I’m not really in the mood for writing but I figured if I started, things would just get flowing. I had an exam today that I thought I was unprepared for but it turned out better than I thought, so that’s good. I still have a bunch of work piling up and I’m not so sure what to do. I want to take a break from school and from life but it seems like I’m always taking a break even though I don’t feel like I am. Joe says it helps to make to-do lists. He made me a pretty pink smoothie today. I’ve been on my new medication for about a week now and I do think it’s helping but I still need more time to adjust. As I was studying yesterday, I realized that, in the grand scheme of things, this moment is very small and I probably won’t even remember it. And I should focus on the important things that make me happy. Sometimes I get sidetracked. Life just gets in the way. I took two naps today and I’m still tired. Every morning when I wake up, the only thing that gets me through the day is the thought of coming back home to sleep. I want to feel inspired again but I don’t know how. At least that’s a step towards somewhere, right? I need affirmation that everything is going to be okay because I don’t know if it is. I’ve lost a lot of myself and I don’t know how to get her back. I just don’t know anything anymore.
Tag: spilled madness
31 October 2018
I don’t feel so bad today. I think.
I woke up at 9:30 a.m. and decided not to go to my bio lecture because I think that it is a waste of my time. I hate biology.
I ate cheerios and immediately felt guilty afterward.
I submitted my essay to the very nice professor who granted me an extension (I told him about my crippling depression). Which made me realize that I should probably be asking for more help.
I told Her Campus about my crippling depression too (ironic because I’m working on the mental health campaign). So they’re giving me time off.
I finally have an appointment tomorrow with BU’s student health services so I guess I’ll finally have help (??).
I keep having nightmares that leave me panic-stricken in the middle of the night. I always feel guilty for waking Joe up but it is so hard for me to fall back asleep. His breathing helps steady mine.
I can’t remember the last time I called my dad and I always feel guilty thinking about it. I can’t call him yet – he’ll ask me how things are and I can never lie to him. But I can’t tell him how much I’m struggling because I need to prove to him that I can be an independent adult.
I have an article I’m supposed to write for my journalism class that’s due in a couple of days. I like this class a lot. And my professor is incredibly inspiring. But I’m scared of all the deadlines I will miss because of my mental health. I haven’t missed any yet because I’m really pushing myself.
This post sucks but it made me feel a little bit better so I guess that’s okay. I still feel incredibly lost but I’m trying.
-D
*I realized after I posted this that today was Halloween. So, Happy Halloween! It’s kinda sad that I forgot actually, it’s one of my favorite holidays.
the truth
I haven’t been feeling so great lately.
Mental health has always been something that I’ve talked about as a thing of the past. But it isn’t. Not at all. I’ve had my fair share of relapses, but every time I sink a little deeper, I know that I can make my way up. I’m not so sure this time.
I don’t know what’s happening. I feel like I am trying so hard to be okay because I know it isn’t easy for the people around me. And it sure as hell isn’t easy for me either. All the days have blended in with one another and I feel as if I am losing myself. All I want to do is stay in bed and sleep forever. But I know that I can’t. I know that I have responsibilities. I’m supposed to go to college and get straight A’s. Be a good role model for my younger sisters. My parents have invested in me. My family looks up to me. I want to give up. But I can’t.
At the same time, I don’t want to give up. I’m grateful for my life. It’s been a good one. To Nina, Sara, Joe, and Dena: thank you for always supporting me and taking care of me. I hope I haven’t taken anything for granted. I love all of you so much. But I’m not so sure that I can be fixed. I’m not so sure I even have the energy to want to be fixed. I just don’t know anything anymore.
How do you tell people who love you that you can’t do this anymore? That you are just so so tired? That you just want to sink deeper and deeper into yourself until you disappear? That you just. want. to. sleep.
You can’t.
The point of this blog is for me to get my feelings out and to tell the truth. For the longest time, I thought that I always had to write something happy – people love reading happy stories, right? Or if I wrote something sad, it would have to be about how “things are so much better now” or how I learned so much or how I suddenly discovered myself.
But that is not what this post is. I haven’t reached any sort of resolution or conclusion. I’m more lost than I have ever been before. I need help and I don’t know how to get it. I’m tired of trying.
a letter to my madness
Dear Madness,
The days keep getting harder and harder. I really wish we weren’t this sad. I know that we’re in this together and that we should work together to make things right. But you make it so damn hard for me to want to help when all you do is fuck everything up. I don’t know what to say to you because I’ve tried everything and nothing seems to work. Nothing seems to be enough. I’m tired. Please stop making me go through this again. Everything hurts and this is unfair. I want to enjoy life. I want to wake up early and drink orange juice and pet my kittens and go to bed without waking up and crying in the middle of the night. I’ve accepted you, I’ve reasoned with you, I’ve made you almost disappear a couple of times. Don’t I get points for that? I have taken you home with me and introduced you to my family. They’ve accepted you too. Why isn’t that enough for you? Why do you keep coming back to haunt me? You’ve been my shadow for a long long time now. I’ve gotten too used to you. Please leave me alone.
— Spilled
love & guilt
I don’t think I express enough gratitude. My thoughts are so muddled sometimes and life just moves so fast that I never have enough time to just sit down and reflect on how lucky I am to have so many amazing people in my life. Sometimes I get scared thinking about how much people actually care about me. Partially, because I always feel so guilty. Who am I, and why do I deserve your love? I spent the majority of my childhood and adolescence really loathing my existence. I mean, I’m just me, right? I wonder if they realize that I don’t have much to offer them. I’m not even that funny or smart. I’m just me. I know I shouldn’t feel this way – I shouldn’t feel guilty that I’ve accepted the love I’ve been given. But I just can’t help it.
I just feel so silly writing about all of this because I’ve been trying so hard with the whole self-love thing. I always talk about how much better life is for me now that I’ve started writing more and getting more in touch with myself. But the truth is, it’s always going to be hard. I’ll always have to try to make a conscientious effort to take care of myself. Sure, it gets a little easier, but it’s never going to be easy breezy. I don’t know what’s with me – I’m always going through ups and downs and confused in-betweens. This is just one of those.
I’m not quite sure whether or not I’ll post this, but when I first started this blog, I wanted to be completely myself and completely honest. This is my safe place. I know this entire post sounds as though I’m complaining about wow all the love I’ve been given and wow so many people love me. I promise that’s not what I meant at all. I’m so thankful. It’s just hard to accept sometimes.
So, *ahem* as the sole inhabitant of this safe place, I loudly and proudly announce: I am so grateful for all the wonderful people in my life – I have sweet sisters, close friends who have my back, and a best friend who always supports me. A boyfriend who always makes me feel safe. I’m grateful for all the love I’ve received from this world – God knows I don’t deserve it, but I have it and I am thankful.
Okay, that’s all for tonight! Thanks for reading my ramblings, I’m gonna go hide in a hole now, bye! X
ii. a letter to my future self
Hi readers! Since most of you were delighted by my previous “letter to my future self,” I thought why not post another one? This post actually predates the last one (I know I know I know I know, I suck.) But this one was salvaged from my old bedroom in Bangkok, and I believe it was written during the spring break of my senior year in high school.
Also, I’ll have you know that I am thoroughly embarrassed by these posts. Writing used to be something that helped me express myself in a way that I wanted people to see me, i.e. mysterious, cool. Alas my writing has its limitations and I can only be fake cool for so long. Yes, I surrender to the cool gods. You guys win. Revel in it.
Anyway, welcome to my mind. It’s a fun place.
10 March 2017
Dear me,
How are you? I hope people are still asking you that. You’re probably in college and you’re back for break…? As of now, I don’t know where I want to go yet, but no matter where you chose, it was a good choice. If not, nothing’s permanent! Hey, transferring is always an option. I hope that you are happy and you are safe. Knowing you (AKA myself), I know that you are unafraid to throw yourself out there to experience all the possibilities of life. But please be careful because there are people out there who love you. Dad, mom, Nina, Sara – even little grandma. Are you still writing? I sure hope you are because words are so so powerful (but you know that). Please don’t forget to push a little harder. Things sometimes don’t work out, but you KNOW that you can do this. I hope that you are where you want to be.
Remember: if you don’t like something, change it. And if you can’t change it, accept it. Be honest. Especially to yourself. All wounds heal. And you’re never ever alone. I hope you go home each night to a warm bed and maybe someone’s arms – and safe. You are important. And you are loved. Take care of yourself.
Love,
Me at 17 xx
Post-letter thoughts (present day)
Should I respond to these letters? I feel rude. Even if it is to myself. Is this stupid? Am I crazy? Please let me know if I should respond to my past self. Thanks for reading!
this is what love feels like
Don’t. Don’t burn those pictures.
Don’t throw away the precious memories you had- the moments filled with pure innocence and happiness. They’re wrong. You don’t have to forget to move on. Take those polaroid pictures out at 2 AM. Remember. Remember the way his lips felt, the tone of his voice, the softness of his warm brown eyes. Remember his gentle touch- his hands in your hair, his arms wrapped around your waist. Let your eyes well up at the thought of the moments that you cannot get back. This is what love feels like.
Love. This single word seems to be what defines our existence. Such a simple four-lettered word- how can it elicit so many feelings from each of us?
What do you think of when you think of love?
Do you think of rainy days spent curled on a cozy couch with him holding you? All the deep conversations that lasted till the AM? Laying down next to her, legs tangled, talking about where you wanted to live together? Do you remember how you felt, when she pressed her lips against your forehead? Do you remember how fast your heart was racing when you first kissed? Remember how nervous you were before you took off your clothes for the first time? He made you feel beautiful and safe. Do you remember her breath on your cheeks as she fell asleep next to you? You wished that moment could last forever.
Love is blinding. Love is passionate. Love is safe. Love is when you feel like you’re finally home. But love is also sorrow. It is heartbreak. It tears you apart. Love makes you sit waiting at 3 AM wondering when he will come home. Or if he will ever call. Love is broken promises. Love is tear-stained sleeves, empty mailboxes and lonely nights. Love tastes like cigarettes and mistakes. Love is crying yourself to sleep every night because the empty space on your bed matches your empty heart. But love makes you feel.
From the best of feelings to the worst, here are 37 statements from anonymous individuals (submitted both online and quoted in person) of all ages and their take on love.
1. “Duty to perform to yourself and to others with selflessness and with care.” – 10
2. “Love sucks.” – 17
3. “Love is innocence.” – 17
4. “Love isn’t how far you get, but how many obstacles you had to overcome to be where you are.” – 17
5. “Apparently, it’s the mind that falls in love and not the heart.” – 17
6. “When he scores a 4/5 on the list of things-I-don’t-want-my-boyfriend-to-be, but he’s still my ideal one.” – 17
7. “Love is an idea that we as humans should spread around the world, especially with all the violence going on, we forget simple things such as to love one another.” – 18
8. “The vision of imperfection being perfect, disregarding the flaws, no matter how bad they can be.” – 18
9. “It’s like when you look at them you feel like someone is physically gripping your heart. They have all the power over you. In a way it kind of hurts but in the best way it ever could.” – 18
10. “Love is patient, love is kind.” – 18
11. “Love is when someone chooses us over everyone else- under any circumstance” – 18
12. “Love is love is love.” – 18
13. “Love is subjective and overused, people mistreat it, abuse it, and fool around with it like some jiggly water balloon.” – 18
14. “Something that feels like home, gives you endless highs, but is the closest thing to death.” – 19
15. “Love is all about fucking.” – 19
16. “I don’t know what love is.” – 19
17. “Give and take.” – 19
18. “Unconditional.” – 19
19. “Not worth it.” – 19
20. “An overrated, intangible misconception that people still continuously search for.” – 19
21. “Love is letting him do it in the butt.” – 19
22. “Suffering for someone.” – 19
23. “Knowing that you can rely on this person more than you can rely on yourself.” -19
24. “A best friend.” – 19
25. “Love is not real.” – 20
26. “Loving you even after I saw your flaws.” – 20
27. “Love, easily, is pure honesty- with yourself and others. More importantly, love is psychosomatic, but that’s okay. After all, aren’t we allowed to make things up? – 21
28. “Fake, people settling for the best they can.” – 21
29. “Enhanced dopamine, overload of serotonin, and a fuckload of adrenaline.” – 21
30. “Socially constructed.” – 22
31. “Love is an unexplainable happiness that is experienced by someone and has no limit. It is unparalleled to any other feeling.” – 22
32. “What do the kids say these days? Swipe right? Or left?” – 41
33. “Love is like a candle, bright but full of tears.” – 43
34. “Love is selfless. When you love someone, you just want to love them, no need for them to return your love” – 45
35. “Never-ending.” – 46
36. “Loving something or someone else more than you love yourself.” – 47
37. “Love can be anything- seeing another person who means the world to you through how you perceive each other. Deep emotions.” – 70
After receiving all these answers, I still don’t have a definition for love.
But what I do know, is that love is everywhere. Love is when you spare a dollar for the homeless man who always sits by the corner store. Or when you hold the door open for someone. Love is when my roommate turns off the lights and pulls the covers on me when I accidentally fall asleep. Love is when my best friend shows up with a box of donuts. Love is when my little sister draws pictures of me. Love is “text me when you get back safely,” and “you’re such an idiot.” Love is losing yourself in someone like they are the ocean and you are desperate to drown.
— originally posted on The Odyssey Online
100 little things that matter
Are you noticing the person right in front of you?
How her eyes light up when she hears a Beatles song? Or how her nose crinkles when the waiter brings out a salad with those tomatoes that she hates? Do you remember the color of his pillows in the living room? Were they grey or mustard? Do you notice the little things? Like how your roommate always wears her ring on her pointer finger? Or how that girl in your discussion always looks down when she talks?
There is so much more to the world than just looking down at a lit up screen. Our phones were made so that we can stay connected to one another even if we’re halfway around the world away from each other. But it seems that now, we’re more disconnected than ever.
Look up at the world around you. Do you feel the fresh breeze ruffling your hair? Or are you too busy looking down? Do you hear chirping birds when you wake up? Or maybe the sound of morning people wandering by? Do you hear the distant chatter people make in a cafe? Or what about the sounds of the rumbling thunder in the distance?
Leave your phones at home. Go live life.
For those that need a reminder, these are some of the little things that matter in life.
1. The smell of rain
2. A fresh breeze
3. Really big dogs
4. Freshly baked cookies
5. Cinnamon toast crunch
6. Lemon cakes
7. An old childhood stuffed animal
8. Fresh ink on a piece of paper
9. Constellations
10. When class gets canceled
11. Going for a run by the Charles river
12. When warm coffee is filled to the brim and dribbles over the edge
13. Sinking into a soft, comfortable bed after a long day
14. Being engulfed by a huge hoodie
15. Finishing a tub of chunky monkey from Ben and Jerry’s
16. The smell of freshly baked cinnamon buns
17. A crisp twenty dollar bill
18. When the leaves change colors
19. A warm bowl of New England clam chowder soup
20. Looking down at the city from a Ferris wheel
21. Mac and cheese
22. Inside jokes with your best friend
23. Listening to old bands like MCR, Blink 182, A Day To Remember, or Linkin Park
24. Burying yourself in a good book
25. Scenic late night drives
26. The weightless feeling of floating on water
27. Pancakes with butter and syrup
28. Sunsets
29. Sitting by the fireplace during a snowy night
30. Dainty wildflowers that grow by the side of the road
31. That perfect harmony your local choir makes
32. Vanilla milkshakes and fries
33. When your favorite ice cream place gives you an extra scoop for free
34. Singing at the top of your lungs
35. Feeling the warm sun on your skin
36. Hot air balloon rides
37. Hamster wheels
38. Hazlenut froyo with Reeses’ peanut butter cups
39. Oreos and warm milk
40. Late night car talks
41. The smell of fresh laundry
42. Motivational posters
43. Shooting stars
44. Tasting the caramel at the bottom of your macchiato
45. Saving that 4% of battery left on your phone to text goodnight to a special someone
46. Tiny corner bookstores
47. Waffles (with melted butter in the holes)
48. Streets lit only by the glow of fairy lights
49. A cute mug
50. Concerts
51. Disneyland in the summer
52. Secret handshakes
53. When babies laugh
54. That feeling when someone holds you
55. “Let me know when you get back”
56. The way a new phone charger still coils up
57. When you receive letters and postcards in the mail
58. Weddings
59. The perfect ratio of peanut butter and jelly
60. Reruns of Friends
61. Chicken noodle soup
62. When you’re sick and someone takes care of you
63. When you draw a perfectly straight line without using a ruler
64. Cloudy skies
65. The sound of the ice cream truck
66. When the vending machine gives you an extra pretzel M&Ms
67. Red Christmas editions of Starbucks cups
68. Purple LED lights
69. “Yeah you can have the rest of my fries”
70. Bouncy house castles
71. Little kids holding hands
72. The perfect ratio of milk and cereal
73. Dressing right for the weather without checking
74. Sweater weather
75. Fluffy hotel towels
76. Sleeping on clean sheets
77. A really shiny quarter
78. Putting on warm socks right after they come out of the dryer
79. The perfect work out playlist
80. When the jelly oozes out of the donut
81. When people laugh at your jokes (like actually)
82. Late night walks on empty roads
83. The sounds of church bells ringing
84. Daisies
85. When you see the first snowflake fall
86. New stationery
87. Polaroid pictures
88. “I miss you more”
89. Hot chocolate with whipped cream, fudge, and cocoa powder
90. When sunlight seeps in under the curtains
91. Red gummy bears
92. When a friend can tell when you need a hug
93. When your roommate brings you breakfast
94. When you (finally) find a pair of matching socks
95. The smell of vanilla candles
96. Warm honey and lemon tea
97. Perfectly aligned books on a shelf
98. Champagne flutes
99. Old couples holding hands
100. When someone tucks you into bed
— originally posted on The Odyssey Online
the quiet
one
two
three
four
stop, please
i can’t breathe
angry red crescent moons
in my palms
deep breaths
it’s okay, i’m okay now
eyes shut tightly
stop seeing
stop remembering that night
stop stop stop
the world moves so slowly
unfeeling
hush now
the quiet after the storm
lingers
on and on
when will it end?
summer daydreams
she is beautiful
she is strong
she is the apocalypse.
she is the breath caught in your throat
and the stumble between your heartbeats
she is a swirl of bubblegum skies
and chapped stick kisses
she tastes like honey
and summer daydreams
she reminds you of an ocean
breathless, breathtaking
relentless
she is gentle
she is lost
and she loves you
things i’m scared of
I’m scared of ghosts that make lights flicker and floorboards that creak. I’m scared of failing to make my parents proud of me. I’m scared of running out of time. That no matter what I do, it won’t be enough because I will never be enough. I’m scared that people won’t like me because I’m not interesting enough. I’m scared of spiders. Big, hairy spiders. I’m scared that no one will ever truly understand how I’m feeling because I don’t say anything. I’m scared that no one will try to know me. I’m scared of all the boys men on the streets when I walk home alone at 2AM. I’m scared that as the years go by, I’m losing more and more of myself and eventually I will have nothing left. I’m scared of how deep I can sink. I’m scared of all the relapses and setbacks that will inevitably happen. I’m scared of dying. I don’t know where I will go. I’m scared of childbirth. I’m scared of the disappointment I feel when I wake up in the morning and realize that I am still alive. I’m scared of how well I can fake a smile to make people believe that I am okay. I’m scared of how much people do not know about me. I am scared of falling in love because of all the boys who have used me and ripped me up into teeny tiny pieces. I’m scared that people will leave me. Even though it’s happened a thousand times over and over. I’m scared that I will never be able to love anyone. I’m scared that no one will ever love me. I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared of myself and what I am capable of doing.
simple truths
It’s hard to tell the truth. But here’s my version. Within each statement is a simple truth, just how I feel. If you think that this is how I’m projecting my relapse – you couldn’t be more wrong. I would have never posted this a year ago, or hell, even a month ago. I don’t think I could’ve even gotten myself to write this. I know these aren’t great sunshiny feelings but they’re my feelings and I’m working on them. This isn’t a call for help. I’m proud of myself, and I’m proud of how far I’ve come. I can’t believe I’m including a picture of myself in this. I hate having my picture taken but I think it’s important for me to realize that I am a part of others’ memories and that they actually love me. Thank you for being a part of my journey, I wouldn’t be here without everyone’s love and support.
Here are my truths.
I am nineteen.
I have accomplished nothing.
I like writing.
But I am not good at it.
I have had my heart broken twice.
I’m scared to fall in love again.
I don’t like it when strangers look at me.
I think they’re mentally stripping me.
I’ve been taking sleeping pills every night for the past month.
Because when it gets too late at night, I want to hurt myself.
I miss my father a lot.
But I still remember the belt he used to strike me with.
I love reading.
I need to escape. I need to forget.
I paint my nails often.
Because if I look put together, no one can tell that I’m falling apart.
I like getting sick.
Because having the flu is a better excuse for me to stay in bed than depression.
I have recurring nightmares of drowning.
I’m scared of the disappointment I feel when I wake up.
I’m always sunshine and rainbows.
Because if I’m not, no one will like me.
I don’t like it when people tell me to shut up.
It’s taken me a while to find my voice.
I intend to keep it.
a previous life
The bustling city of Bangkok was busier than I remembered. Amidst the tightly packed cars like sardines in a can, the distant grey heads rushed around, enshrouded by the airy fumes. Skyscrapers and company buildings littered the streets – a permanent shadow that followed me everywhere.
This used to be a place I once called home, but now, I am nameless. faceless. Lost in a sea of conformity. I am disgusted by the society. And I am disgusted by my self and my inability to escape the relentless cycles of power, politicians, and prejudice.
The car rolled into the suburb, uniform houses stood next to each other— the ones with a small porch and a garage. We drove past the empty playground. The once green grass lay overgrown and deserted, the swings creaked softly at the departing wind. I noticed the peeling paint off of the merry-go-round as we drove past the barren land.
I remembered spinning round and round, peals of laughter in the air. Giggling with my sister as we rolled around on the grass. I can’t remember the last time we talked.
My head snapped back into the moment as she asked casually, “so how have you been?” — as if she knew me—as if she cared while I was away this whole time.
“I’m fine. And you?” I reply automatically.
If I’ve learned anything at all, it is that, people ask you questions, not because they care for the answer, but because they don’t have anything else to say. This isn’t true for everyone of course, but it will always be true for my mother.
An awkward pause. A horn blares from the opposite side of the road, filling the empty silence.
“Fine.”
I looked out the window, wishing I was anywhere else but there.
“So, Psychology, huh?” she looked proud, as if knowing what major I was in meant that she was involved in my life.
“Actually, I switched to Journalism six months ago.”
“Journalism? That’s great.” she chirped.
I could see her crinkle her nose in disdain through the side view mirror.
*
My old bedroom looked smaller than I remembered. A bed. A dresser. A desk. My eyes shifted from the small twin sized bed to the tired table. I pulled out the chair which groaned against the ashy hardwood floor. Old books and novels lined the shelves— a thousand lives I wish I’d lived.
I smiled fondly at memories of old detective novels and reminded myself of the light in my eyes that could never be put out. I was ferocious and determined to take on the world. I wonder what happened to that little girl.
The oblique golden rays shone on the stained cardboard boxes, the fine coating of dust marking the years it has been left behind. A gentle gust of wind drifted through the creaky window, as the thin white curtains danced against the soft light.
There was an element of something almost magical at the untouched pale-pink walls. Plastered with polaroids of family trips and middle school dances, I almost didn’t remember the thrill of being asked to the first dance. Almost.
I don’t feel anything anymore. There is no thrill. There are no emotions. One word text messages, leftover Chinese takeout, and quick fucks. This is the new norm. The scary thing, I think, is that I’m starting to get used to it.
Scratches on the pale walls made by the end of metallic rulers. Names of crushes, dates of first kisses. Tally marks of days spent alone and nights spent lonely.
I sigh.
It’s not that much different now. Except, I no longer feel whirlwinds of emotions. My heart never skips a beat. There are never butterflies in my stomach. The empty pit beneath my chest is still there though.
I am reminded of all the times spent in the corner of my bed- curled up and alone. All the times spent looking up at the artificial fluorescent glow, wondering when it would all get better.
It doesn’t.
I breathe in deeply.
Late night conversations on the phone and tears that ended up with scars not on the walls.
There are no more conversations. There are no more tears. All that’s left are fading scars and a numbness that never goes away.
The fluffy white blanket gave the illusion of being comfortable and safe but its frayed hems said otherwise.
I wonder what parts of me I have left.
Opposite of the bed stood my vanity. The polished structure that once stood strong now wilted. Staring defeatedly at me, as if asking me why I abandoned it. The mirror hung, lone and depressed. But wiped clean, without any fingerprints or marks or trace of life.
Stupid, stupid table. Of course I’m going to abandon you. Stupid piece of shit. Reminding me of my shit life.
I stared back at myself.
— Who am I?
solid ground
Apr 5, 2018 – 10:34PM
Skinny Love – Birdy
I’ve been feeling out of sorts lately, like something is wrong but not quite enough for me to say I’m depressed, because I’m not, trust me. I’m not depressed. But something is a little off. And I don’t know how to explain it. I feel like an empty shell, moving about day to day without really paying attention to what’s going on. I feel almost guilty for feeling dissatisfied with my life.
There’s this sense of familiarity with everything I do – wake up, go to class, go to the gym (sometimes), Netflix, homework (sometimes), and sleep. Oh, and all the meals (and things with friends) in between that. This pretty much is my every day routine. It’s not a terrible one, right? I mean, I think it’s pretty well-rounded.
But one day, as I was standing in the shower watching the warm droplets glide down my arms and stomach, I was struck with this sensation. Like something was wrong. I still don’t know how to describe it. It was almost a reminder – a slap in the face, perhaps, mocking me for how hard I’m always trying. No matter how many extracurricular activities I surround myself with, I’m always filled with this almost-guilt – what if it isn’t enough?
I feel like it’s middle school again, it’s the first day of school, and I’m surrounded by a sea of strangers. I feel like it’s the first time I’m about to fly thousands of miles alone to a foreign country. I feel like it’s the first time I’m leaving home, but I’m not. I feel like it is the first time having sex and I’m scared and nervous. I feel sick to my stomach all the time. I’m watching the world go by in slow motion yet time is passing so quickly – there aren’t enough hours in a day. I feel stuck. Guilty? Lonely. Unmotivated. Confused. Uncomfortable. Unsettled. Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost.
My only two rules in life are to be kind and to do things out of love. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t get rid of this feeling of almost-guilt, this vulnerability – I will never be able to erase how lost I feel. And I’m scared. That even now, at 18, everything seems to be so in place, yet I feel like the world will swallow me whole at any given moment.
I am looking for solid ground. I can’t find it. Will I be feeling this way when I’m 28? 40? Lost. I am so lost.
just a crayon
My fault.
It’s always my fault. This phrase has been ingrained in my mind ever since the third grade. I had borrowed my friend’s favorite green crayon and lost it. We both lost something that day. I lost a friend, and she lost a crayon. I cried and pleaded with her to stop being angry with me. I even ran to the store to get her a new one (for $1.75). She eventually forgave me after that, but things were never the same since then.
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Everybody leaves. It’s inevitable, really. I know that by now. And with every passing person that discards me, it gets a little easier. It hurts a little less.
I have lost so many best friends over the past eighteen years of my life. I have lost so many friends I used to call family. But I suppose, if I’ve lost them, then maybe they weren’t family after all.
Maybe it was me, maybe it was them – maybe it was a number of factors that I could have never understood or the timing “just wasn’t right.” I know that a lot of times people make decisions, it is based on them – it isn’t really about me at all. But what if it is about me? What if I said too many things – too many stupid things that I couldn’t take back?
Sometimes I wonder if people can be addicted to being alone. It’s easy, you know? To live life so unafraid of what other people think because no matter what they say, they don’t truly know you. But here’s the truth. I am afraid. I am so afraid that I am the reason that people leave. That all my failed relationships and friendships have been snuffed out because of me.
What if it is my fault? What if this whole time I’ve been trying to blame external factors when it just simply is my fault? Then what? Tell me, dear readers, because I am stuck. Tell me what I can do, what I can say to make everything better because this time, I don’t think it’s going to be just a crayon that I am losing.
liquid guilt 