaders), but I realize that I really do need to talk to a therapist. I'm afraid it's only going to get worse and I won't ever be able to form good relationships with anybody.

I know we might not end up working out, anyway. After reading all of this, you might understand me, or you might not. You may not want to stay with me, but don't feel guilty if you feel like we should break up. I'm telling you all of this because I don't want you to be in a relationship with someone you can't handle. I'm trying my best not to lean on you, but I can't promise that my problems won't still affect you or tire you out.

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Sun, 24 Feb 2013 09:13:00 -0800 no more tangles shampoo http://lightness.posterous.com/no-more-tangles-shampoo http://lightness.posterous.com/no-more-tangles-shampoo

There's something to be said about mediocrity.

We always hear about successful, capable people with a zillion achievements, especially now during the university's campaign season. While I don't doubt their greatness, I think there should also be some admiration for the elegance of mediocrity. By mediocre, I don't mean completely lukewarm at everything, but mediocre simply because social norms for success were not exactly met.

There is a certain feeling one gets about this mediocrity. A person may not be a leader - may not be quite sociable or completely personable or notably smart, but admirable for their other unique qualities. I know people who have so much to offer in one field or another, or who exude brilliance at the most random things, and yet fall into the category of mediocre simply because they are not great people in society's myopic view. They might not feel the pull of influence and power, or might not find value in standards. It might even be the case that their excellent traits are overshadowed by their failures.

You could say that they're wallflowers this way, but I for one feel jealous of them. Once you adhere to society's standards, you either continue or face disappointment when you stop being good enough. It is these binding constraints from which mediocre people are free. They have not adhered, and now they don't need to. Brilliance needs no measurement, anyway.

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Fri, 08 Feb 2013 08:58:00 -0800 miserable http://lightness.posterous.com/miserable http://lightness.posterous.com/miserable

I have been feeling exhausted for the past few days.

I honestly don't know how I came to have the flu. At first I thought it was all the work I was doing, but now I realize that I've been waking up with no energy and just feeling tired all the time. I've been having headaches and muscle pains, and I mistakenly attributed the headaches to my failure to constantly wear glasses and the muscles pains to my bad posture. Now I know; it's just the flu.

But perhaps I should not say just the flu. I feel miserable and it's so hard for me to get work done when I feel like I should be sleeping half the time. Now I can't even sleep because I finally got my high fever and it's making me so uncomfortable; and the fact that I feel utterly miserable because we're not talking.

I was mad this morning. I was angry and screaming in the privacy of my bedroom, and I will admit that I vented to many people (of course they were close and trusted friends though), but I was filled with so much rage that I needed to get some of it out so I didn't make a scene in public. I'm actually proud of myself for controlling my anger enough not to talk with you while I was angry, but that doesn't make me feel much better now. We're still not talking. I'm still miserable.

Now I'm just sad. The flu is making me feel like I'm going to die, and I have no energy left to work on my platform. I feel depressed that you don't care enough to allow me to rest when I'm sick. Maybe it would have been a different case if all you did was ignore me, but now, aside from ignoring me, you're just giving me work to do. I just want you to care and understand. I mean, I'm doing my best to understand your mood swings and the way you space off and not hear me some times, but I feel hurt now.

I really don't know if you care about me anymore. I wish this issue would just disappear into thin air but it seems like it won't. And worst of all, I can't get better because I can't sleep with this congested nose and this sadness and these chills from my insane body heat.

I love you, you know? And I actually just want to resolve our differences. I'm just too tired and too miserable and too uncertain about your feelings about me.

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Mon, 31 Dec 2012 12:10:00 -0800 agogo http://lightness.posterous.com/agogo http://lightness.posterous.com/agogo

I guess I can understand why you went to sleep.

It's because you gotta calm your mind, right? Though I can't understand how you can sleep. No, I don't know a thing, actually - I still don't understand you all that well. And I'm thinking, you don't know most of me, either.

I think I need to tell you just how fucked-up I am, because you don't know the half of it. I haven't been intentionally hiding it from you; I've been keeping it secret from everybody because people never understand. People who aren't depressed don't know what it's like to feel like you want to die all the time. And yes, you could argue that truly depressed people aren't really able to keep it inside, but I can't believe that I'm not in a shit hole. Sometimes I feel like I have two personalities: not in a bipolar-way, more of a shell that I'm able to keep up. A shell that I've constructed so long ago that I've perfected the art of making people believe that I'm perfectly okay. But it's hollow. And I feel empty.

So I guess that's how I function. Because while people can take the occasional down days, they obviously do not want to hang around others who are in a gloomy mood 24/7. The world doesn't work that way. I hide all of this simply to prevent those complications and unecessary pain. People don't have to see my burden. It may be a horrible one, but as long as I can carry it, I will - it's not like there will really be anyone who'll care enough to help me. Truly help me, you understand, not make fun of me behind my back or get tired of having to deal with this shit everyday because they chose to care about me or simply just pity me from afar. Because, again, it's so hard for people to understand that this really is horrible - I may not be dying from hunger or sickness or anything, but it's insane to be feeling like shit in one way or another all the time. It's unbearable to be living. That's what it feels like. It's horrible simply because you don't know where the root of all this comes from. How the fuck do you fight against something you feel all the damn time without reason?

Happiness is a choice, you say, but there is just no way. It's not that easy to say it. This is something I have been fighting day in, day out for years - I have tried to be happy; tried to immerse myself in things that I think would make me happy, but at the end of it all I'm an insecure, immature little girl. I am a bitch. I am nothing.

And see, eventually you will notice this side of me. My shell isn't perfect; you'll see through the cracks. And even if you don't, I'm bound to break someday. I'm bound to show you, and you're bound to react in some way I don't want to imagine. It's hard dealing with this. It'll be hard for you, as well.

I guess it wouldn't be so bad for you if you just dumped me here and now. It might be a cause of embarrassment (me to my parents and you to your family and us to the rest of the world), but what's that temporary discomfort compared to a lifetime of putting up with me? You can leave me, and it will hurt the fuck out of me because I love you, but I don't deserve you anyway because I'm worthless. I'm horribly fucked up, aside from that bitch thing I just did. I really am.

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Mon, 31 Dec 2012 10:45:00 -0800 bedazzling http://lightness.posterous.com/bedazzling http://lightness.posterous.com/bedazzling

Well that's fucking great; I can't sleep.

I told you I was a bitch.

Guess you never really understood that (to be honest, I don't think I fully did, either, not until this happened). Well now you do. I am an insensitive, self-righteous bitch and I hate myself for saying that to you.

I'm not going to pretend I like it that you cheated, but I would never judge you for that, simply because I did the same thing too. I didn't mean to imply that you were a bad person, because you're not. You just aren't. And fuck, no matter what I feel, I had no right to say that anyway. You can go ahead and beat me up over this but I think this is sufficient enough for me to say that it is the worst New Year ever. Bad start to 2013. And I guess I ruined it for you too, huh? Sorry seems like such a stupid thing to say after this has already been done.

Now I don't even know how you feel about the whole helping you study thing. I'm doubting if it's okay with you or if you've just been hiding the fact that you hate it. If it makes you feel like I'm looking down on you or anything. I'm not, you know, but that's a very weak statement when you're already mad at me.

Gosh, you're mad at me.

It only makes it worse that I love you so much already. I love you to insanity and I'm going crazy even just thinking about your anger and I can't fucking sleep with this stuffy nose. I look like an aswang. Haha, it's kind of funny, but I really can't laugh because I'm so down. I would cry too (and I do) if a friend got mad at me, but you're not just my friend. And that's why I don't know what to do with myself anymore.

I hope you know that I love you, okay? That deep down beneath this bitchy, immature exterior I really do love you and I can't stop just like that. And it honestly breaks my heart that you'd leave in the middle of a fight and sleep, because I could never sleep knowing that you're mad at me. I'm tearing myself to pieces crying. I just can't rest.

I'm sorry.

I really, really, am.

I'm sorry for making that fucked up statement and I'm sorry for ruining the first few hours of this year for you. And I'm sorry for making you feel that way because as much as it hurts me that you're hurt, I don't think that matters more than the fact that I was the one who made you feel that hurt. I'm sorry that you're angry, and I'm sorry you had to go to sleep tired of me.

I'm so sorry.

 

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Thu, 08 Nov 2012 19:18:00 -0800 ascension http://lightness.posterous.com/ascension http://lightness.posterous.com/ascension

If you ever stop thinking about someone completely, then you never really loved them.

In my case, there are certain things that my mind will always link to people who once meant more than the world to me. Maybe an object triggers one of the memories, or maybe a sight brings back something that we used to do together. It doesn't happen so often, and with time these instances occur more and more infrequently, but if you really, honestly loved somebody, then naturally there will be a part of you from that old relationship that will never be erased. Once you let someone take over your heart, they won't be able to leave your life without changing you.

I'm not going to say that I'm friends with all my past flames, or that I'm still in love with them, because that's not true. Being in love with a person is different from loving a person, right? All I want to say is that while I wouldn't get back together with them, I'm thankful for the time we had, and that I do think of them at times, even without a strong cause to. There's no bitterness or sadness about what used to be, just that slight twinge of nostalgia that any old memory can bring.

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Thu, 08 Nov 2012 09:50:00 -0800 safety razors http://lightness.posterous.com/safety-razors http://lightness.posterous.com/safety-razors

One summer, my family and I traveled to El Nido, Palawan. I was a second-grader and still very much loved the outdoors, as kids were naturally inclined to back then. We only spent three days there, in a lovely hut standing peacefully over the blue, with the marina just a couple of seconds away, but they were easily three of the most memorable days of my life. There is nothing like the feeling of floating in saltwater for hours on end, watching marine creatures flitter about, and then, as you retire for the night, looking through a bedside window at the infinite pinpricks of light on a provincial sky.

I still think this world is too busy. Society has come to value speed so much, relentlessly moving as fast as possible to ensure that no second is wasted. I have to ask, what does society define as wasted? It seems to me that the simple, slower joys are pushed aside these days in favor of endless work and practical socialization. Well-liked individuals who get a lot done are among the most recognized and praised in their environments. Meanwhile, those who enjoy solitude, reflection, and slowness are given shakes of the head and urged to move faster.

This might all be strange to hear from me, since I think that I could be considered a fairly sociable and hardworking person. The truth is that this isn't really fulfilling me, though. I can't help but think that if I had a little more courage and if the world were a little more forgiving, I would've led a very quiet life in reflection and solitude. I might be a tad too idealistic, but where have humans ever gone without ideals in their lives?

I know that it should also be taken into consideration that humans are highly sociable beings. Yes, we have thrived thus far because we cooperate for progress. But see, is progress all it's cracked up to be? We get our new iPhones and laptops and cars and SLRs and enormous smart TVs, but if you think about it, aren't we just creating complex atrocities in order to manage even more complex atrocities, a.k.a. our lives? What are we satisfying besides our boundless desires for more and more and more? Maybe I'm just a Taoist at heart, but when we realize that true happiness doesn't come from desires, everything will start to make much more sense.

I'm not claiming to have found the secret yet. I haven't gone through enlightenment, but any idiot can see that we'd be perfectly content if we just knew how to keep all this hunger at bay. If thinking highly of advancement weren't such a poisonous social norm, we could all mostly be just farmers or fishermen who do their work in the morning and spend the rest of the day quietly. There is such a sublime inner peace in taking the time to enjoy the wonders of the world.

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Sat, 03 Nov 2012 14:17:00 -0700 mirror http://lightness.posterous.com/mirror http://lightness.posterous.com/mirror

I can't sleep.

I can't sleep because every time I get to be around you I act a little differently because my nerves are jacked up and my palms are all sweaty and I can't for the life of me remember how I usually am with you, until I remember that there is no usual, and end up just hiding my face behind my hands and berating my awkwardness until 5 in the morning. Simply speaking, there is no getting used to the spark that threatens to consume me each time I am with you. And it scares me.

I won't say that I don't understand this because I know exactly what I am going through. It feels the same and yet different from before; the butterflies and the shaky smiles and my on-edge behavior. I am going through my internal Chris-Crocker-merged-with-Tigas-na-Emo phase, and this can only mean that I am about to take a joyride through a whirlwind of emotions again.

I like you.

And I know what that entails: countless wasted hours of rolling around in bed grasping at vague hints of your wholly-requited love for me, and more countless wasted hours of griping to my bored and annoyed friends because I know that you will never see me in the same light. It's another one of those strange, crazy high school crushes whose occurrences I thought would decrease slowly into nothingness... and yet here I am, feeling like I'm 12 again and I just met the first boy I would ever fall in love with.

And it scares me; really it does. First of all because I'm not 12 anymore and I understand the delusions these feelings bring, second of all because I can't stop myself from having those delusions anyway, and third of all because this gravitation towards the charming gap in your two front teeth will inevitably bring me into that universe of emotions that I thought I'd already left behind. I know this might just be infatuation, I know you're not perfect, and I know you have flaws, but I choose to blind myself from them and keep guffawing at your jokes anyway. It's the same process, and yet different, specifically because now I've realized that I can still keep having these explosions pumping through my veins even after being quite dormant for three years.

Yes, I know, you might be wondering about what lay before these times, and yes, it's not fair. I've liked people before you, and I almost got into something serious with one of them without feeling the same intensity I do with you. But honestly, I really did think that that was only a characteristic of attractions held by inexperienced pre-teens and teenagers too immature for even their teenage label. And then you might still wonder, because I already liked you before and then liked other guys, and why would I suddenly be head-over-heels for you when I wasn't before?

But see, the thing is, I get that a lot. I develop inane crushes on guys I barely know, but to be fair, it really doesn't turn into anything serious. I mean, while I might think of someone in class, in the shower, during meetings, at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I wouldn't be giving that someone an instant yes if he asked me to be in a relationship. I mostly get happy crushes, and there's nothing scary about those.

But then you, oh you just came along again, reappeared into my life with a halo as if cupid shot me with a late Valentine's arrow, and now I can't even think straight just imagining you smile. Actually talking to you made me realize that something could be there, and that I actually feel comfortable enough with you to expose, layer by layer, who I really am. No, it's the way you shock my insides each time that renders these layers ready for peeling. And it scares me because getting this deep into things leaves me vulnerable to the other emotions that inevitably burst my happy bubble, and I know that I'm not too in love with you yet to let go of my selfishness and not get extremely affected by the idea that you will never like me back.

And I'm sorry. The raincloud inside of me tells me with certainty that you will never like me back, because I'm a weirdo and I can't respond to your attempts at conversation like a normal human being due to my bewilderment at your perfection for me, but I can't help myself. The more time I spend with you, the crazier my internal organs get in sloshing about inside my ribcage, trying to tell me that I will really fall absolutely, 100% in love with you if I don't stop now. Sorry organs, but I can't do anything about that problem.

All I can do for now is hope and pray and beg that I can push visions of your face aside for a moment just so I can fall asleep.

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Thu, 04 Oct 2012 09:53:00 -0700 fracture http://lightness.posterous.com/fracture http://lightness.posterous.com/fracture

Ever since I read The Unbearable Lightness of Being, I haven't been able to get one line out of my head. It's something I have long been wishing to express, but of course, not everybody is a literary genius like Milan Kundera who can create such meaning in less than ten words. And yet he has managed to capture, with a single phrase, what I previously thought was one of my most inexplicable feelings.

"Vertigo, the insuperable longing to fall."

I just feel like there is so much pressure in this world. In all of our lives, we strive for something we think would give us meaning - a reason to live. We act, and we keep doing things for the sake of our dreams in the hopes that one day, we'll have built something magnificent that will give us the ideal happiness we seek. And so we keep climbing and reaching levels higher than we could ever have imagined, but suddenly we look over the edge at all we've overcome... and there it is. Vertigo.

I honestly don't think a lot of people would understand that. They're always thinking of not trashing all your efforts because that would be "such a waste," or that life would just be meaningless if you give up. Maybe some people don't ever feel like they want to fail. Maybe they don't comprehend that it feels good to fail sometimes. Who knows? It's not exactly a common topic, and maybe I'm the only person who feels this way because I've got quite the propensity for depression. But maybe I'm not getting my point across, either, because for me, this is not about sadness. This is about the happiness that comes with not having so much to carry on your back. This is about the relief and the fulfillment of failing through and through; of actually betraying everything you've ever lived for. It may sound romanticized when I talk about it this way, and maybe it really is, but I haven't felt a lot of things that are quite as consuming.

Could I honestly ever explain this better than Kundera; in the context of his philosophical narrative? I would have to delve into heaviness and lightness and all that jazz about the burdens we carry with us, just so you could maybe grasp what this means for you. All I can say, really, is that sometimes you don't want permanence; you don't want the stain of indelible ink or the affirmation of repetitiveness. All you need is to feel free.

And so I am going to go ahead in the circumstance of my measly, singular life and tell you that I honestly do want to fall. The drop is always there, calling to me. To be perfectly truthful, of course I would never have the guts to throw away everything I've ever done just to stop myself from all of this frustration. I'm not that strong. But every once in a while, I just like to remind myself that there is that choice. And that I can choose it whenever I like. That comforts me enough.

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Sun, 30 Sep 2012 09:47:00 -0700 astral http://lightness.posterous.com/astral http://lightness.posterous.com/astral

I can't really say that I've ever had a genuine out-of-body experience, but there have been times in which I was quite confused by the feeling of actually having a consciousness in this pile of skin and hair and organs and bones. Even when I was still at those single-digit ages, I would wonder if I'd wake up tomorrow and find out that I'd transferred bodies in my sleep. It just baffled me; how can I be so completely enclosed and trapped in such a singular, narrow point of view?

Maybe this is an insidious train of thought because it's related to omnipresence, but the thing I want most in the world is to experience being everything and everyone. It's the wish I would make if genies were real and I had a magic lamp. What could make you richer than experience? And too much of the time I am consumed by the thirst of wanting to know and do everything... but yes, the only way you can do that is by being everyone and everything. It's not something my brain can imagine, but nevertheless, the feeling of wanting to know all there is to know is driving me to try so many new things.

But even if I had all the time in the world; even if I lived forever, it's not even close to being enough. That's merely a single facet of the infinitely-sided gem that is experience. It's impossible, but I still want to be different people, and to feel different things, and to react in different ways. I would even be an animal or an object if I could, no matter how weird that sounds. There is no explanation for and of the immense feeling you get when something new happens. Whether it evokes happiness or sadness or pain or anger is immaterial. The beauty of it all just lies within being something that can only be held by a single time and place and perspective.

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Sat, 29 Sep 2012 11:10:00 -0700 lacquer http://lightness.posterous.com/lacquer http://lightness.posterous.com/lacquer

There is light that flickers

From a source that cannot be seen

Caressing your insides with tendrils

That move to tangle beneath your skin.

 

Because against that darkest backdrop

That empty expanse of space

The pores of your skin reveal themselves

Luminous through your galaxy of veins.

 

There is light below your starlit surface

A blazing sun that pulses through

Your bones, your breast, your lungs, your limbs

The blood that flows within you.

 

Your silhouette is nothing more than an eclipse

To obscure that cosmos within

The light would flood out in a supernova

If you would only shed your second skin.

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Fri, 31 Aug 2012 04:46:00 -0700 nirvana http://lightness.posterous.com/nirvana http://lightness.posterous.com/nirvana

Insecurities are killing me again.

It's one thing to not think badly of yourself. It's another to stop yourself from feeling hurt and believing other people when they say bad things about you.

I know that I'm not perfect, but am I supposed to be that easily reachable? As in, if you like me, you have low standards? That was just horrible to hear from somebody I thought was one of my nicest friends. And now my own mother is telling me I'm fat. I feel like shit, thank you very much mom. You tell me you didn't diet back in the old days, and now you tell me my body's huge.

It's enough to make me cry, okay? I never had a stable self-esteem, and now I feel like I can go and just throw everything away. Life hurts too much. I don't understand how people can stand so much pain.

 

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Sun, 19 Aug 2012 12:10:00 -0700 i can't http://lightness.posterous.com/i-cant http://lightness.posterous.com/i-cant

Take this fucking loneliness anymore.

It just hits me at the worst times. It was supposed to be one of the happiest nights of my life; seeing one of the most planned-out projects I've ever worked on become reality... and then it hit me like I was a deer caught in its headlights. I couldn't tell them that it wasn't because I was so happy that everything turned out all right, or that all this success was just making me emotional. It was really all because I was so fucking lonely that I wanted to die.

And why can't I? Just die, I mean. I don't think anybody ever really understood the extent of my loneliness. It's been gnawing at me since God knows how long. I can't even believe my friend never even suspected that I was depressed all throughout high school. I wonder if people thought that I was posting all those things on my blog for attention, when I really just had to let things out before the point came in which I couldn't support myself anymore.

I just can't.

And I can't even talk to anyone about this. I don't think anybody understands what it feels like to be truly lonely. They all assure me that happiness and company will all just come one day, and all I have to do is wait. But they don't understand that all I've ever wanted is someone to talk to... but there's nobody there. All they can say about that is my standards are too high.

But that's the thing. They just don't understand. And how can you really pour out your feelings to people who don't understand how fucked-up it is to be so lonely in this goddamn world?

I just... I want to die.

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Fri, 20 Jul 2012 09:29:00 -0700 turquoise http://lightness.posterous.com/turquoise http://lightness.posterous.com/turquoise

Every time I stop and think about my life, I don't feel happy.

I don't know, really. I mean, I'm doing fine... but I feel like everything is on the surface; everything is superficial. I handle my org work, I do my best in school, and I try to keep good relations with other people. But at the end of the day, I look back and I just don't see the point in all of this. Nothing really makes me happy, and nothing makes me proud.

Somehow, the me who reflects on her life feels disembodied. The me who reflects on her life feels disconnected with the body that works to achieve what society defines as success. And if I think about it, this success means nothing to me, really. We try to be successful to attain a sense of achievement, but I don't really find profound meaning in that feeling. I feel like yeah, maybe I've discovered the reason for mankind's existence, but that reason is not enough to fill me with the desire to live. And I don't think any reason can make me do that.

Because I don't really want to live, you know?

To be honest, every night before I sleep, I close my eyes and hope that I'll never wake up. I feel like I'm stuck in this world, and I can't do anything to pull myself out of it.

I'm just going through the motions.

And it's hard to want to stay awake
When everyone you meet, they all seem to be asleep.
And you wonder if you missed your dream.

You can't see a dream
You can't see a dream.
You just can't see a dream.

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Wed, 02 May 2012 08:38:00 -0700 stagnant http://lightness.posterous.com/stagnant http://lightness.posterous.com/stagnant

It's been six years since the first inklings of my self-discovery thoughts appeared, and I still haven't found many answers. I still don't know what to do with my life, I haven't found any passion, and all meaning seems to disappear some time or another. There's basically nothing I'm living for, but rather than thinking that's natural, I'm becoming impatient with myself. I'm so lost in all of this complexity when I should at least be looking toward something, or knowing one thing with certainty and moving on from there.

Instead, I have nothing.

Most people have that firm conviction of at least one fact about themselves, and they form a spiderweb of possibility and opportunity from there. For example, just knowing that you like to make things with your hands, and then moving on in the direction of mechanical engineering. But I don't know what I like to do, because even if I do like art and music and books, I only get those sporadic bursts of passion. That's not reliable when you're going to do something for your whole life, so I just make them hobbies and look for something else; something that exists closer to my core.

And I haven't found it.

I don't want to believe I've fallen into complete disinterest and apathy. Well, just stating that makes it false, right? Or at least a small portion of it. Sigh, I'm always giving in to alternate interpretations of things; maybe I should just go into a career dealing with semantics, seeing as how I'm so anal about definitions and things in black and white. I know nothing will ever be in black or white or completely definite, of course, but I just wish everything were that easy to understand.

In any case, all I want is to do something with my life and derive meaning from that. I just don't know how to go about that.

Maybe I should look a bit more where I haven't been searching, yeah? But where is that?

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Tue, 24 Apr 2012 10:20:00 -0700 blunt http://lightness.posterous.com/blunt http://lightness.posterous.com/blunt

I've been fascinated by outer space ever since I was a little girl. I used to have countless picture books about galaxies, nebulas, comets and space dust, which I read enthusiastically all the time. I lost those books some time ago, though - I have no idea at all where they're hiding now, but my love of knowledge about outer space still hasn't died. And I've got to buy myself another one of those books one of these days.

At first it was just because I was attracted to the pictures - you know, the alien beauty of misty violet and greenish-blue space clouds; the delightful sparkling swirls of countless stars in the midst of absolutely black space. A little later, I realized these were merely artistic portrayals and not how space looks when viewed through real telescopes, but the more I read about the universe, the more interested I got in its complexity. It's a world more enormous than our tiny realities, in which we shrink-wrap our consciousness of the cosmos, lest we go crazy trying to balloon our tiny realities just to meet the standards of outer space.

Even as I tried to understand unimaginable distances involved, I got blown away by the heart-hammering feeling that you were smaller than the human mind could imagine, and reality vaster than the brain is able to conceive. The thought of something so incredible and mysterious brought chills to my spine. There are so many things we can't explain, and the world is one of them.

I guess somehow, it helps me to think about how insignificant I am; how trivial my problems and hopes and dreams are in this universe. Because even if I die - even if the entirety of mankind gets wiped out, this planet will still exist: and not only that, the sun will explode on its own, the stars composing the milky way will be sucked into the supermassive black hole in the center of the galaxy, which then in turn will be swallowed by the even bigger black hole in the galaxy supercluster. And despite that, there will be countless other galaxies and countless other superclusters, all drifting apart and slowly decaying as space itself is expanding. You might even go further to think about aliens and the theory of multiple (and parallel) universes, in which case - would you really matter at all?

It might not be the best thought when I'm trying to live realistically (how ironic, considering that our realities are microscopic in the expanse of space), but whenever I feel everything's getting overwhelming, I think of all of these facts, and I feel at peace.

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Tue, 21 Feb 2012 07:31:00 -0800 anger management http://lightness.posterous.com/anger-management http://lightness.posterous.com/anger-management

I can't deal with this; I just can't.

You think you have the right to say those things on your social networking accounts? You think it's okay to just let everything get lost in the vagueness of public statements while people are sucked into the intrigue? God, I can't even. I don't know why you have to do this.

I'm not saying I didn't do anything wrong, okay? I am irrational and stupid and I say dumb things when I miss you, because I feel frustrated when I don't see you for a long time. I pour my heart out to my friends because they're my friends, and because I don't think guys like it when girls get too clingy and demanding. That might've led to some hysteria that I never showed you, but I never really meant anything. And god, I never expected you to make time for me, it's just that I got lonely. That's all I said: that I hadn't seen you in a while, and I was lonely. My friends just went with what they thought a relationship should be, and so they pestered you to do things I would never have begged you to. I didn't even tell them to pester you in the first place.

If you had issues with that, you could've told me personally. I don't like assuming, so of course I didn't confront you. Actually, I don't even like confronting people in the first place; I'll only do it when I have to. You didn't have to make people who had access to your account wonder if your post had anything to do with me. I detest that. I never told you, but I have really bad issues with people making parinig online, for reasons I don't want to remember.

And the thing is, I really would've said sorry. I would've apologized wholeheartedly and did the most I could to make everything okay. Because I can be really stupid and despite all my excuses, if I did hurt you then I'm automatically wrong. I'd feel that way because I really hate it when I uninentionally make anyone upset.

But you wouldn't even handle it properly. Maybe if you cut me off completely, I would be satisfied enough, but you always replied. Distantly, of course, but you did. It strikes me as plastic; the way you talk to me like that and then rant about me on Facebook as if I were completely in the wrong. I would've been fucking sorry if you hadn't done that.

I have issues too, you know? I'm not stable, I get too angry, I become depressed, I'm bipolar; all that crap. I can't handle people like you. I knew that. But I really liked you, and even though I didn't think we were too similar, I thought maybe I could try, because I saw something. I felt something. And if you knew me from long ago, you'd know that I get crazy when I start to feel something.

I'm just so disappointed.

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Wed, 08 Feb 2012 06:46:00 -0800 lifting http://lightness.posterous.com/lifting http://lightness.posterous.com/lifting

Sometimes, when I write, I get a sort of fuzzy feeling in my body. I guess it's most similar to the sensation of getting goosebumps, but it's different, too: I feel warm, but not in a comforted or kilig way. It's just like someone's removed the tension from my body.

I guess this is my true catharsis. I've long stopped believing that my ability to write is extraordinary or anything, but I write anyway because afterwards I feel like I can take another day. Like I'm not about to implode and collapse and ultimately give up on life.

I'm a perfectionist, I know. It's just that I've been told all my life that I'm really capable and can go places; I just lack the confidence in myself. The latter part is essentially false though; I do think that I can do what I want myself to do, it's just that I try to humble myself so that I don't make people upset (myself included). And also so that I don't become complacent, although that is, I admit, a goal rarely achieved. That's why I'm always disappointed when I don't live up to the standards I've set for myself. Even outcomes that would generally be seen as good are classified as failures when it comes to me.

I'm split in half that way. It's some sort of a cycle. At times I believe in myself, and at others I don't. What's in between those two phases are failures. I don't allow myself to make mistakes, and that's one of my greatest flaws. I know this, but I don't consciously remember it so that I live my life by a correcting principle. But the more I grieve for blunders, the blinder I become to their silver lining. In other words, I don't learn from them - they simply become blank gravestones.

I gotta stop living in the past.

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Mon, 23 Jan 2012 05:15:00 -0800 gelatin http://lightness.posterous.com/gelatin http://lightness.posterous.com/gelatin

This isn't directional.

It's the kind of loneliness that is as inscrutable as a vacuum: contrary to intuition, there's no end to the void. I keep throwing myself into things that make me feel temporally happy, and yet when I look inside myself I realize that the emptiness is still there. And it seems to get even larger with the passing of time.

I wish I could fully believe that this is hormonal. Sometimes I think it is, and other times I feel that it might not be as simple as that. I keep chasing things that I feel might be the solution to all of this, but when I get them I'm not entirely sure that I didn't waste my time.

In less ambiguous words, I'm sorry.

I'm not certain about of all this. And even though I've come to this realization through my unpredictable moods, doubt has already pervaded my entire system. I don't know if this is what I should be looking for. And to be perfectly honest, I don't know if I'm being realistic enough, because of this space inside me that just won't fill up. Am I looking for something possible, or am I simply blind to the fact that this isn't something another person can fix?

I feel like I've long been in my town of cats - lost in a world that I will never be able to leave.

 

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Fri, 13 Jan 2012 08:22:00 -0800 lace http://lightness.posterous.com/lace http://lightness.posterous.com/lace

If the world ended in December, I wouldn't have any regrets.

To be honest, I know I haven't achieved much. Plenty of other people have done greater things at the same age, and meanwhile I'm lying here in this ditch. Even if I stopped comparing myself to others, I just know I have the potential to do so much more. This is not my zenith. All I really lack is the drive to exert myself. I could do so many things if only I could put my heart into them fully all the time.

However, I don't think that the past is something to be changed. Whether you believe that things happen for a reason or not, they still make you who you are today. And I may not be completely satisfied with myself, but I would think that it's mostly a healthy dissatisfaction: I mean, if you didn't think that there were any parts of you that needed improvement, you'd never be able to grow.

If you looked at the matter from another side, what would you even change if you could, anyway? How would you know that you would like your life like that better? Everything happens but once, and so there's no way of knowing what a different decision would result in. All I can do is be content with the past, and make peace with it.

All I can do now is to live my life whilst continually moving towards what I believe is better. I may not always take steps forward, but I am hoping that the summation is positive.

So come if you will, apocalypse. I'm ready.

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